by Lori Foster
“Can’t.” She tipped her head at the crowded floor. “I got called in on my day off because someone called in sick. With only one full-time waitress and two part-time, this place is always short staffed. So, as of five minutes ago, I’m on the clock.”
“And I’m a customer.” So this was her day off? And she only worked here part-time. Interesting.
“Yes, you are.” She lifted the glass. “That’s why I was going to get you another beer.”
“Not just yet.” Maybe not at all. He needed to stay sharp if he hoped to do some snooping into Alice’s past.
“No?” She looked skeptical. “Since you usually drink two, I just assumed...”
“You know my habits?” Had she been around on his visits, and he hadn’t known it? Before he left tonight, he’d find out her schedule. “In that case, I should introduce myself, right?”
“You’re no longer incognito?”
He no longer had dire threats hanging over his head—but no reason to dump his sordid past on her. “Rowdy Yates.”
“Like the old Clint Eastwood character?”
“Guess my folks were comedians, huh?” Or too drunk to make logical decisions. Whatever.
“More likely you’re making it up.”
Rowdy shook his head. “We’ll eventually get together.” And top of his list was giving her a screaming, unforgettable orgasm. “When we do, I damn well want you saying the right name.”
“I...” As if she’d read his thoughts, she swallowed whatever she’d started to say and referred back to his offer to sit. “I should be working.”
He let his gaze dip over her for one tantalizing peek. “You can take a minute, right?” He loved the way this particular woman dressed down in jeans and Ts. “I’ll make it up to you with a big tip.”
She waffled. “I am on a tight budget.”
“So, do us both a favor. Take the tip—and tell me how it is we wouldn’t be competing for the fairer sex.”
Challenged, she said, “Sure, why not?” She dropped into the chair and propped her elbows on the table. “That blonde?” Using the beer glass, she pointed in the general direction of the crowded floor. “Horrible breath. She’s a chain smoker. Probably been outside twice already to puff away. By this time of night she’s so stale you pick it up from six feet away.”
He wouldn’t kick her out of bed for being a smoker, but he wasn’t keen on it either. “And the brunette?”
“Very unpleasant...” She stopped, flattened her mouth and gave up with a shake of her head. “Actually, she’s a big-time bitch.”
Whoa. Rowdy’s left eyebrow shot up. It was the first time he’d heard Avery curse. “To you?”
“To everyone. If she doesn’t have a legitimate complaint, she makes up something. She’s so annoying, I’m the only one who will willingly wait on her.”
Probably insecure, then. Definitely not his thing.
He enjoyed strong women. Confident women.
Redheads.
Had he actually missed Avery that much?
To shake off his odd mood, Rowdy teased, “Aren’t you the little critic today?”
“Just a few observations on my part.”
“I’ll scratch them both off the list, then,” Rowdy promised.
She still looked disgruntled. “Hey, if you don’t mind kissing an ashtray or listening to nonstop complaints, go for it. They both look agreeable.”
Yeah, he’d go for it—but with Avery, not a substitute. “I appreciate the feedback. Anyone else I should avoid?”
She shrugged. “To each his own, but I’d steer clear of that one in the corner, too, the one with the short brown hair.”
Rowdy looked and admired. Nice. Long legs, shapely bod, plenty of attitude. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing if you like a lot of ink.”
“Tattoo?”
“Plural. And they’re weird. I mean, not the usual stuff you’d see on a woman. They’re not pretty, just extremely noticeable.”
“I don’t see them.”
“Because she’s facing you. One runs up the back of her calf, and another is across the top of her shoulder.”
Rowdy nodded, but again, while he didn’t get turned on by tats, they didn’t really bother him either.
“Thanks. Thing is, though, I wasn’t looking at any particular woman.” Giving up his careless slouch in the seat, he sat forward, forearms on the tabletop, attentive, even enchanted.
Avery glanced at his shoulders, over his chest and...away.
He’d felt her attention like a stroke. Eventually, she’d stop denying him. “Actually, if you want the truth, I was thinking about a lady I saw earlier today.”
Her back stiffened. “Only one? I’m shocked.” She started to stand.
Rowdy caught her wrist.
Awareness arced between them, and they both froze, Avery staring at his hand, Rowdy appreciating her softness and warmth.
Smoothing his thumb back and forth over her wrist, Rowdy noted the new heat in her cheeks mixing with the slight sunburn. “Want me to tell you about her?” A pulse tripped in her pale throat. He wanted to put his mouth, his tongue, right there. He wanted to free her silky hair, taste her flushed skin, breathe in her heady scent—
She swallowed, lifted her chin. “I assume she’s a woman you plan to sleep with.”
“Wrong again.” At the moment, Avery was the only woman he wanted. “I didn’t visit her for that.”
“So, she’s a relative?”
Another assumption? He shook his head. “I only met her recently.”
“Too old? Too young?”
Did she honestly think he slept with every woman he met? “No, smart-ass. She’s probably mid-twenties.”
“Hmm.” Avery eased away from his hold to tuck her hand beneath the table. “I take it she’s not sexy enough for you, then.”
Rowdy gave it some thought. “You know, in a quiet, sort of naive way, she’s really sensual.” And intrusive, but he could forgive her that since she had good intentions.
“Wonderful.” Avery’s tone turned brisk. “Glad to hear it. Sounds like you’re all set.”
Shades of jealousy? Nice. “I already told you, it’s not like that. I think she might be in some trouble, and I hoped to help her. That’s all.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m working on it.”
“So this—” she gestured at the small table, at his empty beer glass “—your lack of company or interest in drinking, that was you...fretting over her?”
Did she have to make that sound so absurd? “I don’t fret. I was strategizing.” And sulking, but that was such an aberration, no way in hell would he admit it to someone else.
“I should assume she’s not married? Doesn’t have anyone else to assist her?”
“Not married, no, but from what I can tell, she’s taken.”
“Ah.” More antagonistic by the second, Avery regained her feet. “I guess that makes her off-limits.”
Rowdy stood, too. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” She looked ready to throw the empty beer glass at his head. “So if the woman you like has a significant other—”
“It’s not about me liking her.” Taking care not to move too quickly, Rowdy circled the table to close the space between them. He wanted to lessen his odds of getting hit with a projectile. “It’s about me respecting the other guy.”
Tipping her head back, A
very stared up at him. “And in this case you do?”
Rowdy couldn’t help it. Recognition brought a slow grin. “Yeah, I do.” He actually liked Reese, respected his ability and intuition, and even enjoyed his company. “Crazy, huh?”
“Why is it crazy?”
“For one thing, because he’s a cop.”
Sounding tart, Avery said, “And here I thought you avoided the police.”
Yeah, he used to. For the most part, he still would. “Guess this cop is different.”
“Or,” Avery said with emphasis, studying him, picking him apart in profound ways, “it only seems that way because you’re now different.”
Son of a bitch. The truth stunned Rowdy. Yeah, since Logan and Reese had obliterated the biggest threat against his sister, he was different.
Funny that only Alice and Avery had ever dared enough, or cared enough, to analyze his motives. It bugged the hell out of him that Alice did it.
But with Avery... “Damn, woman.” Appreciating her insight, Rowdy trailed the backs of his fingers over a long hank of silky hair. “I just realized that you missed your calling.”
She put a theatrical hand to her chest. “You’re saying I’m not meant to be a waitress in a sleazy, broke-dick bar about to go under?”
Broke-dick? He grinned. She really was feeling sassy tonight. He liked it. He liked her. Maybe too much.
“Nope.” He wanted to swing her off her feet. He wanted to kiss her the way she needed kissing. But the new, different Rowdy restrained himself. “You’re meant to be the bartender.”
“I...” She eyed him. “The bartender?”
Ignoring her confusion, Rowdy again surveyed the crowd, this time bypassing the customers and instead taking note of the structure, the furniture, improvements that could be made.
A good cleaning and fresh paint would go a long way in making the place less seedy. More appropriate lighting. A little rearranging to better utilize space...
“You think I should be the bartender?” Avery waved that damned glass like a spotlight. “Here?”
“Absolutely.” She might not advertise it, but Avery had a take-charge air stemming from independence instead of arrogance. She presented a great appearance without flaunting her body, and somehow drew more attention because of it. She listened, heard things and had a grasp on the customer base, as just proven with her observations.
“You’re delirious.” She patted his chest in dismissal. But once her hand connected with his body, the pat turned to a curious caress—until she caught herself and quickly withdrew.
Rowdy felt his interest expand. “We could continue that in private.”
“Yeah, uh...” She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m working.”
And that was her only reason for turning him down this time? Though he’d hopefully hidden it, her touch almost leveled him—and made him more determined to have his way. “I think you’ll love being bartender—once the place changes from broke-dick to thriving.”
“I hardly think that’s possible.”
“Should we make a bet?” Finally, he had another cause. And this one would be no less challenging than uncovering the threat to Alice Appleton. He felt a rush of adrenaline and couldn’t wait to make plans.
Nose in the air, Avery said, “I’m not a gambler,” and she started away.
Catching her by the apron strings, Rowdy hauled her back around. “Where can I find the proprietor?”
“Usually anywhere but here.” She let out a strained breath, saw he was dead serious and nodded toward the back rooms. “Tonight you’re in luck.”
Luck, fate, whatever. He’d take it, especially when it came hand in hand with Avery. “Perfect, thanks.” He started to turn away.
This time she drew him back by grabbing a handful of his T-shirt. “What are you going to do?”
He planned to do all sorts of things, most especially to this particular woman. Rowdy took the glass away from her and set it on the table.
“Rowdy...” she warned.
Grinning, honest-to-God happy, he caught her upper arms and lifted her to her tiptoes. Her soft lips parted on a gasp, then softened more when he pressed his mouth to hers. Keeping the kiss light wasn’t easy, not when she tasted so good and felt so...right.
“That’s number three,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not all that satisfying, I know, but if my offer gets accepted, I promise to improve on that soon.”
Her heavy eyes brightened. “Your offer?”
Almost by rote, she fought the chemistry. Once he saw her on a more regular basis, he’d find a way past her reservations. “Do me a favor and stick around tonight. I can’t very well promote you if you keep dodging me.”
She laughed. “And you figure to promote me...how?”
“I’m going to buy the place.”
Her eyes rounded and her mouth opened, but she held silent. Yeah, he liked that reaction.
Rowdy chucked her under the chin. “Let me take care of business, and then we can discuss your new salary.” He leaned closer to say, “You’re going to like working for me, Avery. You have my word on that.”
As he walked away, he heard the loud release of her pent-up breath, and then a low snarl of frustration.
He didn’t look back—but he did grin in triumph.
Soon, Avery Mullins. Very, very soon.
* * *
DISGUISED BY THE shadows in the bar, the man stood back against the wall, watching as Karia moved toward the prey. Her hesitation pissed him off, but she’d learn. He’d see to it.
Finally, her mouth quivering with nervousness, she approached the bar. Sitting on a stool, she turned to face the room and leaned back on her elbows—just as he’d instructed.
Dougie, the bartender, glanced at her back—at the tattoo visible on her shoulder, and gave a small smile. He moved down the bar to speak quietly with a group of men.
With little fanfare, the men approached Karia, and seconds after that, with false smiles and scripted dialogue, they left the bar together.
Perfect.
Smug with satisfaction, he held back, remaining in the shadows, watching the door. He’d give them three minutes, no more. Then he’d go after Karia.
He didn’t want her going off the rails, sneaking away from him, or spilling her guts about things meant to be kept secret—details that formed the support of his enterprise.
He didn’t want her to lose her nerve, because he’d hate to have to kill her. But if she blew it, if she didn’t follow the carefully laid out directions, he would snuff her like a spent candle, and then he’d find another woman.
He’d done it before, and he’d do it again.
Luckily, the women knew that. Fear, he’d learned, proved to be quite the motivator.
* * *
ALICE AWAKENED ON a gentle sigh, a slow stretch and stirring warmth from deep inside. Even through her closed eyelids she knew the sun had risen, which meant she’d slept late. Amazing.
She never slept past the sunrise. Actually, she never slept the whole night through. Sleep, like peace of mind, was a rare commodity, always warring with her conscience.
Usually losing.
But last night, she’d faded into a peaceful slumber, surrounded by warmth and security.
Surrounded by Reese.
So many things he’d given her—the care of Cash, affection and caring, sexual interest.
And now this.
That last kiss had been a revelation. She touched her mouth, remembering, savoring.
Anticipating more.
Turning her head, she looked at the other side of the bed—and found it empty.
Her heart sank like a stone. Sitting up, hands fisting in the sheets, she listened. But her senses told her what her heart feared.
Her apartment was empty.
Raging anxiety spiraled out, trying to take hold. Deliberately, Alice drew a breath, then another, slow and deep, reaching for control, for that elusive calm.
She’d been alone for a very long time, mostly by choice. Being alone now was no different. It was—
No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t accept that.
Throwing back the sheet, she climbed from the bed and made a frantic rush out of the room. The bathroom door and her office stood open, and empty. Her feet made a quiet patter on the hardwood hallway.
The sunny living room greeted her with a deafening silence.
How could Reese sleep with her and then just go? How could he kiss her and say he wanted more and then walk out of her life as if—
A key sounded in her lock, causing her stomach to drop. Eyes wide, heart stuttering, she froze.
The door swung open, and Reese, fully dressed, stepped in with Cash. He spoke softly to the dog as he hung the leash on the wall and closed the door with a quiet click.
She held herself so still that it took a second for Cash to spot her. With joy lighting up his face, he levered back on his haunches, shook his butt then leaped forward.
That drew Reese’s attention. He turned, a smile in place—until he saw her.
Just that quick, warmth faded under concern.
The next thing she saw was sympathy.
Disgusted with herself, embarrassed and maybe even shamed, Alice knelt down and hugged Cash close. She loved the dog, and she needed an excuse to hide her hot face.
Unfortunately, Cash was too excited to be still. He kept jumping, and in her kneeling position, she didn’t have great balance.
He knocked her on her can.