Read Online Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) by Cynthia Rayne - Free Book Online

she’d given up on pretty girl trappings since they didn’t do her much good. Besides, she didn’t have time for makeup, hair products, heels, and tight, itchy clothing. She’d rather wear a pair of jeans and a T-shirt any day.
    Back in ye olden hoopskirt days, women with her distinct lack of beauty had been called plain, and the descriptor fit Ash. Well, it had before all the scars.
    Ash had a thin mouth and deep green eyes flecked with gold spaced a bit too far apart, though they were her best feature. She had medium brown hair and an athletic build with a bit too much muscle for most men’s taste but not enough to be a female body builder. 
    Ash didn’t give a damn what men thought. Not anymore, at least. In high school, it’d been a major source of pain. But worrying about what other people thought of her proved to be a big waste of time. 
    Now, she had a simple philosophy when it came to men. Take me as I am or shut up and leave me the hell alone. Once she’d made up her mind, a flip had switched. In the military, she’d been surrounded by men on a daily basis, and there’d been quite a few takers. She hadn’t accepted all the offers that had come her way, but it’d given her a healthy dose of self-confidence.
    But she wasn’t in someone like Steele’s league. He’d always been gorgeous—muscular, charming, and a real flirt. He liked pretty, easy, uncomplicated girls, and they never lasted long, flitting in and out of his life like beautiful butterflies.
    Ash was scarred, prickly, and the very definition of complicated. Steele had made it clear in high school—in the most painful way possible—he had zero romantic interest in her. She didn’t have a claim on him and didn’t want one.
    He could have all the one-night stands he damn well pleased. They weren’t even friends anymore. Once, they’d been close, but not after the incident , and certainly not after Abe’s death.
    As soon as she solved this case, she’d be on her way. Ash hoped she’d never lay eyes on the bastard again. Of course, they’d talk before she left, and she planned on telling him exactly what she thought about him…in cruel detail.
    She pulled some clothes from her rucksack and got dressed for her run. If she didn’t exercise first thing in the morning, she’d end up skipping it.
    She jumped into a pair of fleece-lined, flared-leg black yoga pants with a leopard-print band around the waist, then put on a pair of white socks and her black and gray Nike high-tops. Next came a white, stretchy sports bra and a Marine Corps T-shirt. It read: Oorah, the last word a terrorist will ever hear. Ash was a sucker for good Corps merchandise.
    She ducked into the bathroom and gathered her hair into a messy bun before she shrugged on a black hoodie and slipped Abe’s dog tags over her head. They jangled, and she rubbed her fingers over the letters. After his death, the Corps had returned his tags to her family, and she’d worn them ever since. Other than memories and some photographs, it was the only thing she had left of her big brother.
    She kissed them and slipped the tags beneath the collar of her shirt. They were cold as they settled next to her heart. Sighing, she placed her hand over the metal, feeling the chilly press of stainless steel against her skin—as cold as the grave.
    “Oh, Abe.”
    Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she swiped them away. Dammit. It’d been nearly a decade since he’d died. Some days it felt like a century, and on others, the wound felt fresh, bloody. Every time their birthday rolled around, the pain of Abe’s passing intensified and she got more agitated. Running into Steele had only made matters worse.
    Her brother deserved better than dying in pain by himself. He must’ve been so scared, so lonely….
    Stop it.
    Ash glared at her reflection in the mirror. She balled up a fist and barely resisted the urge to shatter it. She loved to hit things and people, as if spreading pain