Page 66 of Sachie's Hero

“That was close,” Sachie said.

Teller nodded, his face bruised, his bottom lip busted. “Too close. What I wonder is how they knew where to find us?”

“Seriously,” Sachie agreed. “We went all over the place today with no problem.”

“Until we went to the Boys’ Club,” Teller said.

“And the guy snatched my purse.” Sachie frowned and reached for her purse, which she’d dropped on the floorboard. She found the button for the overheadlight and switched it on. Then she removed the contents one at a time, inspected them and dropped them into the accessories bag. She checked every compartment and pocket. At the bottom of the slot she used to hold her sunglasses, she found a small metal disk. “What the hell is this?”

Teller glanced at what she was holding, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a tracker.”

Sachie’s stomach dropped. “Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Teller agreed.

“If the rest of the gang is that friendly at the Leather & Chains bar,” Sachie said, “we might have to rethink our approach.”

CHAPTER 17

Teller satbehind the wheel of the rental car, hesitant to shut off the engine but knowing he had to. They’d arrived just after dark in a beat-up clunker Ingram had secured for the operation. The body looked like hell, but the engine, tires and suspension would get them wherever they wanted to go.

He had parked at an angle from the entrance, far enough back they wouldn’t draw attention, but close enough to see every man entering. Prepared to wait, they could be there for an hour, two, or maybe more. He sighed and turned off the engine. “Rogue 2 in position,” he said into his mic.

“Roger,” Johnson replied. “Rogue 1 in place.”

“Roger,” Teller said.

Sachie glanced his way, touching a hand to her earwhere they’d equipped her with a radio earbud. She looked pretty badass all in black with her blond hair tucked up in a black and gray do-rag and heavy eyeliner ringing her eyes. However, looks weren’t everything. She didn’t have the body mass and combat training the rest of his team had acquired over their years in special operations.

“I don’t feel good about this plan,” Teller admitted.

“I’m not feeling all warm and fuzzy myself.” Sachie reached across the console for Teller’s hand. “But we’re not going into the bar, as was the original plan. After I identify Travis, we can leave and let your guys wait for him to leave, follow him to a more secure location, grab him and take him down to the police station. They can question him and get his confession as the arsonist who burned down my office on the Big Island and everything else he’s done as my stalker.”

“And if he denies all of it?” Teller asked.

“At least he’s off the street and will be sent back to jail for violating his parole,” Sachie said. “He can’t hurt Candice anymore.”

“Until he’s released on parole again,” Teller said.

“Hopefully, that won’t be for a long time.” Sachie’s lips thinned. “And if he isn’t my stalker, we’ve eliminated one suspect.”

Teller stared at the entrance to the Leather & Chains bar, wondering if the dull yellow bulb hangingover the door would shed enough light to allow Sachie to pick Travis out of the other patrons who might stop in for a drink. Hell, they weren’t even sure Travis would appear that night. His team might be wasting their time and risking their lives for nothing.

“You know, if I were on the run from the law, I wouldn’t show my face in any public place,” Sachie said. “What if Travis doesn’t show up tonight?”

Teller shrugged. “Then we find a different hotel and get some rest.”

“Are you sure your guys will be okay inside that place?” A frown creased Sachie’s forehead. “I’d hate for them to get hurt on my account.”

When Teller and Sachie had met with Ingram, Bennet, Atkins and Johnson, they’d discussed the plan, agreeing that Sachie shouldn’t go into the bar, but stay in the car, identify Travis and leave. George Ingram, one of the largest men on the Brotherhood Protectors Hawaii team at six feet four inches, had insisted on going into the bar. Reid Bennet had accompanied him.

The two inside men had dressed in black jeans, leather vests, army boots and do-rags. Neither man had shaved that day and sported thick stubble on their chins. They’d gone to a tattoo parlor to have temporary tattoos airbrushed on their arms, chests and necks. Their broad chests and thick biceps wouldbe enough to make club members think twice about fucking with them. At least, Teller hoped their disguises would do the trick.

“If they get hurt, it wouldn’t be your fault,” Teller assured Sachie.

“I know,” she said, waving a hand. “I won’t have pulled the trigger or thrown the punch, but it’s because of me that you and your team are here.”

“We’re here because this is what we do.” Teller’s fingers tightened around hers. “We protect people.”

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