The Devil's Daughter (Devil's Right Hand MC #4)

Chapter 13

Chrissy's POV

The low neckline of this tight shirt digs into my skin as I try to adjust it. Though I haven't worn clothes like this in a few years, I thought they'd still fit, but dear God this is about to cut off my circulation. It'll be worth it, though. When we get him. When I get him. It'll be so worth it.

Anticipation courses through me as I sit in a small white car that the club owns. I don't verbally ask why they have so many fucking cars, but I can imagine you don't do illegal shit in the same car twice. What would I know, though? Nonetheless, this car smells infinitely better than the designated stakeout car, which I am eternally grateful for, especially since Benno is twenty minutes late. I'm sure the boys are shitting their pants right now, but to me, this is a good sign. He's testing me. Which means he may be watching me. I hope to hell the boys are well hidden.

"When do we call it?" Skillet asks through my earpiece. I jump on instinct and have to suppress a laugh. I forgot I had the damn thing in, but it's the only way the four of us can communicate. Well, there is a tiny camera in a very large and gaudy necklace they made me wear, but I don't think that counts as communication.

"Just stay where y'all are, he's coming," I say as I keep my head down in case he really is watching. If he sees me talking this whole operation is shot and so is our last chance of catching him.

"If he's not here by ten, we'll call it," Wolf's voice says through the earpiece.

"You sure you're good with this, Chrissy?" Bear asks and I roll my eyes.

"Sure am," I snap, "I've seen his rap sheet, and trust me, I've dated worse." I don't know why they keep checking on me. Maybe it's because this is my first bounty. Maybe because I'm a princess. Or maybe just because I'm a woman. I don't know the reason, but it's getting fucking annoying.

"Good," Bear says after a few seconds of silence, "because he just turned onto your street. He's on foot, wearing a gray zip-up hoodie and jeans."

Oh shit, here we go.

"Remember, y'all don't move until I give the signal," I say as I adjust my hair, making sure to cover the earpiece. Though I didn't direct it at anyone, it was meant as a reminder to Skillet. He's been acting so weird all day. One second he's fighting every step I make and the next he's hyping me up.

My heart thumps in my ears and my hands tingle with excitement. I have never felt like this before in my life, but I can only imagine this is what a really good high would feel like. There is only one thing I've ever wanted more than getting this son of bitch, and this is a lot more realistic.

Soon enough, the figure appears about 50 feet ahead of me illuminated from the light of a dim street lamp. With a deep breath, I open the car door and step out into the warm night air. Subconsciously, I pull at the neckline of this goddamn shirt that is going in the trash the second I get back to the clubhouse. I make eye contact with him, and flash a small smile, trying to keep playing Trixy. With Trixy in mind, I lean against the side of the car, kick one foot back, and pull a cigarette out.

This is sexy, right?

With the light of the cigarette and the streetlamp, I finally get a good look at this criminal mastermind. He's only a few inches taller than my 5 feet and 4 inches and though a hood is covering most of his hair I can see his dark roots growing out of the horrible bleach job. Upon further inspection, I realize how scrawny he is now compared to his pictures on Instagram.

Man, being on the run sure has taken a toll on him. It's only right that I put him out of his misery.

Finally, he makes it to me and he stops only a few feet away. His eyes travel up and down my body for a few seconds and I know better than to break this spell. He's not close enough yet. I still have to play the part.