Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Poppy, is it?”
I turn to see a man standing beside me in the ink aisle. He’s tall, drop dead gorgeous, and clearly a cop. I can tell them from a mile away these days. They’re always standing tall, too well dressed and their hair is always neat. This one, his dark brown hair is scruffy and yet it seems like it’s been purposefully done that way. His eyes are the prettiest green and he’s tall, at least six foot, and well built.
“Can I help you, hot cop?” I ask, focusing back on my ink.
I don’t dare ask how he knows my name, or go into how I know he’s a cop. I know my response shocks him because he’s silent for a moment before he speaks again.
“What makes you think I’m a cop?”
“It’s glaringly obvious,” I say, picking up some ink and studying the box. “Your hair, for one. It’s perfectly messy, nobody has perfectly messy hair. Also, you’re standing like you’ve got a rod taped to your spine, or shoved up your ass, either will pass. Only cops stand like that. Am I wrong?”
I look to him again.
He tips his head to the side. “No, you’re not wrong. I was wondering if we could have a word?”
“About what?”
“The club you’re hanging around with.”
I stare at him, tipping my head to the side and studying his face for a moment or two. Yep, certainly hot. “What about them?”
“Curious as to why you’re suddenly hauled up with a club?”
I frown. “How do you know my name?”
“You could say I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve got a name that comes up a lot.”
I don’t doubt it. I was hanging around with some bad people for a long time, my husband included. It’s not surprising I’ve been spoken about.
“Well, you can tell those people that Poppy has moved on from that life.”
He gives me a half smirk. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“Have you got anything on me, hot cop?”
“No.”
“Then why would I be afraid of you?”
“Because I could find something on you, but I’m giving you the chance to sweep your wrong doings under the rug by helping me out.”
I purse my lips, crossing my arms. “The bikers, you want me to give you some sort of information on them? Would that be right?”
“They’ve got their hands in some particularly interesting illegal business that I’d like to know more about.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you what that is. I’m only there temporarily. I’m friends with one of the old ladies.”
God, the lies that come out of my mouth are incredible.
“What’s the ink for?”
I shrug. “I like printing pictures. I’m an artist.”
My god.
I can’t even draw a stick figure.
“I’d like to see that art sometime.”
“Oh, I’m certain you would,” I say, smiling. “I only do nudes, though. Sorry, hot cop.”
His mouth lifts up in that half smirk again. “I can offer you immunity. I know you’re helping them.”
I feign confusion. “How could I possibly help them? I can barely help myself.”
“There you are!”
Eve comes around the corner and sees me standing with hot cop. She looks to him and he holds her gaze for a second before looking back at me. “See you around, Poppy.”
With that, he disappears.
“Who was that hot piece of man candy?” Eve asks.
“Oh, some dude who was trying to take me on a date.” I shrug.
“And you rejected him?” Eve breathes.
“He’s not my type,” I mutter. “Way too clean.”
“Girl, girl, girl,” Eve exhales, “that was a sexy as shit man.”
“Men are too difficult. Come on, we better go before the old dudes outside bust a top.”
Eve laughs and we walk out of the shop after paying for our items. I catch the eye of hot cop as I’m walking out; his eyes lock onto mine and there is an unspoken message in his gaze.
We’re not done here.
2
“You said you knew how to use a fuckin’ gun,” Beckett growls, watching me as I stare at the two pieces and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to put them together.
“I do know how, when it’s loaded and all put together.”
He growls. “Fuckin’ useless.”
“Listen, buddy, if you keep insulting me, we’re going to have a problem. I’m doing you a favor, not the other way around.”
He leans in close—a piece of hair falls over his face and it takes a lot for me not to reach out and touch it. Luckily, I hate him and would rather see him rolling around on fire.
But still, he’s gorgeous.
“The only person in this room throwin’ around favors, is me. You think we can’t do this shit without you?”
“I know you can’t,” I say, crossing my arms. “Not to my standard, anyway. Whoever was doing it before should be put down, because it was terrible.”
“That person,” he growls, “was me.”
Good to know.
“Well, I hate to break it to ya,” I say, leaning in too, “but you suck.”