Jack Dylan Grazer 2017 Novels & Stories

ISLA GRACE MILLER DATE OF BIRTH: JUNE 18TH AGED: 18 HAIR: AUBURN EYES: GREEN HEIGHT: FIVE FOOT FIVE INCHES GUARDIAN - JUNE DANIELS, RELATION: MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER, DECEASED- CEDAR FALLS. SCORED HIGH MARKS: TRACKING; HAND/HAND COMBAT; TEAMWORK; FIELD FIRST AID NOTES: RUN RISK LEVEL 2; ONE ATTEMPT YEAR ONE AT TRTC. RECEIVED COUNSELING. MEDICATED WITH ANTIDEPRESSANT FOR YEARS 1-3. CLEARED FOR DISCONTINUATION OF USE AFTER REASSESSMENT.

Grace shook his hand, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she did so. “I was right, though.” She elbowed me. “He does make a good Danny.” “Oh,” I agreed, “the best.” A wicked grin curved her lips. “Don’t let Dal hear you saying that. Apparently he’s on the pull tonight.” She snorted, and my eyes wandered to one of the few occupied booths. And, sure enough, Dal was wearing a crinkled T-Birds jacket, his hair slick with pomade, his arm around an older woman with a perm that might well have been the style her hair was usually in.

He examines the building before taking a picture and sending it to Leandre. “Huh. Turns out Jaya Fell is performing tonight. You know, that famous singer?” Dylan informs him while scrolling through Twitter. "Anyway. What are you doing? Shouldn't we be going out there and continue following Zyris?" Dylan asks, giddy at the thought of entering a club. "Oh? So now that we're at a club, you're so adamant on stalking the man?!"

He had messed with the wrong person. Jade huffed victoriously and reached into her bag. She pulled out a sticker which she stuck to his head and then her phone. She removed the tracker on his sleeve and took a picture of his ID card and then of him. Sending the first picture to a contact saved as Lewis on her phone, she instructed that he dug up every dirt on him and sent it to her in less than thirty minutes.

Justin asks giving me a nod. "Yeah, bro, sorry for the disruption. One of my pack members is just being a bit unsettled, Danni is on his way to sort it out." He looked at the mess that was on the floor. Grace isn't even drunk enough to not know what is going on, in fact, there isn’t even a hint of alcohol on her at all. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew exactly where I was which pissed me off even more. Jace pushes forward just as pissed off with the interaction "you are never to touch Zander again without our permission or say so, is this understood?"

I opened my mouth, wondering how on earth I was going to get up there, but before words could come out, I saw a glint of amusement spark in the corners of Derek’s eyes. He didn’t bother to ask my permission. He simply wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me against him. Before I could get to grips with what was about to happen, he took a vertical leap that left my mind whirling as I gasped for breath, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to him for support.

“You’re fucked, man. She’ll never give it up.” But Jax loved a challenge. Jax Harlan was the complete opposite of Grace. At twenty-three, with messy dark hair that seemed to cover his piercing blue eyes, a lean muscular build gotten from working at the local auto shop, and snake tattoos across his arms and chest, Jax was trouble. He rode a black motorcycle through the streets and always smoked behind the old diner. His crew of friends, a rough group of mechanics and dropouts were drinking at the pool hall one lazy summer evening when the challenge was thrown down.

Jersey #20 Luke Sullivan, 22 — Smooth steals, slick moves. Jersey #55 Atlas Price, 23 — Unstoppable defense, always got your back. Jersey #14 Dylan Knox, 28 — Skilled, seasoned, and always in control. Dylan was a former NBA player who lost everything after one mistake. His team lost an important game in 2023, and his friends quickly turned on him. Carlos believed he deserved another chance, and Grayson agreed. Jersey #7 Troy Adams, 22 — Tall, quick, and everywhere at once.

It was 3 a.m. and if I kept to the speed limit, I could be home by 6 a.m. I could clean the guns, shower and eat breakfast at my favorite diner. It was the only diner in town but that was neither here nor there, the food was good and the owner intrigued me. “Jericho,” Nataly said as I got on my bike. She was five foot six inches with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, avering a weight of one hundred and forty-three pounds.