Lori Foster (4 page)

Well, that had his dick perking up. In some instances, a shrug was as good as a resounding affirmation. His shoulders knotted with restraint, but he managed to say, “Okay, then,” without too much satisfaction.

He’d sort through things, figure out her reasons for waiting and find a way around them. But until then, he didn’t want to scare her off. “Let’s agree that there’s no reason for you to splurge on a cab. I made you miss the bus, so I’ll see you home.”

She studied the moon shadows lurking between buildings, frowned at a few dark cars parked near the curb. A stranger walked up the street, head down, hands in his pockets.

On a deep breath, Avery checked her watch—and bit her lip.

Taking that as another sign of agreement, Rowdy rose to his feet again. “It’s late. No way will I leave you out here alone, so run up to my apartment with me, okay? I’ll grab my car keys.” He took one step off the curb, ready to cross the street—and realized that Avery hadn’t moved. He turned back to her. “Coming?”

Clutching her purse, she stared at him with confusion. “I don’t understand.”

With anticipation surging, he turned to face her. “About?”

“So many things...” She looked up and down the street again, at a few people loitering on the corner, back at the bar. After palpable hesitation, she rose from the bench and approached him.

“Like?” He watched her eyes and saw her sort through a dozen issues before settling on one.

“Where exactly is your apartment?”

“Right here.” Rowdy indicated the big brick building on the opposite side of the street from the bar. “I just moved in a week ago.”

CHAPTER THREE

I
T
HAD
BEEN
a very long day, but Avery wasn’t tired. Not anymore. While watching the bus leave her behind, she’d experienced an odd disquiet.

Not because of Rowdy. Even when he tried to be intimidating, his presence provided only reassurance. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her.

But someone had been nearby, watching her, waiting. She shivered in dread. She wanted to blame it on bad memories, on dread from that earlier phone call, but she knew better. She’d learned to trust her instincts.

And her instincts told her the night wasn’t safe.

Now, trailing behind Rowdy, her hand held in his, she worried that she might be leading trouble to his door. He could handle it, of that she had no doubt.

But her problems were her own, and she didn’t want them dumped on him.

Looking back again, she still saw nothing.

“Worried someone will see you with me?” He shifted his hand to the small of her back and urged her inside.

She was, but not for the reasons he thought. “I heard something,” she lied. She’d heard only her own turbulent thoughts.

Taking her seriously, he glanced back, his gaze searching everywhere. A few doors down, a couple got into a car and pulled away. Across the street, three men laughed drunkenly as they made their way down the sidewalk. In the distance, a siren whined and a dog barked.

Seeming distracted, he murmured, “The night echoes everything and makes it sound closer than it is.” After another scrutiny of the area, he turned back to her. “You don’t need to be nervous with me.”

“If you say so.”

The building they entered used to be a warehouse, but had since been divided into four rental units. It had a certain industrial appeal, with concrete interior walls, metal stairs and open ceilings. Overall, it suited Rowdy, being strong and sturdy like him, but also polished in a nice way.

“I’m on the second floor.”

Avery looked up to a huge skylight in the very high ceiling. “Wow.” Holding on to the welded handrails, she went ahead of Rowdy up the open, diamond-plate stair treads. Everywhere she looked, she saw something cool, like the exposed ductwork and pipes.

“This way.” Rowdy took her to a thick steel door, opened several locks, pushed the heavy door open and flipped on overhead fluorescent lights.

They stepped into a small landing above the rest of the living area. Following Rowdy down four clattering metal steps brought her to a sparse sitting area that held a worn couch and chair, one table and lamp, and a moderately sized flat screen television on an entertainment stand.

Only the television looked new.

Beyond that, at the far side of the room, freestanding L-shaped bookshelves formed a wall to separate the kitchen and laundry area on the left from the bed, dresser and nightstand on the right. Avery assumed the one and only closed door led to a bathroom.

She took in the wall of tall arched windows that would overlook his bar, then to the polished wood-plank floors.

“It was close,” Rowdy said, as if defending his choice.

“It’s pretty impressive actually.” Especially compared to where she now lived. She touched a thick round metal support beam in the middle of the floor. “Doing a little pole dancing of your own?”

He crossed his arms. “No, but if you feel like giving it a try, go ahead. I’ll wait.”

She fought off a grin. “No thanks.”

“Spoilsport.” He headed off to the kitchen area.

Still taking in the uniqueness of his apartment, Avery said, “Know what I don’t understand?”

“I can guess.” His boots made little noise on the thick floors. “You’re wondering why I didn’t just hook up here, instead of in my office.”

It did make her very curious. “Wouldn’t it have been a lot more...convenient?” He had a bed at his disposal instead of a desk chair. Not that he’d let it hinder him, from what she’d seen.

“Probably,” he agreed. “But I didn’t want her in my place.” He flipped a switch and more light spilled from the kitchen.

Avery realized that not only could he see his bar, but now, with the bright lights on inside, anyone on the street would be able to see him, too. She made sure to stay out of view. “Why not?”

From the counter, he lifted a set of keys. “I’m private, that’s why.”

Unbelievable. “You could have been a lot more private here than in your office!” While Avery found his living space pretty awesome, it was bare-bones, not a single personal item on display. No photos, not even of his sister. That disappointed her. She’d never met Pepper, and she was very curious.

He did have a nice display of books on his bookshelves.

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting anyone to show up.” He returned to her, the keys jangling in his hand. “This is the first permanent place I’ve had. Before this, it was rotating motel rooms. If I took a woman there, no big deal because by the next day I’d be gone.”

So no woman would be able to track him down? That attitude concerned her, but wondering where he’d moved, and why, took precedence. “Gone where?”

“It’s a long story.” He tried to steer her back to the stairs.

Avery held on to the pole, resisting him.

He eyed her, worked his jaw and said, “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

This might be her best chance to get insight into his background. How could she pass that up? “Is it a big secret?” she teased. “Were you on the run from the law? Dodging child support? A transient?”

Rowdy narrowed his eyes—and stalked toward her. “On the run, yeah. But not from the law.”

“Seriously?” That so surprised her that it took her a moment to see that particular look in his eyes. She’d only seen it a few times—right before he’d kissed her. One of those times happened while hiding him in a storage closet at the bar because a gang of ruffians wanted to take him apart.

Since then, he’d only stolen a kiss or two—and she always craved more.
Dangerous.

But maybe that incident was indicative of his life. “Do you always have people after you?”

“Often enough.”

He said that without jest! Hastily, Avery back-stepped behind the pole, considered going farther, but really, where did she have to go? The couch was against the wall, the chair too far away....

Catching her wrist and pulling her around to him, Rowdy said softly, “Don’t run from me.”

“I wasn’t.” But her heart pumped as if she’d been on a five-minute sprint.

With the back of one finger, he caressed the pulse in her throat. “Fibber.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Whatever secrets Rowdy had in his history, he wasn’t a threat to her. She’d known dishonorable men, and she knew Rowdy was different. “Maybe you’re the one who should stop running.”

“From you?”

Was she chasing him? Mmm...pretty much. Until now, she just hadn’t realized it. “Yes.”

His gaze warmed. “I don’t run from anyone.”

Knowing it would spur him on, she whispered, “Good.”

But when he started to pull her against him, she flattened both hands to his chest.

He drew in a breath. “No?”

Disappointment kept her voice low. “You were with another woman just this morning.”

He looked struck, almost like he’d forgotten. “Yeah, sorry.” Releasing her, he stepped away. “Guess for a woman like you, that puts a damper on things?”

For other women it wouldn’t? She curled her lip. “Yeah, afraid so.” But she wished it was otherwise. “Why were you on the run?”

Resigned, he said, “It had nothing to do with dodging my duty, so forget that.”

“No little Rowdys running around?”

“Hell, no. I’m always careful, but if it did happen, you can bet I wouldn’t bail on them.”

She believed him. From what she’d seen so far, Rowdy never shirked his responsibility, whatever he decided his responsibility might be. “Okay.”

Maybe thinking she mocked him, he studied her a moment before being satisfied with her sincerity. “I would never do that to a kid.”

Hands behind her, she leaned back against the pole. “So...why did you move around?”

“Mostly because the idea of settling down never appealed to me.”

“Wanderlust?” Before her life had taken such a drastic turn, she’d enjoyed traveling everywhere in the States and often around the world. Before she was twenty, she’d already been to more than two dozen hot tourist spots.

“Hardly. I stayed in the area.”

“The area being Ohio?”

He shrugged. “My sister was here. Still is, but now she’s with Logan and she doesn’t need...” He stopped, cursed low and let out a long breath. Indicating the couch, he said, “If we’re going to do this, you want to sit down?”

“This, meaning talk?”

His mouth quirked. “Unless you have something else on your mind.”

She had all kinds of things on her mind, but none of them were appropriate. “Talk it is.”

“Then I’ll give you my bare-bones history.”

Jumping on that promise, Avery headed for the couch. “Why only the bare bones?”

Rowdy sat close beside her and stretched out one arm along the back of the couch. “It’s a long story, it’ll be morning soon and I don’t feel like rehashing it all.”

“I suppose you’re tired.” From what she could tell, he’d been up all night. If he’d slept at all, it would only have been for a few hours before coming in to work again. That should have made her feel guilty for keeping him awake, but she remembered why he hadn’t slept and it irked her.

As if he knew her thoughts, Rowdy smiled. “We can talk until the sun rises if that’s what you really want to do.”

It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend the night. “You don’t need to sleep?”

His attention moved over her face, her throat, her shoulders. “I’ve never needed much sleep.”

Given the intensity of his gaze, she almost felt naked. “You’re sure?”

His fingers trailed down her ponytail. “Fire away, honey, before I forget my promise.”

Avery tried to relax. It wasn’t easy, not with her thigh touching his, his heat surrounding her, his presence so...overwhelming—as usual.

To start, she went back a little in history. “That time I hid you in the pantry at the bar, I asked if you were in trouble, and you said pretty much always.”

“I have no problem making up shit when necessary, but for some reason I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Had he never lived aboveboard? What type of upbringing made him so casually accepting of difficulty? “There were five men searching the bar for you. Why?”

His hand stilled. “Because I’d asked too many questions, and I was getting too close.”

“Too close to what?”

“A trafficking operation.” She started to ask, but he shook his head. “No, not drugs. Women.”

Her throat tightened. “That’s...”

He agreed with a nod. “Totally fucked up, I know. I hid because there were too many of them. Three or four I could handle.” He held up a hand for her to see. “I’m a big man with big fists. When I hit someone, he feels it.” He rested his hand on her thigh. “I know how to fight dirty, and I know how to win. But five men at once? That would be pushing it.”

Of course, she recalled another time when he’d taken apart the goons who’d been involved in forcing women to transport drugs. It had all transpired in the bar just prior to Rowdy buying it. He’d fought with such ease, walking through the men as if they were nothing at all. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re dangerous.”

“You learn to be when it’s necessary.”

Sitting more or less snuggled into his side, she inhaled the warm musk of his skin with every breath. That, combined with the idea of him playing defender for so many women in need, left her liquid with desire. Rowdy used his size and strength to protect.

Such an admirable trait to have.

So different from her own personal experience.

Without even trying that hard—just by being himself—Rowdy pulled her from her self-imposed exile. “You’re a regular white knight, aren’t you?”

He eased closer. “Want to see my sword?”

A hero and a comedian. “You’re outrageous.” Avery smoothed a hand over his shoulder, enjoying the contrast of the soft T-shirt stretched taut over his solid frame. “Why was it necessary for you to learn?”

Her touch caused a brief pause and the tensing of his muscles. “What?”

“To fight.” She knew very few people who ever engaged in physical confrontations. While growing up, the only fights she’d ever witnessed had been in sporting matches. In her world, men had ruled with money and prestige, not brute strength.

Her one and only experience with physical anger had sent her running away and into hiding. “You’re so good, you make it look...effortless.”

He studied her, his attention far too intuitive. “You know I have a younger sister.”

And that explained his need to fight? One day, Avery would love to meet Pepper. “You two are close?”

His concentrated attention strayed from her mouth to her collarbone to her hair. “Our folks died in a car crash a long time ago, so it’s just the two of us.”

Oh, God, so tragic. In sympathy, Avery reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” As if it didn’t matter at all, he laced his fingers with hers and said, “They were a waste of breath.”

The harsh words threw her, leaving her wide-eyed and speechless. She still grieved for her father, who’d died years past.

She mourned what would never again be, and for how everything had irrevocably changed—not for the better.

Rowdy turned her hand over, brushed his thumb over her palm. “My parents were both miserable drunks.” He explored the thrumming pulse in her wrist. “That’s how I got my name.”

Her stomach dipped when he put a damp, warm kiss to her wrist, followed by the soft touch of his tongue.

She needed to get him back on track, and fast—before she forgot her reasons for waiting. “I think you told me once that your mom was a Clint Eastwood fan. I assume that’s why she named you after one of his characters.”

Sardonic humor curved his mouth. “She claimed that she went into labor during a three-day drinking binge and couldn’t remember any other names. She and Dad would laugh about the good times, which usually led to a rip-roaring drunk and a lot of bitching about how kids got in the way of having fun.”