Kiss My Pucking Bass (Kings of Denver #3) Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Kings of Denver Series by Sheridan Anne
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
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“Bullshit,” I yell back at him. “If you weren’t scared, you would have faced him like a man. But instead, you’re pulling this shit.”

His hand flinches at his side, and not a second later, I feel his fingers at my throat, closing around my windpipe and squeezing hard.

Holy shit. Bad move. Bad fucking move. I can’t breathe.

I try desperately to gasp for air, but his hold is too tight, and my eyes widen, the fear like nothing I’ve ever known. He grins at me for long, painful seconds before clenching harder around my throat and using his hold to throw me across the van. I gasp for sweet oxygen as my body crashes into the opposite side of the van, hitting it so fucking hard I dent the panel.

Pain shoots through my body, but at least this time I have the sense to stay still and quiet.

“Still think I’m scared?” Pitbull taunts as he presses his heavy boot against my wrist and crushes the bones with ease.

Yes, in fact, I do.

I scream in agony, tears instantly springing to my eyes as intense pain rocks through my wrist and shoots up my arm. He doesn’t release me, and I claw at his boot, desperate for relief.

He waits until most of my screams have been swallowed by my sobs before finally removing his foot from my shattered wrist. He crouches down, pushing right into my personal space, a twisted smirk on his face that has me choking back vomit. “That fucker is going to be annihilated in the ring, and I’m going to make sure of it,” he says with a promise in his eyes. With that, his hand closes into a tight fist and comes hurtling toward my face.

The last thing I see is that twisted smirk before my world disappears.

Chapter 20

XANDER

“Faster,” Cole demands as I punch the boxing pads he holds in front of his chest. I push myself harder. I only have two more days before I face Pitbull, and not a damn thing is going to stop me from taking that fucker down. Not after his bullshit last week. And certainly not with two hundred thousand dollars on the line.

Cole moves the pads, and my eyes follow each of his movements, not missing a beat.

My phone ringing in the background cuts into my concentration, but I ignore it. I’ve got shit to do. I continue with the punches, kicking and evading, while I hear Jace in the background answering the call. “Roadkill grill. You kill ’em, we grill ’em.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the grin that cuts across my face. “Shit, yeah. I’ll grab him,” Jace says before jogging over to me.

Cole instantly puts his pads down, and I turn to Jace who has a strange look on his face. “Sorry, dude,” he says, handing the phone over, knowing not to interrupt my sessions unless it’s important. “It’s some guy, Micky. He says there’s a problem.”

I take the phone. If it’s Micky that means it’s got something to do with Charli. My heart rate increases, despite the workout Cole’s been putting me through. “Micky,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Have you heard from Charli?” he demands, not beating around the bush.

“No,” I tell him, my back stiffening. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know, kid,” he says, the concern clear in his voice. “Just had a call from Gina. Charli never returned from her lunch break.”

“What?” I question. Charli has never ditched work before. It’s just not something she’s capable of. Even on her deathbed, she’d still try to work. Something must have happened. I can’t help but wonder if her stepmom finally came for her again, and fuck, the image of my girl laying in a gutter somewhere has me doubling over.

My heart races as I end the call, not even bothering with a goodbye. I find her name in my contact list and hit call, waiting the few painful seconds for the call to connect, but it beeps at me, saying call failed. I give it a second try then a third. “Fuck,” I roar.

“What’s wrong?” Cole rushes out, alarmed.

“It’s Charli. Something’s wrong,” I tell him as I rush to the back and grab my shit. Cole throws me the keys to his truck, and I’ve never been so grateful. It’s times like this I wish I still had my own fucking truck.

I’m out the door in seconds, rushing home and hoping like fuck she just wasn’t feeling well and I’m going to walk through the door to find her curled up in bed, pleased to see me.

I make it home in no time and push through the door, narrowly escaping having to break it down. “Charli?” I call as I make my way through the house, but I know in my gut that she isn’t here. “Babe? You here?”


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