Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

Olivia couldn’t have loved it more. Soon Scott would come out, and they’d make a bonfire. She’d spend the rest of the evening wrapped in his arms before they headed to their bed in the very small apartment they’d be moving out of next week.

Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was full of love, and she couldn’t ask for more than that.

And the best part was she’d have it forever.

“WE’RE SEEING A huge increase in drug-related admissions at the ER,” Pulse said as they sat around the table in church. “Meth in particular.”

No surprise there. Lobo had warned them. He’d been quiet, suspiciously quiet, but the product was moving and selling.

And apparently fucking people up.

Curly nodded. “I’ve heard the rumor that the area is becoming a hotbed for meth sales and trafficking.”

“I know you hate the idea, Prez, but we might benefit from having a connection to the local PD,” Scott said. He’d been thinking about it for a while but hadn’t wanted to rock the boat after all the drama he’d caused killing Lance. Getting rid of the body of a rich man from Chicago hadn’t been easy and took a shitload of club resources and time. Pissing his prez off by suggesting they try to buy some cops had to wait. “Maybe we need to start vetting whom we can get on our payroll. At least so we can be in the know and not blind to the players and the cops’ plans.”

A heavy sigh left Curly. “You’re right,” he said, shocking the shit out of Scott. “Look, how I feel about the cops is no secret. This department was corrupt as fuck back in the day, and I’m pretty sure it still is. But I’d be stupid not to use any resource at our disposal. And if we can find a safe way to get intel that won’t land any of us in jail, then we should take it.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Tracker said from across the table.

Scott lifted an eyebrow.

“Let’s hear it,” Curly said.

“They’ve got a new hire. A rookie. Woman in her early thirties. She’s… different.”

“Different?” Curly asked with a frown.

Tracker’s grin grew wicked. “She’s fucking gorgeous. Word on the street is that she was a fucking beauty queen back in the day. Came from a family of dudes who were all cops. As the lone female child, her family doted on her and tried to raise a princess. But guess what the little lady wanted her entire life?”

“Let me guess,” Jinx cut in. “She wanted to be like her daddy and brothers.”

“Mm-hmm. And granddaddy, and great-granddaddy. You get the picture. So when she got ballsy enough, she told them all to fuck off, moved from Alabama to Florida, and joined the department.”

Curly’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this?”

Tracker winked. “Met her at a bar last week. The woman’s a bit of a man-hater and was looking to take some of that hatred out on a bad boy’s dick.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m always down for helping someone out.”

Jinx barked out a laugh. “I’ll bet you are.”

Tracker winked. “Wasn’t wearing my cut, so she had no idea who I am, but I’m thinking I get her addicted to my cock, I can get all sorts of info from her.”

Scott snorted. “You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you, brother?”

Tracker winked and nodded. “Just facts, man.”

Curly tilted his head. “What makes you think she isn’t planning to use you in the same way?”

“Huh.” Tracker scratched his chin. “Hadn’t thought of that. Maybe she knew exactly who I was.” His grin grew. “That just makes it all the more exciting.”

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this,” Curly muttered. “Okay, keep seeing her. I don’t have to tell you to keep your fucking lips sealed about club business, right?”

“Of course not, Prez,” Tracker said with all joking gone.

“All right, see if you can get her to give up any info.” Curly rubbed his forehead. “God, Brooke will kill me if she hears about this.”

Shit, he wasn’t kidding. Liv would rip him a new asshole when she found out Tracker was fucking a cop for intel. He chuckled. Angry Liv tended to get all passionate, and he had no problem with that.

“All right, meeting adjourned,” Curly announced. “I need some time with my woman.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He practically flew from his chair and floated outside. These days, he often felt like his feet didn’t hit the ground.

Thank you, Liv.

He stepped outside into the twilight to find three very tipsy women laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

“Scott!” Olivia shouted, throwing her arms in the air like she was cheering for a touchdown. “You’re done. I missed you.” She stood and stumbled. “Whoa.”

He grinned. Maybe a little more sloppy than tipsy. Damn, she looked cute in those tiny white denim shorts and the navy-blue tank. “Hey, baby. Having fun?” he asked as he reached her.