Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Decker’s eyebrows pinned together. “You losing your memory, old man?”
Was he? “If they did, someone forgot to add it to the list. It’s not my damn memory that’s lacking.”
Even so, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put her in danger by putting her at that biker bar. If anything happened to her while on his watch…
He grimaced.
Yeah, it would be best to have her stake her ass out in front of something like the laundromat.
It would be boring, but boring was safe. Even better, it would get her out of The Plant.
His mouth curved into a smile.
“Brother,” Decker murmured at the next desk. “I’m not sure I like that smile.”
Cabrera probably wouldn’t, either.
She’d been sitting in this damn dark parking lot at a small strip mall for the past three nights. Of course, the only business open was Landry’s Laundry. A business the Demons bought over a year ago.
She had no idea why Crew had her sitting on it. Her gut told her it was unnecessary, and only busy work. He wanted her out of his hair and to give her an assignment that wasn’t risky.
When she got the order that she’d been assigned to the Pittsburgh field office and the task force, she’d been excited. She had driven the long hours ready to sink her teeth into an important investigation.
But here she sat. Twiddling her thumbs, yawning and drinking enough coffee to stay awake, but not enough that she’d have to empty her bladder every twenty minutes. Because at this hour, nothing nearby was open. She’d have to find a bush, a tree or an abandoned vehicle to squat behind.
Even so, it was obvious that the Demons weren’t doing drug deals from this business. In fact, she had only seen one biker with a Deadly Demons cut go inside and even then, only at night. So far, it was usually around one in the morning when the 24/7 business was dead.
From where she sat in her nondescript sedan, she tracked the same young biker through the big glass windows every night go around and empty all the money from the coin-operated washers and dryers, remove cash from the coin changer, refill it with some of the loose change, then disappear into the back for a bit.
She had no doubt the assigned money collector was packing some heat. Most likely under that leather vest and not in a proper holster, either. Guaranteed, the dumbass had an unsecured gun shoved into his waistband.
A good way to get an extra hole in his ass. She guessed it would make it easier to shit.
After doing more research on both lawful and outlaw motorcycle clubs, she recognized that the colors he wore made him a fully-patched member of the Deadly Demons. It could be that the Demons didn’t trust their prospects enough to handle large amounts of cash.
Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was she was bored to death. And sitting in front of a laundromat night after night wouldn’t be valuable for the investigation.
Her daily reports were just as boring as the surveillance. Basically, all she had to do was copy and paste every day and simply change the date.
Same location, same biker. Same old, same old.
If Crew was trying to get her to ask Williams to be reassigned to another investigation, it wasn’t going to work.
He wouldn’t win this fight.
Because she didn’t like to lose. To her, and in this case, quitting was losing. She was more determined than ever to stick with this task force, even if her staying got under his skin.
Plus, this was only her first week. She had the next two days off and had a company coming out to open the pool at Fletcher’s house while she drug all the necessary items out of the shed.
She couldn’t wait until the water warmed up enough for her to do laps.
Hell, she might not even wait. She might attempt a polar bear plunge to get her heart pumping and her blood flowing.
What she also planned to do in the next two days was watch countless YouTube videos to learn how to make up her face so she looked like a drug addict. If she could get good at it and it looked convincing, she might be able to convince the task force leader she could go undercover to do buys.
As the sun peeked above the horizon, she checked the time. Normally, she’d be heading home right now, letting Murphy out to do his business before feeding him, then crawling into bed for an attempt at some shut-eye.
But instead, she decided when she stopped at The Plant to switch out the task force vehicle for her Audi, she’d stay long enough to log into one of the computers.
She was determined to make a plan. And plans needed research.
Twenty minutes later she was pulling the Toyota into the rear lot, then climbing the steps to the third floor. When she stepped inside the task force’s headquarters, her gaze swept the room to only find Crew, Proctor and Powers working.