His hands curled into fists.
Most everything he’d uncovered had been on Rowdy Yates, but
bits and pieces of Pepper had surfaced, as well. He knew she was younger than
thirty, and he knew she was shy.
He hadn’t known she would be so tall. At around five-ten, she
stood only three inches shorter than him. And while no one would accuse her of
being pretty, he hadn’t known that her light brown eyes would be so expressive.
When she looked directly at him, he felt it.
All over.
Her hair was so dark a blond, it was nearly brown. Long, but
lank. Dull. Untidy, with frizzy ends, despite her habit of securing it in a
ponytail.
And still he wanted to see it loose. He wanted to feel it in
his hands.
And speaking of untidy… His quick glimpse of her living room
had been a shocker. He’d just naturally assumed that a plain Jane like her would
be ultraneat, like the stereotypical mousy woman who lived like a maiden
aunt.
Ha! Not even close.
Clothes, magazines, empty cola cans and a pizza box had all
littered her small living space. Beyond that area he’d seen a towel on the floor
of her bathroom, and through an open door, her unmade bed with a quilt more off
the bed than on it.
For some reason, knowing she wasn’t a neat freak made him
smile. It was such a contradiction to his assumptions.
He again pictured her sloppy bed and wondered if she’d had a
sleepless night. He knew for certain she’d spent the night—every
night—alone.
Maybe that was why, more than once, she’d stolen a glimpse of
his body.
And that rosy flush?
Yeah, that hadn’t been annoyance he’d seen stirring in her
expressive eyes.
Eyes that couldn’t hide her secrets.
Not from him. As a cop, he excelled in uncovering
mysteries.
As a man, he knew how to seduce a woman.
Sue Meeks—what a joke—would be no different.
What he found odd was his own reaction.
She wasn’t outright homely; he knew women well enough to see
that with some work, she could be attractive. Women had an amazing knack of
highlighting their best features while downplaying their flaws.
Not Pepper Yates. The woman didn’t seem to have a clue how to
promote her strong features.
And her body…well, who could know? She didn’t exactly look
thick or thin, just…shapeless.
He hadn’t found any photos of her that really showed off her
figure. And beneath the dated, ill-fitting clothes she now wore, she could be
concealing anything.
Yet while talking to her, he’d felt alive. Hell, he’d felt
alive just watching her stride down the sidewalk, her enormous, sloppy purse
throwing her off-kilter more than the overloaded bags of groceries had. She’d
kept her head down, but her stride had been long and confident.
Until she’d seen him.
Then she’d dragged her feet like a reluctant sacrifice.
Which, though she couldn’t have realized it, was a pretty apt
description for what he had planned.
He would not feel guilty about it, Logan told himself. She’d be
fine. He’d see to it. She might be timid, but she had a spark of fire.
Once he got things ignited, he’d find out everything he needed
to know about her brother—but he’d do so gently. He’d treat her with respect,
and he’d be generous with his attention, both emotionally and physically.
No, Pepper Yates wasn’t a beauty, but having her wouldn’t be a
hardship. Hell, he felt taut with anticipation just thinking about it.
Enough on that.
Logan secured the locks on his door, then headed back to the
balcony. Since the building didn’t have air, and the windows were small and
difficult to open or close, the balcony offered the only respite from the
smothering, humid heat.
But, yeah, the August weather wasn’t his only reason for
venturing out to the crumbling balcony.
He’d seen the steak in her grocery bag.
Pepper Yates, aka Sue Meeks, prepared a lot of her meals on a
small propane grill. Too many evenings he’d lurked inside, observing her through
the vertical blinds, watching her as she’d cooked a single potato with a piece
of chicken, a pork chop or a steak.
Did she hate cooking for one as much as he did?
Didn’t she ever tire of eating alone?
He knew for a fact she didn’t date, didn’t have any visitors of
any kind—not even her damned brother.
She didn’t drive, didn’t leave the apartment any longer than it
took to run errands, and as she said, she kept to herself.
No social life.
He knew, because he’d been watching her for longer than he’d
been in the apartment building. Weeks longer.
Would she venture out to her grill with him sitting outside,
his balcony right beside hers, close enough that they could chat?
Would she give in to the curiosity he’d seen in her
expression?
Or would she avoid him as she’d done so far?
After dropping into a lounge chair, Logan finished off his
beer, sprawled onto his back, closed his eyes against the evening sun, and
thought about things yet to occur.
Things that had to do with her.
Things that would no doubt prove…interesting.
Even exciting.
The thrill of the chase.
This was what he lived for. The reason he’d become a cop. The
core of his basic nature.
And now, finally, he was moving in on his prey.
* * *
W
HY
DID
HE
HAVE
TO
BE
out there? For over an hour, Pepper waited to see
if Logan Stark would go inside. He didn’t budge.
And she didn’t stop watching him.
He appeared to be sleeping, his broad chest expanding with
deep, slow breaths. Legs sprawled, hands loose, face relaxed.
Body enticing.
She swallowed and thought about the card he’d given her—now on
the top of her refrigerator for safekeeping. It didn’t mention a job, just his
name, address and cell phone number. He didn’t have the look of the poor. His
demeanor defied the defeat of unemployment, and his body defied a lack of
activity.
He wanted conversation. She bit her lip.
Okay, so maybe she’d ask him where he worked. Maybe, given his
absurd pursuit, he would expect her to want to learn more about him.
God, he looked good all lounged out like that.
He had one arm up and over his head, showing off his biceps and
the tuft of darker hair under his arm. Sinfully sexy. He kept the other bent at
his side, his big hand opened over a tautly muscled abdomen. The setting sun
glinted off his brown chest hair, turning it almost golden. He wasn’t overly
hairy, just earthy and masculine.
No shaved chest for this guy, thank God.
His chest hair narrowed to a fine line down his body, skirted
around his navel, and then, growing darker, disappeared into his shorts.
And below that, behind the fly of his shorts, a nice, full
bulge.
Stepping farther out, she stared hard, enrapt.
Her heartbeat slowed, her breath deepened.
Logan opened one eye and found her visually molesting him
again.
For several seconds they stared at each other, and then he
said, “Hey,” in a deep, lazy,
interested
way.
Oh, no, no, no.
Why did he have to
be so…
potent?
Busted, but never a coward, Pepper stepped out fully to the
balcony. Hands clasped together in front of her, nervous smile in place, she
said, “I, ah, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Just dozing.” A low rumbling growl accompanied a deep stretch.
“No biggie.”
The stretch did interesting things to all those muscles:
flexing, bulging, then letting them relax again, still prominent, but no longer
tense.
So
unfair. How could he look so
good doing nothing?
Sitting up, he swung his long, hairy legs over the side of the
chair. Even his big feet were beautiful!
After running a hand over his head, then his chest, he focused
on her. “Getting ready to grill?”
How did he know that? “Um…”
“I could join you.” His gaze drilled into her. “I have my own
steak I’d planned to throw on anyway. No reason we can’t share the grill,
right?” And as an enticement, he added, “I’ll even bring the beer.”
That much proximity, given her sizzling awareness, could be
treacherous. A little time with him, maybe. But the entirety of dinner? She’d be
a fool to agree to such a… “Okay.”
What?
Oh, my God, had that really come out of her mouth? Well of
course it had. Look at him, sitting there like physical temptation, legs apart,
expression lazy and skin sun-warmed.
She covered her mouth with a hand.
But she was only human after all, and if her downtrodden
appearance didn’t keep him at bay, well then, what would it hurt?
As surprised as she, he said, “Seriously?” He straightened, his
manner suspicious, his gaze going all over her.
What, did he think she had a concealed weapon? Did he expect
her to wield a steak knife?
Did he expect ulterior motives?
Yes, of course, she had them—but they weren’t motives he’d ever
guess.
Pepper dropped her hand and filled her lungs with the thick
evening air. “As you said, there’s no reason for us to fire up both grills.”
“Well, hot damn.” Smiling, Logan pushed to his feet. “I got
time to take a shower?”
Oh, she wished he wouldn’t. Her nose twitched with the need to
smell him, to drink in his hot scent. “If you must.”
“Give me five minutes.” Without another word, he ducked back
inside.
Hugging herself, Pepper sat down on her single patio chair. She
felt deflated, concerned and absolutely filled with anticipation.
CHAPTER TWO
A
FTER
BREAKING
SPEED
RECORDS
for a shower and shave, Logan punched in the number, then
dried off one-handed while using his shoulder to hold his cell phone to his
ear.
The second he got an answer, he said, “She took the bait.”
His partner, Reese, bit back a curse. “What does that mean,
exactly? What did you do to her?”
Around a rough laugh, Logan said, “I didn’t
do
anything to her.” Ignoring the fact that he hoped
to do a lot of things to her, he tossed aside the towel. “She agreed to share
dinner with me, that’s all.” For now. But if things went right…
“I wish you’d rethink this, Logan.”
Why did Reese have to act as if he planned to molest her? “Fuck
that. If I don’t get to the bottom of this, then who will?” No one else was
willing to track down the truth. No one else dared go up against that scum,
Morton Andrews.
No one else cared what had happened two years ago.
“Logan—”
Skin still damp, Logan skipped his boxers and pulled on another
pair of soft, well-worn jean shorts. Long ago he’d decided to eschew the
trappings of inherited wealth and go for comfort instead. As a detective, he had
to wear suits, a tie, the whole shebang. He’d gotten used to it, and didn’t even
think about it anymore.
But in his leisure time, he wore whatever felt best.
This new gig masquerading as a middle class construction worker
fit him just fine. More often than not, a pair of shorts was all he needed. “I’m
too close to pull back now, so save the lecture.” He dragged up the zipper with
care.
Resigned, Reese got down to business. “Have you seen her
brother?”
“No.” Not even a glimpse. “But he’s around, I’m sure of
it.”
“If it turns out you’re right, the walls could start crumbling
down. But if you’re wrong…”
He wasn’t wrong. No way. He trusted his instincts and his gut;
both told him he was on to something here. He and Jack Carmin had gone through
school together, college together, but while Logan had set his sights on
becoming a detective, Jack had veered off into a different type of public work:
politics. He’d died at the hands of a madman. Senseless murder—all for greed and
corruption.
“He was my best friend, Reese.”
Morton Andrews would pay, even if it took him a lifetime.
“I know.” Tiredly, Reese said, “Keep me posted, okay? Don’t
push too hard, and don’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”
That made Logan laugh, but not with any real humor. “Don’t act
like you? Is that what you’re saying?” Known for championing the underdog, Reese
resembled Jack in many ways. In the face of injustice, he often reacted before
thinking, but usually, at least in Logan’s opinion, he was dead-on. Logan
trusted him with his life, and that was saying something. He trusted only a
select few.
Now with a smile in his tone, Reese said, “Exactly.”
“I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Not tonight?”
With any luck, he’d be busy till late. “Let’s keep the calls to
a minimum, just in case.”
Reese hesitated. “Forget the task force and your assignment—if
you need backup, don’t trust anyone else, understand? Get hold of me, and only
me.”
“That’s a given.” Jack’s murder had been all the incentive
Logan needed to accept the position as head of a special task force. To clean up
a lot of the rampant corruption in Warfield, Ohio, his lieutenant had given him
carte blanche.
But because some of that corruption had infiltrated the force,
Logan had immediately brought Reese on board.
“I’ve lined up a few unies if we need them. Kids I know we can
count on.”
By “kids,” Reese meant young uniformed cops, still bright-eyed
with the need to see justice served. “You didn’t tell them anything yet?”
“Nope. Just checked out their backgrounds, family histories and
their records. If you find Rowdy, they can make the actual arrest to keep it
clean.”
“Thanks.” To really make a difference, Logan needed people he
could count on, and that meant Reese had to do a lot of setup.
But he also needed an eyewitness to a two-year-old murder.
And that meant he needed Pepper’s brother, Rowdy Yates.
Through tons of research and a little luck, he’d found Pepper.
At first he hadn’t been certain it was her; Rowdy had done an amazing job of
covering their tracks. But now that he’d seen her up close, talked with her, he
was sure he had the right woman.
Through her, he’d eventually get Rowdy.
And with Rowdy, he’d get that scumbag club owner, Morton
Andrews, the man he
knew
was responsible for many
deaths, including Jack’s.
Hell, he wasn’t the only one who knew it. Plenty of people made
the link. But Morton owned enough people, bought enough alibis that, for all
intents and purposes, he remained untouchable.
With Rowdy’s eyewitness account, he’d finally be able to put
Morton away.
With that end goal in mind, Logan said, “I gotta go. The lady
is waiting.”
Dropping his cell phone into his pocket, along with his keys
and a wallet holding false ID, a rubber and a few bills, Logan detoured into the
kitchen.
Using his real first name made the undercover work easier. It
was enough to remember that Pepper Yates was Sue Meeks without trying to carry
his own alias. It was all too easy to fuck up when you tried to change too much.
That’s why construction work was part of his undercover persona.
Sure, he and his brother Dash had inherited a shit ton of money
from their family. But neither of them flaunted the money, and neither of them
felt content being idle or, God forbid, sitting in boardrooms. They invested
wisely, donated generously and got on with their lives.
As owner of a construction company, Dash could employ Logan
when necessary, giving him the background he needed in case Rowdy got on to him
and did any checking.
It was a stroke of luck that he’d found Pepper in a different
county. Anyone who knew him might unwittingly blow his cover, but the different
locale made a chance encounter with cops in the field less likely.
Logan grabbed his packaged steak, a potato and a six-pack of
beer, minus one.
He locked the door behind him and stepped over to tap on
Pepper’s door. As if she’d been waiting for him, it opened almost before he’d
dropped his hand.
Standing before him, shifting her feet nervously, she said,
“Hi.”
She looked adorably unsure of herself, her gaze avoiding his,
her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip.
Again flushed.
“Hi yourself.” Logan took his time looking her over, not that
she’d changed a thing. She still wore the ugly canvas sneakers, long skirt and
baggy pullover top. Her hair remained dragged back in that hideous ponytail.
But he saw the movement of her chest as she drank in deep,
nervous breaths, and the way her hands trembled a little.
Emotion, awareness and his dick all swelled. He felt ruthless,
and he felt territorial. “You want to let me in, Sue?”
She continued to look at him, all over him.
Logan lowered his voice more and said with certainty, “I’m
coming in.”
“Oh.” Closing her eyes in embarrassment, she stepped aside.
“Yes, of course.”
He hadn’t planned to rush things. He’d intended to be smooth,
patient. But the moment just felt right, so as he moved past her, he bent and
put a firm kiss to her soft mouth. “Thanks.”
The brief contact proved addictive—sparking awareness, firing
his blood.
Over a simple kiss.
He made it all the way to her kitchen before he realized she
still stood at her open door, staring after him, frozen in shock. She watched
him set down the beer, the steak and potato.
She looked ready to flee the apartment.
Pretending he didn’t understand the reason, Logan asked low,
“Everything okay?”
She treated him to another intent stare, consuming him with her
innocent gaze. “Yes.” Letting out a long breath, she closed the door, faltered a
second, then stepped forward. “Yes, everything is fine.” Head down, mouth
pinched, she bustled past him. “I already started the grill. Another minute or
two and we can put on the steaks.”
Logan caught her arm, his fingers wrapping around her. She was
slim, her bones delicate.
Why hadn’t he noticed that before?
“You picked up the place.” She’d closed the door on her bedroom
and bathroom, so he didn’t know about those spaces, but the cardboard pizza box,
empty cans and papers were gone. “I hope you didn’t tidy up on my account.”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Sidling out of his reach, she plumped a
throw pillow at the end of a love seat, putting the entire piece of furniture
between them as a barrier. “That stuff was leftover from last night.”
Her efforts to distance him only made him feel more predatory.
Alarm filled her gaze as he approached. She jerked around, turning her back on
him, but then just…stood there, waffling, uncertain.
A defense mechanism? How badly had her damned brother
mistreated her?
Savage, protective instincts sharpened. She was so damn sweet,
so shy.
Having her would be sweet, too. Not that it mattered; his
reasons for being here with her now, for using her, had little enough to do with
her growing appeal.
An appeal he hadn’t noticed before getting close to her.
Using the back of one finger, Logan stroked the side of her
neck and was rewarded with her shiver. Her incredible softness stirred him more
and roughened his voice. “You ate pizza all alone last night?” The image pained
him.
“I… Of course.” She swayed back into him. “I
am
alone.”
Amazed by how quickly she melted, he settled both hands on her
shoulders. Again he noted her slimness. Not skinny, but most definitely slight
in the way of females.
Would it really be this easy? Did she not possess a single iota
of self-preservation? She wore her heart on her sleeve, her need for affection
painstakingly obvious.
He wanted to pull her closer, wrap his arms around her, but he
didn’t want to scare her off.
Using his thumbs to rub the backs of her upper arms, he said,
“You could have invited me over.”
“I…” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t.”
Because her brother wouldn’t allow it? Bastard.
Logan leaned closer, his breath on her nape, his whisper near
her ear. “Anytime, Sue. You have my number.” His lips just touched her lobe. “Or
just knock at my door.”
Breathing hard, she shifted—then lurched out of his reach. “No,
I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, “but I won’t ever do that.” She all but raced
out to the patio. With her out of the room, Logan looked around.
Her furniture, ragtag and mismatched, had probably come with
the apartment, same as his. As an acting manager for the four-unit building, did
she get to live here rent-free? Where did she get money for food? For clothes?
Lack of funds likely accounted for her secondhand clothing. She didn’t have a
car—because she couldn’t afford one?
It disturbed Logan, how isolated and alone she was. He always
empathized with those less fortunate; never in his life had he wanted for a
single thing—except justice. But with this woman, it went beyond a sense of
social responsibility to the needy.
It went beyond anything familiar.
Where the hell was her brother? Why did Rowdy leave her so
unguarded?
From what he’d uncovered, he hadn’t considered Rowdy Yates a
“bad” man, just a man of poor choices and, in the case of his employment with
Morton Andrews, worse acquaintances. Now, knowing Pepper? Rowdy had to be the
lowest type of villain. How else could you explain her circumstances?
Other than a work history that included everything from
dishwasher to deliveryman, carpenter to bouncer, there’d been little on Rowdy,
and even less on Pepper.
Logan knew her brother worked, he drifted, he teetered on the
edge of trouble—and he dragged Pepper along for the ride.
Logan hadn’t been able to find anything on their educations,
parents or other relatives.
But Rowdy had worked at Checkers—which was the wrong club at
the wrong time. While employed there he’d gotten embroiled in corruption. His
testimony was needed to bring down Andrews, but for two years now, he’d dodged
involvement. The last anyone had heard from Rowdy was right before a reporter
had his throat cut.
After that, nada.
Until now.
Now, Logan had Rowdy’s kid sister, and much as it went against
the grain, he
would
use her to get what he
wanted.
Justice.
Revenge.
Peace of mind.
Unwavering, Logan picked up his food, snagged two beers, and
went out to the patio to join her.
* * *
P
EPPER
LAY
IN
HER
BED
,
wide-awake, miserably hot, and dissatisfied.
The fan in her window stirred the humid air, pushing it around
the room and over her mostly bare body.
A cold shower hadn’t helped, not after four long hours of Logan
Stark’s personal brand of seduction.
God, she felt singed. The intimate way he’d looked at her, the
suggestive way he talked.
Even the way he ate his steak somehow affected her to the point
that she’d barely touched her own, when she’d been anticipating the dinner.
She had planned to ask Logan some personal questions, but he’d
kept her on the defensive with small touches and warm smiles. It had taken all
her wits to keep from falling under his spell.
But she wanted to. Badly.
Actually, she wanted to be under him.
Impossible.
Rolling to her back, she stared at the shadowed ceiling and
wondered if he was asleep. After that spontaneous kiss he’d given her before
walking into her apartment, she’d been on guard. When she’d finally gotten him
to the door, ready to say goodbye, she’d stuck out her hand.