Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Whose sister had it been? Could it be Tracker? Did he have siblings? Was he currently buried under a heap of grief and loss? And why did that thought make her want to drop everything and run to his side?
Please don’t let it be Tracker.
The idea of him suffering such a devastating loss ate at her soul.
LT handed the paper to Andrew. “Here’s all the info you need. Seems the deceased was a chronic user.” With a snort, he shook his head, making his second chin wobble. The man hadn’t seen action in the streets in years, and it showed. “With a brother in the MC, it’s not hard to imagine where she got the meth. I want you two to interview the brother and anyone else you think is worthwhile. Maybe we can finally find a way to arrest one of those bastards.”
“I thought we weren’t looking at the MC for drug distribution.”
LT chuckled. “They’re involved in shit up to their bloodshot eyeballs. I’ve never been convinced they stay away from drugs. Hopefully, today you’ll prove me right.”
“Did the baby make it?” Jo asked as Andrew said, “Got it, LT.”
“What?” Both heads swiveled her way, but her lieutenant posed the question.
“The baby,” she repeated. Seriously? How could this not be their first thought? Why weren’t they as desperate as she to know the fate of the innocent infant? “Did the baby survive? Is it okay?” she asked, unable to keep the high pitch of anxiety out of her voice. They’d call her emotional, say she was too worried about the human side instead of enforcing the law, but she didn’t care.
“Oh yeah. It survived. He’s in the NICU, I believe. That’ll be a social services nightmare right there.” LT tapped the top of Andrew’s desk. “Get me something good, you two. I want at least one of those bikers behind bars before the week is out.”
He. A boy or a general reference to the child he clearly cared little about? Get him something good. Easy to say when he wasn’t the one about to interrogate a man in the throes of a catastrophic loss. Five minutes ago, she couldn’t have thought of anything in the world she wanted less than to see Tracker today. But she’d been wrong. Trying to dig up dirt on a man whose pregnant sister just died beat out being in Tracker’s presence for the shittiest way to spend the day. But since the universe seemed to hate her, there was a high chance she’d stumble across Tracker while interviewing the mourning biker.
Where was a good intestinal virus when she needed it?
She’d take an afternoon hugging the porcelain throne over this bullshit any day.
You’re the one who wanted to be a cop so badly.
Not for the first time since she pinned on her badge, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Meanwhile, Andrew was near giddy with glee at the thought of arresting one of the Handlers.
Twenty minutes later, she slammed the driver’s door on her patrol car as she glanced around the vast expanse of well-cared-for farmland she’d never have guessed belonged to an outlaw motorcycle club. “This property is beautiful.”
Andrew grunted. “Too bad it’s owned by a pack of soulless monsters.”
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at every hateful word spat out of her partner’s mouth grew more cumbersome by the day. The fact he couldn’t even admit the recently renovated farmhouse and barn were gorgeous, along with the acres of fertile land, didn’t bode well for this upcoming interaction.
God, this was going to suck.
Hard.
“All right, let’s get this over with,” she muttered as she strode up the dirt walkway toward the large farmhouse, which she assumed served as the clubhouse for the MC.
“I know you’re supposed to be the running point since you’re new and need the experience,” Andrew said as he fell in step beside her. “But I’d like to take the lead on this one.”
Jo stopped walking and peered up at his serious face. This wasn’t a joke. Her brain ran through the possible reasons and outcomes as fast as possible.
He’d be an asshole, no doubt.
But maybe she could balance him out by playing good cop.
And, with Andrew doing most of the talking, she could avoid talking to Tracker.
Hopefully.
Plus, she’d be able to observe everything happening in the background if she wasn’t the primary interviewer.
But he’d be a dick. It all came back to that.
Not that any of it mattered.
If she fought him, he’d pull rank and take the lead anyway.
“Sure. But try to remember that this Lock guy just lost a family member in a tragic way, okay?”
He glared at her with a nuclear stare. “You know what I’ll remember, Officer Baker? I’ll remember that there’s a hunk of meat that used to be a woman lying on a slab in the morgue because her piece-of-shit brother and his club decided to earn a few extra Benjamins selling meth.”