Wicked Prince (New Orleans Malones #3) Read Online Laylah Roberts

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Series: New Orleans Malones Series by Laylah Roberts
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
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Oh boy, oh boy.

She patted his front pockets, found his keys and dug her hand in deep.

“Just want to point out . . . pain makes things shrivel,” he said as she brushed her hand against something while she was drawing his keys out.

“What?”

“Not a fair representation of what I got going on . . . in there.”

Alarm filled her as his words started to slow. His eyes fluttered shut.

Then she realized what he’d said.

“Are you seriously worried about what I’m thinking about your . . . your dick size while you’re standing there, bleeding out?”

“A man is a man, baby.”

“Then a man is an idiot.”

He chuckled, then groaned. “That I am. And stop being funny.”

“Not trying to be funny, jerk,” she muttered as she made short work of opening the passenger door and helping him into the seat.

Shoot. He looked so pale and there was a sheen of sweat over his face.

“Really think I should take you to the hospital,” she said as she leaned over him to do up his seatbelt.

“Really think that if your tits are in my face, you should be naked.”

“Maxim! I’m trying to do up your belt.”

“Don’t.”

“You need it buckled. It’s against the law to drive around without a seatbelt on.”

“Baby. I’ve got a stab wound in my stomach. Cop pulls us over, doubt they’ll care whether I’m wearing a seatbelt.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“But I don’t know how to drive! What if I crash?”

“Rainbow, look at me.”

He waited until her gaze turned to him and she braced herself for some sage advice. “Don’t crash.”

“That’s it? That’s your advice? Don’t crash?”

“It’s good advice, baby.”

It was idiotic advice; that’s what it was. But she gave up trying to buckle him into his seatbelt, mainly because she was scared the belt would hurt the wound on his tummy.

Also, because her hands were shaking so hard she didn’t think she would manage to buckle him up anyway.

Closing the door, she ran around the side and climbed in. She didn’t bother with her belt either.

“How do I make the seat go forward?” She could barely reach the pedals.

“To the side of the seat. Button. Press the forward one.”

The seat slid forward. Fancy.

“Where is the key? Where’s the key hole thingie?” Oh Lord, she was losing her mind.

“Keyless start. Put your foot on the brake, and press that button. Then, move the stick to drive. But first, buckle your belt.”

“I don’t need my belt on.”

“Baby. Belt. Now.”

“So darn bossy. You’d think being stabbed would make you less bossy.”

“You’d think wrong.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him. She followed his instructions until she was driving. Holy. Crap.

She was driving.

“This is insane. I’m driving.”

“Yep, you’re driving. Now, you think you can press on the accelerator a bit more? Because at this rate, I won’t have any blood left by the time we get to Regent’s place.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She pressed on the accelerator and the car shot forward.

Aston yelped.

“Ease back!”

“Oh my God!” she cried, reaching for him as he made a pained grunt. Her sudden acceleration had obviously jolted him. “I’m so sorry.”

“S’all right. Should have said, ease your foot down. Got a touchy accelerator.”

“I can’t do this, Maxim. I can’t! This is ridiculous. I’m going to crash.”

“Hey, where is that badass baby who rushed . . . to my . . . rescue?”

Oh no. His words were slowing down again.

She had to do this. There was no one else. She had to save this man, who she was certain owned a part of her soul. She glanced down at where his hand was pressed to the wound in his stomach.

“I got this.”

“You got this, badass baby.”

“Be quiet and save your energy. Shoot. Except I need to know where I’m going.”

He rattled off an address that meant nothing to her.

“Phone? I need your phone, Maxim!”

No answer.

“Fuck. Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking, fucking hell.”

“Whoa, baby. You’re saying fuck.”

“Oh my God. I thought you’d lost consciousness.”

“Might have for a bit. Then some angel swearing up a storm woke me.”

“If there’s a time to swear, it’s now. I think we should call your brother and let him know we’re coming. I need your phone, I don’t have his number.”

“Bluetooth, baby.”

“What?”

“Call Regent,” he commanded.

And the screen on the console suddenly started calling Regent. Okay. She should have thought of that. She wasn’t completely ignorant.

“Maxim?” a tired voice asked. “Everything all right?”

She glanced at Maxim. Oh, shoot. He was out again.

Not good. Not good.

“Maxim? Maxim, are you there?” The person on the other end was getting worried.

“This is . . . this isn’t Maxim.”

There was a beat of silence. She closed her eyes.

“Idiot, he knows it isn’t Maxim,” she muttered to herself.

“Who is this?” the deep voice demanded. And the voice he used . . . well, it would take someone far stronger than her to deny him.


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