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)
Her anxiety about her career increased tenfold. If she pulled this off, if she managed to keep Lock and herself out of jail, how could she continue to work alongside Andrew and her lieutenant day after day? How could she continue as a police officer knowing what she now knew?
She could leave. Find a new place to live, a new team to work with.
The idea brought a heaviness to her chest. She hadn’t lived in Florida long and had only begun to find her place. She almost laughed out loud. Find her place. The two women she’d connected with best were the very women they’d been discussing—the women connected to an outlaw enterprise.
Then there was Tracker. Leaving him sent a wave of severe sadness rolling through her even as the logical side of her brain told her making any decisions based on a man she was sleeping with was the dumbest thing she could do for herself. Whatever was going on between them had come to mean more to her than orgasms and fun. But they hadn’t even had a conversation about what they were to each other beyond admitting they both wanted more of it. Was that enough to base decisions about her future on?
No. No, it wasn’t.
“You ready for this?” Andrew killed the cruiser’s engine.
“Let’s do it.”
He grinned a genuinely happy smile. “That’s the spirit,” he said as he patted her thigh.
Warrant in hand, they strode up the driveway to Lock’s stoop. To no one’s surprise, the locksmith had a complicated deadbolt system at his front door. Andrew knocked and stepped back next to her. After thirty seconds of silence, her partner rolled his eyes. “Knew we shoulda gone straight to the clubhouse.” They’d sent a different team of officers to drive by the small office Lock leased for his locksmithing business, but they’d reported the place silent and empty as well.
“Okay, let’s head on over there,” she said.
Andrew nodded. “I was hoping not to have to deal with a whole lot of fucking bikers today, but I gotta admit I love the fact they’re gonna get to see their brother carted out in handcuffs.”
Jo bit down so hard her jaw ached.
Ten minutes later, they made the now-familiar turn into the Handlers’ compound. Jo fought not to smile as an odd sense of relief hit her. Bumping along the dirt path that led to the farmhouse felt like coming home. She had no reason to feel that way but enjoyed the sensation, nonetheless. Thankfully, she didn’t have enough time to obsess over why.
“This fucker better be here,” Andrew said as he slammed his door shut.
“He will be,” Jo spoke with confidence.
A loud bark greeted them. Ray, Brooke’s dog, bounded over, tongue lolling out. He ran right up to Jo and plopped his furry butt down at her feet with his tail thumping the ground in excitement.
“Hey, handsome boy,” she said, giving him the ear scratches he demanded.
“Some guard dog,” Andrew said with a chuckle. He reached out for Ray, who growled and snapped at him. “What the fuck?”
Jo bit her lip to keep from laughing. She didn’t mention how she’d been there a few short hours ago petting this very same pooch. “Maybe he’s not a fan of men.”
Andrew snorted. “Too bad he couldn’t attack the bikers and make my job a lot easier.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Just saying. I’d give this guy his own T-bone if he could sink those big old doggie teeth into a few biker necks.”
Okay, that went beyond wanting to arrest these guys. “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me exactly why you hate the MC so much.”
“Let’s get Lock arrested, and I’ll do just that. Ladies first.”
Jo rolled her eyes as she climbed the steps to the beautiful porch on the renovated farmhouse that served as the Handlers’ home base.
Showtime.
She pounded the door with a stereotypical cop’s knock.
Not ten seconds after she knocked, the door swung open, and there stood Tracker, shirtless in a pair of workout shorts with his muscles, tats, and nipple rings on full display.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies took off in her stomach.
Tracker leaned on the doorframe and crossed his toned arms over his chest. A self-satisfied smirk tilted his kissable mouth. The damn flirt knew it’d work her up to find him this way. Jo was about five seconds from asking someone to hose her down. After she’d turn the spray on Tracker as punishment for playing with her. Was it too much to ask that he answer the door in a full-body snowsuit so she could remain professional?
“Golly,” he said in full snark mode. “I’m getting a strong sense of déjà vu.”
Jo pressed her lips together to keep from snickering.
“For fuck’s sake, Tracker. Put some damn clothes on. What? You think Officer Baker’s gonna jump your bones at the sight of your scrawny ass? Trust me when I tell you she has better taste in men.”