Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
It turned out he couldn’t take a pool car without either answering, or ignoring, a barrage of questions when he went up to grab the keys. Instead, he was forced to take his old Chevy truck on his unofficial stakeout. It actually fit in perfectly with the rest of the vehicles owned by the motel’s occupants. Not that he parked in the motel’s lot.
He’d wait until the majority of the task force members were gone for the day and no Blue Avengers were hanging around outside, then he’d head out for the night to go sit along the long, dark farm lane that ran next to Valley View Motel.
Close enough to keep an eye out for T-Bone. Far enough that he hoped he didn’t draw any attention.
In his truck he kept bottles of cold water, a Thermos of hot coffee and an empty container to piss into.
He also brought along a pair of high-powered binoculars to get a better look at the actors involved, capture their vehicle registration info and take note of any questionable activity.
He returned the same night that he and Liyah were there and wrote down T-Bones’ current vehicle’s make, model and license plate info, so he could do a little “research” the next day when he was officially working.
When he showed up the next night, he saw T-Bone had also returned.
And the next night.
And the next.
If he was there when the asshole arrived or left, Nox took note of the times and whether he had a woman with him. If he did, Nox recorded the description of the female the former prospect brought to the motel room on the end. He also documented as many details as possible on the “johns” showing up to use T-Bone’s “services.”
However, there was a pattern.
A criminal with any smarts would know not to create such an obvious one. Once again proving T-Bone was a dumb motherfucker.
The pattern was not only staying in the same room in the same motel, it was also the behavior surrounding the little “business.”
The motel room door would open, what looked like cash would be exchanged, T-Bone would step outside and close the door behind him, then go sit in his piece of shit car for fifteen minutes. Some men stayed for less than the quarter hour. Some stayed—and most likely paid—for more time.
After seeing Sadie’s body in the condition it was in, it made Nox’s stomach churn to watch men go in and out of that room most of the night.
One after the other after the other.
The scumbag was a goddamn pimp. Only Nox doubted any of the women whose services he sold volunteered for the gig. And if they did, it was because they were addicted and were desperate for a fix.
Ideally the fucker needed to die, but unfortunately, that was illegal and the reason they had set him up by hinting to Saint that the prospect was skimming meth from the stash at The Peach Pit. Clearly, their snitching hadn’t done what they’d hoped. Not if the man was still upright and breathing.
As well as abusing women.
They thought Saint—and ultimately Viper, the Demons’ club president—would do the “right thing”—according to a one-percenter MC, anyway—but they should’ve known better. It proved the cliché that no honor existed among thieves.
While he looked forward to seeing Liyah again tomorrow night at this week’s meeting and getting naked with her again afterward, he might not have the energy to give her sex worth a rating of ten. Working these unofficial “all-nighters” were taking a damn toll on him.
If he climbed in bed with Liyah, he feared he might actually fall asleep.
But T-Bone getting what was coming to him was more important to Nox than getting sex.
Though, sex with Liyah was top notch and for that, it would be worth drinking one of those energy shots, even if he ended up shaky and wired. At least he wouldn’t miss out on spending time with the woman always on his mind.
Yawning, he reached for his Thermos, then silently cursed when he realized he was almost out of the much-needed caffeine.
He glanced at the time. For fuck’s sake, it was now three-thirty in the morning. He really needed to head out soon to at least catch a couple of hours of sleep before dragging his ass up to the third floor to do some legitimate work for the task force.
Just as he reached for the key in the ignition, another vehicle rolled up to the room. Only, unlike the rest of T-Bag’s customer’s rides, this one didn’t have four wheels.
It only had two.
Nox lifted the binoculars to his eyes to get a better view of the man straddling it. His heart began to beat a bit faster at who he saw.
Could he be so damn exhausted he was seeing things?
“No fucking way,” Nox whispered, seeing that the rider wore a cut.