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)
If he thought he could intimidate her with that I’m-bigger-than-you macho crap, he had another think coming. “You do not know any of that,” she growled right back up at him. Growing up with a gaggle of brothers made her spine just as rigid and her bark just as loud as the most aggressive of men. Could she beat them in a physical altercation? No, but she usually had their asses knocked down a few pegs before it came to that.
Andrew was no different. A man who thought he knew better and could push her around.
Fuck that. She didn’t take it growing up, and she wouldn’t take it now.
She was a second away from ripping him a new one when he huffed, spun on his heel, and tromped toward the door. “Ass,” she muttered as she followed. By the time she made it up the three steps to the wrap-around porch, he had his fist out and pounding on the door as though the SWAT team was about to bust it down.
“Is that necessary?” she asked. Inside, the guys were probably shitting themselves, knowing exactly who was at the door and fearing the reason why. No one knocked quite like a cop with an arrest warrant.
Andrew chuckled. “Gotta get my jollies somewhere.”
Pretty sure you get most of them from your hand and a bottle of Dollar Store lotion.
Somehow, she managed to keep that thought in her head, but she filed it away for future use if necessary.
“Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes. You know what? Changed my mind. You do the interview.” He stepped back to let her take the lead position.
Her jaw dropped as the door opened, and of course, Tracker was the one to greet them. Bleak, tired eyes spoke to a rough day. Jo had the instant and insane urge to comfort him. The man who lied and manipulated her. What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe it was time to think about taking a break from men altogether. Moving into a convent couldn’t be all bad, could it?
“We need to talk to Lock,” Andrew said in the no-nonsense voice he loved to break out went interviewing perps. “Now!” He snapped out the word as though talking to a disobedient child.
In a move that would have had her snickering had she not wanted to punch Tracker in his handsome, dishonest face, he completely ignored Andrew, instead focusing his attention on her. Those piercing emerald eyes seemed to penetrate beneath her phony calm to the jitters dancing below her skin. Why did she react with such a visceral response to someone she’d lost all trust in? Someone who’d admittedly used her body for personal gain.
Damn sexy biker fucking with her head and libido.
“Good morning, Officer Baker. I must say you are looking mighty fine this morning. Dayum, that uniform looks good on you.” Tracker’s voice held the same husky yet playful timbre it had the first time he whispered a slew of dirty promises in her ear. Her body reacted the same way now it had then. Goose bumps and butterflies.
And maybe some fluttering down below.
“Can it, Tracker,” Andrew snapped.
He went on as though her partner hadn’t uttered a sound. “May I ask what this visit is in reference to? Not that I mind a visit from a gorgeous woman,” Tracker said, oozing charm from every pore as he had the first time she’d met him. As though they hadn’t seen each other naked, touched each other naked, and even licked each other in way too many places. Naked.
And, goddammit, just as it had the first time, it was working.
Why did it have to be him that got to her like this?
She cleared her suddenly dry throat. The full force of the man’s heated gaze tended to dry her mouth to dust while making areas further south incredibly freaking wet. “We’re here because we have a few, uh, quest…”
“There’s a dead junkie in the ER and an orphaned infant in the NICU because your club is pushing meth all over my town.” Andrew slapped his hand on the doorframe next to Tracker’s head as Jo’s eyeballs tried to eject themselves from her head. Even if she agreed with his aggressive approach—which she didn’t—the disrespect her partner displayed by interrupting her so blatantly wasn’t something she’d tolerate.
Before she had a chance to regain control of the conversation, Andrew continued running his mouth, “We need to talk to Lock about what kind of garbage he gave his sister. Because it killed her. And we need to talk to the rest of you shitbags about your involvement in selling the drugs that are causing our hospital beds to fill up faster than your mother’s tw—
“Andrew!” she snapped. Tracker might be at the top of her shit list, but for fuck’s sake, this was the least professional way to conduct an interview in history.