Bare It All. Lori Foster

long are you going to do that?”

      Worry for him kept her from embarrassment, and obliterated her usual reserve. “Not much longer.”

      “Good.” He got comfortable, one arm along the back of the couch. “I don’t mind female attention—”

      “I’m sure you’re used to it.”

      “—but now it’s getting a little disturbing. Almost like you’re dissecting me or something.”

      “My apologies.” After a moment of hesitation, Alice approached him, decided to sit close and even reached for his hand.

      Wariness sharpened his casual posture.

      She ignored his unease, and instead went with her instincts. “How are you, Rowdy?”

      Taken aback, he scowled. “That’s my question for you.”

      “I’m not the one who was threatened yesterday.”

      He tried to retrieve his hand, but Cash in his lap hampered him, and she held on. “That wasn’t—”

      “A big deal?” Very gently she patted his hand. “Of course it was. Guns were aimed at you, and that means you could have lost your life at any moment.”

      “I figured we’d get free.”

      Or had he resigned himself to death? Since he’d settled in, she knew she wouldn’t easily get him to leave. Instead of even trying, she held his hand in both of hers and tried a different tack. “I met your sister yesterday. Only briefly and of course not under the best circumstances. She’s very beautiful, and very brave.”

      “Yeah, that’s Pepper for you.”

      “The two of you are close?”

      He stopped straining away and instead scrutinized her. “Very.”

      “I understand that she was threatened, as well.” She tipped her head and said without inflection, “Human trafficking, correct?”

      His jaw locked as he leaned forward. “Never would have happened. I’d have taken those bastards apart with my bare hands before letting them—”

      “I know.” She squeezed his fingers to soothe him, to let him know the coarse language hadn’t offended her. His hands were big and rough. Capable hands—not that it would have mattered. “Good men always feel that way, and yet, you know that women still get hurt.”

      Dark eyes narrowed in a scowl. “What do you know about that, Alice?”

      Poor Rowdy. He hoped to turn the tables on her by deflecting her concern.

      She wouldn’t let him. “I can see your worry, Rowdy. Your vulnerability.”

      “What the fuck?” Indignation wasn’t the only emotion coloring his laugh. “I am not vulnerable.”

      “The language doesn’t shield you. In fact, it gives away your upset.”

      His teeth clenched. “I’m not upset either.”

      “Of course you are.” His raised voice was as much an indicator as the guarded expression in his eyes. “About your future,” she insisted, “about what to do next and how to proceed.”

      “Proceed with what? Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not making any sense.”

      And now endearments. It was a tactic meant to reduce her conclusions to insignificance. The little woman spouting nonsense. She shook her head in pity. Rowdy didn’t know her fortitude, he didn’t understand that it took a lot more than that to derail her.

      “Your sister is in love with a police detective. Where does that leave you?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      They both knew better. “For a man who treads a fine line of right and wrong, how difficult must it be to have a cop for a brother-in-law?”

      He breathed hard, then muttered, “They’re not married yet.” Pulling his hand from hers, he set Cash aside and stood. After a moment, he shrugged. “But, yeah, I saw her today and it seems they’re making plans at Mach speed.”

      Alice looked up at him. “You’re opposed to the wedding?”

      “No.” He started to pace. “Logan’s a good man. I like him.”

      “You trust him.”

      “Of course I do. What’s with the psychobabble? Are you a shrink now?”

      Her smile held understanding. “Can you pick a lock, Rowdy?”

      A show of nonchalance couldn’t hide his antagonism. “Yeah, sure.”

      “And yet, you’re not a locksmith.”

      “I learned on the street.” He took a single step toward her. “Picking locks, along with a boatload of other talents, was a skill I acquired out of necessity.”

      Exactly how she’d learned to read people—out of necessity. Given the shift in his expression, now more concerned than combative, he must have come to the same conclusion.

      To head off any intrusive questions, Alice tried to steer the conversation. “Does it reassure you to know that Pepper will be well protected?”

      Rather than the idea sidetracking him, he jumped on it. “What makes you think she needs protection?”

      How to answer? How to explain that she’d made many assumptions in a very short time? Stalling, Alice gave Cash a pat before she, too, stood. “You could call it a hunch if you want.”

      Rowdy planted his big feet apart and crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Here’s the thing, honey. You’re not the only one with hunches. And that’s why I’m here.” He chucked her under the chin. “I have a hunch you’re running scared. It’ll be easier on you if you just settle down and tell me why.”

      * * *

      SHE DIDN’T SCARE EASY, he’d give her that. Even though he pressured her, he couldn’t crack Alice’s calm facade.

      When she’d first started digging into his head, into his motives, Rowdy had told himself to take off. If Alice didn’t want to share, then to hell with it. Let her be Reese’s problem. God knew that one enjoyed doubting everyone and everything...but, yeah, that wasn’t entirely fair. He’d given Reese, the astute bastard, good reason for doubt.

      As if she’d read his mind, Alice asked, “Does Reese know you’re here?”

      He laughed. “No.”

      “You don’t trust him?”

      “Other way around, honey.” It still burned his ass, but what the hell? Why not tell her? “What do you know about Reese?”

      Without hesitation, right to the point, she said, “He’s a good man.”

      “Yeah, I suppose he is. Not that I always believed it.”

      “You must not know him well.”

      Because if he did, he’d nominate him for sainthood? Rowdy bit back a snort. “Nope. Hardly at all, in fact.” He grinned at her. “We had this little case of mistaken identity. Logan and Reese thought I’d witnessed a murder two years past, but it was actually my sister....” Sickness burned his stomach, sent acid into his throat.

      Playing cavalier became more difficult.

      Not that Miss Alice Appleton was easy to fool, anyway. He rubbed at an ache in his temple. “Scratch all that, okay? The bastard is dead now, and good riddance.”

      Voice soft, strangely comforting, she said, “So the murderer was the man who died in Reese’s apartment.”

      A statement, not a question, but Rowdy confirmed it, anyway. “Yeah. Because of him, because of what he would’ve