Getting Rowdy

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 f**ked-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 pull around back.”

Worse and worse. The back of the two-story structure butted up to the parking lot of an all-night convenience store. Three scruffy men hung around, drinking, smoking and talking too loud. No good ever came from a scenario like this. Even as Rowdy parked, he heard the breaking of a glass bottle, followed by loud guffaws and a few rank curses.

The stiffness of his neck crawled all the way down to his toes. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll walk you in.” A statement, not an offer.

Avery didn’t argue. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She gripped her keys tightly in one hand.

He noticed a small can of mace hanging from the key ring. Did she honestly think that’d do her any good?

Circling the hood of the car, he reached her just as she stepped out. He took the bag holding the T-shirts and apron.

“Usually,” she said, “the fast-food restaurants and liquor store are still open when I get here, and they help to light up the lot. I’ve never gotten in this late, though.”

And she never would again, not if he could help it. “Where does the bus drop you off?” He looked around and saw nothing but trouble waiting to happen.

“One block down. Not far. It’s only a pain if it’s raining.”

For the love of... He’d gotten through a lot of ugliness in his lifetime, but right now, seeing how Avery lived, he was about as grim as a man could get. “Come on.”

Hooking her purse strap over her shoulder, she looked around with apprehension, not at the men—who Rowdy considered the obvious threat—but again at the shadows. “Guess I should pick up a flashlight, huh?”