Ice (Iron Rogues MC #6) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Iron Rogues MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
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His invitation was unexpected but very much appreciated, considering how tight he kept his circle. “Thank you. I just might do that.”

“You’ll hear from me soon.”

The connection ended abruptly, and I leaned back in my chair, playing over our conversation and wondering how the man had talked me in circles.

I took a deep breath and shook my head, trying to clear my mind of everything except my angel. She was the only thing that would soothe my instincts to hunt Franks down and dismember him myself.

There was a knock on the door before it opened and Fox and Maverick walked into the room.

“So?” Maverick stuck his hands in his front pockets and cocked his head to the side. “Is he in?”

I put my palms flat on the desktop and pushed down, rising to my feet. “In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he agreed, but only if we do it his way,” Fox supplied.

“Yeah.”

Maverick frowned. “And his way is what?”

I shrugged. “Whatever way he wants. He’ll call when it’s done.”

Fox studied me for a moment, then asked, “And you’re okay with this?”

“Couldn’t argue with his logic,” I answered. “Letting him handle it keeps both Marnie and me safe. And that’s what is most important.”

Fox smiled approvingly, then his expression turned curious. “What did he want in return?”

I told them about Nic’s request, and they both laughed. Then Fox ambled over and slapped me on the back. “Go home to your woman.”

Glancing at my watch, I was happy to see I’d only been gone about an hour and a half. Which meant Marnie would still be awake, and I could make up for leaving so abruptly earlier.

I was almost to the door when Fox called out my name, and I halted, turning halfway around to see what he wanted.

He held up a vest. “Almost forgot. Sheila dropped it off earlier.”

Fox tossed it to me, and I easily caught it, then held it up to look at the property patch taking up almost the entire back. Pride swelled in my chest, and my heart thumped. Yeah, I needed to be with my angel.

“You hear something from Nic, call,” I told them. “Otherwise, don’t bother me for a few days.”

Ignoring their laughter, I turned and stalked from the room.

The ride home felt like hours, and relief washed over me when I saw Whiskey step out of the shadows and raise his chin in greeting as he walked toward me.

I quickly exited the car and glanced up at the house before meeting Whiskey’s eyes.

“Everything’s been quiet,” he told me. “She’s fine.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, and we shook hands. Viper and Wrecker rode up on their bikes, and I nodded to them in silent thanks, receiving the same gesture in return.

I walked through the front door when I heard the rumble of all three motorcycles as they headed down the road.

I put her vest in the coat closet for the time being, shutting the door just as Marnie came around the corner from the kitchen.

She beamed when she saw me. “You’re home.”

“C’mere,” I ordered gruffly, holding out an arm. She hurried over, and I wrapped her in my embrace, rubbing my chin in her silky waves. “Fuck, I missed you.”

She dropped her head back, and her eyes twinkled happily. “I missed you too. I made dinner, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am starving, angel,” I grunted before sweeping her off her feet and stalking toward the stairs and up to our bedroom.

“But dinner…” Marnie gasped as I tossed her onto the bed, then laughed as she bounced on the mattress.

“What I’m craving is between your sexy thighs, angel.”

Just over twenty-four hours later, I received a call from a number I didn’t recognize, though it had a New York City area code.

“Tell me it’s done,” I said in lieu of a greeting.

“Turn on the news,” Nic murmured, then hung up.

I was in my home office, catching up on some work, so I grabbed the remote to the TV mounted on the wall and hit the power button.

The local news channel blinked on, and Lonnie Damien, a rookie reporter, stood in front of a construction site.

“The victim has been identified as Keith Franks, a local land developer. He was shot execution-style with a single bullet to the back of the head.”

Lonnie paused and put his finger to his ear, then straightened and looked directly into the camera, a grim expression on his face. He was overdoing it with the theatrics, but I didn’t care as long as I heard what I wanted.

“Rumors that Franks was in bed with the local Mafia are swirling, and though police have declined to comment, I’m being told that there’s evidence supporting this theory.”

He paused again, then a flash of triumph crossed his face for a second before he could school it into his serious facade.



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