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)
“Your ass looks hot in those shorts.” God, she was gonna kick his ass. Some sick part of him couldn’t fucking wait.
“I know,” she said without missing a beat.
His lips twitched.
“Will you leave if I let you snap a photo?”
God, this woman. “No. But I will jerk off to it later tonight.”
Her back stiffened, making him grin. Two could play these games.
“Get. Out.”
He propped his shoulder against the wall, watching as she grabbed another bottle, then shut the refrigerator door. Next, she moved onto the freezer, where she pulled out a pint of ice cream. Beer and dessert. Jo knew how to chase away a bad day. All she was missing was good dicking down and she’d have the perfect trifecta.
“Tracker, I’m fucking serious,” she said, walking to the drawer where she kept her spoons.
Not once had she so much as glanced in his direction. A lesser man might develop a complex. Lucky for her, he had confidence in spades.
“I can’t leave yet,” he said with a smirk. “I have something you’ll want.”
“You have something I want?” she asked with a snort as she spun around, finally giving him her full attention. She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. It’s about eight inches and swings between your legs?”
Laughing had to be the worst thing at that moment, but he couldn’t help it. That sassy fucking mouth of hers just did it for him. The words that came out of it and the way it sucked his cock couldn’t be beat. Jo appealed to him on so many levels.
Too bad she was a fucking cop.
As expected, his laughter didn’t earn him any favor. She stood there in her kitchen with her socked feet, a beer and spoon in one hand, and a pint of ice cream in the other, scowling at him as though she’d like to gouge his eyes out with that spoon.
“Look, Tracker, this is the last time I’ll ask you to leave. Next, I’ll drag you out of my house in cuffs. I might not have my service weapon on me, but I have more than one taser stashed around this place. Pretty sure fifty-thousand volts will get you moving.”
A quip about letting her cuff him any damn time she wanted dangled from the tip of his tongue, but he’d pushed his luck enough for one day. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d shock the shit out of him if he didn’t get his ass off her property. Serving as a human lightning rod held no appeal.
Despite her threats, his feet wouldn’t move. He didn’t want to go. Not with the high chance she’d steer clear of him for the rest of her life.
He raised his hands and smirked. “Going. You might not believe me, but what I was gonna say had nothing to with us and everything to do with the little meth problem our town seems to have developed.”
“There is no us,” she said, cold as that ice cream.
Those words shouldn’t have bothered him as much as they did. Hell, they shouldn’t bother him at all beyond the loss of a potential information stream for his club. Curly didn’t care that Tracker had failed in his mission to turn Jo into the club’s informant. It’d been a long shot of an idea anyway. But now Jo was onto him—that was a problem. The last thing his president needed was another reason to have cops targeting the MC. If Jo sicced the full power of the police department on his club in revenge, the responsibility landed on Tracker’s shoulders.
God, that made him feel like shit. Worse than. The MC had become a haven for damaged men and women searching for a family. And they found it, thanks to Curly. He’d never want to put his brothers’ lives and freedom at risk.
Most of the world might not understand the draw of a group like theirs, but he had a feeling, given time, Jo could. Not that it mattered. He could like the woman all he wanted, and it wouldn’t change the outcome. Jo was a means to an end for his club.
For him.
He needed to remember that and not let her appealing body and firecracker personality fuck with his head.
“Yeah, guess not,” he said with a shrug. “See you around, Jo.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t jump for joy.”
Ouch. That tongue cut like the sharpest knife.
With a final nod, he forced himself to turn and walk away from her.
Jo was bold. Certainly not a shrinking violet, and her furious stare burned the back of his head as he walked away from her. She followed, of course, not one to take his word for anything. He bet tomorrow she’d have industrial-strength locks on the door and a rabid guard dog patrolling the property.
While her anger was justified, he’d much rather have her stewing over something more interesting than her hatred, so when he reached her door, he turned and let the depth of his attraction show in his gaze.