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)
“If they have one, I’ll deal with it,” she said simply. “I’m good at coming up with solutions for difficult problems.” With that, she raised an eyebrow and tipped her head toward Crew.
Mullins and Powers both chuckled.
She headed over to the pegboard that held the keys for the task force’s pool cars and Harleys, found the one she wanted—the boring sedan that wouldn’t catch any attention—and snagged the key.
“You have my number, right?” Crew asked. “Call me immediately if you get in a bind. I can have the locals there as quickly as possible to get you out of it.”
“Do I have your number?” Cami repeated in disbelief. “I don’t know. Check your damn texts.”
She heard more chuckles as she beelined toward the door. She needed to get out of there before he changed his mind.
He snagged her arm as she passed and forced her to face him. When he stared down at her, holding her eyes, he said low enough so the other two guys couldn’t hear him, “You call 911 first if shit goes south, then you call me. Do you hear me?”
He pressed his lips together, drawing her attention there. She stared at them for a few seconds remembering the kiss by the pool in the afternoon sun.
It wasn’t the memory of the sun that warmed her.
With a single nod, she said, “Understood,” plucked the cash he was gripping from his fingers, pulled herself free, and headed out.
Of course, she didn’t go home first, she got in the sedan and headed straight to the Hawg Wild Saloon.
Chapter Eleven
Cami sat in the sedan and stared at the lines of motorcycles filling the parking lot in front of the Hawg Wild Saloon. A few cars and SUVs were scattered among them, but not many. No one would drive by and question whether it was a biker bar or not.
It couldn’t be more obvious.
Her heart thumped a little faster as she shut off the old Toyota’s engine, slipped the key from the ignition and tucked it into the small cross-body bag she also bought at the consignment shop. It was big enough for her cell phone, a tube of lipstick, some cash, a small knife and the car key.
That was it.
She wasn’t carrying any ID since one wasn’t created for her undercover persona yet. She wanted to see how tonight went first before bugging Crew for a driver’s license for her made-up identity.
She had decided to go with the name Rose Campbell. Simple and non-Hispanic sounding. If she could pass herself off as having a deep tan instead of the skin tone inherited from her parents, she’d do her damnedest since the Demons weren’t into diversity and inclusion.
From what the other task force members had told her in the last week, the Demons were also far from Mensa candidates, so her plan of being a sun worshipper might work.
After climbing out of the car and wiggling her tight mini skirt back into place, she focused on the front door of the biker bar and, after taking a deep, bolstering breath, took determined strides toward it.
An important rule in her line of work: always appear confident, no matter what the situation. If she walked in like she owned the place, she’d probably get more respect than going in and looking like she was lost, out of place and extremely uncomfortable.
Was she that? A little bit but she was good at hiding it.
As she walked through the door, the noise slammed her right in the chest. Besides the rock music blaring from an unknown source, most likely a jukebox, the laughing, shouting, cursing, and even drunk singing, was deafening. It seemed to be a competition among the patrons to be heard over the racket.
Surprisingly, even though it was a Thursday night, it was more packed than expected. Did these people not have to get up early in the morning and go to work? Or did they all have alternative methods of putting cash in their pockets?
Running guns, distributing and dealing drugs, stripping stolen cars for parts, sex trafficking, prostitution… The outlaw biker business opportunities were probably endless. Only none of the above were legal.
Hence the reason she currently stood in a crowd of bikers of all sizes and shapes.
And smells.
Her nose twitched from it.
This is supposed to be your element, Rose. Act like it.
Cami pulled back her shoulders, straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Then proceeded to elbow her way toward the packed bar, dodging octopus hands and beer bellies pressing against her. None of it by accident.
As she worked the obstacle course of humans, tables and chairs, she felt brushes, squeezes and pinches, as well as heard obscene offers or whistles. At least it proved the outfit was working. While she received the attention she hoped, she could do without the bonus groping.