I grunt in response.
“What can I get ya?” Braydon, the prospect behind the bar, asks.
“As long as it’s cold, I don’t really care.”
“Rough day?” Tracer asks while Braydon snags a bottle of Perpetual Peace from the cooler and hands it to me.
“You could say that,” I mumble.
“Anything I can do?”
I glare at the prospect and tip my head to indicate that he should walk away before answering Tracer. Once we’re alone, I say, “Maybe.”
“Name it.”
Don’t do it. It’s wrong. Don’t, don’t, don’t.
“I need you to do some digging for me,” I tell him.
And you’re doing it.
“Diggin’ is what I do best,” Tracer announces proudly. “Well, that and bustin’ heads. Oh, and pussy. I do pussy real fuckin’ good, too.”
Laughing, I shake my head at him. “How ‘bout we stick to the digging?”
He grins with a shrug. “Sure, no problem. Whaddya need me to dig into?”
“Not a what. A who.”
“Even better.” He downs what remains of his beer and knocks the glass on the bar top to get Braydon’s attention. Oncehe has a fresh brew, he asks, “So, who am I getting all the nitty gritty on?”
I hesitate, berating myself for what I’m about to do, but I know my mind is already made up, so I blurt, “Name’s Roxie.”
“Roxie, huh?”
“Yep.” I take a long pull from my beer. “She’s Shuffle’s little sister.”
Tracer blanches. “Shuffle, as in the president of Limitless Throttle MC?”
“The one and only.”
“Damn, man, that’s ballsy. What did she do… turn ya down or something?”
“Or something.”
“Ooookay.” He draws out the word. “You know if I do this and get caught, Shuffle’s gonna end me, right? Not to mention the potential shitstorm this could bring between our clubs.”
“I do,” I confirm. “And I’m asking you anyway. Besides, you won’t get caught.”
Tracer blows out a breath and takes a drink. “You’re right, I won’t, but still.”
“Will you do it or not?” I bark, getting impatient.
“Of course, I will. But it’s gonna cost ya.”
“What do you want?”
He takes his time responding, and I clench my jaw while I wait. “Free tune-up on my bike.”
