Tempting Enemy (Beckham Dynasty #1) Read Online M. Robinson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Forbidden, MC, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Beckham Dynasty Series by M. Robinson
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 80261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
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“This is some good shit,” Trevor exclaimed, hitting the blunt.

We were sitting on one of the couches in the game room, shooting the shit, pretending to have a good ol’ fucking time. I acted like nothing was happening in my life when everyday it felt like I was losing myself more and more.

On most days, I didn’t recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror. Sick to my stomach. I was barely attending school and when I was, I was getting in trouble for random shit.

Especially fighting.

Everyone knew who my old man was. He was a fucking criminal, and nobody ever let me forget it. Saying I’d be just like him. An outlaw who wasn’t worth a shit. The sad part was—it was true. I was failing all my classes. I barely went and the only reason I did was to get my mom off my ass.

I couldn’t keep seeing her cry day after day, particularly when it was about me. It was eating me alive on daily. As much as I hated selling drugs to anyone, this was the answer to all our prayers. We could leave this town behind, forget about Billy, and start over. I’d do whatever I had to in order to give her the life she deserved. I owed her that much.

She was my mom.

I loved her more than anything in this world.

I wanted to make her proud and I knew I was doing the exact opposite of that, but I was determined to make a better life for ourselves. She’d understand once she realized how much money I was able to make for us.

Although I wasn’t to the point where I felt comfortable enough to tell her. A few more months and we’d be able to run away from it all. I just silently prayed my old man wouldn’t find out first. If he did, I’d be fucking dead. He wouldn’t hesitate to put to me to ground, joining all the other motherfuckers he killed for stealing from him.

He’d yet to realize the drugs I was taking from the club when he was out of town on whatever illegal shit he was conjuring. I didn’t steal enough for him to notice. He had a shitload of drugs. It’d take a lot. Little by little, my savings kept adding up.

I inhaled a deep breath, aimlessly staring at the coffee table in front of us which were lined with rails of blow and Molly. People were walking around everywhere, smoking weed, popping pills, fucking out in the open, and kicking back an obscene amount of booze.

Most of the chicks showed up half-naked, or ready to fuck any guy who’d feed them drugs for free. They reminded me of all the club whores my old man laid with every day.

I wasn’t much for drugs. The last thing I needed was to get addicted and fuck up my life more than I already was. The guilt was sometimes too much to bear, and I’d hit a blunt here and there or drink a quart to forget.

When I was selling, I needed to stay clear and levelheaded, making sure I was always on alert, and I wasn’t getting robbed. I didn’t trust anyone, especially when it came down to this kind of arrangement.

I’d never felt so empty and hollow before. Between The Outlaws, Billy, and my mom it, was one thing after another lately. My old man was on my ass to join his club, saying some shit about it being my legacy. Everything was a fucking mess. The walls were starting to close in on me, and this was my only way out. I didn’t want to end up like him and I knew if we didn’t leave, it’d eventually happen with or without my consent.

He'd make sure of it.

The only friends I had were the underlying demons that never left me alone. They were my fucking companions, always sitting right there next to me, waiting to take me under.

Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered how he’d beat her. However now that I was older, he knew better than to lay a hand on her, but that didn’t take away all the years of abuse I witnessed as a child. I watched the world play out in front of me as I was held hostage with my memories.

When out of nowhere, somebody yelled, “Cops! Run!”

“Fuck!” I shot up, trying to grab everything off the table.

I wasn’t about to leave thousands of dollars of drugs sitting there. The house fell into a fit of hysteria.

Running.

Falling.

Screaming.

I worked as fast as I could, throwing the blow into a bag and then the weed and Molly while the officers invaded the house. One by one, they rushed inside, taking down anyone in their path.

“Fuck!” Just a few more pills and I’d be done.


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