Something else he’d fix once he ran the place.
Cautious, he sat for a minute to make sure no one approached.
All remained quiet.
Pocketing his keys so they wouldn’t make a sound, he slid over the bench seat to the passenger door and quietly opened it. He’d already disabled the lights, and the moon wasn’t bright enough to give him away.
Sticking to the backs of the buildings, he went down a block, then came out to the sidewalk in front. Moving with the shadows of the night, he crossed the street and found concealing darkness under the overhang of a mom-and-pop grocer across the street from the bar. He’d barely gotten settled into the recessed doorway when he saw one of the thugs from the tattoo parlor coming down the street. Despite the heat of the muggy night, he wore a light jacket.
No doubt to hide his gun.
Rowdy saw that he sported some new bruises on his face and had his arm in a sling. Courtesy of Reese? Damn, but Rowdy hoped so.
Tracking the man with his gaze, Rowdy saw him go down the outside alley of the bar—back to the area Rowdy had just vacated.
From the other side of the building, across the open lot that Rowdy would soon lease for parking, another goon strode up. This one spoke quietly into a cell phone, and his skittish gaze continually scanned the area.
Yeah, killing us wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped, was it, you bastard?
So, the men were meeting in the back. Did they plan to jump Rowdy as soon as he showed up? Had they hoped to finish what they’d started earlier?
For only a moment, Rowdy worked his jaw, then decided, f**k it. It wasn’t in his nature to skulk around like a coward. All he’d needed to know was that Alice would be safe.
And between Reese and Trace, he trusted in that. Trace. Man, there was a mystery for the imagination. Pair him with by-the-book Reese, and Alice couldn’t be more protected.
Rowdy didn’t mind the adrenaline rush of danger, but he didn’t want to seek it out. In fact, he looked forward to the routine, calmer life as a bar owner.
But first he needed to take out the trash.
Circling around the buildings via a different route, down an adjacent alley a block away, Rowdy returned to the back entrance of the bar. Right there, in plain sight, the two idiots stood plotting. One lit a cigarette, the red glow sending eerie shadows over his face before fading beneath a curl of smoke.
The jumpy one continued to glance around to the point that his buddy cursed him. “Damn, Phelps, relax, will you?”
“I’ll relax when this is over.”
“Soon.” Inhaling on the cigarette again, he lounged back against the brick wall. “They got away this morning, but they won’t this time.”
“Shit, Lowry, you don’t know that. They were fast and they knew how to fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m still in pain.”
“A pain in my ass.” Lowry shifted his injured arm. “They took me by surprise, that’s all. This time, I’ll be ready.”
“You can’t even know that the others will be here.”
“They will. But even if they aren’t, Woody will handle it.”
Interesting. It never failed; the hired muscle was almost always one dimensional, meaning strong and ruthless, but too dumb to stand on their own feet. Like sheep, Lowry and Phelps needed to follow.
Apparently, Woody was the one who led.
Rowdy hunkered down, willing to wait, ready to be enlightened by anything else they might say.
“I don’t trust Dee to do her part.”
So that was a real name? Go figure.
Lowry laughed. “She told me she wants to f**k the guy before we kill him.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Conniving, coldhearted bitch.”
Phelps didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “How the hell does she think she’s going to handle that in a bar?”
“Says she’ll lead him out to her car and do him in her backseat.” Another deep drag on the cigarette. “Ought to be easy enough to shoot him in the head soon as she finishes with him.”
“To hell with that. I’m not waiting.” Phelps grabbed his crotch. “If Dee wants some, I’ll give it to her.”
“Woody says she’s off-limits to us.” Finishing his cigarette, Lowry flicked away the butt. “For now.”
“We should have been sent after the woman. Hickson’s the one who f**ked up. He should be here with the hulks, and we could just snuff that little lady who’s causing all the trouble.”
Rowdy thought about pulling his knife. Thought about killing them both, right here, right now.
But more info wouldn’t hurt anything, so he tamped down the burning urge.
“We can’t snuff her,” Lowry said, “because Woody wants her. And what Woody Simpson wants, Woody Simpson gets.”
“Yeah, I know.” Phelps rubbed at his neck again.
Given how Rowdy had cranked on it, choking him until he’d passed out, Phelps’s neck would be sore for a while. Rowdy narrowed his eyes, remembering. Satisfied.
“Woody just wants to play with her for a while, to teach her a lesson.” Lowry stepped away from the wall. “I bet he’ll give you a go at her afterward, as long as we don’t mess this up tonight.”
A fresh surge of fury curled through Rowdy, but he held it at bay with rigid willpower. Going into a rage wouldn’t net him the results he wanted. For that he had to be calculating.
And as the bozos had said, fast and capable.