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)
“Better get a move on, baby,” Tracker said in a low tone.
She shot him a glare, then hurried after her partner. A quick but thorough search of the premises, including the barn, which had been converted into an apartment building, confirmed Lock’s absence. Andrew grew surlier by the minute. The drive back to the station should be a hoot.
After the apartments proved to be empty as well, Andrew stormed back into the main clubhouse. “You hear from him, you call us. Understand?” he asked, jamming a finger in Tracker’s face.
Tracker, thank God, remained his cool, collected self. Beyond a grunt and a bark of laughter, he didn’t react. “Yeah, sure, we’ll do that.”
“I’m serious, Tracker. We find out you guys gave him a heads-up, and you’ll be enjoying the comforts of the county jail.”
“Shaking in my boots, officer,” Tracker said. He stood at attention and snapped out a salute. “We’ll be sure to contact you as soon as he turns up. You can count on us.”
Were this three months ago, his attitude toward her job would feel like a nail in her shoe. Today she understood it, and unfortunately, Andrew was the one causing her sharp pains.
“Fuck this,” Andrew said as he stomped back toward their car after issuing a few more threats. “We’ve got eyes on Lock’s house, eyes on his business, and eyes on the hospital, and we can’t fucking find him,” he yelled as she hustled to keep up. “You think he got tipped off and went into hiding? He could be in Mexico by now.” He wiped the back of his hand across his damp forehead.
Jo’s insides seized. “What? No. Who the hell would have told him?”
“Fuck if I know.” He kicked a rock, sending a cloud of dust into the air. “Dammit! Where the hell is he?” With his hands jammed on his hips and his hair askew, he looked the picture of frustration.
If she didn’t keep him in check, he’d likely go on the warpath searching for Lock. Though hidden, Lock wasn’t impossible to locate. She had to bring her partner down a few notches. “Look,” she said as she gently gripped his arm and steered him toward their car. “We just got started. For all we know, he’s at the damn grocery store.”
“Well, he won’t be coming back here. Tracker or Curly will alert him. They don’t care about threats of jail time. We need to put out a BOLO.”
“Why don’t you take care of that while I drive?”
“Yeah, on it.”
As she drove away from the compound, Jo blew out a breath of relief.
Phase one of the plan was complete. Now all she had to do was figure out how to keep Andrew from finding out her part in this and get the department’s interest off the MC and onto Lobo.
Piece of cake.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TRACKER YANKED THE cork out of a bottle of red seconds before the doorbell rang. He didn’t know shit about wine, but he’d seen Jo drinking this same kind a few weeks back.
“It’s open, babe,” he called out over Betty’s howls of excitement. “Go to your bed,” he said to the dog, who let out a pitiful whine but obeyed. If he let Betty run to the door, Jo would be all over her, and he wanted the attention on him and him alone tonight.
She’d yet to visit him at his little one-bedroom beach bungalow, only the apartment above the tattoo shop. He loved this place, even if on a good day, it was a solid forty-five minutes away from the rest of his life. The quiet little house afforded him peace and privacy. A place to listen to the surf and imagine he was on an extended vacation.
“Come straight back to the kitchen,” he said after hearing the door shut.
“This place is great,” Jo spoke as she made her way through his little oasis.
A few seconds later, she walked into the kitchen, looking exhausted but beautiful. As requested, she wore her uniform, but he had a feeling that was more about coming straight from work than sexy role-playing games.
“Hi,” she said with a tired smile. Her hair remained in the tight bun she always wore to work, giving him an unobstructed view of her face, dark circles and all.
“Hi.” He tilted his head and studied her. Today’s stress hung heavy on her in her slow gait, slumped shoulders, and dulled eyes. Lying to her partner and superiors, tricking the department she worked for, and having to act her ass off all day had taken its toll. “Wine?”
“God, yes. But after.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “After?”
Nodding, she walked to him with a slow, hypnotizing sway of her hips. “After.” The woman made even the boxy police uniform look sinful. “Take your shirt off.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She mimicked the action.
Bossy, Jo worked for him. “Yes, ma’am.” He stripped his shirt over his head, loving the way her gaze roamed his bare chest.