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)
“Save the snark, Jinx,” Andrew said as he strode up next to Jo.
She tried to stay unaffected, but Tracker noticed the way her jaw tensed and her eyes flashed with annoyance. She’d claimed to have problems with her partner and the way he conducted himself. Guess this would be the proof.
Jinx rose. “You are in my house, cop. Our house.”
“Think I give a shit?”
Jo stepped forward. “Actually, yes,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “We are here to express our condolences to Lock. No one should lose a family member in such a tragic way, and I can’t begin to imagine how much pain he must be in. I promise we aren’t here to interrogate him…”
Andrew snorted.
“Accuse him or arrest him for anything,” she continued, raising her voice. “It is, however, important that we speak to him. Time is of the essence if we want to find out who sold his sister the fentanyl-laced meth.”
Fuck. Tracker hadn’t heard the meth was laced. They’d been led to believe it was a straight-up overdose, just as tragic, but Lock would be on the warpath once he found out. Hell, Curly would be too.
Jinx’s eyes flashed. He walked closer, his large body advancing on Jo with menace. When he stood no more than an inch away, an irate rumble vibrated his chest.
Tracker’s instinct to step between his enraged brother and the woman he’d fucked half a dozen times rose swift and sharp, but he shoved it down hard. Jo would fucking hate the assist, and he couldn’t help but be curious as to how she’d handle Jinx at his most volatile. It was a test he needed her to pass, even if he didn’t understand why.
Andrew wasn’t as chill. “Back the fuck up.” His hand went to his gun, but before he had the chance to unholster it, Jo held her hand out to stop him.
“It’s okay,” she said, calm as a still lake.
Tracker couldn’t stop the surge of pride at her mix of bravery and compassion.
“Why the fuck should we believe you? Why should we let you take one more step into our sanctuary and question our brother, who is fucking grieving? Your department hasn’t done a damn thing but ride our asses.” Jinx snarled down at her. Aggression flowed off him in thick waves. “This one wouldn’t spit on a single one of us if we were on fire.” He pointed toward Andrew, who didn’t refute the claim.
Jinx would never hurt her. That wasn’t his style, but the big fucker enjoyed intimidating whomever he could, and a gorgeous lady cop half his size should be shaking in her department-issued boots. Tracker almost had to turn away to keep himself from diving between the two.
But then Jo spoke, and he couldn’t have torn his gaze away if there was a gun to his head. “I know your president has a past with the police that is unforgivable. And I know I’m asking for mountains to move when I’m asking you to trust my intentions, but I’m doing it anyway because a beautiful young woman is dead, and a motherless baby is fighting for his life. I don’t believe Lock or anyone in your club had anything to do with that,” she said, slapping a palm over her heart. “But even the smallest bit of information could help us find the fuckers who did this to her.”
Tracker could feel the effort it took Andrew to hold his tongue. By the officer’s facial expression, it was clear he disagreed with Jo, but she seemed to have a leash on him for now.
“The name of a boyfriend or the baby’s father. Where she worked. Who Deanna’s friends were. Any tidbit of information could help us get justice for her, no matter how insignificant Lock might think it is.”
Jinx nostrils flared. His gaze shifted between the two officers. “He keeps his fucking mouth shut,” he said, jabbing a finger in Andrew’s direction.
Tracker stepped forward. “I made that clear.”
“And we agreed,” Jo said. “Right, Officer Simpson?”
Andrew looked as though he’d swallowed a mouthful of bees, but he nodded once.
“I’ll get Lock.” Jinx turned and strode away. The heavy thud of his footsteps echoed through the quiet clubhouse. From the bar, Ty and Pulse looked on with silent, heavy gazes. They’d have plenty of opinions, none of them surprising and all of them unhappy, but Tracker appreciated them keeping out of it. The last thing anyone wanted was for this shit to turn into a fucking brawl that ended with a slew of them in cuffs.
He'd rather burn off a tattoo than give Officer Simpson the satisfaction.
“Have a seat, officers,” Tracker said, turning his attention back to Jo. He couldn’t keep the bit of snark out of his voice. A lifetime of horrendous experiences with Florida’s finest couldn’t be erased by a badge with a sexy pair of tits and a wet pussy. Even quality time spent with the caring, downright incredible woman who owned those addicting body parts and wore the uniform wasn’t enough to erase his past and probably never would be. Especially, when that woman’s partner was doing his damnedest to be the biggest prick in the room.