The Disciples Short Stories Vol 1 Read Online Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: ,

Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)

Lucifer and his merry band of killers rule the streets of Garden City. Possessive and obsessive, they take the women they want knowing no one will stop them.

But the fun doesn't stop once they reach their happily ever afters.

Take a peek at their lives between the books.

Includes five short stories set in the Disciples series.

Before God Himself - Lucifer
Ho, Ho, Ho - Andrew
Run Lily - Lily
Promise - Abigail
The Bad Man - James

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

Ho, Ho, Ho


“You’re the one who wanted to go to the law firm,” John says heatedly to Simon.

“I wanted to go to the law firm, yes, but…” Simon snarls as he looks around the pickup truck we’re all crammed in. “I’d prefer to not smell of dirt and animal feces.”

“My truck doesn’t smell like dog shit, asshole,” John growls back.

Looking over to James, I shrug my shoulders at him as I take a deep whiff of where we’re sitting. “Smells kinda like motor oil to me.”

“Smells like domestication to me,” James smirks before he moves a Lego plane from under his ass.

“Fuck you, Simon. You’re next, James. And Andrew… You’re good,” John grumbles then jerks his steering wheel to the side as he dodges yet another snow drift.

“Heathens and barbarians, the lot of you,” Simon mutters and pulls a file out of his briefcase.

Peering out into swirling white flakes of snow pelting down on us, I grumble to them all, “This fucking trip better be worth it.”

Amy was pissed when I said I had to leave in the middle of Christmas decorating. Not that I was on the roof, putting lights up or anything. That was last week. No, she’s pissed because I won’t be there to help garland the whole fucking stairway and banisters.

It also doesn’t help that I’m not available to help hunt down a decent fake Christmas tree, either. Poor Abigail’s body decided this was the year to break out in hives around our Douglas fir.

I’ve never seen Abigail throw a tantrum before… She’s a good girl. Daddy’s little girl. But when she thought there’d be no Christmas tree this year…

It took us two hours to calm her down, she was so upset.

It’s three weeks before Christmas and two weeks before school lets out for the break. I’m sitting in the backseat of John’s pickup truck in a suit and tie with James sitting beside me, pissed as a motherfucker at John. Simon’s been bitching like a little school girl about dirt and John’s antagonizing the fuck out of him. I would have paid to switch places with Jude right now, wherever the fuck he’s at in the world.

But no, I get to babysit these fuckwits for the day.

To be honest, I wouldn’t even trade places with Jude if I could.

I’d rather be home with my boy and girls.

Leaving them behind is getting harder and harder every day.

Goddammit, I’m as domesticated as can be.

This shit really better be worth it.

“What’s the deal with the law firm we’re heading to?” I ask Simon as I lean up to see what he’s looking at.

Huffing loudly, he hands me a file showing a shit ton of numbers that have been circled in red and bright orange.

I can’t make heads or tails out of all the little circles and notations, so I ask, “Did Evie or Abi get ahold of your markers again?”

“No,” he snips at me. “Though it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve done that. Those red circles are notations of missing funds or balance transfer inaccuracies.”

“A couple of hours here and a couple of dollars there…” I say, looking at the sheet. “This is over a week. Probably a few hundred dollars total.”

“Now ask me how many sheets I have like that for the last three months,” Simon says.

“How many?” John asks.

“I’d say you have a sheet like this for every week, and I’m betting each week doesn’t add up to a large amount. But combined, it’s enough to add up to a huge amount,” I say, handing Simon the sheet back.

“Exactly,” Simon says. “Over thirty thousand over the last six months. And past that, I need full accurate logs of every billable hour that’s occurred. When we first hired this firm, these little charges weren’t as prevalent. Now they seem to be speeding up.”

“So someone’s bilking a ton of money out of us under the guise of billable hours,” James says.

“Yes,” Simon says with a nod of his head.

“And they either think we don’t give a shit or they’re ramping up for a final payday before they split,” I say.

“That’s my thought, but I need to figure out who’s doing it and why,” Simon says.

“We’re all in suits… I’m taking it this isn’t a head-busting trip,” Johnathan grumbles as he tugs at the tie around his neck.

“If this becomes that type of trip, you have your guns. Use them only if necessary. We’ll be bringing the responsible party back to the warehouse for Lucifer to greet,” Simon says.

He’s got a point. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to torture and cap a fucker inside a law firm in the middle of broad daylight.

Johnathan slows the truck down to a middling crawl as we come up to a red light. I look around again at all the snow and icy shit being dumped on us.