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 stomach flipped, and she took a step back on instinct. “You’re ankle is fine,” she whispered. “What the hell?”
“Why, Jo?” he asked again, but this time he didn’t give her time to reply. “Is it his dick? That it? Is it so fucking big that you had to spread your legs and betray your oath to protect the community?”
She blinked. Was he for real? Even though they’d disagreed on many things, he’d never spoken to her like this before. And there was no way in hell she’d tolerate it.
“Whoa!” She held up a hand. “You’re gonna want to watch your words right now, Andrew.”
“Why?” He walked closer to her, keeping the light pointed at the floor.
All she could make out of his expression was disgust.
“You gonna get your boyfriend to fuck me up? Maybe have his club drag me out of my bed in the middle of the night to beat the shit out of me?”
Is that really what he thought the MC did? Well, maybe they would under certain circumstances, but come on. “This isn’t the movies, Andrew.”
He huffed. “Clearly, you don’t know your boyfriend.”
“Look, Andrew, who I see outside of work isn’t any of your business.” She needed to move the conversation off the MC to gain control. “Are you even hurt? You seem to be walk…”
With a sudden and violent jerk of his arm, he flung the flashlight to his right. Jo jumped as it crashed through the drywall, plunging them into near darkness. Her keychain light still gave a small glow.
“It is my fucking business!” he roared. “I need to be able to trust you. You’re my partner, and you’re fucking the enemy.”
“The enemy?” She used the darkness as a cover to shuffle a few steps away from him. Her heart pounded so loud that only the rushing wind kept him from hearing it. “Do you hear yourself? This isn’t a superhero movie. Tracker is just a man. They’re all just men. They’re no threat to you.”
He advanced, flinging his arms in the air. “No threat?” he said with a laugh. Lightning flashed at the same time he pulled a gun from the small of his back.
Her breath caught in her throat. Unarmed, she was in serious fucking trouble.
She lifted her trembling hands to show she meant no harm. “Andrew…”
“They’re a threat to everyone,” he screamed. Spittle sprayed from his mouth.
The beam of her flashlight lit up the spray, making her jerk back.
“They destroyed my fucking life?”
What the hell did he mean? He sounded deranged, which didn’t bode well for her chances to escape.
She backed up again but hit the wall after two steps. A glance to her right revealed a large window only a few feet away, and a glance to the left another wall about ten feet away.
Nowhere to run.
All she could do was try to talk him down. Attempt to reason with him. She racked her brain for any escalation techniques she could recall, but what they didn’t teach in hostage negotiation courses was how to push aside the gut-wrenching fear when it happened to you. But she couldn’t die here.
Why hadn’t she listened to Tracker and stayed put? To prove how independent and strong she was. Now, look where that had gotten her.
Think, think, think. Try to relate with the suspect on a human level.
“Andrew, I’m sorry you’ve suffered because of them. Can you tell me about it?”
He snorted, then laughed. “You have no idea what they’ve done. My father died because of them.”
“B-because of the Handlers?” she whispered as shock had her struggling to process.
“No. This was before them. Because of Curly’s old club. One of those animals seduced my mother. Lured her away from our family. Knocked her up. It destroyed my father. He killed himself the day she filed for divorce.” He laughed a bitter, angry sound. “She was leaving him for the fucking biker.”
For a second, Jo’s heart shattered for the young boy whose life had been turned upside-down by selfishness. But his mother and one specific biker were to blame for that disaster, not a club that hadn’t existed back then.
Not Tracker. Not Curly. Not Spec. None of the Handlers were to blame for Andrew’s childhood trauma.
But she didn’t say any of that. “Andrew, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how hard that was for you to live through.”
“You think he stayed with my mother? The biker. You think he helped raise my sister?”
It might have been a rhetorical question, but he was talking, which bought her time. “No,” she said, trying to inject compassion into her tone. It worked if she thought of the little boy version of her partner instead of the vengeful adult. “I’m sure he didn’t. Your mother must have been devastated to be left alone and pregnant.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, waving the gun as though it were a team pennant. “She got what she deserved. I’m the one who suffered.” He beat his fist against his chest.