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)
“Let’s do it.”
They exited the cruiser and walked into the coffee shop together. Since it was around ten in the morning, they’d missed the morning rush and hadn’t yet hit the lunch crowd. Only two people waited in line in front of them and most of the tables sat empty.
“Oh, shit,” Andrew mumbled as they took their place in line.
“What?” Jo glanced over her shoulder.
“Don’t look.” His whispered order had her staring at him instead of scanning the café.
“What’s wrong?” A robbery? Domestic issue? Her heart rate shot up, preparing her for action.
His entire demeanor had changed, going from loose and relaxed to on full alert in a manner of seconds. “A bunch of the scumbags from the MC are here.”
“Oh.” That was why she couldn’t look. She peered over her shoulder to see three men and a woman sitting at a six-person booth in the back of the café. The woman, who looked to be a few years younger than Jo, laughed at something the man next to her said. He was one of the guys she’d met at the gas station. Spec, if her memory served her correct. “What’s the big deal? They’re just drinking coffee and talking.”
Andrew snorted. “Where they go, trouble follows. Plus, they fucking hate cops, so they always start shit when we’re around.”
Jittery from an unnecessary adrenaline surge, she rolled her eyes. “Maybe if we get our coffees and go like normal people instead of scowling at them as though they’re committing a crime, they’ll be less hostile toward us.”
“So naïve, baby cop. We could hand them a bag of cash, and they’d still spit on us.”
Whatever. She shrugged and faced the counter where now only one person stood between her and iced caramel goodness. No point in starting trouble for trouble’s sake. It’d be nice to make it through a shift without having to arrest someone. The person in front of her only ordered a muffin, so she and Andrew were up in seconds.
“Good morning, Officer Baker. The usual?”
With a chuckle, she nodded. “Yeah, Tammy. Thanks.”
“What about Officer Simpson? His usual?”
“Andrew?” Jo turned to find him in the same spot he’d been standing, still glaring at the table of bikers. Fine. He’d rather mean-mug the MC then he’d get whatever Tammy made for him, and he’d drink it. “Yeah, give him his usual.”
“Andrew!” she barked as she moved toward the pick-up counter.
Unfortunately, her yell caught the attention of the bikers, who all stared their way. Spec, and the other one she recognized as Curly, tensed as they noticed two cops in the vicinity. Her eyes went to the other man and—
Oh shit.
Her stomach plummeted as Fin’s startled gaze met hers.
No. No way. This couldn’t be happening. She pressed a hand to her queasy stomach.
He could not be one of the Hell’s Handlers.
How was this possible? When she met him, he hadn’t been wearing his cut, and those guys always wore their cuts out in public. He hadn’t worn it any other time she’d seen him either. There’d been no way for her to know.
She was going to vomit.
She’d been sleeping with an outlaw biker for weeks.
Why had he done it? His club notoriously hated cops, and he’d known who she was from that first night. She hadn’t hidden her profession?
Unless…
Oh, God.
She could literally hear the pieces clinking into place in her mind.
He hadn’t worn a cut.
He’d known she was a cop.
He’d tried to get her to open up to him about her job.
Had he targeted her for a reason? Had he sought her out to pump her for information after pumping her full of his cock?
Her knees wobbled, and she reached for an empty table to keep from collapsing.
The oh-shit expression on Fin’s face confirmed her worst fears.
He’d been using her. It’d been one big setup to get an in with the department. She had to hand it to him. The devious plan had worked. If it weren’t for this unfortunate and unexpected run-in, she’d still be in the dark and willing to tear off her panties anytime he looked at her.
“Come on,” Andrew said, seeming oblivious to her internal freakout. “Let’s give them a warning.”
“A warning about what?” she whispered. “They’re not doing anything.”
And I can’t be around that man right now.
She might strangle him and end up the one behind bars.
Andrew ignored her and strode toward the MC’s table. Jo cringed but had no choice but to follow or as though she was afraid to approach them.
“Officer Simpson,” Spec said with a smirk. “We’d offer you a seat, but our table is full. And you’re an asshole.”
“Not here for a social visit,” Andrew said in what she liked to call his authoritative voice. Whenever he was talking to a perp or performing an arrest, his voice dropped two octaves. Jo had had to hide her laughter the first few times she’d heard it. It almost sounded cartoonish. “What’s in the bag?” he asked of a small brown shopping bag next to the woman.