Lori Foster

Getting Rowdy


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hugged herself. “You’re sure the car was following us?”

      “Afraid so.” He’d spot a tail every time. It was like his senses kicked into gear, alerting him. “Hazard of my life. You can’t live as I have and not make a few enemies along the way. Course, it could’ve just been someone who recognized the car. It has a previous history all its own.”

      Avery looked around at the late-model Ford. It ran well, but the interior had seen better days. “What does that mean? Did you win the car in a card game, too?”

      “No, but I bought it cheap from a guy who lost in a card game and needed some fast cash before he got beat with a tire iron.”

      She stared at him agog. “You’re not joking.”

      “No.” A million stars lightened the skies to a smoky gray and more traffic joined him on the road, but no one else followed. “Who knows what else he was into?”

      Not that it mattered. Whoever had been behind them didn’t realize what he’d started. He’d find the bastard and put an end to the cat-and-mouse game before Avery was further upset.

      “Fascinating.”

      “You don’t sound scared.” Not anymore. He gave her knee one final squeeze and returned both hands to the wheel. Avery wasn’t the typical frail cookie who fainted at the first sign of danger. She wasn’t a hardened ballbuster, either, immune to the plight of others.

      In so many ways, under so many situations, she surprised him again and again.

      “I was scared.”

      “I know.” And still she’d handled it well. No real hysterics. She hadn’t freaked out and distracted him. She hadn’t even complained about the insane way he drove.

      “Not that scared,” she said, sounding peeved. “Mostly I’m curious.”

      “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” So far she’d wanted to know everything about him. And wasn’t that a kicker? Women usually only wanted to know how to get him into bed, and occasionally how to keep him afterward. They cared no more about his past, his motivations or aspirations, than he cared about theirs.

      With still-trembling fingers, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know I said I wouldn’t keep grilling you....”

      “We’ll be at your place in another five minutes.” He could have made it in two, but no way in hell would he risk having his past follow her there. He’d continue with the jumbled route just in case. “Ask whatever you want until then.”

      “You’re sure?”

      Being frank with her, Rowdy said, “If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

      His honesty brought her brows down in a frown. “You won’t lie to me?”

      “Nope.” At least, not this time. If it ever became necessary, well then...

      “What about the bar?” She pulled one knee up to the bench seat and twisted toward him. “How’d you get it? You did a quick turnaround with the sale.”

      And here it had felt unending to him, waiting to see if he’d get the liquor license, if he’d pass the background check. He knew he’d gotten lucky, and that having a cop for a brother-in-law had helped expedite things. “I made the owner a cash offer he couldn’t refuse.”

      She tipped her head. “Cash?”

      “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of need to spend what I make.” In the past, he’d kept Pepper as comfortable as he could, bought the most basic necessities and paid as he went for everything else. “When you have little, you spend little to maintain.”

      Her tone, her mood, her expression, all turn tender. “Now that you’ve put down roots, you have insurance and utility bills, upkeep and employment, supplies and—”

      “Set down roots?” Jesus, that idea made him jumpy. “Don’t remind me.”

      “Why not? You do an amazing job. You’ve already turned things around. Everyone loves the bar, and everyone loves working for you.”

      She was playing fast and loose with the L word all of a sudden. Did Avery love working for him?

      “You made Ella pretty happy with that raise.”

      “She deserved it.” Truthfully, he enjoyed handling the books, working a budget. He’d been fortunate with employees, too. Avery made a terrific bartender, even if it drove him nuts to see other guys hit on her. All he really needed now was someone to help Jones in the kitchen. “In some ways, it’s a lot like a high-stakes card game. I’ve always been a cautious gambler, but I still play to win.”

      “Cautious?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “You forget that I know how much trouble the bar was in when you took over.”

      He grinned. “Yeah, but I got it cheap.” Someone would even call it a steal. “As a legit business it was hemorrhaging cash. It was only the drug trade bringing in money, and even the idiot who’d been running it knew that was about to come to an end.”

      “You told him that the cops were on to him?”

      Rowdy shook his head. “I let him think rival competition was moving in.”

      “You?”

      “I’ve known plenty of thugs and how they work, enough to make it believable.” Hell, he’d been hustling the street since he was a kid.

      Rather than be disgusted with his low associations, Avery looked awed. “That’s ingenious.”

      So far, the only thing that seemed to upset her was him getting a blow job. It’d be best if he didn’t share that thought with her, though. “The dumbass cut his losses and bailed. Good riddance.”

      “Given he let women be abused, I’d say you let him off easy.”

      When Avery looked at him like that, like maybe he was more than trouble, more than a speed bump in life, it...hell, it both bugged him and made him feel a foot taller.

      And she’d called him dangerous.

      “I used him, Avery.” She deserved the bare truth. “I used that whole fucked-up scenario to get what I wanted.”

      As if the circumstances didn’t matter at all, she nodded. “You also lent a hand to the police.”

      “Yeah, so?” Helping the cops was just a side effect of doing what he wanted.

      “And now that your sister has married, you have the law in your family.”

      Did she have to twist his guts with his newly changed status? He cringed, still unused to the idea. “Logan’s all right. He’s not like most cops.”

      She put her small, cool hand on his forearm. “Or maybe he is, and it’s just that you haven’t known the standard.”

      No reason to argue the point. “Maybe.” He pulled onto her street—and got a new focus for his discontent. Street lamps were broken, some buildings vacant with the windows boarded up, graffiti everywhere. The muscles of his neck knotted, and he murmured with sarcasm, “Home sweet home.”

      “Don’t judge.”

      Oh, he’d judge all right. Something didn’t add up. He knew all about dirt poor, and he knew about disappearing. If Avery only wanted cheap rent, there were more secure places.

      His little bartender wanted to hide, probably where no one would ever think to look for her.

      He’d honed his instincts on a cutthroat society that ate the weak. He recognized the signs on a gut level.

      Now he had to decide what to do about it.

      Unaware of his darkening mood, Avery pointed. “Last apartment on the left.” She picked up her purse from the floor and began digging for her keys. “You can go in the second driveway and