Filthy Mogul – The Billion-Dollar Men Read Online M. Robinson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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She quickly shifted into second, then third as bullets continued to ring out behind us.

Fifty miles…

Sixty…

Seventy miles per hour, she gunned it through a steel yard, kicking up dirt in our wake.

“You a race car driver too?”

For a moment, we locked eyes, and I knew there was more to that question than a simple answer. I was beginning to learn that nothing would ever be easy with her.

I watched in astonishment as she downshifted to first, fishtailing out onto another road. She nearly caused a collision with a moving truck. The only sounds that could be heard were the squealing tires and shots being fired, shattering more windows and denting more metal on my car.

I fired back with guns in each of my hands, blowing out the tires of one of the cars chasing us right when Sloan got us the hell out of there.

More bullets bounced off the metal of my Audi while I reached for another gun. The rush surging through my veins controlled my senses, and we were both damn lucky it did.

I acted on pure impulse to protect her, still not giving a fuck about my safety. Shots fired through the air, more bullets pinged off the metal, and glass continued to shatter, all echoing in the night. I covered us as best as I could, staying low. I shot out the window while ducking from the glass breaking around us.

“We’re almost there!”

I was furious this was happening.

I chose to take my anger out on the motherfuckers who were chasing us instead of the woman zooming around traffic like we were in the movie Fast and Furious. She placed as much distance between us and the cars as she could.

“Fuck this shit!” I leaned out the window, sat on the frame, and fired in all directions to take out their windshields, hitting one of the drivers in the head before sitting back in the car. “Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

She looked at me again. “I’m going to need you to trust me, okay?”

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

She laughed nervously, and I reloaded as she weaved her way in and out of traffic.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Duchess, slow down,” I cautioned, bracing myself for impact with one hand on the dash and the other on the oh-shit handle.

The next string of bullets rang out, missing her head by inches. The engine over-revved, and our car swerved, bringing me to my fucking breaking point. I did the next best thing in that situation. I pulled up the emergency brake and forcefully reached over, pushing her foot down on the brake at the same time, then jerked the wheel to the right, causing her body to be tossed toward her door as our car spun out.

We abruptly stopped perpendicular to the son of a bitch’s windshield, exactly how I sought. His eyes widened when he realized my gun was now pointing directly between his eyes. My forearm held her against her seat as shot after shot erupted from my gun, killing him in an instant.

She breathed out a sigh of relief and threw the shifter into neutral to lean her head back against the headrest. Her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath. It was then I noticed the blood on her shoulder. A bullet had nicked her.

“You okay?”

She looked at her wound. “I’ve been better.”

I scoffed out a chuckle. “Yeah, I feel ya.”

She didn’t rest for more than a few seconds before she took off again, flooring it to ninety going down the highway and taking the next exit going north. She drove faster and faster to reach our final destination until we finally traveled through a secluded back alley for a few miles. Once she parked the completely destroyed car, I waited for I don’t know what.

For all I knew, this could be a trap.

“Where are we?”

She met my intense stare. “They won’t find us here.”

With that, she opened her door and stepped out, and I followed her. Opening what was left of my trunk, I grabbed the black hoodie I had in there and threw it at her.

“Oh.” She grabbed it in the air, looking down at herself. “That’s probably a good idea.” She slipped it on. “Thanks.”

Next, I tossed a pair of sneakers at her, and she caught those in the air too.

After she put them on, she remarked, “How did you know my size?”

“I like to be prepared.”

With a hint of a smirk, she teased, “Anything else you got back there?”

“Just more weapons.”

“Those will come in handy.”

“So not only are you a speed racer but you’re also G.I. Jane? Where did you learn that?”

She actually smirked that time. “I have moves you’ve never seen.”

I held back a smile, and she nodded toward the woods.

“Why do I feel like this might be a trap?”


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