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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I hoped truly that was not the case. Because if Dana was heartbroken, Drake was going to be destroyed. I could tell already, the man was not going to recover if she left him.

So I wasn’t sure why exactly Dana was crying. She wasn’t sobbing or anything, but she looked devastated. I grit my teeth. I would get to the bottom of it, come hell or high water.

“Hey Dana, it’s just us,” I called out softly as our feet on the gravel made her turn. Her shoulders slumped in relief when she saw who it was. She gave us a wan smile and brushed off her cheeks.

“You okay?” Sally asked gently as we perched on the rock. We jumped up on either side of her, like a warm, human, sandwich.

“Yeah. Sorry. I just needed a minute.”

“Honey, you take all the time you want,” I said, hiding my impatience to get to the bottom of this. If this was a ‘crying because I don’t like Drake anymore because he’s dumb and punched a tree’ then I needed to know. I needed to fix it.

“Always,” Sally added. “You have backup now, whether you want it or not. You are one of us.”

She gave us a smile and promptly burst into tears.

“There you go, honey. Let it all out,” Sally said, wrapping her arm around Dana. I leaned my head against her from the other side and did the same. That only made her cry harder.

“I hate crying in front of people,” Dana exclaimed, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Me too, girl,” Sally said with a laugh. I’d seen Sally cry plenty. But maybe just in front of Kaylie and I, I realized. Maybe it wasn’t just me and my messed up childhood. Maybe no one wanted to show that kind of weakness in front of anyone.

“We’ve all been there. Trust me,” I added.

“I’m just so… tired!”

“Work? Or everything else?”

“Work and everything else,” she corrected us, still laughing. Her tears had slowed though. Not by force or because she was embarrassed. She’d released them. She’d gotten them out for good.

“I must look like hell,” she said, brushing the last of the tears away.

“Never,” I swore, although her face was a tad puffy. She was still obnoxiously pretty, even with a red nose.

“Don’t fret, I brought supplies,” Sally crowed, pulling a small makeup bag out of her purse.

“Of course, you did. I am surprised you didn’t roll up in a golf cart,” I said with fond exasperation and an eye roll. The girl was always prepared for a beauty emergency. It was partially due to the way she’d been raised, and her natural femininity, but also due her time on the road performing country music. She was always ready for anything. She was a pro. “A pink one, of course.”

“Ooooh, now I want one,” Sally said with a wink as she dug through her makeup bag. I rolled my eyes and laughed, knowing full when she wasn’t joking.

Dana tilted her head back and let Sally get to work while we talked.

“Want to tell us what happened?” I nudged. “Did Drake do something stupid? He is a man, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I don’t like it when people yell,” she admitted softly. My mouth opened and I shut it again. I’d grown up in an abusive house. I knew what she meant.

“Someone yelled at you a lot?” Sally asked, brushing some tinted moisturizer onto her skin.

“Not at me. Just near me, I guess. My dad… he yelled at my mom a lot. He was mean and she cried all the time. I barely remember them. But I remember that.”

“Drake wasn’t yelling at you, right?” I asked, realizing Drake may, in fact, have fucked up for real.

“No,” Dana agreed. “He wasn’t.”

“That’s the difference,” I said. “He wouldn’t yell at you, or any woman. None of our guys would,” I added, hoping like hell that Drake hadn’t blown it. I liked Dana. I was keeping her, I decided. Whether or not the big lug had messed things up with her.

“I know he wouldn’t. It just took me by surprise. He was so… loud.”

“My mom was a yeller,” I commiserated. “Not just loud either. She was meaner than a rattlesnake. And she hated me for some reason. I had to be perfect at every moment to get her grudging approval, which was the closest she ever got to love or genuine affection.”

“But you are perfect,” Dana joked. “Look at you!”

“I’m not. No one is. I wouldn’t want to be. Perfect is boring, anyway.”

“I hate the cruelty, too,” Sally said quietly. “My ex,” she added by way of explanation.

She didn’t have to say anything further. We all knew what she was saying. Nobody spoke for a couple of minutes. Sally, bless her heart, kept on working her magic with a very light application of makeup.


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