Bare It All

chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

ROWDY SHOWED UP an hour early in an old Falcon he’d bought for less than two hundred dollars. The car looked and sounded like a junker—that’s how Rowdy liked it. Overall, it was reliable transportation and got him where he wanted to go. No one would trace it back to him.

Best of all, the truck was sturdy and locked securely.

He parked toward the back of the bar, out of the reach of a weak security light.

Something else he’d fix once he ran the place.

Cautious, he sat for a minute to make sure no one approached.

All remained quiet.

Pocketing his keys so they wouldn’t make a sound, he slid over the bench seat to the passenger door and quietly opened it. He’d already disabled the lights, and the moon wasn’t bright enough to give him away.

Sticking to the backs of the buildings, he went down a block, then came out to the sidewalk in front. Moving with the shadows of the night, he crossed the street and found concealing darkness under the overhang of a mom-and-pop grocer across the street from the bar. He’d barely gotten settled into the recessed doorway when he saw one of the thugs from the tattoo parlor coming down the street. Despite the heat of the muggy night, he wore a light jacket.

No doubt to hide his gun.

Rowdy saw that he sported some new bruises on his face and had his arm in a sling. Courtesy of Reese? Damn, but Rowdy hoped so.

Tracking the man with his gaze, Rowdy saw him go down the outside alley of the bar—back to the area Rowdy had just vacated.

From the other side of the building, across the open lot that Rowdy would soon lease for parking, another goon strode up. This one spoke quietly into a cell phone, and his skittish gaze continually scanned the area.

Yeah, killing us wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped, was it, you bastard?

So, the men were meeting in the back. Did they plan to jump Rowdy as soon as he showed up? Had they hoped to finish what they’d started earlier?

For only a moment, Rowdy worked his jaw, then decided, f*ck it. It wasn’t in his nature to skulk around like a coward. All he’d needed to know was that Alice would be safe.

And between Reese and Trace, he trusted in that. Trace. Man, there was a mystery for the imagination. Pair him with by-the-book Reese, and Alice couldn’t be more protected.

Rowdy didn’t mind the adrenaline rush of danger, but he didn’t want to seek it out. In fact, he looked forward to the routine, calmer life as a bar owner.

But first he needed to take out the trash.

Circling around the buildings via a different route, down an adjacent alley a block away, Rowdy returned to the back entrance of the bar. Right there, in plain sight, the two idiots stood plotting. One lit a cigarette, the red glow sending eerie shadows over his face before fading beneath a curl of smoke.

The jumpy one continued to glance around to the point that his buddy cursed him. “Damn, Phelps, relax, will you?”

“I’ll relax when this is over.”

“Soon.” Inhaling on the cigarette again, he lounged back against the brick wall. “They got away this morning, but they won’t this time.”

“Shit, Lowry, you don’t know that. They were fast and they knew how to fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m still in pain.”

“A pain in my ass.” Lowry shifted his injured arm. “They took me by surprise, that’s all. This time, I’ll be ready.”

“You can’t even know that the others will be here.”

“They will. But even if they aren’t, Woody will handle it.”

Interesting. It never failed; the hired muscle was almost always one dimensional, meaning strong and ruthless, but too dumb to stand on their own feet. Like sheep, Lowry and Phelps needed to follow.

Apparently, Woody was the one who led.

Rowdy hunkered down, willing to wait, ready to be enlightened by anything else they might say.

“I don’t trust Dee to do her part.”

So that was a real name? Go figure.

Lowry laughed. “She told me she wants to f*ck the guy before we kill him.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Conniving, coldhearted bitch.”

Phelps didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “How the hell does she think she’s going to handle that in a bar?”

“Says she’ll lead him out to her car and do him in her backseat.” Another deep drag on the cigarette. “Ought to be easy enough to shoot him in the head soon as she finishes with him.”

“To hell with that. I’m not waiting.” Phelps grabbed his crotch. “If Dee wants some, I’ll give it to her.”

“Woody says she’s off-limits to us.” Finishing his cigarette, Lowry flicked away the butt. “For now.”

“We should have been sent after the woman. Hickson’s the one who f*cked up. He should be here with the hulks, and we could just snuff that little lady who’s causing all the trouble.”

Rowdy thought about pulling his knife. Thought about killing them both, right here, right now.

But more info wouldn’t hurt anything, so he tamped down the burning urge.

“We can’t snuff her,” Lowry said, “because Woody wants her. And what Woody Simpson wants, Woody Simpson gets.”

“Yeah, I know.” Phelps rubbed at his neck again.

Given how Rowdy had cranked on it, choking him until he’d passed out, Phelps’s neck would be sore for a while. Rowdy narrowed his eyes, remembering. Satisfied.

“Woody just wants to play with her for a while, to teach her a lesson.” Lowry stepped away from the wall. “I bet he’ll give you a go at her afterward, as long as we don’t mess this up tonight.”

A fresh surge of fury curled through Rowdy, but he held it at bay with rigid willpower. Going into a rage wouldn’t net him the results he wanted. For that he had to be calculating.

And as the bozos had said, fast and capable.

Dirty fighting was maybe the most valuable thing he’d learned as a street rat. He could take on two men, maybe even three, no problem.

Keeping his gaze on the men, gauging the amount of time it’d take for him to reach them, Rowdy felt around on the ground until his fingers located a jagged rock. Focused, ready to move, he threw it past the men toward a trash can. It made a clatter, and both men jerked around, searching the area, their weapons drawn.

“What the f*ck?”

“What was that? Who’s there?”

On the balls of his feet, Rowdy charged, plowing into both of them, taking advantage of their distraction. They all three went down, but he had the benefit of rage and momentum, while they were taken by surprise, floundering both physically and mentally.

Lowry’s head hit the brick wall of the bar, and, dazed, he loosened enough to drop the gun. It skittered across the ground.

Caught under them, Phelps’s face connected with the rough pavement. Cursing, he spit blood—and a tooth. He tried to haul himself free, but the combined weight of Rowdy and Lowry held him down.

Wanting this wrapped before anyone else showed up or people inside the bar were alerted to their scuffle, Rowdy hit Lowry with three rapid punches. He smashed his nose, broke his jaw, and as he cocked his meaty fist for another shot, Lowry slumped, more unconscious than not.

Rowdy shoved him to the side just as Phelps managed to crawl out from under them. The idiot turned, blood all over his face, his neck and the front of his shirt. With a guttural curse and wild eyes, Phelps took aim.

Kicking out against his legs, Rowdy tripped him, and down he went. One near-silent shot exploded, hitting the brick of the bar and ricocheting. Crying out like a girl, Phelps grabbed a mangled knee—from Rowdy’s kick, not from the stray bullet—but Rowdy was quick to silence him with a boot to the face.

Phelps dropped like a stone.

Flipping him over, Rowdy put a knee in his back and bound his hands with double cuff disposable restraints that Trace had given him. Five pairs of them, Rowdy remembered, wondering if Trace expected him to take on an entire goon squad.

Phelps groaned at the uncomfortable clench of his arms behind his back.

“Make a sound,” Rowdy told him, “and I’ll shut you up for good. Do you understand me?”

Incoherent, Phelps babbled an affirmative.

Quickly, Rowdy checked him for other weapons and found a knife. He tossed it toward the gun Lowry had dropped, then bound Phelps’s ankles, as well.

At any moment, someone could step out the back door of the bar. He had to hurry. Grabbing Lowry, he jerked a strip of material off his shirt and used it to gag Phelps. Grabbing him under his arms, he dragged Phelps over to the side of the Falcon, hidden from view.

Rushing back to Lowry, who had just started to revive, Rowdy slugged him again. He groaned. Rowdy dragged him over by Phelps and bound him the same, wrists tight behind his back, ankles squeezed together. The added pressure on his injured arm had Lowry gritting his teeth with pain.

But this man had planned to murder him. He’d laughed about the idea of using Alice. Rowdy didn’t give a damn if his arm fell off.

He searched Lowry and found another, smaller pistol, along with a stun gun. With one knee in Lowry’s chest, the other on his damaged shoulder, Rowdy said, “Want me to use the stun gun on you?”

Lowry stared at him with a steely-eyed gaze. But Phelps protested, gurgling behind his gag, struggling.

Without looking at him, Rowdy said, “Shut up before I shut you up.”

Phelps went silent.

“Well, Lowry? How do you feel about a little jolt?” He placed the barbs of the stun gun under Lowry’s chin.

“Think that’ll get you talking?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’re a dead man. Doesn’t matter what you do to us—”

“No?” Rowdy jammed the stun gun into Phelps’s gut and squeezed the trigger. Phelps went rigid, his eyes bulging and a guttural growl squeezed from his throat. His body jerked, flinched...until Rowdy let up.

With Phelps now whimpering, Rowdy smiled. “He’s gagged, so I knew he wouldn’t yell. Guess I should really gag you, too, right?” He pressed the stun gun to Lowry’s chest. “Though it might not be necessary. I hear a jolt to the heart can bring everything to a standstill.”

A bead of nervous sweat trickled down Lowry’s temple. “What the f*ck do you want?”

“Answers. First of all, who’s Woody Simpson?”

When Lowry hesitated, Rowdy tapped his finger to the trigger, letting the stun gun snap and sizzle.

Lowry pressed back, trying to scamper away from that threatening jolt. “Okay, okay! Jesus.”

“Talk.”

“He’s the boss.”

“Who does he answer to?”

“No one. That’s what I’m telling you. Woody is it. Top of the line.”

Perfect. “Where I can find him?” As encouragement, Rowdy gave another quick tap to the gun. “Now, Lowry.”

And just like that, Lowry spilled his guts. “He’s in his offices on South Street.” He gave over the exact address.

“It’s damn near midnight. What’s he doing there now?”

“Waiting to hear how shit went.”

“You mean with the ladies, right?” That was too easy for Rowdy to believe, but he played along, anyway. “Cheryl and Alice?”

Probably hoping to find common ground, Lowry nodded. “Yeah. Woody wants the bitch, that’s all. You’re just collateral. You can leave now, and I’ll tell him we killed you. He doesn’t have to know.”

“He wants to kill a few cops, too.”

“Because they’re getting in the way! But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re not a cop, right?”

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Yeah, man, it is. I mean, you don’t act like any pig I know. So what do you say?”

“’Fraid not.” It felt weird to say it, but Rowdy knew it was true. “They’re my friends.”

“Oh...shit. Cops? Seriously?”

Because that had once, not that long ago, been Rowdy’s reaction, as well, he only shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t know that, now, did I?”

He ignored the dramatic reasoning. “Anyone else planning to show up here tonight?”

When Lowry hesitated, Rowdy let out a sigh. “Do I need to kill Phelps here to let you know how serious I am?”

While Phelps gave panicked, muffled pleas, Lowry’s chin went up. “How do I know you won’t kill us, anyway?”

That was funny enough to make Rowdy grin. “You know, I’d like to, I really would. But those cops I mentioned? They wouldn’t like it. So you can thank them for living another day. Once I get all the info I want, I’ll stuff you both into the trunk and call the boys in blue to come collect you.”

“You’re going to have us arrested?”

Smirking, Rowdy said, “Yeah, I know. Unheard of, huh? But there you go. For today, that’s how we’re gonna roll.” He nudged Lowry’s chest. “Who else should I expect tonight?”

Lowry must’ve believed him. He didn’t look thrilled over the idea, but cops were surely preferable to death in a dark alley. “Hickson will be here with Cheryl.”

“Bullshit,” Rowdy said. “I know that’s what we were told, but no way does your boss expect Alice to make it here without getting nabbed along the way.”

“True. But on the off chance she manages to pull it off, then Hickson will be here to...greet her.”

“And if she doesn’t show up?”

Uncaring, Lowry said, “Then Hickson will kill Cheryl, dump her body and join Woody for some...interrogation of your girlfriend.”

Rowdy hit him; he couldn’t help himself. It was like a reflex. Then he hit him again just for the hell of it. Swaying drunkenly, Lowry slouched to the side, his chin on his chest, his eyes dazed. “F*cking ham-fisted bastard,” he muttered in a slur.

Standing, Rowdy opened the trunk and hauled Phelps to his feet. “Get in.” But even as he said it, he stuffed Phelps in himself, shoving him as far back in the trunk as he could.

“Now you.”

Shaking his head to clear it, Lowry used the side of the car at his back and tried to struggle up. It wasn’t easy, especially considering how hard Rowdy had slugged him. “You have me tied so f*cking tight—”

Rowdy grabbed the elbow of his injured arm and hauled him to his feet, shoving him near the tailgate. “Figure it out or I’ll stun you and then dump you in.”

Lowry more or less fell into the trunk. It was a tight fit, but Rowdy got them both in there.

He ripped away another section of Lowry’s shirt to gag him. Leaning on the trunk, he asked, “How many men will be after Alice?”

“Enough.” At Rowdy’s narrow-eyed look, he corrected, “How the hell should I know? I’m here with you.”

Again, Rowdy could tell he lied. He saw it in the shifty eyes, in the tripping pulse, the faster breathing. “Know what, Lowry? I started this without patience. Push me anymore and you’re going to regret it.”

“Meaning what?”

Rowdy pressed the stun gun to his crotch. “Meaning I’ll make sure you never hassle another woman for the rest of your blighted life.”

Lowry breathed harder...and broke. “There’ll be four men. Three hired on, and...” He closed his eyes, swallowed hard.

“And?” Rowdy pressed.

“Woody’s going along.”

“The hell you say.” Why would the boss do that? Why risk getting caught? “You’re full of shit, Lowry, you know that?” Rowdy jammed the stun gun in tighter.

Lowry tried to buck away. “It’s true! He likes staying in the front lines, says it keeps him sharp. He still picks out the women himself. He gets a kick out of it.”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense.” Unless Woody Simpson was a lunatic, which...would make sense.

Feeling the weapon snug against his jewels, Lowry panted with fear. “Woody said he wants to see if he can get your lady friend to come along willingly.”

For a second there, Rowdy thought he was joking. When he realized Lowry was serious, he barked a surprised laugh. “Old Woody must be even dumber than you.”

“He’s not dumb. But he does like the game.”

The game of tattooing women and forcing them to be drug mules. Rowdy fought to hide his rage. “When are they supposed to grab her?”

“About five minutes ago.” Around his swollen mouth and split lip, Lowry managed a smug smile. “Don’t be looking for your cop buddies to back you up. Woody gave orders to kill everyone except the girl. And once they have her, they’ll be coming after you. There’s still time for you to make a deal with—”

Rowdy zapped him. As he watched Lowry flop and heard Phelps’s freaked objections, he reassured himself that Lowry was wrong. Reese was prepared. He wouldn’t be taken unawares.

They would all be okay. Damn it, they had to be.

Now that they’d gotten him to care, he didn’t want to lose them. Fate couldn’t be that cruel. Not even to him.

But to be on the safe side, he gagged the unconscious Lowry and slammed the trunk shut. Stalking into the bar through the back door, Rowdy decided that he’d find Reese’s men and send them to help with Alice. He didn’t need them now.

Handling DeeDee would be a piece of cake, and if Hickson showed up, he’d grab that bastard, too.

Unfortunately, as he stepped into the crowded barroom, he realized that Reese’s men must be good, because he didn’t see a single person who looked like a cop.

But he did see Hickson and Cheryl.

Damn it. For now he had to follow the plan or it just might cost that poor girl her life.

And then, just to complicate the night more, Avery came into view—and she was heading for Hickson’s table.

* * *

ANXIETY KEPT ALICE’S heart beating so rapidly she felt it everywhere. Palms clammy, she popped another jelly bean into her mouth. A surreptitious glance assured her that Reese was still busy talking to Logan, bringing him up to speed.

Two more jelly beans—red, her favorite—gave her the backbone she needed to approach Trace. He was on a phone, talking low, and she hated to interrupt him, but if she waited, she might lose her opportunity.

Given the few words she overheard, Alice thought it might be his wife.

She touched his arm.

As if it surprised him, Trace looked at her hand first, then up to her face. He wrapped up the call and put the phone back in his pocket. “Everything okay?”

Stupidly, Alice offered him a jelly bean.

Brows angled, Trace said, “Thanks, no.”

Regardless of what Reese thought, she didn’t know Trace that well. She knew he had incomparable skill and wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done. He was smart, cunning and, luckily for her, very caring.

He had saved her life, so hopefully he wouldn’t mind one more imposition. “I need you to promise me something.” So that Reese wouldn’t overhear, Alice kept her voice low. “Please.”

Golden gaze probing, Trace looked beyond her, then leaned closer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I know you have your own way of doing things, but this time, you have to do everything by the letter of the law.” Wanting to make sure he understood how serious this could be, she again touched his arm. “Reese is a police detective.”

His mouth quirked. “No kidding?”

Of course Trace knew that. He probably knew everything there was to know about Reese. Without thinking about it, she grabbed more jelly beans, then had to chew fast and gulp them down so she could continue.

Trace waited with nerve-racking patience.

“What I mean is...” She licked her lips. “He’s an honorable man.”

Those angled brows lifted.

This expression was almost more intimidating than the other. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him. “That is...you’re honorable, too, of course.”

“I have my moments.”

He absolutely could not be joking with her right now. “But Reese has a code of conduct that he believes in. He lives by that code. It’s important to him, so it’s also important to me.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Trace studied her. “You know I’m not going out there to slaughter people, right?”

She damn near dropped the bag of candy. “Yes, of course. You would never do that. You’re...well, scary-adept with lethal skill, but you’re not exactly bloodthirsty.”

His mouth twisted. “Not exactly.”

“You don’t commit random murder.” No, he only went to extremes when absolutely necessary. Alice winced, because, really, she’d done the same.

He made a small sound of exasperation—and took the bag of jelly beans away from her. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re worried about?”

“It’s just...” She needed to get it said, and fast. “You can’t use deadly force—even if you really want to.” Even if maybe she really wanted him to. “It would crush me if I was the cause of Reese being drawn into...things that go against his morals. As an officer of the law, he has to answer to others. He can’t be put in the position of having to lie, not for me. Not ever.”

“I understand.”

Relief turned Alice’s knees into noodles. “You do?”

He gave her a sage nod. “I’m pretty sure Reese does, too.”

From behind her, Reese said, “I do.”

Eyes flaring, Alice spun around. “Reese.” How did a man his size go sneaking around without her noticing? “I thought you were talking to Logan.”

Vaguely, Alice was aware of Trace handing her jelly beans to Reese before walking away to give them some privacy.

“I was.” Reese smoothed back her hair. “But, Alice, always, at any given moment, I’m aware of you and what you’re doing. You might as well understand that right now.”

“Oh.” She was usually aware of him, too, but she’d been so intent on having her say with Trace. “I... Good.” For her, the awareness covered more than sexual attraction, more than mere caring.

Did Reese feel the same?

He pressed his mouth to hers in a brief but firm kiss, ending it by saying, “Trace isn’t going to kill anyone that doesn’t need killing.” His gaze stayed caught in hers. “Isn’t that so, Trace?”

From the other side of the room, Trace said, “Works for me.”

Alice’s eyes widened. They were like ninjas, skulking around so silently, hearing every whispered word.

Reese brushed his thumb over her jaw. “He understands that I do things by the law, and that I’ll be held accountable for everything that goes down today.”

“I do,” Trace confirmed.

Cupping her face in both hands, Reese nodded. “Okay?”

Alice let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. “Okay.” But that wasn’t quite enough, so she threw herself against him and squeezed tight.

It felt very protective, safe, the way that Reese folded his strong arms around her. Laying her cheek against his chest, hooking her hands over the unyielding steel of his biceps, Alice told herself not to worry. She would play her part to a T, and Reese would see that nothing bad happened.

Trace said, “Everyone is in place. Time to move.”

After a brief, tight hug and a kiss to the top of her head, Reese handed her back the bag of candy and went to talk quietly with Trace.

And, of course, she couldn’t hear a single thing they said.

She knew that Reese had arranged for specific officers to be with Rowdy at the bar, with others on notice nearby for backup as needed. Lieutenant Peterson remained at the station, a central contact for everyone involved. She knew that Reese had covered every possibility, so that her safety was assured.

All other particulars were kept from her.

She watched in awe as Trace slipped silently out the sliding doors, dropped over the balcony and disappeared from sight.

In the kitchen, Logan kissed Pepper so passionately that Alice felt like a voyeur. She was about to avert her gaze when Logan ended the embrace. Abruptly, he turned and strode out of the kitchen, across to the front door and straight out of the apartment. Alice was pretty sure he hadn’t even seen her as he passed.

She knew he would go to the laundry room on the ground floor and climb out through a window there. Reese would be leaving through the front door. He’d head to his car and drive out of the lot, giving the illusion that he was leaving Alice alone. And then he’d circle around and return from a different angle.

At that point, Alice would leave the dubious security of the apartment building, straight out the front doors, down the walkway and out to the parking lot.

Where men undoubtedly waited for an opportunity to grab her.

Reese would tail her, never far behind, as would Trace and Logan. They knew what they were doing. She wouldn’t be out of their sight.

Eating more jelly beans, she turned her attention to Pepper, watching as she joined Dash on the couch. Dash was so sweet, teasing Pepper, trying to reassure her so she wouldn’t worry.

Pepper was such a strong woman—the perfect woman for Logan. Their happiness glowed like an afternoon sun. Alice was glad for them, and she envied them what they’d found together.

God, how she wanted that with Reese.

Sitting near Alice’s feet, Cash whined. She wanted to reassure him but didn’t want to distract Reese, so she only stroked his head until he quieted.

Reese was in serious cop mode, focused on the task at hand.

Trace, Logan and Reese had all dressed in black. In contrast, her Capri jeans, flat-heeled sandals and rose-colored cowl-neck top looked...frivolous. Far too bright for what would happen tonight.

But she was supposed to be heading out to see Cheryl, a newfound friend now in desperate need. Please, God, let her be okay.

Pausing before her, Reese asked, “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He searched her face, then gently took in the half-empty bag of candy. “You can still change your mind—”

“No.” They needed to gather up all the players, and this was the best way. With the help of Reese’s officer friends, Rowdy had things covered at the bar. She had Trace, Logan and Reese watching out for her. She would be fine. She would be fine. She would be fine.

“Alice?”

She forced her stiff lips into a smile. “I’m ready.”

He didn’t touch her, didn’t soften or relax one iota. Confident, comforting, he said, “I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”

Her heart expanded so much it hurt her chest. She swallowed back the emotion and nodded. “I know.” Reese was that type of man; he’d protect with the best of his ability and, if necessary, trade his own life in the bargain. “Will you promise me that nothing will happen to you either?”

“You have my word.” He dragged the back of his fingers over her throat—and then he was gone, striding away, out the door and out of her reach.