MANHANDLED: Sigma Saints MC Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  MANHANDLED: Sigma Saints MC copyright 2017 by Nicole Fox. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

  Sign up to my mailing list!

  New subscribers receive a FREE steamy short.

  Click the banner or link below to join.

  http://dl.bookfunnel.com/ogns2te7xi

  Contents

  MANHANDLED: Sigma Saints MC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Hitman’s Child: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  DOM’S BABY: Broken Spires MC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  King’s Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Books by Nicole Fox

  The Hitman’s Child: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance

  DOM’S BABY: Broken Spires MC

  King’s Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Rip’s Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

  Biker’s Baby: Devil’s Wings MC

  Bad Boy’s Toy: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

  Chopper’s Baby: Savage Outlaws MC

  BROKEN ANGEL: Devil’s Route MC

  CAGED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

  AFFLICTED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

  HELLFIRE: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

  Bearing His Baby: Fallen Knights MC

  Born Sinner

  Mailing List

  MANHANDLED: Sigma Saints MC

  By Nicole Fox

  SHE’S ABOUT TO GET MANHANDLED.

  When you stick your nose where you don’t belong, then some punishment is in order.

  It’s too late for “I’m sorry” or “It was an accident.”

  She trespassed on the wrong man.

  And I’m about to show her how delicious this punishment can be.

  She was nothing special.

  At least, that’s what I used to think.

  When she first barged in and heard some things she definitely should NOT have heard, I didn’t think much of her.

  She was cute, sure.

  Sexy even, in an innocent kind of way.

  But she was a loose end, and that meant one thing:

  She needed to be tied up.

  I cuffed her down until I could decide where to dispose of her once I’d done what had to be done.

  But the longer I stared at her, the more my hunger grew.

  A prize like this shouldn’t be just thrown away.

  It needed to be tasted.

  Savored.

  Devoured.

  I’d had a million girls before her, but Jess is another species entirely.

  She brings out sides of me I never knew were there.

  I don’t know whether to thank her for it…

  Or bend her over my knee and spank her to teach her a lesson.

  Lucky for me, I don’t have to choose between the two.

  We’ve got plenty of time for both.

  Chapter One

  Jess

  I took a deep breath, frowning down at my suitcase and wondering if there was anything I was forgetting. To take a spontaneous trip had seemed like a good idea at the time that I had booked it, but now that I was supposed to be leaving that night, I wasn't so sure anymore.

  “More shirts,” I muttered under my breath, moving already towards my dresser. But when I returned to the suitcase with the shirts in hand, I paused, looking down at the things that I alrea
dy had packed. I wasn't sure that I could fit more shirts, was the thing — and I wasn't sure what to take out so that I could add more shirts.

  I sighed and put the shirts down on the bed, continuing to frown down at the suitcase. Finally, I threw my hands up in the air. If I was missing anything, I would just have to go shopping when I arrived. It wasn't as though I wouldn't be able to find the things that I needed; it wasn't like I was going to someplace in the middle of nowhere.

  I took a deep breath and flipped my suitcase closed, pulling the zipper around it. Then, I glanced at my watch — right on time. My taxi would be there soon.

  I dragged my suitcase down into the front hall and out onto the front porch. And there was the taxi, just pulling in. I pulled the door closed behind me, checking to make sure that it was locked, and then I slipped the spare key under the front mat, where Thorn and I had agreed it would be.

  I still wasn't entirely sure about leaving my home to a stranger while I was on my trip, but I could use the little extra money. And anyway, I'd heard all sorts of great things about AirBnB. Thorn and I had chatted a few times, both through the site and over the phone, and he seemed legitimate. Besides, he only planned to stay for a night. What was the worst that could happen?

  The taxi driver honked the horn, and I rolled my eyes, carrying my bag down to the car. “Yes, yes, I'm coming,” I muttered under my breath, wondering for the thousandth time what I was forgetting. I ran through my mental checklist one more time and shook my head, reminding myself yet again that it was all right to forget things.

  I got in the taxi and slammed the door shut behind me, giving one last passing glance toward my home.

  At the airport, I grabbed my bag and shuffled past the ticketing counter, amazed at the length of the line, and over to the security line. It was a good thing I had printed my ticket at home; otherwise, I would have definitely been late for my flight with a line like that!

  The security guard took one look at my ticket and frowned, though. “You're going to need to go talk to the ticket agents about that flight,” he told me in a bored monotone.

  I shook my head. “I already checked in and everything online,” I told him. I peered at my ticket as he handed it back to me. “Is there something wrong with my ticket?”

  “The ticket's fine,” the man said with a small shrug. “But your flight's been cancelled. You'll need to talk to the ticket agents about it.” He pointed back in the direction I had just come from, and I suddenly realized why that line had been so long.

  I groaned; that was what I got for trying to take this adventure using budget airlines. Outside, it was a bright, sunny autumn day, so it wasn't like weather was a factor here. And I was sure they were going to give me the whole run-around when I got to the front of the line too.

  I morosely moved back the way that I'd come and got in line, wondering if this was a sign from the Universe that I shouldn't try to be more adventurous like I'd resolved to be.

  A couple hours later, I'd finally reached the front of the line and found out that due to staffing issues of some sort, a number of the airline's flights had been grounded that day. I was rebooked onto a flight for the next day, but when I asked about hotel vouchers or anything like that, the woman only looked nervously at the line and shook her head. It was a budget airline, I was reminded, and these things happened sometimes; we had to expect them…

  I knew that Thorn was staying at my place for the night, but I supposed it only made sense to go home and try the whole thing again the next day. The house was plenty big enough for both of us, anyway. Anyway, it would give me a chance to check up on him and make sure that he had everything that he needed ... and make sure that he wasn't destroying the place. Even though I knew he probably wouldn't be, I just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that there might be something wrong that I didn't know about.

  I was just being paranoid, I knew that, it was just…

  Well, it was my home, and I had chosen to rent it out to a complete stranger. The more I thought about it, the more foolish this last-minute trip seemed to be. I wasn't spontaneous. I wasn't adventurous. And trying to pretend to be wasn't really going to change anything.

  When the taxi dropped me off back at home, there was a sleek motorcycle parked in the driveway, which I took to mean that Thorn had already arrived. I paused for a moment on the front porch, wondering if I should knock or ring the doorbell. But it was my house, after all, and I wasn't going to be the one feeling like a guest there.

  I used my key to open the door and entered quietly, setting my things down in the front hall because it didn't make sense to drag them all the way upstairs when I was just going to turn around and leave again the next day.

  I could hear Thorn in the kitchen talking to someone. As I came closer, I realized he was on the phone. Although I knew better than to eavesdrop on him, the frustrated tone in his voice made me pause just around the corner, listening.

  “I know it's a bad idea,” the man growled. “There's a reason no one else wanted the job.” He was quiet for a moment, listening to whoever was on the other end. “Dorian, I'm well aware of the risks. But what you seem to be forgetting are the rewards that could come with helping the national president.”

  This didn't sound like the responsible individual that I had entrusted my home to. In fact, I wasn't even sure it was the right person. I suddenly had a horrible moment of panic where I wondered if someone else had seen me put the house key under the front mat, if someone else was standing there in my kitchen right now. Maybe I should call the police and report a break-in.

  Maybe I should call the police even if this was Thorn. It didn't sound like he was planning a birthday party for the so-called national president or anything like that.

  I leaned forward, peeking around the corner and into the kitchen. Unfortunately, I happened to make the move right as Thorn turned to look toward the doorway, and our eyes met and locked.

  It was definitely Thorn; I recognized him from the Skype conversation that we'd had. I swallowed hard, wondering just who it was that I had entrusted my house to.

  Thorn's face turned stormy. “Dorian, I'm going to have to call you back,” he said darkly, hanging up the phone as he stalked towards me. I felt like a deer in the headlights; I couldn't even fathom moving. “Well, what do we have here?” he asked.

  Finally, with those words, I found myself able to move, and I tried to sprint back the way I had come, towards the front door. But before I had even made it ten steps, Thorn caught me, his fingers digging into my upper arms. “Not so fast,” he growled, spinning me back around and slamming me against the wall. The next thing I knew, there was a gun next to my cheek. It wasn’t pointed at me—not yet anyway. But that fact did little to reassure me.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough!” I stupidly blurted out. I struggled against him and stomped on his foot like we were taught in all of those female safety courses. But whether it was the lack of strength behind the move or the fact that it was done incorrectly, it didn’t seem to faze Thorn in the slightest.

  His face turned even more shadowed, if that was possible, and he got a tighter grip on me, pinning me against the wall. When he spoke again, his breath was hot against my cheek, contrasting with the coldness of the metal barrel of the gun. There was a click that I knew meant he had the thing ready to fire.

  “I don't like the idea of taking hostages,” he said darkly, “but I suppose you've left me no choice. I can't have you going to the authorities and reporting me.”

  I wanted to ask just what it was I was supposed to be reporting him for, but I at least had enough sense not to ask that question. “What are you going to do with me?” I asked timidly instead. Better that he take me as a hostage than that he shoot me, which is what I had thought he would do.

  “Keep you until you're no longer a liability,” Thorn said. “I take it you're Jess?”

  “Yes,” I said meekly, still wondering what he could possibly be planning f
or me. I had a feeling it wouldn't be good… But I didn’t have time to speculate further as he whipped the pistol hard against my temple, cleanly knocking me out.

  Chapter Two

  Jess

  I woke up the next morning to aches in places I had never even known existed — but I supposed that was what happened when you fell asleep sitting up, with your hands duct taped behind your back. I swallowed hard, finding that my mouth was as dry as sandpaper and blinked wearily around the living room. But Thorn was nowhere to be seen.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back tears. If only I hadn't been so stupid. If only I hadn't thought that I could entrust my house to a complete stranger. If only I had left at the first inkling that Thorn was up to no good. If only…

  My phone rang over on the coffee table, and I shifted a little, wondering if there was any way I could answer it with my hands caught behind my back like this. But even if I could answer it, what exactly was I supposed to say? If Thorn overheard me talking about my plight, there was no telling what he might do. It was one thing to be held hostage in my own home; it was another thing entirely to be kidnapped — or worse.

  I could still remember the feeling of that cold gun against my face.

  I swallowed hard, waiting for the phone to ring through to voicemail. There was a buzz that indicated someone had left me a message, but I tried not to dwell on who it might be ... until the phone started ringing again and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whoever it was, it must be something important.

  Suddenly, Thorn entered the room, scowling at me. He marched over and looked down at my phone, his expression changing into a wicked grin. “Brent Harper,” he said, reading the name off the caller ID. “Is that your boyfriend? Does Brent Harper miss you?”