Loving The Biker (MC Biker Romance) by Cassie Alexandra, K.L. Middleton Page B

him.
    “Wise choice,” said Gomer before racing out the front door.
    “That remains to be seen,” I mumbled, slipping the gun back into my leather jacket. I thought about checking on Terin but decided she was probably doing fine on her own. Plus, I didn’t feel like spending the rest of my afternoon filling out a police report.
    Putting on my sunglasses, I rushed out of the deli, hopped onto my bike, and took off.
     

 
    Seven
     
    Terin
     
    I quickly followed Chips out of the building.
    “Freeze!” I yelled, wishing I still had my gun.
    Ignoring me, he kept running.
    I tried chasing him down the alley, but unfortunately, my early morning shoe choice and the fact that his legs were much longer than mine, made it impossible to catch up. Out of breath, I stopped and walked back to the deli, both my feet and my ego sore. I just knew the fact that I’d blundered the arrest and lost my gun was going to make me the laughing stock of the office. I’d never hear the end of it, especially since I was a woman. The only thing I had going for me was that I could easily ID the three men from the Devil’s Rangers and I wouldn’t rest until I had Chips, Gomer, and Ronnie in handcuffs.      
    By the time I returned to the deli, backup had arrived but both the stranger and Gomer were gone. I reported what happened to the other officers on the scene and a few minutes later, two familiar faces walked in. Walters and Bronson.
    Bronson smirked. “What’s going on O’Brien? You scare everyone out of the place?”
    I explained what had happened.
    “Devil’s Rangers, huh?” said Walters. He looked at Bronson. “Let’s put out an APB for those three assholes.
    “Okay,” he replied, making notes.
    Walters turned back to me. “So, Ronnie left with Pete. What was the make and model of his vehicle?”
    “It was a newer white, Toyota Camry. I memorized the license plate,” I said, giving it to him.
    “Good. What about the other guy? You know who he was?” asked Walters.
    “I think it might have been Cole Johnson,” I replied, remembering the conversation. “Chips mentioned that he’d screwed them over.”
    “I’m sure a lot of people have screwed those dirt bags over, and vice-versa. Was he wearing a cut?” he asked.
    I sighed. “I couldn’t tell. He had on a black leather jacket. No patches.”
    “What did he look like?”
    The word ‘handsome’ popped into my head and almost escaped my lips. “He, um, he was about six foot two, black hair cropped, blue eyes, darker complexion… possibly Italian or Greek decent,” I replied.
    “Any tattoos or piercings noticeable?”
    “Nothing on his face. No piercings that I could see. Like I said, he was wearing a jacket.”
    “Your description sounds like it could be him,” said Pen, who just walked into the deli and was now standing next to us.
    “It does, although we can’t know for sure until O’Brien ID’s him,” agreed Walters. “We’ll round him up too and get a statement. Let’s pay a little visit to the Gold Viper’s clubhouse.”
    “You want me with?” I asked. “Make sure it’s the right guy?”
    He sighed. “You may as well. I doubt we can have you going undercover now anyway. If it wasn’t Cole, it’s going to be someone who associates with one of the clubs.”
    “True. Sorry,” I replied.
    “It’s not your fault, O’Brien. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he replied.
    “Or… maybe she was in the right place at the right time, especially if Pete ends up dead,” said Pen.
    “Old Pete’s lucky,” he answered. “Once Ronnie finds out you’re still alive, they’re going to let him go. Money or not.”
    I nodded.
    Walter’s phone rang. When he answered it, Pen asked how I was doing.
    “Much better if I hadn’t made such a rookie move,” I replied, smiling grimly. “I should have called for backup right away.”
    He shrugged. “Probably. At least you walked out of the situation alive. Normally they