And it wasn’t just because of the black sedan parked outside, or the fact Rick’s Bar and Grill was unnaturally quiet given the rough crowd. No, it was the stench of law enforcement; the pungent odor of power that created an invisible barrier around the undercover cop that only those who lived on the wrong side of the law could detect. Which, from the looks of it, was pretty much everyone in the bar. Except Naiya. As quickly as he had stepped in, he stepped out again. He wouldn’t be able to do any good if he gave that damn cop even the slightest reason to suspect them of Leo’s death—and he was damn sure that’s why he was talking to Naiya. After three months in Viper’s dungeon, Holt was off his game, or he would have ditched the damn Bolton Beaver shirts right away. Thanks to the pimp’s clothes, he was safe, but the cop was sniffing too damn close to his girl and he had to get her out of there. But first he had to ditch the weapons and the bike. No doubt the cops had taken the CCTV tapes from the gas station in Still Water and run the plates.
