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)
He froze. Back to where they’d been? What the fuck? They’d never go back to where they’d been. He didn’t want to. She was a fucking cop. Sure, the sex was off the charts, but he could find that again or at least something close. What he could not do was befriend Jo, and that meant keeping his dick away from her because now that she knew who he was, he couldn’t use the excuse of fucking information out of her.
“I know the circumstances are unfathomable, but I do hear you are now the uncle of a beautiful baby boy,” Jo said, giving Lock a soft smile. “How is he doing?”
“Uh… pretty good so far. He’s premature and has a few issues but seems to be hanging on.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Too kind for a cop.
Next to Jo, Simpson practically vibrated. No doubt the guy wanted to tear this place apart and interrogate each one of them. Maybe arrest a few of them on bogus charges for some bullshit or another.
“Has he been given a name yet?”
Simpson rolled his eyes.
Tracker cracked his neck as he imagined plowing his fist into Simpson’s face. He was the type of pompous fucker who should have had his face rearranged in high school. A solid ass-kicking back then might have saved him from becoming a self-important asshole and made his presence tolerable.
“I’m calling him Caleb after our grandfather, but it’s not official. According to the social worker from child services, I’ll be able to name him if I’m granted custody.” He blew out a breath, then shrugged. “Hopefully, the process won’t take too long.”
Tracker would be calling in favors to any and every connection he had to ensure his brother got custody of his nephew as soon as possible. And he had some powerful contacts. Tattoos weren’t just for bikers and rebels. He had some very loyal clients in high places.
A loud slap had them all jumping. Simpson hopped to his feet as he slammed his palms on the table. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Officer Simpson.” Jo’s voice held a warning.
“No! I let you do this your way, but I’ve had enough of this fucking dog and pony show.” He spun away from Jo and slammed his palms down on the table again as he loomed over Lock. “Over my dead body, will you get custody of that child.”
Tracker lurched forward, but Jo was already on her feet. She shoved him back with a hand to the chest, then grabbed Simpson by the arm and wrestled him away from the table. “Officer Simpson, wait in the car,” she barked as she muscled him toward the exit.
“I will use every damn resource available to the department to make sure that child does not leave the hospital in your criminal fucking arms!” he yelled.
“The fuck did you say to me?” Lock practically flew across the table toward Simpson.
“Jesus Christ!” Tracker rushed to his brother. He met him as he charged Simpson. “You can’t attack a fucking cop, man.” He placed his hands on Lock’s chest and pushed, holding him back. “Think about the kid.”
Ty, Jinx, and Pulse rushed over as Simpson continued ranting, “It’s your fault she’s dead! Every goddamn one of you is guilty.”
“Get him out of here,” Tracker shouted to Jinx, shoving Lock his way at the same time Jo yelled, “For fuck’s sake, Andrew,” as she propelled him away.
Jinx and Ty muscled a nearly frothing Lock out of the room. Much as he hated this shit, it was good to see fire in his brother’s eyes after nothing but bleak despair for the past day.
Tracker turned in time to see Jo practically throw her partner out the door by his belt. When the door slammed shut behind him, she rested her hands on the wall and blew out a breath as she stared at the floor. Her ass looked as damn tempting as it always did. His lips twitched as he imagined her reaction should he voice that thought. She’d probably shoot him in the dick with her service weapon.
“Jesus, I need a drink,” Pulse said. “Bet we could all use one.” He turned and strode toward the bar, leaving Tracker and Jo alone and separated by a mere ten feet.
“I apologize for my partner’s unprofessional behavior,” Jo said without turning around. She kept her tone as formal as possible. “The intent of us coming here wasn’t to rile him or any of you up.”
Tracker snorted at that. Maybe not her intent, but she was naïve as shit if she didn’t think their department had it out for the club.
Slowly, she turned his way. “Is there something you want to say?”
Many things, but all of them were beyond dirty. She’d probably slap those cuffs on him if he voiced a single thought.
Oh, the possibilities.
Instead of mentioning how he’d love her to cuff him to the bed, hop on his dick, and ride until she collapsed, he said, “Keep that asshole away from here. We aren’t a Boy Scout troop. I can only hold them back for so long.”