by Lori Foster
“He was stationed by the back exit, waiting for me. But I’m a faster, harder puncher than him.”
“He was alone?”
“Yeah. The other guys were going through the rest of the bar, asking questions, looking under tables, doing God knows what.”
A muffled protest ensued, followed by a thump. It got quiet again.
Logan choked back his annoyance. “So you punched him, and he decided to spill his guts to you, huh? He didn’t call out to the other four guys?”
Pepper jerked upright. “Other four guys? What are you talking about? Rowdy’s okay?”
“He’s bragging,” Logan told her, making sure Rowdy heard. “I’d say he’s still in one piece.”
Rowdy laughed. “Before he came to enough to start squawking, I stuffed him in my trunk and drove to a secure location to…question him.”
The muffled complaints escalated again.
Logan blew out a breath. “Care to tell me where this secure location is?”
“No.”
Pepper leaned against his back and twined her arms around his throat. He felt the cushion of her breasts, and her warm breath on his ear.
It maddened him.
Cutting to the chase, Logan said, “How bad is he hurt, and what does he know?”
“He’s alive, but not real happy. He says he’s a top guy for the trafficker—and the guy who took a bullet to the noggin was a negotiator. Seems old Morton had planned to buy several young girls.”
His guts cramped. “How young?”
“Seventeen, eighteen. Thereabouts.”
Bastard. “He’d have used them at the club?”
“The idiot is unsure about that. All he knows is that Morton wanted a shipment, made a deal, but then tried to renege when it came time for final arrangements.”
“He didn’t want the girls after all?”
“Oh, he wanted them. He just didn’t want to pay the asking price.” As if coming to grips with the reality of human trafficking, Rowdy took several slow breaths.
Logan heard a thump, a groan and another thump. He didn’t need to be a psychic to know what happened. “Rowdy, listen to me.” He infused authority into his tone. “You need to get a handle on that temper. He’s scum, and he deserves it, but if you kill him I can’t help you.”
On alert, Pepper leaned back. She left her hands on his shoulders, idly caressing him.
“Help me what?”
“Stay clear of this.” Logan stood to put some space between himself and Pepper’s luscious naked body. She didn’t know the ugliness of the conversation or the fine line her brother walked right now. He needed his wits to talk Rowdy off the ledge before he did irreparable harm. “I know you’d like to kill him.”
“With my bare hands,” Rowdy said in a gravelly rasp. He breathed too fast, too low. “Do you know that he talks about women, about girls, like they’re fucking property?”
“I know.” He hadn’t dealt much in human trafficking, but there were other things just as revolting. The ones responsible seldom put any value on human life, and they almost never felt any real remorse. “I don’t blame you for roughing him up—”
“Good.” A few more solid punches and a few more groans. “I’m only giving him a little of what he deserves.”
“I’d have done the same.” Logan locked his jaw. “But you have to stop.”
Silence.
It wasn’t concern for the trafficker that kept Logan pacing, but Rowdy didn’t seem to be in the mood to listen, so he redirected his attention. “Tell me what you’ve found out so far.”
He practically heard Rowdy gathering himself before he finally said, “Morton tried blackmail.”
“Against who?”
“The traffickers. He said he had cops on his payroll, and on a whim, he could bring the force of the law against anyone on his shit list.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He wanted his supply dirt cheap, but that was a no-go. He got threatened in return, and he found out the trafficker has his own considerable means of retribution. For a lot of people, that sheds suspicion on his timely death.”
“It’d be good motivation to fake it.” If Andrews was believed dead, the traffickers would forget about revenge—and then Andrews could strike against them first.
“The theory is that Morton would get his shipment free, and maybe even try to take over the business. The two were battling for the rights to buy and sell women…” Rowdy sucked in several tight breaths. “Honest to God, I might have to slug him a few more times.”
Recognizing that as less volatile bluster, Logan asked, “He’ll live?”
“Unfortunately.”
It was easy enough to understand Rowdy’s rage. Any good man would feel the same. Any man who’d ever loved a woman would be especially outraged at the idea of trafficking.
Glancing over at Pepper, Logan found her on her knees, her hands resting on her thighs, her blond hair curled down and around her breasts. Jesus, she twisted him up inside.
He turned his back on her and dropped his voice. “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to her, right?”
“So you’ve said.”
“You have my word.” He’d die before he let anyone, especially anyone as corrupt as Morton Andrews or a flesh peddler, get anywhere near Pepper.
“Some things are out of your control.”
“No, not this. Not ever.”
Rowdy took that in, then murmured, “I appreciate that.”
“The same goes for you, Rowdy.”
“Whoa. What the fuck does that mean?”
Turning back to Pepper, staring into her beautiful light brown eyes, he said, “I don’t want there to be any fallback on you, either.”
“Forget that shit.” He snorted. “I don’t need a damned babysitter. Just concentrate on keeping my sister in the clear.”
No, Rowdy didn’t need a babysitter—but he needed a friend. And he needed a real life. “Everything your sister deserves, you deserve, as well.” Before Rowdy could get insulted over a perceived slight on his ability, Logan added, “Think how happy it’d make your sister to know you were safely settled somewhere, with no reason to look over your shoulder.”
It amazed Logan, but big tears filled her eyes. They didn’t fall. She didn’t sniff or make a big deal of the emotional vulnerability.
The tiniest, most endearing smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
Logan knew he was in it for the long haul, and he knew how important Rowdy was to her. But even if he’d never met Pepper, he’d feel the same. Rowdy was a good man who’d never been given a break.
In another whisper, Rowdy said, “I hate it that she worries about me.”
“Let’s stop giving her reason to, okay?” Logan walked over and stroked Pepper’s hair. Before it all ended, he’d make it right for them both.
“First things first. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
Right. He had to determine if Andrews was dead or alive, and now he had traffickers to deal with, as well. He needed to take Rowdy out of the equation—which wouldn’t be easy while Rowdy kept a bludgeoned perp on hand.
Logan gave it quick thought and came up with a viable solution. “Here’s what we’ll do.”
*
PEPPER LISTENED as Logan made note of the information against Morton. Not once did he question the facts Rowdy gave him.
He trusted her brother.
That made him smart and intuitive—on top of being hot in the sack.
“Does he know who you are? Good. You haven’t used any names, either, so he can’t connect any of us to this. Do you think you can leave him tied up somewhere secure so no one else will find him? Not for good, but until we give the cops an anonymous tip about where he’s at. No, not just any cop. Reese.” Wonderfully naked, Logan continued to pace the limited space in the bedroom. “I know how you feel about him, but he’s the only cop I trust to do this. Once Reese takes the guy in, it shouldn’t be difficult to link
him to the dead trafficker, especially with the info we’ll share in the tip. That’ll give us reason enough to hold him.”
A little awed, Pepper realized that Logan wanted to protect Rowdy. Other than her, who had ever done that?
No one.
Her brother would be the first to say he didn’t need protection. In fact, he’d deny it with his dying breath.
But for so long now, he’d stood alone against the world, a barrier between her and every bad thing that could ever have happened. He slept around a lot, and even though she harassed him about it, she understood.
It was the only comfort he ever got.
More tears burned her eyes; her heartfelt sigh drew Logan’s attention. Frowning in concentration, he listened to Rowdy while studying her.
Her body, but also her face. Especially her eyes. She had the feeling Logan wanted to decipher her, her moods and her vendetta against him and…everything that concerned her. She hadn’t made it easy on him. But maybe that should change.
By championing her brother, he’d just stolen a small piece of her heart.
“Yeah,” Logan said while watching her. “Reese will have to take him in, but Peterson will oversee things. No, she won’t have him killed.” He rolled his eyes. “No, she won’t. Even if she was inclined to do that, and I’m not convinced she would be, there are still too many loose ends for her to try it.” He listened a moment, then shook his head. “No, you can’t just kill him yourself.”
That outrageous statement made her grin. So Rowdy blustered, and Logan bought into it? Or was that just men being men, letting each other save face?
Not that she cared much what happened to the snitch. He’d been in on selling women, working with Morton, and he’d tried to gang up with others to hurt her brother. Far as she was concerned, he had three major strikes against him.
But as she’d told Logan, Rowdy wasn’t a murderer.
“Look at it this way. The guy will probably try to bargain, and he’ll give up his boss.”
And women would be saved. Pepper softened more.
Rowdy must have agreed, because Logan nodded. “Fine. Leave him hobbled until the morning. It’s no skin off my nose. I don’t give a damn if he suffers a little. But, Rowdy, don’t do any serious damage to him. I mean it.”
Again drawing Logan’s attention, Pepper moved to the top of the bed and leaned against the headboard, getting comfortable. He evaluated her new position with interest.
“Sure, you can call Reese yourself if that’s how you want to handle it. Just know that I’ll be calling him, too.” He listened, shook his head. “It’s not up for negotiation, so just deal with it.”
Two such controlling men, Pepper thought. Knowing they respected each other left an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.
“Rowdy, before you go…” Logan hesitated, then said, “You did good with this. Thank you.”
And there went the last of her reservations. Damn it. How could she hold on to her hurt feelings still?
Logan closed the phone but didn’t join her on the bed.
Without righteousness to fuel her brazenness, she felt a little shy. “You need to call Reese?”
“In a minute.” He folded his arms and regarded her. “Your brother wants to talk to him first.”
More than a little aware of her own nakedness, she struggled against the urge to get under the covers. “You’re okay with that?”
He shrugged. “If that makes Rowdy feel better about things, then I don’t see the harm. They can figure out a good place to leave the snitch before Reese picks him up.”
“You trust Reese, don’t you?” Just as he couldn’t discount her brother’s misgivings, she couldn’t discount Logan’s judgment.
“Ultimately, I do, yes.”
“But you’re not willing to ignore Rowdy’s concern?”
“How could I? He knows what he’s doing.”
The space between them got to her, and she patted the mattress beside her.
Gaze contemplative, Logan unfolded his arms and approached. He stopped at the side of the bed. “I’d like for you to stay here with me. In the bed.” He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair. “Sleep with me.”
Being truthful, she said, “I’m pretty zoned. I’m not sure I’ll be up for anything other than sleeping.”
“I don’t need anything else.” He sat on the side of the bed and cupped his hand around her skull. “I want to hold you, Pepper. All night. Not to get too poetic, but I want to feel your heart beating, breathe in your scent and…just touch you.”
Her heart melted.
Brushing his thumb over the corner of her mouth, he said, “Stay here with me tonight.”
Something new and different and wonderful blossomed inside her. She needed to lighten the mood or she’d soon be an emotional mess. “If I snore, no complaining in the morning.”
Recognizing her acquiescence, his grin came slow and easy. “Give me ten more minutes to make sure Rowdy and Reese have worked out the details, and then we can make it an early night.”
Yeah, that worked for her. No reason to go face-to-face with Dash after what he’d probably just heard. Besides, Logan looked as exhausted as she felt. “Same here,” she said around a yawn. “Until then, why don’t you fill me in on what Rowdy had to say.”
He did, and soon after that, they both fell asleep.
Logan forgot all about calling Reese.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
REESE SAT ON HIS COUCH, his feet propped on the coffee table, a can of beer at his elbow and his dog sprawled over his lap. A sports program played on the TV, but he wasn’t really paying attention.
Cash’s fur was sleek and soft—because Alice had given him a bath and brushed him. For some absurd reason, that really got to him.
He could almost picture it, her gentleness, that soft way she spoke…
Great. Instead of putting his brain power to the mystery surrounding Morton Andrews, he was daydreaming about a woman’s voice.
Pathetic.
He looked down at the dog and found Cash looking back. That made him grin. “You’re thinking of her, too, aren’t you?”
The dog’s tail started thumping in excitement. He lifted his head in expectation.
“No, we can’t go bother her right now. But I know she likes you a lot, too.” He tipped up his beer for a deep drink and muttered, “Me, she’s keeping at a distance. I’m going to have to do something about that, but I don’t want to screw up our arrangement with you.”
Cash’s eyebrows raised and lowered; he tipped his head.
Reese laughed. When his cell rang, the laugh almost changed to a groan. Sitting forward, he snagged it off the end table. “I just got comfortable, damn it.”
Assuming it must be Logan with another glitch, he answered.
But it wasn’t Logan, and it was a hell of a lot worse than he’d expected.
He could only juggle the issues and players for so long before everything crashed down around him.
And with every day, the crash seemed more imminent.
*
AS SOON AS LOGAN got to work the next day, Reese pulled him aside in the hallway. He looked haggard, tired and itching for a fight.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
Logan studied Reese. “I take it you got the anonymous tip?”
“Not funny, damn it!” A uniformed cop glanced their way, and Reese, with a strangled breath, tried to rein in his temper. “He’s here, but Jesus, man, how do you expect me to fix this?”
Fix it? Is that what Reese thought? That he expected him to find some magical solution to the mess? Not likely.
In fact, he’d already realized that he owed Reese an apology. “I shouldn’t have pulled you into the middle of this.”
Reese drew back. “What?”
“I was trying to figure out how to keep Rowdy out of it and still use the information we got. But I shouldn’t have put you in that position. It’s not you—”
“Fuck th
at!” Reese crowded in close, nose to nose, eyes burning. “I’m not talking about involving me, damn it. I’m your partner. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”
Narrowing his eyes, Logan said softly, but with ultimate command, “Step back.”
Reese heaved, searched his face, and then with another rank curse, he turned away. Logan watched him rub his neck, saw his spiraling frustration.
Something was going on with Reese, and he’d had enough of subterfuge. “Now might be a good time to come clean.”
Reese laughed, turned to look at him, and laughed again. “You know the guy was roughed up pretty bad. Broken nose, black eyes, even a damned broken finger.”
Logan just waited.
“I had to turn him over to Peterson. She’s in there now, jawing at him, stepping in where she doesn’t belong.”
Doesn’t belong? “She’s the lieutenant.”
“And it’s your case. But from the get-go, she’s been in it up to her stubborn chin. Micro-managing, snooping—”
Snooping? “What the hell is wrong with you? Peterson wants to clean up the corruption, that’s all. You know she’s always been a hands-on lieutenant.” Her determination to stay involved and on the street hadn’t won her any favors in the force, but she didn’t seem to care.
“No, Logan, it’s more than that.”
“You know that…how?”
“Detectives,” said a new, more feminine but no less strident voice.
They both turned to see Lieutenant Peterson bearing down on them. Logan nodded at her.
“How propitious to have you both here together.”
Logan checked his watch. “Only ten minutes early.”
Reese crossed his arms over his chest and dropped back negligently against the wall. All signs of his agitation were now under wraps, the cagey bastard.
Peterson looked between the two of them. “I got a description of the man who worked over our prisoner. He sounds remarkably like Rowdy Yates.”
“Really?” Reese smirked. “Tall, blond and muscular could describe a lot of men.”
Since that also included Reese, Logan had nothing to add.
The lieutenant waited, then said flatly, “Morton isn’t dead.”
