Run the Risk. Lori Foster

of her mouth? Well of course it had. Look at him, sitting there like physical temptation, legs apart, expression lazy and skin sun-warmed.

      She covered her mouth with a hand.

      But she was only human after all, and if her downtrodden appearance didn’t keep him at bay, well then, what would it hurt?

      As surprised as she, he said, “Seriously?” He straightened, his manner suspicious, his gaze going all over her.

      What, did he think she had a concealed weapon? Did he expect her to wield a steak knife?

      Did he expect ulterior motives?

      Yes, of course, she had them—but they weren’t motives he’d ever guess.

      Pepper dropped her hand and filled her lungs with the thick evening air. “As you said, there’s no reason for us to fire up both grills.”

      “Well, hot damn.” Smiling, Logan pushed to his feet. “I got time to take a shower?”

      Oh, she wished he wouldn’t. Her nose twitched with the need to smell him, to drink in his hot scent. “If you must.”

      “Give me five minutes.” Without another word, he ducked back inside.

      Hugging herself, Pepper sat down on her single patio chair. She felt deflated, concerned and absolutely filled with anticipation.

      CHAPTER TWO

      AFTER BREAKING SPEED RECORDS for a shower and shave, Logan punched in the number, then dried off one-handed while using his shoulder to hold his cell phone to his ear.

      The second he got an answer, he said, “She took the bait.”

      His partner, Reese, bit back a curse. “What does that mean, exactly? What did you do to her?”

      Around a rough laugh, Logan said, “I didn’t do anything to her.” Ignoring the fact that he hoped to do a lot of things to her, he tossed aside the towel. “She agreed to share dinner with me, that’s all.” For now. But if things went right…

      “I wish you’d rethink this, Logan.”

      Why did Reese have to act as if he planned to molest her? “Fuck that. If I don’t get to the bottom of this, then who will?” No one else was willing to track down the truth. No one else dared go up against that scum, Morton Andrews.

      No one else cared what had happened two years ago.

      “Logan—”

      Skin still damp, Logan skipped his boxers and pulled on another pair of soft, well-worn jean shorts. Long ago he’d decided to eschew the trappings of inherited wealth and go for comfort instead. As a detective, he had to wear suits, a tie, the whole shebang. He’d gotten used to it, and didn’t even think about it anymore.

      But in his leisure time, he wore whatever felt best.

      This new gig masquerading as a middle class construction worker fit him just fine. More often than not, a pair of shorts was all he needed. “I’m too close to pull back now, so save the lecture.” He dragged up the zipper with care.

      Resigned, Reese got down to business. “Have you seen her brother?”

      “No.” Not even a glimpse. “But he’s around, I’m sure of it.”

      “If it turns out you’re right, the walls could start crumbling down. But if you’re wrong…”

      He wasn’t wrong. No way. He trusted his instincts and his gut; both told him he was on to something here. He and Jack Carmin had gone through school together, college together, but while Logan had set his sights on becoming a detective, Jack had veered off into a different type of public work: politics. He’d died at the hands of a madman. Senseless murder—all for greed and corruption.

      “He was my best friend, Reese.”

      Morton Andrews would pay, even if it took him a lifetime.

      “I know.” Tiredly, Reese said, “Keep me posted, okay? Don’t push too hard, and don’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”

      That made Logan laugh, but not with any real humor. “Don’t act like you? Is that what you’re saying?” Known for championing the underdog, Reese resembled Jack in many ways. In the face of injustice, he often reacted before thinking, but usually, at least in Logan’s opinion, he was dead-on. Logan trusted him with his life, and that was saying something. He trusted only a select few.

      Now with a smile in his tone, Reese said, “Exactly.”

      “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

      “Not tonight?”

      With any luck, he’d be busy till late. “Let’s keep the calls to a minimum, just in case.”

      Reese hesitated. “Forget the task force and your assignment—if you need backup, don’t trust anyone else, understand? Get hold of me, and only me.”

      “That’s a given.” Jack’s murder had been all the incentive Logan needed to accept the position as head of a special task force. To clean up a lot of the rampant corruption in Warfield, Ohio, his lieutenant had given him carte blanche.

      But because some of that corruption had infiltrated the force, Logan had immediately brought Reese on board.

      “I’ve lined up a few unies if we need them. Kids I know we can count on.”

      By “kids,” Reese meant young uniformed cops, still bright-eyed with the need to see justice served. “You didn’t tell them anything yet?”

      “Nope. Just checked out their backgrounds, family histories and their records. If you find Rowdy, they can make the actual arrest to keep it clean.”

      “Thanks.” To really make a difference, Logan needed people he could count on, and that meant Reese had to do a lot of setup.

      But he also needed an eyewitness to a two-year-old murder.

      And that meant he needed Pepper’s brother, Rowdy Yates.

      Through tons of research and a little luck, he’d found Pepper. At first he hadn’t been certain it was her; Rowdy had done an amazing job of covering their tracks. But now that he’d seen her up close, talked with her, he was sure he had the right woman.

      Through her, he’d eventually get Rowdy.

      And with Rowdy, he’d get that scumbag club owner, Morton Andrews, the man he knew was responsible for many deaths, including Jack’s.

      Hell, he wasn’t the only one who knew it. Plenty of people made the link. But Morton owned enough people, bought enough alibis that, for all intents and purposes, he remained untouchable.

      With Rowdy’s eyewitness account, he’d finally be able to put Morton away.

      With that end goal in mind, Logan said, “I gotta go. The lady is waiting.”

      Dropping his cell phone into his pocket, along with his keys and a wallet holding false ID, a rubber and a few bills, Logan detoured into the kitchen.

      Using his real first name made the undercover work easier. It was enough to remember that Pepper Yates was Sue Meeks without trying to carry his own alias. It was all too easy to fuck up when you tried to change too much. That’s why construction work was part of his undercover persona.

      Sure, he and his brother Dash had inherited a shit ton of money from their family. But neither of them flaunted the money, and neither of them felt content being idle or, God forbid, sitting in boardrooms. They invested wisely, donated generously and got on with their lives.

      As owner of a construction company, Dash could employ Logan when necessary, giving him the background he needed in case Rowdy got on to him and did any checking.

      It was a stroke of luck that he’d found Pepper in a different county. Anyone who knew him might unwittingly blow his cover,