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)
“You think this will work, Jo?” Curly asked.
Everyone’s attention went back to her. As expected, she didn’t cower under their gazes. Even when they’d first arrived, and every man in the club looked at her with hatred and distrust, she’d held her ground. She was kickass. A woman he’d be proud to have by his side.
But she was still a cop and how could it ever work? Constantly requiring her to look the other way would chip away at any relationship they tried to build. And if she continually compromised her morals, at what point would they crumble?
They were doomed before they began.
Fucking worked, but beyond that? Disaster awaited.
For the first time in his life, the thought of fucking and running disappointed him. With any other woman, he’d be glad for a few more nights of fun before parting ways, but Jo was under his skin.
And he liked her there.
“I do think this will work. I’ll have to be really careful not to give my involvement away, but if I can manage that. Just…” She pursed her lips, then sighed. “When I show up here later, there can be no indication I was here. Not trying to be a bitch, but I’m risking a lot, and I’ll be pretending I have no idea where Lock is. I understand you guys are putting a huge amount of trust in me, which cannot be easy, but I’m doing the same. I’ll be right in the cell next to Lock if they find out I helped you hide him.”
Tracker wanted to jump in and promise he and the club wouldn’t stab her in the back, but Curly needed to be the one to set her mind at ease. He ran this show and, of all of them, had the strongest motivation to seek vengeance on the police.
But Curly wasn’t that man. He could be harsh and violent, if necessary, but he wasn’t vindictive or malicious.
The prez met Jo’s gaze. “I understand you’re sticking your neck out as far as I am. I don’t like cops, but you can probably appreciate why.”
“Of course,” she said with a nod.
“But I also am not going to hold another’s sins against you. Tracker vouches for you, and that is enough for me.” So don’t fuck me over.
Curly’s unspoken words were heard loud and clear throughout the clubhouse, but it was the best Jo would get today. Curly was a man of his word and as she kept up her end of the bargain, he wouldn’t lie to her, but he’d keep his guard up
He held his hand out. Jo grasped it and they shook.
Brooke and Olivia immediately started chatting about what supplies to buy for Lock. Jinx, Curly, and Spec fell into conversation as well about some other provisions Lock might need. A burner phone, for one.
Tracker took the opportunity to drag Jo away from the group and into the deserted kitchen. Soon as the door closed, he had her back against it, her face captured between his hands.
Surprised eyes gleamed up at him, and he took one second to appreciate their beauty before his lips met hers. The hungry kiss didn’t last long, but it was deep, desperate, and exactly what he’d been craving.
“What was that for?” Jo asked, breathing hard as he rested his forehead on hers.
“To thank you. Not many people can look beyond the box they live in. Most cops I know, at least the ones here, tend to think in terms of good versus evil. Criminal and innocent. Wrong and right. And our club falls on the wrong side. Every. Single. Time. But, you… you’ve been able to see under the surface and discover that we’re more than what the world thinks. That makes you pretty damn special in my eyes, Jo Jo.”
“Jesus, Tracker.” She blinked and averted her gaze, but he wasn’t having any of that.
He cupped her chin, bringing her focus back to him. “What?”
“No one’s ever…” She shook her head. “I’m just not used to hearing things like that. People, men, usually tell me other things.”
Other things? What the hell was she talking about? “Not following, beautiful.”
She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Even that sounds different coming from you.”
“Babe, you’re gonna have to break it down for me. I’m lost.”
With a sigh, she gripped the open edges of his cut. “When you grow up the only girl in a very traditional, stereotypical southern family, there’s a lot of pressure to become the perfect demure southern belle. My family was much more focused on my physical appearance than any other attributes.”
“Jesus, that must have been hell for you.” How could her family not see Jo’s true potential? This woman was not a trophy to be set on a shelf. She belonged out changing the damn world.
“I was raised to be a lady. To be quiet and demure. To love makeup, dresses, and heels. I spent years never even wearing a pair of pants or sneakers.”