"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.

PEPPER 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.

A handshake she could handle. It was civilized. Socially acceptable.

But he'd done her in even then, lifting her hand, pressing his firm mouth to her palm. Inundated with the sensations all over again, she curled her fingers and groaned.

When her phone beeped, she jumped, then quickly sat up. No one had her number-except Rowdy.

She turned on a light, pressed a button on the phone and put it to her ear. "Hey."