packed police station, but to have to trust Logan to guard his sister, too? That was asking a lot.

Never mind that Logan Riske maybe had valid, very personal reasons for tracking him down. And the detective did seem to genuinely care about Pepper, and vice versa.

In Rowdy's experience, cops were not his friends, period. They protected the ordinary people, the middle class, the privileged few-and each other.

Those forced to take drastic measures to survive? They were a nuisance at best, disposable at worst. In his lifetime, he'd been referred to as a troublemaker, a bottom feeder. To ensure he and Pepper stayed together, he'd spent years skirting legit jobs. Once she was of age, he'd still felt compelled to keep her as close as possible.

Didn't take a genius to figure out what drove him; at an early age, he'd lost everyone and everything important in his life-except for Pepper. She was it for him. Numero uno. His entire world.

He'd die for her.

And he'd kill for her.

But God Almighty, he'd never wanted her to feel the same.

He and Pepper had spent their lives trying to steer clear of the criminal element and cops alike. Neither fit into their lives.

Survival. That's all they'd really wanted. Enough shelter, enough food, comfortable clothes, occasional entertainment.

Safety. Security.

And for him, a warm, willing woman when the past weighed too heavily on his brain. He needed nothing else.

He definitely didn't need the steel- eyed official-looking gal now showing her disdain.

"Detective Riske?"

They stood clustered outside the interrogation room. It was clear that Logan hadn't counted on running into the woman.

Angry tension all but vibrated off her petite frame. She was more than a little pissed and not succeeding much at hiding it.

With worry for Pepper prodding him, Rowdy considered making a run for it.

But more than a few cops stood between him and freedom. If he ran, they would assume him guilty of something-and he was. Hell, he was guilty of all kinds of shit. Not all of it was illegal, but that probably wouldn't matter much in the big scheme of things.

Not in a police station filled with guys who got a stiffie over carrying a piece.

To him, it seemed that most cops were trigger-happy and waiting for an excuse to exert their limited clout.

If he got himself locked away again, who would save Pepper from herself?

Reese spoke up. "Lieutenant Peterson had hoped to join the interrogation, but, ah, Logan, you'd locked the door, so..."

Lieutenant? Huh. Rowdy surveyed her and had to be impressed.

Fury brought her forward so that she faced them all, one small woman challenging a trio of big men.

Yeah, he was sexist. Not the worst of his faults.

In a clipped but icily polite tone, she ordered, "Gentlemen, back inside if you please."

For someone so diminutive, Rowdy noted, she carried herself with enough brass to back up the attitude. She strode into the room he and Logan had just vacated, and then stood there with the door open, waiting for them to join her as ordered.

Damn it, they did not have time for this.

Reese went in first, and Logan, the mistrustful bastard, stayed at Rowdy's back until he entered.

"So." She shut the door, crossed her arms and leaned back on it. "What is this?"

Reese looked at Logan. So did Rowdy.

"I don't have enough to hold him."

Her mouth firmed. "Did he tell you who killed the commissioner?"

"Apparently that story was blown all out of proportion by the reporter," Logan lied. "He didn't see much and remembers even less."

"But the reporter-"

"Must've jumped the gun," Rowdy interjected. "He offered to pay me for info, and I agreed. But he never came back, so I forgot about it."

Unconvinced, the lieutenant narrowed her eyes. "The breaking and entering?

The apartment you were using?"

"He just wanted to see his sister,"

Logan said. "And since he wants to be helpful now, I'm letting that go."

"I really do," Rowdy told her, trying to sound sincere when every beat of his heart made him more anxious to get on the move. If he didn't find Pepper soon, she'd get in over her head-or worse.

But first, he had to win over the lieutenant-so he'd turn on the charm and see where that got him. Not a hardship. She was sort of cute in a buttoned-up, too-rigid way.

When next the lieutenant glanced at him, Rowdy gave her his wickedest, most intimate smile.

Her attention snagged on him for a longer look. After a lengthy silence, she frowned. "And just how do you think to help?"

Since he had no clue what Logan wanted him to say, he shrugged.

"However I can." The way he said it, sort of low and suggestive, brought color to her face.

Reese coughed.

Logan stepped in front of Rowdy.

"We're going back to the apartment to go over the time line, dig out what paperwork I have on my computer, see if there's any trail at all. We'll try to match up dates, share some photos with him, and see if he recognizes anyone who was with Jack right before he was murdered."

The lieutenant considered all that. Her big blue eyes met Rowdy's again. "You worked at the club?"

"Bouncer." Rowdy shifted to the side of Logan. "I saw a ton of people come and go. I remember many of the regulars.

Maybe with some pics..." He looked at her mouth, then back up to her eyes, and he smiled again. "Who knows?

Something might click."

Her compressed lips softened, but she said nothing. After a start, she turned to Logan with renewed purpose. "His sister was here?"

Both Logan and Rowdy went still; neither of them looked at Reese.

"She was," Logan finally said.

"Briefly. When I told her I wanted to interrogate him before she could see him, she bounced."

"Where did she go?"

"No idea," he said with feigned disinterest. "Probably back to her apartment. Why?" Logan stared at her.

"Did you want me to pick her up?"

The lieutenant waved that off. "No, no need for that. I'm sure she's been through enough tonight." She emphasized that with a frown at Rowdy. "Actually, I prefer you treat her with utmost respect and care. The last thing we need is for her to lawyer up."

"She wouldn't," Rowdy stated. "Too costly, and there's no reason, right, since I'm not under arrest?"

"And since he's cooperating," Reese added.

"Make sure." The lieutenant encompassed them all in that order. "I do not want the press to get hold of this, not unless we get something concrete to go on."

Rowdy let out a breath.

"I'm sure you understand the importance of keeping those under investigation in the dark as long as possible."

"Absolutely." Logan waited.

Still not satisfied, the lieutenant asked, "Does anyone else know he was here?"

"The three of us," Logan told her.

"That's it."

She scowled at Reese.

"Hey," Reese said. "I can keep a secret."

There were obvious bad feelings between the lieutenant and Detective Bareden. Later, Rowdy thought, he'd ask Logan about it. But for now- "The night isn't getting any younger,"

Logan said abruptly. "Hell, morning will be rolling around soon. I'd like to get going. So if there's nothing else...?"

The lieutenant opened the door and gestured for them to go. Reese headed out, then Rowdy. Before Logan could clear the doorway, she caught his arm.

"If Andrews has even a clue that we're onto something, it could mean another death. Yours," she said. And then with a look at Rowdy, "Or his."

Or his sister's, Rowdy thought, but he tried to keep his expression impassive.

"Keep him, and his sister, under wraps," the lieutenant ordered.

"Understand?"

Logan nodded. "Will do."

She sent another frown toward Reese.

"You better know what you're doing, Logan. All this coming and going, dead ends and loose ends. You've had enough time. Wrap it up, and let's move on."

And with that, she walked past them all.

Alone in relative privacy, Reese turned to Logan. "So what's it to be?

Leave me in the dark, or let me help?"

Rowdy knew how he'd prefer to leave it: trust as few people as possible.

When Logan's phone rang, they all froze. Rowdy held his breath, but as soon as Logan answered the call, he knew it was Pepper.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

AFTER ENDING THE CALL, Morton placed the phone on his desk and turned to pace the small confines of his office space.

Even at this ungodly hour, the club remained in full swing, both the first and second floor crowded with men anxious to spend their money.

He expected his guest to show up any minute now. New ventures would have been cemented. More money made.

More power acquired.

He did not need this new problem.

And that's what it was: a grade A, supernova problem. "Motherfucker."

Snatching the phone back up, he hurled it into a wall, narrowly missing one of his bodyguards.

The outburst did little to vent his rage but caused quite a reaction as others jumped, yelped and flinched. He paid no attention to them. They were disposable grunts, there to serve him, to protect him.