By: Chantal Fernando

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I was waiting for you to,” she says, resting her hand on my arm. “I’m just happy you agreed to help. We can do this, Ranger, I know we can.” She removes her arm and sighs. “Although we have to work side by side with her cousin, so I hope you’re going to be okay with that.”

I don’t like cops, not even a little bit, but we all have the same end game, and for Elizabeth I can suck it up and work with her cousin. If he’s an asshole . . . well, I’ll just have to handle it. Not many men are stupid enough to fuck with me, but a cop, well, they think they rule the fuckin’ world, so who knows. Cops like to talk big, but if you try to say or do anything back to them, they get you locked up. How the fuck is that fair? I heard all about the situation with Irish’s woman, Tina, and her dirty-cop ex-boyfriend.

I don’t understand cops. I’m sure not all of them are bad, but let’s just say the ones I’ve met haven’t exactly shown me any redeeming qualities. There are so many stories out there about cops who think they’re above the law that it’s hard to respect such hypocrites. Then again, I’m a biker, the enemy to them, so I guess they’d have no reason to be fair to me. I’ve been arrested a few times for doing absolutely nothing. It almost seems like they’re looking for something that can put me behind bars, anything. I’ve been lucky each time that I didn’t have any weapons on me.

“I’ll deal,” I tell her. “I assume you went to the bar already? What did you find out?”

“Nothing,” she groans, frustration flashing on her face. “She went there alone, and she left alone. The bartender who was working says that she had two drinks, and that a few men came and spoke to her, but he can’t remember what they looked like.”

“Camera footage?”

“Apparently their cameras weren’t working that day,” she says, rolling her eyes. “They also only have one on the main bar, not one outside, so either way we wouldn’t be able to see what direction she left in, or in whose car.”

“How convenient,” I add, lips tightening. “I think we should go back there.”

Faye nods, straightening her shoulders. “I’m ready when you are.”

• • •

It’s not very often that a woman catches my eye. Yes, many women are beautiful, and I will check them out, but they never make me feel anything. Countless numbers of beautiful women have walked through the clubhouse doors, and more often than not, I decided to sleep alone anyway. After my college years, when I’d fuck anything in a skirt, it became unappealing. The fact that women are so easily accessible to me kind of makes me resent them. Maybe I’m dead inside, I don’t know, but it’s been a very long time since a woman piqued my interest. The one at the bar right now, however, has me doing more than a double take. Not that this is the time or place, considering I just finished grilling the bartender for information on Elizabeth, but I can’t help it.

I look again.

She’s on the curvy side—I can see the curve of her ass and the shape of her hips and thighs in the tight pair of worn jeans she’s wearing. Her waist is tiny, and her tits are the perfect handful. The black halter top she’s wearing shows off her toned arms; she definitely works out. She glances at me from the corner of her blue eyes, narrowing them slightly before returning them to her drink.

“Get what you need?” Faye asks quietly from my other side, sipping on her own drink, her alert gaze touching on everything and anything.

“Yeah,” I reply, looking back at the woman. The bartender kept saying that he knew nothing, which is a lie. I can tell when someone lies—it’s all in the body language, and this asshole is lying. So yeah, I got what I need—the rest will be carried out tonight.

“Shall we leave, then?” Faye asks, downing her drink and slamming the glass on the table.

I nod and reluctantly follow her out, even though what I really want to do is ask that girl to have a drink with me. I find myself curious, wanting to know everything. Does she have a boyfriend? What does she do for work? Does she enjoy it? Why is she drinking in a place like this? Not all women can pull off having short hair, but on her the style just emphasizes the beauty in her face. I glance back at the blonde once more before walking out the door, then return my attention to Faye, who is giving me a weird look. It’s probably for the best anyway—my focus needs to be on Elizabeth right now. I don’t have the luxury of distractions until I find out exactly what happened to her. I get back into the passenger seat of Faye’s car, even though I’m not a fan of her driving, or her music.

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