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)
Jo hung on to every word he said. This glimpse into Tracker’s life and the man who helped mold him had her heart racing with excitement.
“Anyway, when he got out, he decided shit needed to change. But he was fucking fifty, and everyone he knew lived the same way. He didn’t have an ounce of support, any positive role models, money, or guidance. Took him years of hard-ass work, but he did it. He turned his whole life around and lived his remaining years happy, sober, and free.”
“Tracker, I love that you’re sharing this with me, but our stories are so different.”
“I know. I just want to point out that it’s never too late to change shit if you don’t like where you are. And to tell you that you won’t be doing it alone. You have support.”
She swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. “F-from you?”
“Fuck yes, from me. And from my club. Brooke and Livy too. So if you want to throw your badge in the toilet and flush the damn thing, do it. We’ll help you figure out your next move.”
“And if I decide staying a cop is what’s right for me?” She held her breath. This was the make-or-break moment.
Tracker stayed quiet for a few moments. So long, in fact, she shifted to climb out of bed and search for her uniform so she could leave. But he stopped her by pulling her close and kissing her. The man’s kiss scrambled her brain. Was there something she’d been about to do?
“I like you, Jo,” he said as he hugged her close. His reinterested dick nudged her hip, igniting the fire in her all over again. “I get that we’re building something here. And I get that there are a million reasons it’s a terrible idea. But I’m too fucking selfish to walk away from it because it is so damn good.”
It was fun, intense, sexy, and intimate. The thought of losing it hurt. It caused an actual ache in her chest and stomach. Did he feel it too? Was it part of why he couldn’t walk away? She’d left a long relationship and engagement with a feeling of annoyance and relief. How come losing a man she’d known for a tiny fraction of that time would devastate her?
“So if you want to continue working as a police officer….” His sigh was heavy but full of conviction. “Then, babe, we’ll figure it out.”
In truth, she’d never been a huge fan of pet names. They’d always seemed like a kitschy way to claim ownership over someone. But every time Tracker called her babe or baby, a giddy zing zipped through her.
Oh, God. She wanted him to have ownership over her. Wanted him to desire her so much that he felt the need to stamp his ownership. From what she’d learned of him so far, belonging to this man wouldn’t mean giving up a part of herself to fit him. He had no plans to dress her up and puff out his chest as his buddies admired her for her beauty. He didn’t care to dictate where she worked, how she spoke, what she wore, or who her friends were. Tracker liked her for her despite the fact her career went against most of what he stood for.
She traced her favorite of his tattoos—a koi fish on his left bicep. Most of his tattoos were black ink, but this koi had so much vibrant color it drew the eye. “Tracker, I like you too. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of this, trying to keep myself away from you, but I can’t do it. I just don’t want to.”
His triumphant smile had her grinning like a fool right back at him.
“It symbolizes growth. Enduring and overcoming obstacles.”
“What?”
“The koi.”
“Oh.” She shifted her gaze to the beautiful tattoo. “It’s stunning.”
“Thank you. It’s the last one Jules gave me before he passed. Cancer. It was a little before I patched with the club.”
“Oh, Tracker, I’m sorry.” She moved her hand until it rested over his heart, where he’d inked a date from a few years ago. Without asking, she knew it was when he’d lost his mentor and friend—the most important person in his life.
“He was the only person I ever considered family.” He pressed his hand over hers on his heart.
“Until the club,” she finished for him.
“Until the club.”
Those three words brought a sense of realization as though the sky had finally lit after a long period of darkness. Where Andrew and the rest of the police department saw a degenerate band of felons, Tracker had found family—men and women he trusted to have his back at all times. They all knew how to claw their way through the muck and mud to carve out a slice of happiness. They lived in various shades of gray where her job required black-and-white thinking.