Bare It All (30 page)

They were still finalizing plans when Cheryl called and
requested to meet Alice...at the same time that Rowdy would be meeting
DeeDee.

Distract, divide and overwhelm. But Reese knew how he felt, and
he knew Alice’s determination. He saw the resolve on Rowdy’s face, and the
confidence in Trace’s stance.

They would do this, but they’d do it Reese’s way. And once it
was over, he’d bind Alice to him for good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

R
OWDY
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,
fuck 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 fuck 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 fucked 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 fuck?”

“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 fuck 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. “Fucking 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.