Rebel Read online Helen Hardt (Wolfes of Manhattan #1)

Categories Genre: Biker, Erotic, MC Tags Authors: Series: Wolfes of Manhattan Series by Helen Hardt
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 81407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
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“Rock has always been on his own time schedule,” Connie Wolfe said. “That’s part of his charm.”

Then two harsh knocks on my door. “Come in,” I said, expecting my assistant, Charlie.

Instead, in strolled a man who could only be the elusive Rock Wolf.

While his brothers’ hair was sleek and combed into place, Rock’s dark tresses were wavy and unruly, falling below his shoulders. His jawline was sculpted and laced with black stubble, and his nose slightly crooked, clearly had been broken at least once. His lips were full and beautiful. And his eyes… A green so clear and powerful a person could get lost in them.

I had to break my gaze away from his magnificently handsome face to notice his wardrobe. While his brothers were clad in Armani suits and ties, Rock wore Levi’s that accented his ass and thighs to perfection. A black leather motorcycle jacket—over gorgeously broad shoulders—and black boots completed his ensemble.

He’d at least put on a button-down black shirt for the occasion, open at the neck, a few dark chest hairs peeking out.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Wolfe,” I said, willing my voice not to crack. “Everyone else is here, so we can get started.”

He glared at me. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Lacey Ward, your father’s estate attorney.”

“Lacey, huh?”

“Yes.”

Charlie sat down at the opposite end of the table to take notes. She glanced at me with an “I’m sorry” look.

Rock chuckled and took the seat next to Reid. “Did your mother name you after the lingerie she was wearing the night you were conceived?”

Reid nudged him. “Jesus Christ, Rock.”

My cheeks warmed. This was Derek Wolfe’s son all right, clear down to the douchebag gene. Stay professional, Lace.

“My name isn’t up for discussion right now. Since we’re all here, let’s get to your father’s will.”

“I can’t fucking wait,” Rock said with a touch—okay, a huge amount—of sarcasm.

I cleared my throat and began.

3

Rock

Lacey Ward was fucking hot.

Oh, she tried to hide it in her navy-blue blazer and tight-ass high-necked blouse, her dark blond hair pulled into a high ponytail so tight that her facial muscles could barely move, and her unglossed lips pressed into a straight line, but I knew the type.

A fucking tomcat in the sack.

I could tell by her eyes. They were big, blue, and vibrant, and they looked me over as if I were a hunk of USDA prime beef tenderloin.

Yup, a tomcat.

Not that I’d ever know. Hell, not that I cared.

I was here for one reason only—so my mother and siblings could hear the contents of the shithead’s will. I already knew he’d left me a fat lot of nothing.

And I didn’t care one fucking bit.

Lacey Ward’s voice had a rasp to it. A sexy rasp. It wouldn’t be a hardship to listen to her for the next few hours. Hell, I didn’t even need to listen to the words. I knew what they’d be anyway.

Rock gets nothing.

Fine with me.

“Section Five, distribution of personal property,” Lacey said. “All of my mother’s jewelry in my possession and in the safe deposit box at First National Bank is hereby bequeathed to my daughter Riley Doris Wolfe.”

No surprise there.

“My automobiles, except for the Tesla and the Porsche, are bequeathed to my sons, Roy and Reid Wolfe, with Roy, as the older, to have the first choice. They will then choose alternately. The Porsche is bequeathed to my daughter, Riley Wolfe.”

His cars. Daddy’s pride and joy. He loved those damned cars more than he ever loved any person in his life, least of all me.

I stopped listening. I sat back, closed my eyes, and basked in the rhythm of Lacey’s sexy voice.

Yeah, Rock. Fuck me good, baby. Pound that hard cock into me…

My groin tightened. Hell, I didn’t care. Just get this day over with.

That’s it, baby. Fuck me. Make me come…

Damn, she’d look good on the back of my bike, that blond hair flowing out of a helmet. Yup, I was a helmet man. No point in splattering my brains all over the place. Now that I had a life I enjoyed, I wanted to keep it that way.

I hated Manhattan. I wanted to go back to Montana, where the sky was big and blue and everything was open. New York was so closed in. And it smelled. Even in this posh Manhattan office, the stench of the streets still wafted in the air.

I looked around. My brother Roy was looking down at his lap, while Reid was ogling Lacey. Not that I blamed him. He’d probably fucked her already.

A spear of jealousy hit my gut. Why? I didn’t know. So what if he’d fucked her? Reid fucked anything in a skirt.

My little sister, Riley, sat next to my mother.

Riley… The sight of her brought it all back. We weren’t close, and I was sorry about that. I’d been protecting her that day, but she didn’t know that, and I could never tell her.


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