Bare It All

“I don’t want any other men either.” Ever, she could have added, but didn’t want to push him when he was already struggling to share with her.

“Great. Glad we got that settled.”

Alice wondered what exactly they had settled, but she only smiled and let out a breath. “So, we’re exclusive.” For now. “That’s nice.”

He, too, seemed to relax more when she didn’t start digging for more details about this new exclusivity. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave soon.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushed her knuckles over his lips. “I’ll be out late.”

Alice turned her head toward him. “Should I worry?”

“No, because it’s my job, and I’m good at my job.” Using her hand, he tugged her atop him. “Even when a certain sexy lady keeps shattering my thoughts and giving me mental fits.”

“Hmm.” Alice kissed his bottom lip, then his whiskery chin. “So, did you get me out of your system?”

He shook his head. “No.” He brought her close for a deeper taste, lingering, somehow almost...desperate. “But you did give me plenty of incentive to get back home safely. In the meantime, let’s go get some breakfast, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

* * *

REESE RAN A hand over his whiskered jaw. He still hadn’t shaved; being scruffy helped him to fit in. Parked across from the cigarette store, he waited in one of Rowdy’s cars. The Ford sedan ran well but looked like shit.

Probably because that’s how Rowdy wanted it.

With sunglasses in place, a ball cap on backward, a worn T-shirt and his most comfortable jeans, Reese drank a Coke and tried to look negligent. The hot afternoon sun baked the car. He was alert and ready but, thanks to Alice, not so tense.

And hell, even now, while on surveillance, he thought of her.

In his peripheral vision he saw Rowdy approach the tattoo parlor on the pretext of perusing a few designs in the front window. Unlike Reese, Rowdy looked the same as always—which meant he didn’t stand out the same way a cop would.

It was an attitude thing, Reese decided. Rowdy was just as watchful, but on him it looked street-smart, not authoritative. Huh. He could probably learn a few things just by observing him.

Now, where was Peterson? He glanced at his watch. Rowdy could only window shop so long before someone got suspicious.

Reese glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a woman stride down the street. The color of that short hair looked right. The height and weight, too, but...no way could that be Lieutenant Peterson in high heels, a miniscule black shirt and a barely there white blouse unbuttoned so low he thought he might see her navel if he looked close enough.

The Coke can nearly slipped out of his hand. He resisted the urge to jerk around and stare, but heaven help her, Lieutenant Margaret Peterson looked like walking, breathing, smiling sex.

Her dark sunglasses kept him from seeing her eyes, but who’d notice her eyes anyway with her cle**age on display like that? Before this moment, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that Peterson had br**sts, much less that she could make them look so round and full and...

He shuddered, unsure how he felt about noticing her now.

Rowdy gave her the attention expected for any attractive woman, even going so far as to leer a little—real or fake? Hell, Reese didn’t know. But when Peterson strolled inside Killer Designz, Rowdy followed hot on her heels, his gaze zeroed in her rump in the tight skirt.

Reese broke out in a sweat, and he didn’t know if it was the heat of the sweltering sun, the high stakes of the situation or seeing Lieutenant Peterson as a sex kitten.

Oh, God. He shuddered again as he sank into his seat and tried to obliterate the image from his mind.

The sun continued to beat down. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, and at the small of his back where the concealed harness held his Glock.

The other gun, strapped to his ankle, wasn’t as uncomfortable in the heat.

Minutes felt like hours, and still nothing happened.

Until Reese saw two men pull up in a black SUV. A chill went up his spine, and damn it, he didn’t like it. The men glanced around as if looking for witnesses, but this wasn’t an area where concerned citizens kept watch. It was more a “see no evil” type of habitat.

Reese used his sunglasses to hide his direct gaze, turning his head down as if playing with his radio.

The two men had a similar look, one in expensive jeans, the other in khaki slacks, both in black polo shirts with Bluetooth earpieces and mirrored sunglasses. They looked like professional thugs, and unlike him, they hadn’t even attempted to blend in.

They spoke quietly to each other. One guy put in a quick cell phone call, nodded, and together they went inside.

In a nanosecond, Reese made the decision to follow. He felt it all going to hell, sensed an implosion about to occur. No way would he wait in the car when Peterson and Rowdy were likely sitting ducks.

Thank God, Logan is with Alice. If anything went wrong here, he knew she’d be okay. Logan would see to it. And with that knowledge, he managed to shove her from his mind so he could handle the situation as needed.

With professionalism, a cool head and deadly accuracy—in a freakin’ ball cap and printed T-shirt.

As he left the car, Reese tugged at his loose T-shirt, peeling it away from his damp back to ensure it kept his Glock covered. He repositioned his cap, taking it off to let air reach his head, then settling it on again. Anxiety ramping up with every beat of his heart, he strode toward the tattoo parlor.