Bare It All

chapter TWENTY-FIVE

“GONE WHERE?” Peterson asked, as she tried—unsuccessfully—to pull her torn blouse together.

“Hell if I know. But only an idiot would’ve stuck around once the shooting started.”

To punctuate that, more shots were fired.

Where the hell was backup? Surely someone—anyone—had called in the gunfire by now. Even with suppressors, the denizens of the area had to know an attempted murder was going down.

Rowdy had been keeping watch out back, but for a second there, he stared at Peterson’s chest.

The lieutenant said low, “If you don’t want me to shoot you, use those eyes to keep watch out the back.”

“I’m watching.” He lifted his gaze but didn’t smile. “And while it’s clear, I’d suggest you hightail that sweet ass on out of here, now, while we can still go.”

Ignoring the sexist remark on her body, Peterson checked her weapon and cursed. “That might be exactly what they want us to do.” She narrowed her eyes on Reese. “What do you think? Not to give away an inside secret, but how do you feel about calling your little entourage?”

Few on the force knew that Reese had personally vetted some of the uniformed cops, forming a solid crew that was loyal to him. But calling them a “little entourage” didn’t do them justice.

The men were smart, honorable and, above all, trustworthy. “Not this time.” Calling in his own team on such short notice, bypassing on-duty officers, would draw too much attention and defeat the entire purpose of keeping an under-the-radar alliance.

Reese handed the gun with the suppressor to Rowdy, then pulled off his T-shirt and offered it to Peterson.

Rowdy lifted a brow and said to Reese, “Spoilsport.”

“You’re pushing it, Rowdy Yates.” She took the shirt.

But damned if she didn’t stare at Reese’s chest as intently as Rowdy had stared at hers.

It was like a comedy of errors, bizarre in the extreme. If they weren’t in such incredible danger, he might have laughed. “Lieutenant?”

“Right. Thank you.” Showing off strong legs, Peterson struggled into the shirt without standing up in sight of the gunmen or sitting on the broken glass. The awkward position strained her thighs, especially in those heels, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

Reese pulled out his cell—and realized he’d busted it when he’d tackled the gunman to the floor. “Damn it.” He sent a questioning look to Peterson.

Her head cleared the shirt. “Dropped my purse on the other side of the counter—with my phone in it.”

They both turned to Rowdy.

He withdrew his cell and tossed it to Reese. “Knock yourself out.” Then, with a hand at the small of Peterson’s back, he helped to steady her, so she could get her arms free.

Before Reese could make the call, they heard groans coming from one of the downed men only yards away. He said as politely as he could manage under the circumstances, “I suggest we move before we get cornered.”

“Damn it.” Maneuvering in the limited space, she finished tugging the T-shirt down over her trim body. It fit like a damned tent, billowing down below her knees, more than adequate to keep her covered.

Taking the lead, she said, “If you have to shoot, make damn sure it isn’t a bystander.” And with that, gun held in front of her, she ducked through the back of the store.

Still holding the Desert Eagle, Rowdy followed right behind her.

Reese peeked around the counter to ensure no one followed. So far, both men were still out, and he hadn’t heard a shot in the last few sec—

A bullet hit the floor in front of his face, sending him ducking for cover again. Not more than two or three minutes had passed, but under these circumstances, a minute could feel like an hour.

He joined the others in back.

As Rowdy had said, the store was empty. The second they cleared the doorway, Reese closed the door. There was a dead bolt on it, which to his beleaguered senses seemed fairly suspect. What happened in this narrow room that required such a sturdy lock?

He saw only shelves of supplies, a file cabinet and a single chair...in the middle of the floor.

His brain buzzed with possibilities, but for now, the dead bolt worked in their favor. He secured the lock and turned to assess the situation.

Peterson stood beside the back door, her spine flattened against the wall. At any other time, Reese might have paid more attention to how mismatched she appeared in those mile-high heels and a printed T-shirt so large it hung off one shoulder and fell below her knees.

Today was not that day.

He put in the call for backup, then pocketed Rowdy’s phone. They had a squad car about five minutes out—which might not be soon enough if they got into a shoot-out in such close confines. “Is it clear?”

She shrugged the bared shoulder. “Looks like. We open into an alley that leads to the street. But since none of this was expected, are we willing to trust that it’s not a trap?”

Reese weighed the options. “The angles are wrong unless they have a sniper.” What to do? “If we stay here, we’re sitting ducks.”

“I have my car close by,” Rowdy said. “That alley leads to a back street. I’m one block down in an empty lot.”

“Don’t even think it,” Peterson warned. She chewed the pink gloss off her bottom lip. “Jesus, I never expected things to go so hot so fast.”

“It’s insane,” Reese agreed as he tried to figure out what to do.

The jarring sound of the front door crashing open drew his attention. They wouldn’t have five seconds, much less five minutes. Whoever came after them didn’t worry about witnesses or the destruction of Killer Designz.

That could only mean they planned to kill all three of them and be long gone before the police arrived.

Reese removed the Glock from his back holster and traded it for the Desert Eagle.

Rowdy lifted a brow. “You want the bigger, badder gun?”

“I trust my weapon,” Reese explained. And he wanted to ensure Rowdy could defend himself. “I know I’ve taken care of it.”

“Thanks.” Rowdy hefted it in his hand once, then launched out the back door before Reese could stop him.

“Idiot,” Peterson muttered in a hiss.

Cursing softly, Reese divided his time between watching the locked door, as the sounds of assailants drew closer, and watching Rowdy as he darted to the end of the alley.

“What the hell is he doing?” Peterson asked.

Seeing Rowdy run without apparent fear of personal injury, Reese muttered, “I assume he’s playing hero.”

Luckily, Rowdy made it without a single shot being fired. At the end of the alley, near the street, he signaled that it was clear.

The lieutenant sucked in a breath and said, “Let’s go.”

Great. They’d either be killed or not, but sitting there waiting to be murdered didn’t much appeal to him either. Reese followed her out, impressed that she could run so fluidly in those deadly heels.

Rowdy covered them, his gaze going everywhere as he waited for them to join him. Not a single shot was fired, and no more noise came from the tattoo parlor.

Together, they hustled toward the lot holding Rowdy’s car. Soon as they reached it, they could let the officers know they were clear.

And with any luck, they’d be able to round up the shooters.

But Reese wouldn’t be holding his breath; so far, luck hadn’t been on their side.

Two questions pounded through his brain as they reached safety.

Just how big was this operation—and how far would they go to find Alice?

* * *

THE PHONE CALLS had come in rapid order.

First the warning call from Killer Designz, letting him know that people were snooping around. He’d sent in his men, and they’d reported back to say they had effectively razed the place, leaving behind little more than rubble within an empty building. The curious trio had escaped, but not without first understanding the reach of his power, the strength of his daring.

Smirking, Woody Simpson recalled the breathless panic of the tattoo artist who, from a safer location, had called again. With the promise of protection from the law, and a new and better location, concerns had been quieted.

And now he had DeeDee on the line.

Feet propped on the desk, shirt unbuttoned and chair tilted back, Woody listened to the final report on the day’s events. Thanks to a fast-growing enterprise, he spent so much time in his office that he’d gradually turned it into a comfortable, condolike space.

He didn’t cook, of course, but he had others who made use of the small kitchen to prepare his meals. He had a large-screen TV and spacious couch, and he’d brought in a king-size bed to convert a boardroom for sleeping.

Not that he ever slept during the day. Even at night, he didn’t need much sleep. He’d always been high-energy, motivated and so f*cking smart that others couldn’t keep up.

But when he wanted an afternoon distraction—as he’d planned today before the phone started going off—the bed sometimes came in handy.

“So, you’re sure they’re cops?”

“I think so. They’re talking with officers now, and they seem to be in charge or something.”

Interesting. Maybe this would be better than killing them. It’d give him an opening, a way to infiltrate. He pondered the different plays and came to a decision. “Follow them.”

A heavy pause, rife with uncertainty. “To...a police station?”

“Sure.” Though he’d sent for her earlier, Woody waved off the girl responsible for unbuttoning his shirt. She moved to a chair, sat down and waited.

Like a good girl.

“But...” DeeDee tried to come up with logical arguments.

He hated being questioned—by anyone. “Wait there until they come back out, and then follow. I want to know where they live.”

She hesitated. “What if they see me?”

“Make sure they don’t.” DeeDee had aspirations of moving up in the organization. Unlike some of the girls, she was more eager to please.

As if he’d ever give any authority or power to a bimbo.

“You blend in, Dee. It should be a piece of cake for you to stick close without being noticed.” Because she wanted to stand out and be noticed, that subtle insult had her bristling.

Trying to sell him on her value, she said, “I already hit on that rough bruiser, like you asked.”

“I know. You’re meeting him tonight, right?” Woody glanced at his watch. “Plenty of time to do both.”

“I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

God, he detested whining. “If you aren’t able to handle things, just say so. I can ask Michelle to take over instead.”

“Michelle?”

“Yes.” He looked at the trembling girl sitting across the room. “She’s been anxious to gain my favor, anyway.”

Michelle swallowed hard and looked away, her fear so palpable that he wondered how she functioned. She had enough sense not to run away, to perform as expected. And she did try to stay on his good side—but she was far too skittish to ever be trusted with anything important.

Anything beyond a blow job.

“I can do it,” DeeDee groused.

Perfect. He could always count on DeeDee’s vanity to keep her working harder. She wanted to be top girl.

She wanted to be his partner. Woody bit off a laugh at her foolishness.

“Report back after you get the info.”

“Okay, but...who should I follow? I mean, I can’t follow three people, can I?”

So damn stupid. Did he need to do all her thinking for her? “Don’t worry about the woman.” Women were always inconsequential. “You’ll be meeting one guy at the bar tonight, right? So follow the other today.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” DeeDee cleared her throat, then said, “I did tell you that the cop is the same guy who was here this morning, right? The one the rough guy called?”

Slowly, Woody dropped his feet and sat forward. No, she hadn’t told him that. His eyes narrowed. His mouth flattened with his annoyance.

So, they were onto...something. Sniffing around twice. How much did they know?

Who had talked?

Seeing his dark expression, Michelle let out a whimper.

Woody ignored her. He held the phone tighter, and said to DeeDee, “Tell me now. And don’t leave anything out.”

* * *

IT WASN’T EASY, doing a job bare-chested because your lieutenant needed the shirt off your back. The sun had broiled both his shoulders and his temper. This time, it would take a lot to shake off the vigilant, edgy anger. It would take Alice—but he couldn’t have her, not just yet.

By the time the backup had arrived—which to Reese’s way of thinking had taken longer than necessary—they’d already reached Rowdy’s car without incident and had circled back around to the scene.

All had been quiet.

Instead of giving pursuit, the shooters had vacated the tattoo parlor, taking the two downed men with them.

The boys in blue, as Rowdy liked to refer to them, showed up well after that.

Reese wanted to believe that Lieutenant Peterson had scoured out the corruption, but it seemed beyond suspect to him that a five-minute ETA had taken twelve minutes instead.

Seven minutes could mean the difference between life and death. He’d been furious—but Rowdy seemed to think nothing of it.

Even dressed in his shirt, Lieutenant Peterson took over with ease, calling for several specific officers and dismissing the two who’d arrived tardy.

Once they’d secured the scene, the unis had gone from door to door, establishment to establishment, querying everyone in the area. Reese wasn’t surprised that everyone had claimed not to see a damned thing.

Sometimes it was safer to play deaf, dumb and blind, especially with criminals outrageous enough to attempt murder in broad daylight.

If that had been their intent. At this point, he refused to make assumptions.

The entire day had slipped away, and still they hadn’t turned up the owner who’d fled out the back. Far as Reese was concerned, that made him guilty as hell.

Not more than an hour ago, after reminding Reese to keep her in the loop, Peterson had stormed off like a thundercloud. He’d assumed she would go home and change clothes before heading to the station. Reese didn’t envy anyone who crossed her path tonight.

Not that long ago, he would have dealt with his simmering frustration and spiked temper with a long shower, a beer, a willing woman and then a good night’s sleep—in that exact order.

It said something, Reese thought, that he hadn’t even considered going to his own apartment. Bad as the day had been, when he thought of heading home, it meant being with Alice.

Tonight, it also meant visiting with Rowdy and Logan, Pepper and Dash, as they all congregated at Alice’s place.

How did she feel about that? For a woman who’d tried so hard to close herself off from the world, it had to be disconcerting that Reese had not only bullied his way in, he’d brought a crowd.

And not just any crowd.

No longer looking so dangerous, Rowdy lounged comfortably on her couch, Cash draped over his lap to soak up attention. It was a little eerie, how Rowdy switched from lethal to carefree in such a short time.

Dash had shown up with Logan and Pepper to wait with Alice, and now they still hung around.

At least Peterson hadn’t joined them, thank God. Reese knew he’d never again be able to look at her the same way.

When he’d shown up shirtless, Alice had not-so-inconspicuously checked him over head to toes before going off to the kitchen to prepare coffee.

Pepper accompanied her. Reese had a million things on his mind. He easily could have died today, Peterson and Rowdy with him. The clash with the gunman left his knuckles bruised, his right knee swollen and his head throbbing.

What should have been a simple case of surveillance had sharply morphed into audacious, reckless destruction. The stakes had gone from implicit danger to attempted murder.

But he wasn’t teetering off his axis because of any of that. His world had gone upside down because of Alice, because of how much he’d anticipated getting back to her. How much he’d wanted to hold and touch her after the disturbing events of the day.

Yes, he could have died; he’d faced that possibility many times in his job, and he’d always fallen to his usual routine to put the ugliness behind him.

But the usual didn’t cut it anymore. Not since Alice, not since realizing that death meant never seeing her again.

He didn’t even know how to function with caring that much for a woman.

Running a hand over his face, Reese rested back in the chair and tried to come to grips with her effect on him.

“Your lieutenant surprised me.”

At Rowdy’s lighthearted tone, Reese opened one eye and stared at him.

While still stroking the dog, Rowdy smiled.

Insane. After the violent chaos of the day, Rowdy didn’t look ruffled. He showed no aftermath of a near-death experience. He didn’t even look all that worried.

He smiled as if...amused.

Great. Rowdy must have a damned death wish or, at the very least, a severe lack of concern for his own life. Shortly, Rowdy planned to head to the bar for his meeting with DeeDee. But now, after what had happened, no way could Reese let him go through with it.

“You’re talking about Margo?” At the other end of the couch, Dash showed blatant interest.

Who the hell was Margo? “Her name is Margaret.” And to clarify further, Reese said, “Lieutenant Margaret Peterson.”

Dash shrugged. “Yeah, but she goes by Margo.”

Brows raised, Logan and Reese shared a look that asked, Since when?

“So,” Dash pushed. “What did she do?”

“Not what she did, so much,” Rowdy said. “But how she looked doing it.” That particular, male-inspired tone said it all, but still Rowdy added, “Reese knows what I mean. I thought his eyes would fall out when he saw her.”

So, Rowdy had somehow witnessed his surprise?

Both Dash and Logan turned to Reese for enlightenment.

In his defense, Reese blurted, “She has a set of breasts on her.” That sounded so absurd, he rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the growing tension.

“Who?” Logan asked, mired in confusion.

Again Rowdy helped out. “Lieutenant Peterson.”

Logan pulled back. “You saw her...” And then in a choked whisper, “Breasts?”

“Couldn’t help it,” Rowdy supplied. “She showed up in this boner-inspiring outfit, and that was enough to drop Reese’s eyeballs right there. But then after one of the men grabbed for her, she lost her blouse.”

“Stop grinning, damn it.” Reese squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus, never in a million years did I expect...that.”

Dash snorted. “What did you think? That she’d have chest hair?”

Not really, but he hadn’t expected her to be so lush. “Chest hair, and possibly brass balls to go with it.”

“Exactly,” Logan agreed.

“Don’t be dumb,” Dash said, entertained at Reese’s expense. “She is a woman after all.”

Rowdy lifted a hand. “Noticed.”

Stunned silent, Logan gaped at his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Rowdy said, “What? She’s sexy, whether you two clowns want to see it or not. But,” he added, cutting off verbal reactions, “she’s also a lieutenant. Sort of takes the fun out of it.”

“Maybe for detectives working under her command.” Dash sent a crooked grin to Rowdy. “Or someone determined to butt heads with the law.” Then he held out his arms. “As it happens, I’m neither.”

Well, hell, Reese thought. Alice had nailed that one.

Logan looked equal parts ill, alarmed and outraged, so Reese filled in the deafening silence. “It’s got nothing to do with her rank in the force or any of that. It’s that Peterson always dresses so...hell, I don’t know. So ‘official’ that it’s hard to see anything feminine.”

In a low, appreciative murmur, Rowdy said, “Saw all kinds of feminine things today.”

No kidding. “But she’s actually very...” With Logan, Dash and Rowdy all waiting for his description, Reese floundered. Hot wasn’t the right word, not for his lieutenant, not to say to his partner, not in front of Dash and Rowdy.

“I don’t want to know.” Logan pushed away from his seat. “I’d as soon block all that from my brain right now.”

Yeah, Reese, too. But the sight of the lieutenant’s breasts would always be there now, between them.

No! God, no. Not between them. Just...there.

Peterson wasn’t Alice; she didn’t fire his blood and make him stupid with carnal hunger. She didn’t occupy his thoughts morning, noon and night, or get him hard by her presence alone. He didn’t want her sexually, therefore seeing her half-naked was more of a discomfort than anything else.

And with Logan pacing, it was time for a change of subject, and fast.

“This wasn’t a random robbery or spontaneous crime. We were targeted because of the tattoo murder investigation. Someone overheard us, or knows we’re on to them, and now we’re a liability. Someone called the goons to get rid of us. And that same someone has the entire area locked down. No one is going to talk. That makes this whole operation bigger than we suspected.”

Logan did some more pacing. “Murdering a lieutenant and a detective draws an awful lot of notice if their goal was only to protect their enterprise.”

“But if they’ve murdered before...” Rowdy shrugged. “What do they have to lose?”

“Nothing,” Reese agreed. “And that’s why I want you to skip the meeting with DeeDee.”

“Nope.” Casual as you please, Rowdy refused him.

Stubborn, careless, macho...Reese worked his jaw. “Then Logan and I will go along to ensure you have some backup.”

“They know you,” Rowdy said about Reese. “If they’re onto us, then we have to assume they also know you’re a cop. You’re out.” He tipped his head toward Logan. “And he’s lame.”

Logan stiffened. “Lame?”

“You know what I mean.” Rowdy indicated his arm. “Still handicapped.”

Logan’s quiet tone sounded more menacing than a shout. “The hell I am.”

Undisturbed by his temper, Rowdy glanced at his watch. “I should be taking off right now. I want to go home and shower first.”

Reese blocked his way. “It’s too dangerous. You just said it yourself, they’re onto you.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing, right? I already know it.” Rowdy showed little care. “They won’t be taking me by surprise, no matter what they pull.”

Losing his patience, Reese barked, “You could damn well be shot walking into the bar.”

And suddenly, Pepper was there, her face a study in alarm. Alice fretted behind her.

Pepper looked at Logan. “Who’s going to shoot at Rowdy?”