Bare It All

by Lori Foster

  Trace and Logan closed in, as well, and in short order, they had disarmed and cuffed the three men.

  In her peripheral vision, Alice saw Woody get to his feet. She jerked around and found him staring at her with such hatred that she felt it clear down to her bones. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Eyes narrowed, posture still bowed with pain, Woody reached to the small of his back, drew out a gun and—Reese’s fist connected with his face.

  Alice’s jaw loosened at the stunning speed of the strike. It knocked Woody back, and he landed on the ground. The gun discharged, startling a small shriek out of Alice. But seeing Woody’s face, Alice knew he hadn’t fired on purpose. She doubted the man was that coherent, given the look in his eyes.

  Reese was already on him, taking away the gun, flipping him over, jamming a knee into the middle of his back and wrenching his arms together to fasten them with cuffs. With rough hands, Reese checked him for other weapons, ignoring Woody’s moans.

  Turned to look at her, Reese said, “You’re okay?”

  Wow. Fear receded under amazement. Reese handled him like he would a rag doll, expending little to no discernible energy.

  She remembered Trace saying that Reese could be ruthless.

  Now she knew why. He’d leveled that man with one punch.

  She also remembered Reese saying that always, at every moment, he was aware of her.

  Biting her bottom lip, she admitted that it must be true, given how quickly he’d reached her.

  “Alice?”

  Heck, no, she wasn’t okay. Far from it.

  She sucked in a breath and nodded.

  With laudable ease, Reese hauled Woody none-too-gently to his feet and looked Alice over, head to toes. “Are you sure?”

  Still dumbfounded by how easy he’d made it look, she nodded fast, unwilling to distract him from his work. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  Tenants spilled out of the apartment building. A black police van pulled up, accompanied by a squad car, lights and sirens blazing. Pam and Nikki huddled together, a steady flow of tears ruining their makeup.

  Suddenly feeling weak, Alice slumped down to sit on the walkway.

  “Don’t move,” Reese told her.

  She wasn’t sure she could.

  Watching as he wrenched Woody toward the black van, Alice tried to catch her breath. But only for a second.

  Forgetting her agreement not to move, she raced back over before Reese could get Woody into the back of that wagon. “Where is Cheryl?”

  Woody looked at her, gave a mean smile and said, “Fuck you, honey.”

  His mocking tone and total lack of feeling pushed her over the edge. She didn’t even think about it.

  She just kneed him again.

  “Ah, God...”

  “Alice,” Reese reprimanded. “Damn it.” He held Woody upright with one hand, and Alice back with the other. “Honey, you can’t do that.”

  But his mouth twitched.

  Alice didn’t think it was funny. She literally heaved in her anger and fear. “Where is she?”

  “Bar,” Woody gasped, curled in on himself, trying to protect his most vulnerable body part.

  Using the length of his long arm, Reese backed Alice up a few steps and ordered, “Stay there.”

  The adrenaline rush faded, leaving her knees knocking and her eyes damp with tears. She nodded her agreement.

  Reese handed Woody over to an officer. “Don’t take your eyes off him. Understand me?”

  The cop nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Glancing over to confirm that Logan and Trace had things in hand, Reese took Alice’s arm and pulled her several feet away.

  Any second now, she’d be bawling like a baby, she just knew it. She could feel the sobs gathering steam, squeezing her throat and making her nose tickle.

  She couldn’t look at Reese, couldn’t let him see her weakness.

  But he just stood there, waiting, calm, safe, until finally she lifted her gaze to his.

  “I love you, Alice.”

  Her knees almost gave out.

  Reese caught her close, not quite smiling, but looking so warm, so...sincere.

  She clutched at his shirt, her heart trying to do flips, her pulse going into overdrive.

  Reese kissed her forehead. “I love your compassion and your courage.”

  “Courage?”

  “In spades.” Ignoring the way she gasped for breath, he kissed her parted lips. “I love your sweet little body, too, and how good we are together in bed.”

  “Reese...” She looked around, but in the commotion, no one seemed to be listening to them.

  He brought her face back to his. “I especially love your temper. But from now on, please don’t neuter my prisoners.”

  What he said seemed so silly, so unbelievable. Except for that one part... “You love me?”

  “Every part of you, everything about you.” He searched her face and whispered, “Very much.”

  Trace approached. He didn’t look right at them, choosing instead to stare off to the side. “Got a message from Rowdy. Says he has it under control, but Cheryl’s at the bar with Hickson. DeeDee, too.” He glanced at Alice, coughed and looked away again. “I assume you want to go...?”

  Reese nodded.

  “I can handle it,” Trace said. “And even one-armed, Logan has this under control. If you’d rather—”

  “I want to finish it.” Reese tipped up Alice’s chin. “I don’t want you to worry.”

  She trembled so badly, it felt like she might rattle her teeth loose. But everything would be okay.

  And Reese had said he loved her.

  She drew a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Love that, too,” Reese said with a small smile, even with Trace standing there. “How you pull it together to prioritize.”

  “I’ll just go wait over there,” Trace said, but neither Alice nor Reese acknowledged him.

  She hadn’t pulled anything together, but apparently she was good at faking it. “Go to the bar.” Alice still clenched his shirt, fighting the urge to crawl up close to him. “Please see to it that Cheryl is okay.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I know you will.” Because he was that man, the man who helped others, who did whatever he could. A hero. Hers.

  Another second passed. Reese pried her hands from his shirt and kissed her knuckles. “Soon as I find Cheryl, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And Alice?” He took a step away. “When I get done with all this, you and I are going to have a nice long talk.”

  Now, why did that worry her? She promised, “I’ll wait up,” and then, head and heart filled with jumbled emotions, Alice watched him go.

  It wasn’t until an officer gave her a funny look that she realized she was smiling. Reese loved her.

  In the middle of pandemonium, with hysterical neighbors and lights and sirens, Alice figured she just might be the happiest woman alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AFTER SENDING OUT the second text message, Rowdy started toward Avery, determined to keep her well away from Hickson. As it turned out, he didn’t need to do a thing.

  Avery was already moving off when Dougie, the bartender, slid into the booth next to Cheryl. The poor girl scooted over, pressing herself as far into the corner as she could go.

  Rowdy was relieved that both men ignored her. They leaned in close for a private co
nversation.

  Damn. So Avery had been right. Dougie and Hickson definitely knew each other.

  For several minutes, Rowdy lounged in a corner, watching the exchange, wondering at what point he should intercede.

  Even with his mind buzzing and his senses on alert for possible deceptions, he found himself repeatedly searching for Avery. Made sense, he told himself. Tonight would be dangerous, and he didn’t want any woman hurt, most especially a woman he employed.

  A woman who turned him on.

  Scanning the crowd, Rowdy still didn’t see DeeDee, but he spotted Avery taking an order from a trio of young men on the opposite side of the room. Avery was her usual all-business self.

  The guys wanted more.

  It wasn’t unusual for barely legal idiots of the male persuasion to play grab-ass with waitresses at run-down bars.

  The unusual part was Rowdy’s urge to flatten all three of them. Rather than fight it, he moved toward her. If DeeDee showed up and saw him, well, so what? She’d know he didn’t like bullies.

  He was almost within reach when he heard Avery say, “Last warning, bud. You will either keep your hands to yourself, or you’ll leave. Understand?”

  Grinning, the idiot reached for her ass, saying, “Or we could—”

  Rowdy caught his wrist and squeezed. “Or you could go home with a broken bone or two.”

  Wincing in pain, the guy said, “Hey, dude, let up.”

  “Apologize to the lady first.”

  “Fuck you!” He tried to swing with his other hand.

  Rowdy used a grip on his wrist to twist the younger man’s arm up and around behind his back. “Wrong answer.”

  One of his buddies charged, but he was drunk and weak. Rowdy easily moved to the side and tripped him. He wiped out on the floor, gaining grumbles from some of the other customers.

  The third fool rose, chest butting Rowdy. “Asshole! Turn him loose.”

  “Sure. Soon as he apologizes.”

  “I said, let him go!” He took a short swing, punching Rowdy in the chin, and his head snapped back.

  Smiling, Rowdy worked his jaw—and popped the guy. Even using his left hand, he sent the smaller man falling over a chair.

  Unruffled, Avery lifted a brow. “Are you done?”

  “Almost. Soon as he tells you how sorry he is for manhandling you.”

  “Sure, sorry, whatever.” When Rowdy tightened his hold, he said more sincerely, “I’m sorry!”

  Rowdy released him.

  Now free, the punk said, “I’m calling the police!”

  “Want me to do that for you?”

  He flexed his arm, sullen. “No.”

  “Then get out and don’t come back.” Rowdy encompassed all three of them in his stare. “Any of you.”

  Arms folded, Avery stood silent as all three guys hustled for the door. She didn’t look at all appreciative of his interference. And, really, now that he’d let off a little steam, Rowdy knew he’d overreacted.

  “You can’t go running off business.”

  But hell if he’d admit it. “I can do any damn thing I want. It’s my place.”

  She gave him a measuring stare, then made a rude sound. “Like you’ll even remember them if they come back a week from now.”

  Now there’s where she didn’t know him well. “I’ll remember.”

  That had her propping her hands on her trim hips. “Hate to break it to you, Rowdy, but if you carry on like that with every guy who gets out of line—”

  “There are more?” He searched around the bar. “Here, tonight? Where—” His gaze snagged on DeeDee as she strolled in. She wore a body-hugging black pull-on cotton dress that fit like a man’s undershirt, leaving more on display than it covered.

  Out of nowhere, Avery gave him a hard shove.

  Because he’d been distracted with DeeDee’s appearance, she took him off guard, and Rowdy actually staggered back a step. “What the hell?”

  She went on tiptoe to snarl into his chin, “You should change the name of this place!”

  “Yeah?” Amused by her temper, Rowdy caught her arms to keep her close. “Suggestion?”

  “Yes. Call it Getting Rowdy.” She shoved away from his hold and said in a grumble, “That’s what every attractive woman does, right?”

  “Catchy. They get rowdy with Rowdy.” Pretending to give it some thought, he nodded. “I like it.”

  “Ohhhh, you’re...” She trailed off, clearly trying to find a word insulting enough to match her mood.

  “Waiting to get you, Avery.” He tweaked her chin. “That’s what I’m doing. Waiting to get you.” And with that, Rowdy walked away before he did something stupid—like kiss her with DeeDee watching.

  Ten minutes later, seated in a booth, Rowdy wished for an interruption. He knew brazen women. Hell, he liked brazen women.

  But not when they wanted to screw him first and then assist in his murder.

  DeeDee did indeed appear to want both.

  Leaning her boobs into his side, sliding a small hand over his thigh and licking his ear, she tried to convince him to go to her car.

  “I want you so bad, Rowdy,” she breathed.

  Where the hell was Reese?

  Half crawling over his lap and catching his chin, DeeDee planted a hot, wet one on him.

  The second she got her tongue out of his mouth, Rowdy lifted his beer, intent on using the alcohol to sterilize things—and his gaze clashed with Avery’s from across the room.

  With a killing glare, she turned away.

  Damn it, he needed Avery to know that it meant nothing. Except...why should he explain himself to her? They’d be working together, so she was bound to see him hook up.

  He enjoyed sexual variety.

  Eventually he and Avery would get together—because he knew the chemistry was there—but she needed to understand that it was sex, and only sex. Not a commitment. Not an invitation for more.

  No matter how much she intrigued him.

  “Rowdy...” While straddling his lap, DeeDee rose to her knees. And right there in the bar, wedged into a booth, she tried to open his jeans.

  Time to make a strategic retreat.

  Rowdy caught her hands. “Hang on, honey. I’ll be right back.” Fucking Reese, running late.

  He’d gotten the text from Trace that they were on their way, but another two minutes and DeeDee would molest him.

  He bodily lifted her to the side, ignoring her pouts and the way she stroked his junk as he slid out of the booth seat. “Don’t move.”

  “Hurry,” she said.

  Suddenly in a killing mood, Rowdy strode over to where Dougie and Hickson shared a booth. He wouldn’t hurt a woman, even one as revolting as DeeDee, so he needed to find another outlet.

  When he stopped beside them, both men looked up in mingled surprise and suspicion.

  Itching for a little violence, Rowdy said to Dougie, “You’re fired.”

  “What?” Dougie gave an incredulous laugh. “Who the hell are you?”

  Rowdy took great pleasure in introducing himself. “I bought the bar. And since I’m not a scum-sucking bottom feeder—” not anymore “—I don’t want your ilk hanging around. You’re through here. Collect your shit and get out.”

  Dougie and Hickson shared a look.

  “I didn’t hear anything about a new owner.”

  “No? Guess that tells you just how important you are, doesn’t it?”

&
nbsp; Dougie clenched all over.

  Try it, Rowdy thought. Please.

  “You son of a bitch,” Dougie exploded, shoving himself upright—and right into Rowdy’s fist. The blow took him out, and Dougie slumped back into his seat, then slid off the booth to the floor.

  “Huh,” Rowdy said. “He’s not only a drug-dealing worm, he has a glass jaw.”

  Cheryl gasped, curling tighter to the wall.

  “But you,” Rowdy said, turning his anger on Hickson, “are even worse. You’re a coward who abuses women, a cockroach who needs to be smashed.”

  Half rising from his seat, Hickson said, “Now wait a goddamn minute—”

  Catching Hickson by the back of his neck, Rowdy slammed his face into the thick booth top. Cartilage crunched and blood spilled. With Hickson dazed, he looked at Cheryl. “You okay?”

  Frozen, she said nothing, didn’t move or breathe or blink.

  Rowdy tried to work up a gentle smile. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

  No reaction.

  “Alice sent me.”

  She deflated on a whoosh. “Oh, thank God.” Big tears filled her eyes.

  Behind him, DeeDee tried to slink out. Rowdy glanced at her over his shoulder, pinning her in place with his gaze. “Word of warning, honey. You don’t wanna make me chase you.” In his current mood, seeing the fear in Cheryl’s eyes, he just might discount DeeDee’s gender.

  Hand to her throat, DeeDee paused.

  Finally, Reese came in the front door, Trace from the back. Around the bar, several men separated from the crowd; Reese’s men, now ready to assist.

  Rowdy pulled Hickson out of his seat. “Here’s one,” he said to Reese, practically tossing the man to him. “There’s another under the booth,” he told Trace.

  Nodding, Trace started forward.

  Rowdy turned his attention to DeeDee. “It’s over.”

  Realizing she’d been busted, DeeDee back-stepped, at first uncertainly, but then faster and faster, and suddenly she turned to flee.