Bare It All (13 page)

What did Alice do to him?

When the guy noticed the flat tire on his truck, he cursed a
blue streak—until one of the other men grabbed his shirtfront, slammed him to
the brick wall and apparently gave a credible threat.

Subdued, emanating menace, they all three climbed into the SUV.
Rowdy read the plates, committed them to memory and lowered the binoculars.

Whatever had gone on here, it wasn’t good.

Alice, Alice, Alice.

Little Ms. Goody Two-shoes had put herself at the center of
danger.

Now what?

* * *

T
HE
PHONE
SHATTERED
when it landed
against the wall. Those around the man jumped, sickening him with their
weakness. “Get out.”

In a rush, they scattered, filing out the door like frightened
mice. Idiots.

He strode across the floor to stare out a window. God, he hated
it when his people fucked up. Wasting precious time on discipline—or
retaliation—meant he wasn’t utilizing that time to make money. If Hickson wasn’t
so competent in other ways, he’d have him beaten to death and dumped in the
river.

Instead, he had to find a way to drive home the seriousness of
his error, to ensure such incompetence never happened again.

And he’d have to find the do-gooder broad, because no way in
hell would he let her interference go unpunished. He showed no weakness, ever.
He exhibited power, only power, and that’s what kept them all in line—and kept
his profits rolling in.

Yes, the bitch would have to pay.

Maybe, just maybe, he could kill two birds with one stone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

N
ECK
MUSCLES
TENSED
, thankful that the questions were over—for now—Reese left the
room. It was a follow-up interview, and he wouldn’t be surprised if a third came
about.

It wasn’t every day that two detectives, their lieutenant, a
supposed witness and deadly perps all ended up in a shoot-out at one of the
detectives’ residences.

A fuck-up of that magnitude could take months to sort out.

He got that any officer-involved shooting was a big deal. Add
to it the recent corruption at the station with a few cops on the take, working
for the very scum who had died in his apartment, and yeah, no wonder the D.A.
and I.A. were being so thorough.

Reese knew without a shadow of a doubt that both Logan and
Lieutenant Peterson were on the up-and-up. Okay, so he’d once suspected
Peterson. He’d been way off base on that one.

In a low voice, Logan said to Reese, “I found out a few
things.”

“The kidnapping?”

“Yeah.” He glanced toward the lieutenant, walking ahead of
them. “It was big news when Alice reappeared after being gone for so long.
Course the press got hold of it. The thing is, she claimed not to know much—not
who had taken her, or where. According to her, some anonymous man rescued her,
dropped her off with money to get home, and that was that.”

“Bullshit,” Reese said low.

“That’s what I figured, too. Thing is, a lot of women were
recovered right around that time. Separate from Alice showing up.”

Damn.

Logan watched Peterson’s back, ensuring she didn’t overhear.
“Someone killed the traffickers, set the women loose and then...vanished.”

“They interviewed the other women?”

“Yes, and most had the same tale. That they were freed by some
anonymous champion.”

What exactly had Alice been involved in?

Lieutenant Peterson glanced back at them. “If you two hens are
done whispering, how about we grab some coffee?”

Reese wanted to talk more with Logan. He needed dinner.

And he needed Alice.

But before he could find an excuse to decline, Logan checked
his watch and said, “I can take time for a cup.”

Great. Coffee. Hadn’t they seen each other enough for one day?
Of course, under normal circumstances, they would naturally gravitate to the
coffeepot, so maybe it was better not to make Peterson suspicious by varying
things.

“Is your arm bothering you?” she asked Logan without a lot of
concern or sympathy. Peterson was not a woman to indulge coddling.

She was hard. And cold. And thankfully, honorable.

This time, Reese spoke ahead of Logan. “More likely, it’s that
he has Pepper Yates waiting to tuck him back into bed.”

Peterson gave a small smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t get
grilled more on that whole situation.”

Reese wasn’t at all surprised. “Any man who saw Pepper
understood Logan’s predicament.”

Logan just smiled.

At thirty, Peterson was the youngest lieutenant in the state.
She was on the short side, deceptively slender, with short brown hair and big
blue eyes. She’d be a looker if she didn’t favor containing all femininity
within structured business suits and a ball-buster attitude that put many a man
in his place—which was whatever place Peterson deemed appropriate for him at the
time.

Somehow, Reese doubted that place was ever in a bed, naked,
going deep. He could be wrong, but he just couldn’t see it.

“Pepper was never really a witness,” Logan argued, but he kept
his voice low, aware that I.A. and the D.A. were still around.

They’d first answered questions for the district attorney, and
everyone knew Internal Affairs watched through the two-way mirror. They’d had
their own store of questions afterward.

“What about you?” Peterson asked. “You and the neighbor
connecting?”

Prying, or just conversation? Reese wasn’t sure. Peterson’s
motives were always murky—which accounted in part for why he’d once doubted her
integrity. Not a sterling moment for him.

Logan repaid him by answering. “He and Alice—that’s her name,
Alice—are an item now.”

“Is that right?” Peterson arched a brow. “I take it you
disarmed her before getting too cozy?”

God knew he’d be forever ribbed over the way Alice had shown up
on the scene, gun in hand, a haunted look in her eyes.

Sometimes it’s better if they’re
dead.
That stark statement coming from a woman like Alice—understated
in appearance and manner—had left everyone speculating.

Reese shook his head.

“What’s this?” Peterson teased. Disconcerting both detectives,
she stepped ahead and opened the door to the break room for them to enter.
“Reese Bareden is without a comeback? Now, you know all sorts of scenarios are
coming to mind.”

“She’s very sweet,” he said, and walked past the lieutenant
into the room. He counted it a blessing that no one else sat at the long
table.

“Just like a sweet Ma Barker, huh?” Peterson let the door fall
shut behind Logan.

“Sit,” he told Logan and Peterson as he went to the coffee
machine and filled three cups. He tried not to let the lieutenant’s ribbing get
to him. That’d only make him fair game for everyone else at the station.

“Cream and sugar in mine,” she said. “So, tell me about
her.”

“Who?” Reese stalled, looking for a way out.

Logan grunted a laugh—and tried to hide his discomfort.

“Alice...what’s her last name?”

He didn’t want to say. He didn’t want Peterson to start
digging. Damn it, Alice had too many secrets, and until he knew what they
entailed, he didn’t dare have her exposed.

An image of Alice in the bed that morning—baby-soft hair fanned
out on the pillow, her face utterly relaxed, expression peaceful—contradicted
any ideas of her being trouble.

But deep down, something continued to whittle at his peace of
mind. He would protect her to the best of his ability, but against what?
Who?

“He has a thing for her,” Logan said, filling in the
too-lengthy, telltale silence. “Give him time to get a grip. He’s still
reeling.”

“What kind of thing?”

Juggling all three foam cups, Reese returned to the table. “A
none-of-your-business thing.” He set one cup in front of the lieutenant. “Do you
want me snooping into your love life?”

He waited for her to deny that a love life existed. He waited
for her sarcastic reply.

Instead, she blushed.

Oh, ho, what was that about? Lieutenant Margaret Peterson,
red-faced? Reese glanced toward Logan and caught his friend’s reciprocal
expression of surprise.

“Margaret,” Reese teased, dropping formality as he took a seat.
“What have you been up to?”

She slapped a file folder down on the table. “Work.” Avoiding
eye contact, she sipped her coffee. “Detectives Rhodes and Garland took over on
our follow-up after that mess in Reese’s apartment. They got the buyers, some
other traffickers, freed a truckload of new victims and, overall, they’ve
wrapped things up nice and tight.”

Reese let it go. For now. Finding out info on the human
traffickers was more important to him than speculating on Peterson’s uninspiring
feminine side.

“Glad to hear it.” He turned the file around and opened it to
peruse names. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Nope. It was a clean bust. The bastards had only just set up
house, so gathering everything was easy. The thing is...” She sipped at her
coffee, her demeanor going somber, flat. “They closed off the neighborhood,
searched the whole area and found a body in a dilapidated house a few doors
down. A young female, bound and gagged.”

“Damn.” Logan ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the pain
caused by the movement. “Got an ID?”

“Not yet. There’s a good chance it’s unrelated to the
traffickers. Early estimate is that she died recently, within the past
twenty-four hours.”

Reese thought of Alice, of a dark history, and kept quiet. His
thoughts churned. He wanted to see her, to hold her.

“Anything to go on?” Logan asked. “Any ideas?”

“It might not be anything, but then again, it could be.” She
reached for the file, pushed aside a few papers and withdrew a photo. “She had a
very odd tattoo on her forearm.”

Reese studied the photo but couldn’t quite make out the design
of the tattoo. “What is it?”

“Lines, numbers. So far, no idea what it means. But it’s
unique,” Peterson said, “and it’s the only clue we’ve got. We’re hopeful that
it’ll tell us something.”

* * *

R
OWDY
WATCHED
A
LICE
pull into the apartment parking lot mere seconds
before he drove in behind her. After retrieving her from the bus station, he
requested—because
telling
her anything would
probably get her back up—that she drive straight home. He informed her that he’d
be following her more closely this time.

Thank the heavens, she’d done as asked.

He didn’t like letting her drive, but didn’t see a way around
it. Even now, as he caught up to her on the walkway in, he could see her
trembling.

Nerves. The adrenaline dump after her escapade.

Crazy Alice.

He narrowed his eyes against the sun, now streaking the sky in
shades of crimson, pink, purple and neon yellow. He said nothing as they walked
side by side into the apartment complex, but his concerns shuffled around again
and again, making his head ache.

He knew she’d once been kidnapped, though Reese didn’t have all
the details yet. From the moment he’d met her, Rowdy had figured she was afraid
of something.

From what he’d seen today, she mostly had herself to fear.

Near her apartment door, she asked, “Are you coming in?”

“Damn straight.”

She gave him a sour look. “Cash will need some attention.” She
unlocked her door. “I’ll have to take him to the yard—”

The second the door opened, Cash launched out. His body
wriggled and squirmed in maniacal excitement.

Alice did a fair job of subduing the dog while hugging and
stroking him, talking to him in a soft, sweet voice. She reached inside for the
leash. “When he’s excited,” she said over Cash’s loud whining and yapping, “I
have only moments before he wets the floor.”

“I’ll go with you.” Rowdy took the leash and attached it to
Cash’s collar. He would have offered to take the dog out on his own, but...well,
he didn’t trust Alice alone just yet. “C’mon. We have a lot of talking to do
before Reese shows up.”

Cash practically dragged him down the steps. Rowdy took Alice’s
hand and hauled her along.

Once outside, Cash continued in his effusive greeting...while
peeing. Funny dog. Luckily they were already on the grass, and Cash missed his
shoes.

At this time of early evening, no one else was about outside.
Likely most were at dinner, which was where he needed to be. Chasing after Alice
had helped him work up an appetite.

Maybe once he finished up here, he’d head to the bar, grab a
sandwich...and maybe a woman.

Maybe Avery.

Yeah, he liked that idea.

Alice stood back, her arms crossed, her annoyance palpable. “I
want to know why you were following me.”

He shrugged and gave Cash a little more leash. “Reese asked me
to keep an eye out.”

She did a double take. “You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Shadows stretched across the parking lot and the
small grassy area. “It’s what I do.”

And he was good. Thanks to querying the right people, he knew
that Alice was from the area. He didn’t know why she’d been kidnapped, but he
knew someone—known mostly as a wraith—had rescued her. Reese wouldn’t find out
shit about the heroic bastard, because apparently the elusive phantom had the
law under his control. For all intents and purposes, he moved with impunity and
kept a tight lid on his involvement.

But there was no taming the street, and when monumental things
happened, when powerful men ended up dead, word spread like wildfire.

“You’re not Superman, you know.” Alice tapped one foot. “You
don’t need to transfer your attention from Pepper to me.”

“Actually, honey, I think I do.” He shrugged. “Especially given
what I saw today.”

She stiffened up. “I’ll never sleep with you.”

Whoa. That was one hell of a mental leap she’d taken. Rowdy
grinned at her daring. “Sorry, doll, but I didn’t ask.”

She deflated. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Damn it, he did not want to go down this road. When women asked
these weird questions, there was never a right answer. “There’s something about
you, yeah.” His gaze went over her slim body and delicate curves, then shot back
to her face. “But Reese has already laid claim, in case you didn’t notice.”

Her frown eased away. “Not that you’re asking.”

“No.”

“Because even if Reese wasn’t interested—you are saying he’s
interested?”

“Without a doubt.” How the hell had they gotten off track like
this? Cash tugged, so Rowdy meandered farther across the yard.

Alice followed. “Even so, you wouldn’t be. Not like that.” She
shaded her eyes. “May I ask you something, then? Since you’re not interested
that way?”

“Uh...” Feeling as if he’d lost control of the entire
situation, Rowdy tried to distract her. “I think Cash is done. Maybe we should
head in.”

“Okay.” She took the leash from him. “Come on, boy. Let’s go
get a treat.”

Hopefully she was talking to the dog. Rowdy trudged along
behind her, trying to figure out a way to get things back on track.

He started with: “About today—”

“I’m thirsty. Would you like a cola or something?” She opened
the door and let Cash in. He made a beeline for the couch, so Rowdy followed. He
liked the dog.

Hell, he liked Alice, too. But Alice confused the hell out of
him. “Sure. Whatever you’ve got will be fine.”