Taken by The Devil (The Devil’s Riders #9) Read Online Joanna Blake

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: The Devil's Riders Series by Joanna Blake
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
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“Moron,” I said under my breath, wondering if his hand was okay. I fretted and fussed over the guys as much as Kaylie did. I didn’t coddle as much as she did, but I still worried. I was just saltier about it then she was.

Hell, everyone was saltier then Kaylie.

My best friend since high school was too sweet for words. That was one of the reasons we got along. Deep down, we were the same. But on the surface? We couldn’t be more different. Everyone back in high school had wondered why we were friends. I was so outspoken and Kaylie was as sweet as pie. But we both had a core of steel. Neither of us had felt the need to explain it to them.

“Actions speak louder than words,” was all that wise little Kaylie had said on one occasion.

So yeah, all the girls were worried about Dana, but especially Kaylie and myself. We couldn’t help it. We were born to be mother hens.

And even though we’d all just met her, it was obvious that she was special. Drake was head over heels, and they hadn’t even gotten to spend time alone yet. I knew that was killing him. But I also knew he recognized that Dana would be worth the wait.

“Dana?” I asked, turning to see a familiar blond head with floral sunhat peeking through the trees around a bend in the path.

“It’s just me,” Sally said with a wry smile. Of course, she had followed. Out of all of us, Sally had been through the most trauma, which was saying something. It was hard to remember her tragic past sometimes, when she was pretty much a ball of pure sunshine.

Kind of like Taylor Swift, our Sally farted rainbows.

Actually, Sally would never do anything as crass as passing gas. A little toot now and then, maybe. But she was as genteel and off the charts girly as they came. The girl was super femme.

I’d been in her house a thousand times.

I’d seen her dish gloves.

They had rhinestones on them. And ruffles. So did the broom handle. So did her dustpan. Rhinestones and ruffles as far as the eye could see.

Lord help us all, the woman bedazzled everything.

Her floppy sun hat was festooned with faux flowers. Classy silk ones, of course. Not that it was over the top exactly. But she was a little bit extra. I could have spotted her a mile away.

“Where’s Dana?” She asked when she got close enough not to shout. Shouting was not genteel, though I’d heard her do it a time or two.

“I don’t see her anywhere,” I said. “She must have kept going to the other side.”

“I hope she didn’t get lost,” Sally fretted as we started down the path together. We didn’t talk much. We were both lost in our own thoughts.

Sally stopped about halfway around the lake, near Lucky and Christine’s place.

“Shhhh…” she said, holding a finger to her glossed lips. “I hear something…”

I tilted my head to the side. That’s when I heard it. Sally was right. Someone was crying.

“Bingo,” I said, and barreled towards the sound, no longer bothering to be quiet. I didn’t want to scare the girl, on top of everything else she was dealing with. And I wasn’t going to leave her to it, either.

Dana was sitting on a large rock that overlooked the lake. In her pretty floral sundress with her long wavy hair, she looked like a painting from another time. With her slender, elegant neck bent gracefully forward, and her soft arms wrapped around herself, her profile was beautiful but still conveyed a profound sadness.

Her beauty combined with the landscape made me want to pull out my camera and take a picture, but I restrained myself. Dancing had been my first love, but photography was turning into my second. After my husband, kids, and the club, of course.

There was a short stretch of sand around the lake here, but it was so small that it hadn’t been named yet. She had walked right past ‘Big Beach’, which was telling. It meant she wanted to be alone, with no chance of someone taking her by surprise.

I was like that, too. I hated crying with an audience. On the rare occasions that I actually let myself cry I needed total privacy.

But contrary to popular opinion, I wasn’t always tough. I had cried over Jack back in the day. More than once. I had cried plenty before I realized that the big lug was in love with me, with all my imperfections. Oh yes, my man loved me top to bottom. Head to toe and everything in between.

I hadn’t known that first. I wasn’t so sure he had known it either. By the time we both realized, we were in way over our heads.

Right now though, our new friend needed us. I watched her carefully as we approached. She had been through a lot recently, for sure, but she looked more heartbroken than scared, to be honest.


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