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)
Shit. That couldn’t be good.
Jo stood and paced away from him. She lowered her voice, but it did no good. He still heard every word she said though he’d kill to hear her boss speaking as well. With each passing second, her shoulders bunched tighter, and her steps grew heavier. “Sir, I thought we didn’t have any definitive evidence linking Lock to his sister’s drug use.”
Tracker’s spine snapped straight. What the fuck?
Jo’s troubled gaze flicked to his. “But that’s not enough for an arrest, sir… um, yes, sir. But…”
Shit, shit, shit.
She looked at him with horror in her eyes as she whispered, “Sir, I’m not sure that’s legal.” More silence. “Yes, sir, of course, my job is important to me.”
That motherfucker. Threatening her job if she didn’t arrest Lock on what sounded like trumped-up evidence. Tracker’s fists clenched.
“Um… actually, sir, I have some new information about the case.” She rubbed her forehead as though an ache had formed. Wouldn’t be surprising.
If things were different, he’d take over the task of massaging away the discomfort.
“I was preparing to call you this afternoon. I spoke with a, uh, a CI this morning who knew Deanna. This guy was able to give me a few names. Dante and Lobo. He said he’s nearly positive they are the ones responsible for the fentanyl-laced meth.”
Tracker held his breath. Holy shit. She’d not only tried to save his brother but protected him as well by lying out her ass to her superior. They’d have to find a CI or someone to serve as such to give her story a spine, but she bought them some precious time.
Them. As though they were a team.
Shaking off that thought, he kept his attention on Jo. She stopped walking, frozen as a horrified expression crossed her face. “But, sir!” she cried. Then she whispered, “No, sir. Of course, sir.”
As though moving through molasses, she lowered the phone from her ear and stared out a window. Tracker gave her a moment to process the conversation before rising to his feet. “Jo?”
She turned to look at him. Defeat was evident in her slumped posture and the grim set of her mouth. And, holy shit, were those tears in her eyes?
“Tell me,” he said as he stepped closer.
She held up a hand to ward him off. It was the hand holding her phone. Her fist tightened around it, then she spun and hurled the device across the room as she screamed, “Fuck!” at the top of her lungs.
Tracker’s stomach sank.
Whatever had just happened with her boss, one thing was for certain.
His club was in trouble.
Would she be the one to deliver it to their door?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EVERYTHING JO THOUGHT she’d wanted was crumbling around her in a painful mess of broken dreams, realized mistakes, and self-loathing. For her entire life, she’d dug her heels in and wished for a career opposite of what her family wanted for her. Growing up, she’d idolized her four macho older brothers. The admiration only intensified as, one by one, they graduated from the police academy and found their place in the police force. Again and again, she was reminded that life wasn’t for her. She was too pretty. Too soft. Too feminine. The only girl and her mother’s dream come to life. She belonged on stage in the spotlight, wearing frilly dresses, sparkles, and makeup.
Exactly where she didn’t want to be.
She’d tried to live that life for so many years. During the time spent in pageantry, then modeling, she didn’t half-ass the effort. She’d given it her all and hated every second. When the happiness in her mother’s gaze no longer sustained her, Jo broke away and followed her own dreams. She worked so damn hard to be seen as an equal in her brothers’ eyes and still hadn’t reached the top of that mountain.
Maybe her family had been right all along. Was she too soft for the life of a cop? Did she lack what it took to “hack it,” as her brothers always said while laughing at her goal? Is that why she’d lost so much sleep over the past month, plagued by indecision, guilt, and dread?
Regardless, she couldn’t walk onto the Handlers’ compound tomorrow morning, warrant in hand, and arrest Lock for a crime he had no part in. That wasn’t justice and went against everything she believed as an officer of the law and a human being.
“Jo?”
She stared at the shattered fragments of her phone. The perfect metaphor for her life at the moment.
“Babe, I need you to look at me.”
Ugh, when had she become queen of the pity parties?
With a sigh, she slowly turned around. Whatever pitiful expression Tracker saw on her face had him stepping closer. “Tell me.”
“I’ve been ordered to arrest Lock tomorrow morning. They want to bring him up on drug distribution charges, and my lieutenant is hoping the DA can get him on some kind of manslaughter charge for his sister’s death.” And as she said the words, her eyes filled with tears.