And he wanted to ensure Rowdy could defend himself. "I know I've taken care of it."

"Thanks." Rowdy hefted it in his hand once, then launched out the back door before Reese could stop him.

"Idiot," Peterson muttered in a hiss.

Cursing softly, Reese divided his time between watching the locked door, as the sounds of assailants drew closer, and watching Rowdy as he darted to the end of the alley.

"What the hell is he doing?" Peterson asked.

Seeing Rowdy run without apparent fear of personal injury, Reese muttered, "I assume he's playing hero."

Luckily, Rowdy made it without a single shot being fired. At the end of the alley, near the street, he signaled that it was clear.

The lieutenant sucked in a breath and said, "Let's go."

Great. They'd either be killed or not, but sitting there waiting to be murdered didn't much appeal to him either. Reese followed her out, impressed that she could run so fluidly in those deadly heels.

Rowdy covered them, his gaze going everywhere as he waited for them to join him. Not a single shot was fired, and no more noise came from the tattoo parlor.

Together, they hustled toward the lot holding Rowdy's car. Soon as they reached it, they could let the officers know they were clear.

And with any luck, they'd be able to round up the shooters.

But Reese wouldn't be holding his breath; so far, luck hadn't been on their side.

Two questions pounded through his brain as they reached safety.

Just how big was this operation-and how far would they go to find Alice?

THE PHONE CALLS had come in rapid

order.

First the warning call from Killer Designz, letting him know that people were snooping around. He'd sent in his men, and they'd reported back to say they had effectively razed the place, leaving behind little more than rubble within an empty building. The curious trio had escaped, but not without first understanding the reach of his power, the strength of his daring.

Smirking, Woody Simpson recalled the breathless panic of the tattoo artist who, from a safer location, had called again. With the promise of protection from the law, and a new and better location, concerns had been quieted.

And now he had DeeDee on the line.

Feet propped on the desk, shirt unbuttoned and chair tilted back, Woody listened to the final report on the day's events.

Thanks to a fast-growing enterprise, he spent so much time in his office that he'd gradually turned it into a comfortable, condolike space.

He didn't cook, of course, but he had others who made use of the small kitchen to prepare his meals. He had a large- screen TV and spacious couch, and he'd brought in a king-size bed to convert a boardroom for sleeping.

Not that he ever slept during the day.

Even at night, he didn't need much sleep.

He'd always been high-energy, motivated and so fucking smart that others couldn't keep up.

But when he wanted an afternoon distraction-as he'd planned today before the phone started going off-the bed sometimes came in handy.

"So, you're sure they're cops?"

"I think so. They're talking with officers now, and they seem to be in charge or something."

Interesting. Maybe this would be better than killing them. It'd give him an opening, a way to infiltrate. He pondered the different plays and came to a decision. "Follow them."

A heavy pause, rife with uncertainty.

"To...a police station?"

"Sure." Though he'd sent for her earlier, Woody waved off the girl responsible for unbuttoning his shirt. She moved to a chair, sat down and waited.

Like a good girl.

"But..." DeeDee tried to come up with logical arguments.

He hated being questioned-by anyone. "Wait there until they come back out, and then follow. I want to know where they live."

She hesitated. "What if they see me?"

"Make sure they don't." DeeDee had aspirations of moving up in the organization. Unlike some of the girls, she was more eager to please.

As if he'd ever give any authority or power to a bimbo.

"You blend in, Dee. It should be a piece of cake for you to stick close without being noticed." Because she wanted to stand out and be noticed, that subtle insult had her bristling.

Trying to sell him on her value, she said, "I already hit on that rough bruiser, like you asked."

"I know. You're meeting him tonight, right?" Woody glanced at his watch.

"Plenty of time to do both."

"I haven't eaten since early this morning."

God, he detested whining. "If you aren't able to handle things, just say so. I can ask Michelle to take over instead."

"Michelle?"

"Yes." He looked at the trembling girl sitting across the room. "She's been anxious to gain my favor, anyway."

Michelle swallowed hard and looked away, her fear so palpable that he wondered how she functioned. She had enough sense not to run away, to perform as expected. And she did try to stay on his good side-but she was far too skittish to ever be trusted with anything important.

Anything beyond a blow job.

"I can do it," DeeDee groused.

Perfect. He could always count on DeeDee's vanity to keep her working harder. She wanted to be top girl.

She wanted to be his partner. Woody bit off a laugh at her foolishness.

"Report back after you get the info."

"Okay, but...who should I follow? I mean, I can't follow three people, can I?"

So damn stupid. Did he need to do all her thinking for her? "Don't worry about the woman." Women were always inconsequential. "You'll be meeting one guy at the bar tonight, right? So follow the other today."

"Oh, okay. Sure." DeeDee cleared her throat, then said, "I did tell you that the cop is the same guy who was here this morning, right? The one the rough guy called?"

Slowly, Woody dropped his feet and sat forward. No, she hadn't told him that.

His eyes narrowed. His mouth flattened with his annoyance.

So, they were onto...something.

Sniffing around twice. How much did they know?

Who had talked?

Seeing his dark expression, Michelle let out a whimper.

Woody ignored her. He held the phone tighter, and said to DeeDee, "Tell me now. And don't leave anything out."

IT WASN'T EASY, doing a job bare-

chested because your lieutenant needed the shirt off your back. The sun had broiled both his shoulders and his temper. This time, it would take a lot to shake off the vigilant, edgy anger. It would take Alice-but he couldn't have her, not just yet.

By the time the backup had arrived- which to Reese's way of thinking had taken longer than necessary-they'd already reached Rowdy's car without incident and had circled back around to the scene.

All had been quiet.

Instead of giving pursuit, the shooters had vacated the tattoo parlor, taking the two downed men with them.

The boys in blue, as Rowdy liked to refer to them, showed up well after that.

Reese wanted to believe that Lieutenant Peterson had scoured out the corruption, but it seemed beyond suspect to him that a five-minute ETA had taken twelve minutes instead.

Seven minutes could mean the difference between life and death. He'd been furious-but Rowdy seemed to think nothing of it.

Even dressed in his shirt, Lieutenant Peterson took over with ease, calling for several specific officers and dismissing the two who'd arrived tardy.

Once they'd secured the scene, the unis had gone from door to door, establishment to establishment, querying everyone in the area. Reese wasn't surprised that everyone had claimed not to see a damned thing.

Sometimes it was safer to play deaf, dumb and blind, especially with criminals outrageous enough to attempt murder in broad daylight.

If that had been their intent. At this point, he refused to make assumptions.

The entire day had slipped away, and still they hadn't turned up the owner who'd fled out the back. Far as Reese was concerned, that made him guilty as hell.

Not more than an hour ago, after reminding Reese to keep her in the loop, Peterson had stormed off like a thundercloud. He'd assumed she would go home and change clothes before heading to the station. Reese didn't envy anyone who crossed her path tonight.

Not that long ago, he would have dealt with his simmering frustration and spiked temper with a long shower, a beer, a willing woman and then a good night's sleep-in that exact order.

It said something, Reese thought, that he hadn't even considered going to his own apartment. Bad as the day had been, when he thought of heading home, it meant being with Alice.

Tonight, it also meant visiting with Rowdy and Logan, Pepper and Dash, as they all congregated at Alice's place.

How did she feel about that? For a woman who'd tried so hard to close herself off from the world, it had to be disconcerting that Reese had not only bullied his way in, he'd brought a crowd.

And not just any crowd.

No longer looking so dangerous, Rowdy lounged comfortably on her couch, Cash draped over his lap to soak up attention. It was a little eerie, how Rowdy switched from lethal to carefree in such a short time.

Dash had shown up with Logan and Pepper to wait with Alice, and now they still hung around.

At least Peterson hadn't joined them, thank God. Reese knew he'd never again be able to look at her the same way.

When he'd shown up shirtless, Alice had not-so-inconspicuously checked him over head to toes before going off to the kitchen to prepare coffee.

Pepper accompanied her. Reese had a million things on his mind. He easily could have died today, Peterson and Rowdy with him. The clash with the gunman left his knuckles bruised, his right knee swollen and his head throbbing.

What should have been a simple case of surveillance had sharply morphed into audacious, reckless destruction. The stakes had gone from implicit danger to attempted murder.

But he wasn't teetering off his axis because of any of that. His world had gone upside down because of Alice, because of how much he'd anticipated getting back to her. How much he'd wanted to hold and touch her after the disturbing events of the day.

Yes, he could have died; he'd faced that possibility many times in his job, and he'd always fallen to his usual routine to put the ugliness behind him.