Otto – The Hawthornes (The Aces’ Sons #11) Read Online Nicole Jacquelyn

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Biker, Crime, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Aces' Sons Series by Nicole Jacquelyn

Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)

Esther Allen doesn’t get in trouble. She follows every rule. She’s nice. Goes to church twice a week. Never talks back. Never steps out of line.Otto Hawthorne makes his own rules. After growing up in its shadow, he’s finally a member of the Aces and Eights Motorcycle Club. He’s quiet. Surly. A bit of a loner.The idea that they would meet at a party in the woods is completely illogical.The instant attraction is absolutely irrational.Under normal circumstances they wouldn’t have even crossed paths.Once they do? Both their lives are changed forever.

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“In and out,” my dad murmured, checking to make sure that the pistol he’d pulled out of the safe was loaded before handing it to me. “You’re just there to keep watch, yeah? Make sure there ain’t any surprises.”

“Got it,” I replied, checking it myself before sliding it into the holster hanging against my ribs.

“Got three chances to find those guns,” he muttered to himself. “Me and your uncle are takin’ you boys and Brody with us to the cabin. Casper’s takin’ another group to the warehouse downtown. Gramps and Dragon are checkin’ out the church down by the stadium.”

“We check out all three at once, they won’t have a chance to move ’em,” I replied in understanding. “Where do you think they are?”

“Honestly,” he said with a grimace. “No fuckin’ clue. My bet would be on the cabin. It’s isolated, yeah? Makes sense. But who knows with these fuckin’ weirdos.”

I let out a soft chuckle and loaded an extra magazine, running my fingers through the box of loose bullets my pops kept on a shelf next to the safe. “Can’t say our family’s any better,” I pointed out dryly. “We worship the wind in our faces and the open road as much as they worship their lord and savior.”

Dad scoffed. “Wouldn’t exactly call what we do a religion,” he mused. “But if I did, at least ours doesn’t discriminate, yeah? Plus, I doubt thinkin’ about their god gives ’em a tingle in the balls the way firin’ up my Harley does.”

“Pagan,” I said, laughing.

“Nah, man.” Dad reached up and scratched the back of his neck before turning toward the safe again. “I think there’s someone up there, keepin’ an eye on shit.”

“You do?” I asked in surprise.

“Have you seen your mother?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “There must be a god.”

My lips twitched. Leave it to my dad to bring the conversation around to my mom. Typical.

“You know, I watched her give birth to Myla on a mattress on our bedroom floor,” he said, his tone growing more serious. “No meds, no hospital, just sheer determination and grit. That was what sealed it for me. If I’d had any doubts that someone was watchin’ out for us, that woulda made me damn sure.”

“Fair enough.”

“You don’t think there’s a god?” he asked curiously, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Is this seriously what you two are discussin’?” my brother Rumi asked, poking his head into the closet. “Should I be worried?”

“You should always be worried, Rum,” my dad said, tossing a bullet at his head.

“I believe in God,” Rumi replied defensively, dodging the projectile. “Have you seen Nova?”

I choked as my dad started to laugh.

“You’re turnin’ into Dad,” I said, shaking my head at Rumi as I ignored the nausea pooling in my belly. “You know that, right?”

“Whatever, I’m way more like Mom.”

“I’d say you’re a good mix of us both,” my dad said, not bothering to look at us.

“Yeah, you somehow inherited the worst traits from both of them.”

“I’m tellin’ Mom you said that,” Rumi threatened as he checked his watch. “We about ready to go? Cuttin’ it close.”

“Here,” my dad said, turning back toward me with a shotgun dangling from his fist.

“You serious?”

“Stop bitchin’,” he said, forcing me to take it. “Put some of these in your pockets.”

“You expect me to carry a shotgun?” I asked flatly as he handed me a fist full of shells.

“Shotguns are perfect,” Rumi said, grinning. “You don’t even have to aim in close quarters.”

“I’m a better shot than you.”


“Jesus Christ, both of you shut up,” my dad muttered, sliding his pistols into the holsters at his back and ribs. “Take the shotgun in case you need it. Doubt you will. We’re doin’ this shit quick and quiet, remember? No one’s gonna be shootin’.”

“I got a rifle,” Rumi whispered as I followed my dad out of the closet. “Like a big boy.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” I muttered, shoving him away from me.

Rumi may have gotten a big boy rifle, but he’d been smaller than me since I was eleven years old.

“Sticks and stones, baby brother,” he shot back, kicking at the back of my knee to make it buckle.

“Dad’s gonna kill you,” Mick announced, stepping out of the bathroom as we walked single file down my parents’ hallway. “Get your shit together.”

“Got my game face on,” Rumi replied with mock seriousness. “You got any idea where we’re goin?”

“Cabin’s about forty-five minutes south,” Mick replied as he grabbed his cut off the back of the couch and slung it on. “Should take a little over an hour since we won’t be takin’ the quickest route.” He glanced between the two of us. “You two gonna be able to make it without killin’ each other?”

“We’ll be fine,” Rumi said, dramatically wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head against my chest. “I made us a road trip playlist!”