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)
“Huh?” her forehead wrinkled.
“The bag, ma’am. What’s in the bag?”
Spec wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders, solving the mystery of who she was. “Officer Baker, right?” he asked, looking straight at her.
“That’s correct,” Jo answered with a smile she managed through extreme effort. “Nice to see you again, Spec. Curly.” She nodded at the club’s president, who didn’t so much as crack a grin, all while pointedly ignoring Fin.
“You met Tracker yet?” Spec asked.
Dammit.
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” She forced herself to face him without reacting on the outside. “Jolene Baker,” she said, holding out her hand.
Mistake number one.
As soon as Fin, Tracker—God, he’d even used his given name to throw her off the trail—slid his palm along hers, memories bombarded her.
His hand tattooing her.
His hands on her face.
His hands on her ass.
His fingers inside her.
The strength required to keep her face neutral and not violently yank her hand away left her weak. Andrew would have flipped his shit, thinking Tracker had done something worthy of his ire.
Hadn’t he?
“Nice to meet you, Officer Baker,” Tracker said in the same tone he used when voicing all the dirty things he planned to do to her.
Spec coughed in a pitiful attempt to hide his laugh.
And that’s when the most horrifying thought hit her. They knew. These other men at the table knew who she was and why Tracker was acting that way. Hell, they’d probably sent him to fuck her until she was willing to hand over any information the department had on his club.
What a fool she was.
Had they all laughed, listening to him divulge stories of how she begged for his cock? How she’d been so damn easy and willing to hop in his bed with her legs spread wide. Her face flamed with the intense heat of mortification.
Only the woman sitting at the table looked on in confusion. “Um… I’m Olivia,” she said, lifting her hand in greeting.
Jo wrenched her hand from Tracker’s and faced the beautiful woman. “Pleasure, ma’am.”
“Oh, God, no. No ma’ams, please. Just Olivia, or Liv if you’d rather.” She wore a simple yellow tank top and denim shorts, yet the impeccable fit spoke to their cost and quality. Class dripped from her pores. She seemed so out of place yet also right at home among the group of rough bikers.
“Olivia, I asked you what was in the bag,” Andrew said with irritation bleeding through his voice.
Why on earth was he so set on riling up the bikers?
Olivia’s welcoming expression disappeared as she gave Andrew her attention. “Officer Simpson, you can call me ma’am.”
“Oh, damn,” Spec said with a laugh. He kissed Olivia’s cheek. “That’s my girl.”
“Ma’am, if you could just show me what’s in the bag. Now. I’d hate to have to make this an official search.”
“Andrew,” Jo muttered. She’d had enough. Harassing private citizens who were doing nothing more than enjoying a late breakfast was a fantastic way to get the department sued.
“It’s quite all right, Officer Baker,” Olivia said, syrup coating her words. “I’m perfectly happy to show your partner what’s in my bag. Let’s see.” She reached into the small shopping bag. “We have some tampons.” She set the box on the table. “A prescription for birth control.” The package landed next to the tampons. “And, oh… I saw this cute little finger vibrator thing in the drugstore.” She pulled a small box from the shopping bag with an impish grin. “You slip it over your finger for a buzzy good time. I thought it might be fun.”
“Damn, baby.” Spec grabbed the vibrator. “Well, guys, this has been fun, but we’ve got places to be.”
Jo snorted. Tracker laughed out loud. Even Curly chuckled behind his coffee mug.
Only Andrew remained unamused.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing her partner’s arm. “We’ve worn out our welcome. Enjoy your day, folks.” Nodding at the table, minus Tracker, she led Andrew away.
As they walked out of the store, well, stomped for Andrew, Tracker’s gaze burned a hole in her back.
Don’t look back.
Don’t look back.
She made it to the exit without glancing at the man who’d played her for an enormous fool. She couldn’t take another hit of embarrassment, and if she’d seen smug victory in his expressions, she’d have expired on the spot.
Or murdered him.
Instead, she turned her attention to her destructive partner. “Andrew,” she said once she was seated behind the wheel of their squad car. “You’ve got to get over your obsession with the MC. If you keep challenging them when they’re not doing anything, we’re gonna get sued for harassment.”
“They’re doing something,” he grumbled. “Those fuckers are always doing something.”
She threw up her hands. “What the hell is it with you and them? Why do you have it in for them more than anyone else?”
“My uncle’s life was destroyed by them. They’re scum, and they all deserve to be behind bars.”