Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:16 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Loco’s Last (Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC #2) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.ilovenovels.com/locos-last-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:16 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/locos-last-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Saint's Outlaws MC - Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)

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Part One -Shattered SaintLife was good, great even, until it wasn’t.
Dante “Loco” Verdone fulfilled his childhood dream of being a cop. Each day came with a new challenge and he relished being in the thick of it all. He came home each night to a woman he loved, cherished, and wanted to spend his life with.
Until tragedy struck changing everything for Dante including his home.
Leaving the city, his job, and life as he knew it, he climbed on his bike heading south. Landing in Dreadnought, North Carolina was supposed to be a pit stop. But deep in the mountains, he found solace in his pain. He found purpose in himself with the Saint’s Outlaws MC.
Thirteen years had passed, but calling her for a favor brought them back together. Hearing her voice awoke something inside Dante. She drove him crazy before, now her casual dismissal of him brought him to his knees.
Some things have changed, like the cop became an outlaw. But one thing remained the same Dante’s desire to spend his life loving her.

Part Two – Loco’s Last
Once a door closes, it shouldn’t be reopened.
That was Dante “Loco” Verdone’s motto. He never looked back, only ahead.
Living by the code of an outlaw was easy. But situations sometimes require giving respect to the thin blue line of the law.
He had someone who had the power and resources he needed. Except to call her meant opening a door he slammed closed.
Juanita Banks had a life she loved. Heartbreak didn’t hold her back. She refused to be crushed by a man, no matter how much he still turned her on.
He called. She answered because she felt she owed him one last marker. Deed done, this time it was Nita who walked away without looking back.
Having her close again, Loco would show the world his crazy before he lost her again. Even if it was the last thing he did, he was going to have Nita back

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Loco

I woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine, soft and steady, like the city finally exhaled while it slept. For a second I forgot where I was, then my arm tingles and I realized it’s pinned under Char’s head. She was warm. Always warm. My ceiling fan hummed overhead, lazy blades pushing cool air that felt like a gentle kiss to my skin. The gray light of early morning slipped through the blinds, illuminating her shoulder, the curve of her cheek, and the silk of her bonnet against my forearm.

I didn’t move. I learned the hard way that waking her before she was ready earned me a look that could stop traffic. Instead, I lay there and catalog the small things. The faint vanilla-citrus scent of her lotion. The way her fingers curled into my T-shirt like she feared I might slip off without her permission. The quiet city outside—sirens far enough away to be background noise, a bus sighing at the corner, someone yelling who knows what to who knows who. This was my favorite time of day. Before the badge. Before the radio. Before the version of me that had to put on armor and pretend I was not human.

Char stirred, nose brushing my bicep. “Your staring again,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Wasn’t staring,” I muttered quietly. “Just appreciating the view.”

She hummed, not convinced. Her eyes cracked open, dark and warm, and she smiled like she knew exactly what she did to me. “What time is it?”

“Too early.” I replied because anytime I had to get out of this bed is too early for me if she was in my arms.

It was new this thing between us. But it felt good, right in a way I couldn’t explain.

She sighed, “For you or for the world?”

“Both.” I shifted carefully, easing my arm out from under her head. She made a small protest sound but didn’t wake fully. I leaned over and kiss her forehead, then her temple. “I’ve gotta get ready. Go back to sleep, baby.”

She reached for me, fingers catching my wrist. “You workin’ days or nights the rest of the week?”

“Days. Thank God.”

She smiled wider at that. “Then you can make breakfast.”

I laughed. “You’re bold this early in the morning.”

“You love it.” She rolled onto her back, stretching like a cat, shirt riding up to show a strip of smooth brown skin. She catches me looking and smirked. “Told you. Staring.”

“Can’t help it,” I admitted. “You live here. It’s in the lease, guess you missed that part.”

“I do not live here,” she stated automatically, the way she always did.

“You’re here five nights a week.” I gave her the damn truth. It was fast sure. Maybe too fast for her to be staying like this, but we didn’t meet under circumstances that were the usual in the first place. Deciding to lighten the mood because we aren’t ready for some deep conversation about where we sleep, I reverted back to something easier, her beauty. “You stay here. It’s in the agreement, I have to give props to the view, baby.”

“Temporary residency,” she explained. “With benefits. When the renewal comes we can see if there needs to be a renegotiation.”

“Generous benefits for both sides,” I stated, leaning down to kiss her properly this time. She tasted like sleep and toothpaste from last night, and something sweet I could never quite name. She kissed me back, slow and lazy, one hand sliding up my chest.

We could stay like this. The thought hit me hard and sudden. We could call in sick. Order breakfast. Let the city handle itself for a few hours. But my phone buzzed on the nightstand, like it knew exactly what I’m thinking.

“Killjoy,” Char muttered.

“Duty calls,” I stated on a sigh, reaching for it. A quick glance—nothing urgent, just a reminder from my partner about a meeting. I dropped the phone back down. “Rain check for breakfast?”

She nodded, then propped herself up on one elbow. “Coffee?”

“You read my mind.” I twisted my legs out of bed, the hardwood cool under my feet. The apartment was small but it’s mine—brick walls, big windows, a kitchen that barely fit two people, really only worked if one of them knew how to move out of the way. I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, then made my way to the coffee maker.

Char padded in behind me a minute later, wrapped in my hoodie like it belonged to her. It did. Everything did, eventually.

She leaned against the counter while I set up the machine. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock,” I replied. “You?” I wondered if this was leading her backwards. The early days, nightmares were frequent. Given how we met, what she endured, yeah, I found myself thankful for any night she could sleep without a bad dream.

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Gonzo’s Grudge (Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC #1) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.ilovenovels.com/gonzos-grudge-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:13:16 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/gonzos-grudge-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Saint's Outlaws MC - Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Part Shattered Saint
After surviving a war zone, Gabriel “Gonzo” Gonzales found himself restless and longing for a connection with his brothers in arms. Having patched to the Saints Outlaws MC, he became at ease like never before.
Life was good with people he trusted at his back. Until the person who mattered most in his world dealt with the worst of betrayals firsthand. With his son paying the consequences for someone else’s crime, Gonzo had one focus driving revenge.
The grudge would change everything for Gonzo. Needing to change the playing field, he locked in on his target and set his mission for revenge.
Deep in a valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains was a town no one thought twice about. Dreadnought, North Carolina was a quiet place where no outsider dared to enter since the Saint’s Outlaws moved in.
Gonzo won’t lose control. He won’t stop until he’s settled the score. The brothers behind him won’t back down even if it costs them everything.
The Saint’s Outlaws protect their own to the very end.
Welcome to the battle for vengeance.
These outlaws won’t be stopped until the scales are tipped in their favor once more.

Part Gonzo's Grudge
There were always casualties of war.
That was what Gabriel “Gonzo” Gonzales told himself once he locked in on the target of his grudge. The man who shattered his world had a weakness in his only daughter, Gonzo would exploit this any way he could.
IvaLeigh Walsh lived a sheltered life behind the gated community she was raised in. College was a new freedom and she was learning not everyone could be trusted.
One misfortune after another plagued the young woman. Yet, at every turn a stranger who called himself Gonzo seemed to be her savior.
The attraction was real, but the man’s intentions were anything but pure.
She was entangled in a war of men and didn’t even realize the battlefield had become her heart. Torn between the life she knew and the life she was being shown, IvaLeigh didn’t know what to believe anymore

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Gonzo

The call came like thunder on a clear day—unexpected, jarring, full of static.

Pop Squally sent out the alert for officers and full patches within range to report in.

Church.

Nonnegotiable unless on a run. Not unusual, not exactly rare, but the timing was all kinds of fucked.

Half the club was out on the road, running a truckload of ARs toward Arkansas. Wrath and his Bella Vista boys had put in their order weeks back, and when Wrath called, you answered—because Wrath didn’t play. Luckily, we had more than enough firepower stashed in reserve to cover it. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was why Pop was calling us in now, with half the table riding as dirty as can be across state lines. They get caught out of a protected territory our guys would be facing some serious time. He wouldn’t take on another job with so many brothers out.

There was this little kernel of curiosity that gnawed at me the whole ride in. While we had random needs to call church sometimes, there was something in my gut that felt heavier this time. I couldn’t explain it.

I killed the engine outside the clubhouse and went through the ritual to get in my seat. Our setup was unique, but the shit was rock solid.

Phone in the basket by the vault entrance door—electronics stripped off everyone like sins at confession. Step inside the first room and remove firearms. Gun in the assigned safety deposit box. My pistol clinked against the steel and suddenly I felt naked, but that was the whole point. Inside church, there were no distractions, no firepower. We were safe together inside this space, no weapons were needed. Just brothers, words, and the storm of whatever the fuck Pop was about to drop.

The vault swallowed us one by one. Concrete and steel muffled the outside world, pressing it away until it was just us and the hum of recycled air.

The old bank was a gem Pop had snapped up years back. Apparently when a bank closes a branch, the building gets sold with a clause that it couldn’t be used as a bank for five years post-sale. Due to the set up for banking, it wasn’t a prime building for many types of businesses without needing remodeling to remove the vault. For us, the bank would never be owned by anyone other than the Saint’s Outlaws holding company. We worked all of the brick building’s features to our advantage. Especially the security measures, the vault as our armory and table. Everything was decided locked together in this room. The camera system was now a closed circuit system, but we had eyes everywhere on the property.

The lobby now had neon lights, smoke, whiskey, and laughter—our playground. The vault though, that was our cathedral. No windows, no leaks, no chance for ears that didn’t belong. Inside here, the weight of history pressed on your shoulders. It smelled like leather with sweat. The air carried the weight of a thousand meetings where decisions got made that changed lives, ended others, and carved our story into the bones of Dreadnought.

At the head of the mahogany table, Pop sat where he belonged. President. He put brothers above everything including himself. A true leader. Master Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps before, Saint’s Outlaws commander always.

Calm in every storm.

His posture said everything: steady hands, steady mind, steady trigger. He didn’t need to raise his voice—his presence filled the room.

I slid into my spot at his right hand. Vice president. Not by charity, not by accident. I’d earned it. Eleven years under this patch, eight tours under his command before that. If Pop marched into straight into Hell, I’d follow him and light a cigarette on the flames as they danced around us.

One by one, the others filled their chairs. Officers locked in at the table, every other patched brother, stood against the walls or took one of the few spare chairs around.

Tower, our secretary, eyes darting like he was already writing down minutes in invisible ink. The man had a mind like no other and never forgot a damn thing. Jester, our sergeant-at-arms, cracking his knuckles and smirking like every problem was just a skull waiting for his fist. He definitely was a shoot first ask questions later type of man. Burn, the enforcer, solid, quiet, all coiled violence. Pull, he was Burn’s shadow, muscle and loyalty stacked in flesh. Disciple, our chaplain, who could quote scripture one breath and snap a neck the next. Peanut, road captain, wiry, sharp, the bastard you wanted planning your route through hell. And Loco, Treasurer, numbers man and smartass in equal measure. Everyone was present that had a crucial role in the club.

The table was full even with so many brothers taking the run for Wrath. The run had patches but no officers for a change and this gave us all the opportunity to be here. Another unusual situation for everyone holding rank to be present with an active run in place. Pop didn’t waste a second. He never did.

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