Alice shuddered. If that was his real name, it could only mean that he didn’t plan on any of them living past the next few hours.
He turned back to Alice. “Do you think your friends would like to join us?”
“No, they would not.” Please, don’t make them.
Woody didn’t blink. “I think they would.”
Nikki and Pam agreed.
He moved closer to Alice, his smile charming, his air cocky. “In fact, I insist.” And with no more than a nod, he instructed the other men to escort Pam and Nikki to the SUV.
Damn, damn, damn. She absolutely could not let Pam and Nikki get in that car. The darkened windows would make it impossible for Reese to see them. Uncertainty would hinder his response; he couldn’t leave their safety to chance when reacting.
What to do, what to do?
The other thugs treated Woody differently, with more reverence. They moved out of his orbit, ready to support him if he needed it but unwilling to get in his way.
Who was he to so easily give direction?
And suddenly Alice knew: Woody Simpson was the boss.
This was the man who had abused Cheryl, the creep who had ordered that awful tattoo on her arm.
The man who had made promises, who’d stolen a young girl’s heart, only to break it so horribly.
He reached out, touching Alice’s cheek, gliding his smooth fingertips along her jaw.
She no longer had a man at her back. If it came to that, she could run. Decision made, Alice demanded, “Stop.”
Suspicious, maybe even a little worried, the men paused with the car door open. Nikki and Pam hesitated.
Surprised at her daring, Woody lifted a brow. “Problem?”
“You’re the one in charge, aren’t you?”
In a gesture that felt more threatening for its gentleness, Woody tucked her hair behind her ear. “I came specifically for you, Alice, did you know that? You fascinate me.”
“Really?” Her heart pounded so hard it felt like she might break a rib, but still Alice smiled. “You had Cheryl tattooed?”
“Yes.”
She leaned into him, surprising him with her compliance as she rested one hand on his shoulder.
Compared to Reese, this man felt insubstantial, nowhere near as big and solid and strong. And that made him far less important.
She braced her other hand on his shoulder, too. He was taller than her, but being used to Reese’s extreme height, she barely noticed. “Everyone else answers to you?”
His gaze warmed with triumph. “They do.”
Looking at his mouth, leaning closer still, Alice parted her lips—and brought her knee up into his groin as hard as she could.
She put everything she had into that blow, all her rage at his brutality, his cruel mistreatment of women. Her aim proved dead-on.
Breath left him in a whoosh, his eyes bulging wide. A disbelieving, “You bitch,” faded into a raw groan of anguish, and he dropped to his knees, his hands holding his crotch.
Cursing with various levels of disbelief, his men jolted into action. Nikki and Pam got roughly shoved aside, Pam landing against the SUV, Nikki falling to the ground.
The ladies looked confused until they saw the guns, and then they started screaming—long, loud and shrill.
Fear got Alice’s feet moving, and she stumbled back, her heart a loud drumbeat in her ears.
And suddenly Reese was there, a big, powerful, protective wall standing between her and the armed savages. He took aim as he issued orders, and unlike the weasels now dropping to their bellies, Reese’s calm voice rang with undeniable command.
Trace and Logan closed in, as well, and in short order, they had disarmed and cuffed the three men.
In her peripheral vision, Alice saw Woody get to his feet. She jerked around and found him staring at her with such hatred that she felt it clear down to her bones. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Eyes narrowed, posture still bowed with pain, Woody reached to the small of his back, drew out a gun and—Reese’s fist connected with his face.
Alice’s jaw loosened at the stunning speed of the strike. It knocked Woody back, and he landed on the ground. The gun discharged, startling a small shriek out of Alice. But seeing Woody’s face, Alice knew he hadn’t fired on purpose. She doubted the man was that coherent, given the look in his eyes.
Reese was already on him, taking away the gun, flipping him over, jamming a knee into the middle of his back and wrenching his arms together to fasten them with cuffs. With rough hands, Reese checked him for other weapons, ignoring Woody’s moans.
Turned to look at her, Reese said, “You’re okay?”
Wow. Fear receded under amazement. Reese handled him like he would a rag doll, expending little to no discernible energy.
She remembered Trace saying that Reese could be ruthless.
Now she knew why. He’d leveled that man with one punch.
She also remembered Reese saying that always, at every moment, he was aware of her.
Biting her bottom lip, she admitted that it must be true, given how quickly he’d reached her.
“Alice?”
Heck, no, she wasn’t okay. Far from it.
She sucked in a breath and nodded.
With laudable ease, Reese hauled Woody none-too-gently to his feet and looked Alice over, head to toes. “Are you sure?”
Still dumbfounded by how easy he’d made it look, she nodded fast, unwilling to distract him from his work. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Tenants spilled out of the apartment building. A black police van pulled up, accompanied by a squad car, lights and sirens blazing. Pam and Nikki huddled together, a steady flow of tears ruining their makeup.