Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) Read Online Free PDF

surprised.
    “You clean up,” he said, reminding himself that he was playing the part of a sexist jerk biker here. “Then I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping downstairs.”
    She nodded, got to her feet, too. Quietly, she cleared the table and took the plates to the sink. She started the water, squirted in a bit of dish soap. He watched all of this, decided to maybe embark on his more friendly approach by making some coffee and offering her some. That would be nice, right? But still badass enough to not be taken as weakness?
    While he made the coffee, Shay washed and dried all the dishes and the pans, then put everything away. She was totally docile and silent, and so when he turned to get the milk from the fridge, he never saw it coming.
    How such a slim woman managed to get that much power behind a punch to his head was a mystery to him, but there was no denying it: the woman could punch . Kick, too, he soon discovered, when he turned to face her, and she did a dizzying-fast spin-kick that landed smack in the middle of his chest. He flew backwards, straight in to the fridge. Food and bottles fell to the floor, and Shay stepped forward with the controlled grace and lethal cool of a wildcat.
    Her next strike was open-handed, and caught him in the throat with the heel of her palm. Even as he struggled to breathe from that , she grabbed him by the back of his head, curled her fingers in his hair, and slammed his head down on the counter. Once, twice, three times, and his knees started to give.
    It was like that’s what she’d been waiting for, and why not? With Warren on his knees, she was taller than him, and had all the leverage. And she took full fucking advantage of it by grabbing a pan that she hadn’t put away after all, a pan that she’d hidden carefully in one of the island cubby-holes, and smashing him across the face with it.
    Warren heard his own grunt, heard his body hit the floor. He didn’t feel anything, though, and he fell in to the blackness, so fast and easy. He wished he could just drop off to sleep that fast and easy, to be honest.
    His second-to-last conscious thought was that if she’d set her mind to it, she could undoubtedly have done something lethal with that plastic bottle of lavender soap.
    His last conscious thought was that Shay Alcott wasn’t so goddamn sweet after all.

Chapter Three
    Shaylene Alcott glared down at the man on the floor in front of her. She still held the frying pan aloft, just in case he was playing possum, trying to lull her in to a false sense of security and safety. If he so much as moved a finger , she’d bash him again. Way harder, this time.
    She waited, eyeing him coolly. After a minute or so, she realized that he was out, totally. Only then did she lower the pan, set it on the island next to her with a sigh of relief that the charade was finally over.
    Jesus Christ , it had been difficult to sniffle and snuffle for the past fifteen hours or so, and she’d actually given herself a headache from it. She’d had to do it, though, since she’d needed these MC assholes to regard her with nothing less than contempt. Oh, they already did , she was fully aware, since she had breasts, and that made her a skanky whore by default… and weak and stupid, to boot. She’d played on the weak and stupid thing, and she’d played it well.
    The truth was that she’d always known this day would come. You couldn’t be Crusher Alcott’s kid sister and not be a target at some point, in some way, for something that had nothing whatsoever to do with you. The fact that she hated her brother with a passion, and that she had zero communication with him, wouldn’t matter to his enemies. They’d use her with no hesitation or compunction at all, and she’d be collateral in some fucked-up power play.
    Yeah. That day was here. No doubt about that.
    She stared down at the jerk at her feet, thinking fast. She’d laid out the plan in her head, gone over it again and again over the