Broken (Devil’s Blaze MC – Second Generation #1) Read Online Jordan Marie

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Devil's Blaze MC - Second Generation Series by Jordan Marie
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
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“You can’t be a good mom if you run yourself ragged just trying to create a home for the kid.”

“I’m just working hard until I can put enough money back so I can move to Denver.”

He leans in and he studies my face. I’m not sure what he sees, but I get the feeling he’s not happy with it. I allow myself a minute to take him in, too. He’s not changed in the last few months. Then again, I don’t suppose he needed to. He knows who he is and embraces it.

King is a good-looking man. He’s massive. His body is chiseled and firm everywhere you look. His dark skin taut and well-defined. There are scars and loads of ink everywhere. It just makes him even better. He’s also imposing. You can definitely tell he has Dragon’s blood running through his veins. The flip side of that is you can also tell he doesn’t have the same mother as T or Dom. There’s a gentleness in their features. A softness that both appealed and intrigued me at the same time. Their thick eyelashes and dimple or chin cleft—whatever it was—it was as sweet as it was sexy. King? There’s no sweet to be found. He’s not only rough around the edges—he’s jagged. It’s as if he’s been dipped and bathed in all caveman energy. It exudes from him. He’s a bull in a China shop and the man is not going to make excuses for it. There’s a frank honesty about him that is a little frightening.

Still, he showed me kindness when there was really none to be found anywhere around. He listened and didn’t judge. I’ll forever be grateful to him. In a way, his gentleness gave me the courage to keep my child and rebuild my future—to make it better than my past. There’s good in this decision. King is proof of that, and one way or another, I’m going to make sure my child gets to drink from that good. I want him or her to get their fill. Rubbing my stomach, I'm lost in thought. I do that semi-smiling, because I know I’m on the right path.

“What the fuck is in Denver?”

King’s question jars me.

“Huh?”

“What’s in Denver? There has to be a reason you picked it, Gabby.”

“I’ve always been in love with the pictures I’ve seen from there. When I was in school, a friend of mine and her family went there for vacation, and I thought the scenery in the background of her photos was so beautiful that it had to be close to what Heaven would be. Back when Dom and I were good—before he began moving on a different path and I lost my mind—I used to tell him about how much I longed to see the Rocky Mountains. I told him how I wanted to take it all in and experience it. He promised to take me on the back of his bike, just the two of us. He told me when he got solid with the club and things were settled, he’d take me.”

“So, moving to Denver is tied up in some fantasy you created with Dom?” he says, staring at me, his face closed off.

I frown, so annoyed I can feel my forehead crinkling with the force of the scowl that takes over my face. “Of course not,” I hiss. I might have expected that kind of response from anyone in the world, but not King. I thought he got me. Of anyone, I felt he truly would understand my decision. I guess my dream that there were people who would understand me and not make knee-jerk assumptions was wrong. Damn it. There’s another lesson for me to file away.

“Then, what is it, Gabby?”

“Gee, I don’t know, King. Why are you here? Why were you in North Carolina? Why aren’t you back in Virginia?”

His mouth gets tight, but I think I see understanding dawning on his face. I push my plate away. I’ve had enough. I had enough when I was cornered into going to the doctor and now, I’ve really had enough. “Can we go? I’m worn out and I really just want to go home and lay down.”

“Gabby—”

“I’m serious, King. I’ve had enough today.”

His face tightens. There’s a muscle along his jawline that keeps jerking. I can feel his temper, but he’s reining it in. It wouldn’t matter either way. I wasn’t kidding. I really am done. He apparently decides to take me at my word and nods his head. He gets a box for my untouched food and pays our bill. I’d offer him money for my part, but since I didn’t want it and he made me order something, I don’t really feel the inclination to do so.

“Jesus. Why are women so fucking difficult?” he gripes, as he helps me to stand. He puts a hand on my back as he leads me toward the vehicle. His other one is holding my barely touched food. I think his question was merely something directed at himself, but still, I feel the need to reply, and I do by giving him the honest-to-God’s-truth.


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