Run the Risk by Lori Foster Page B

groceries, but he
stopped her.
    “I’ll take them home. You can get them from me later.”
    Rather than debate with him, she agreed. “Okay, fine.”
    “And, Sue?”
    She detested that stupid name more each day. “Yes?”
    “You’ll answer my questions for me? Tonight at dinner, I
mean.”
    Right. Rubbers, treadmill and cuteness. She could handle that.
“Okay.”
    He smiled. “Tonight then.”
    She hurried off—forgetting, again —to shuffle her feet.
    Rowdy would have her head before this was over.
    But if Logan got her body, well then, she’d consider it a fair
trade-off.

CHAPTER SIX
    N OW THAT P EPPER HAD WALKED away, Rowdy relaxed. What the
hell did Logan Stark want with his sister? Through the binoculars, Rowdy watched
her cross the parking lot and enter the relative safety of the department
store.
    Was he missing something?
    No, he didn’t miss anything, especially when it came to women,
and most definitely not when it concerned his troublesome sister.
    Maybe Logan was after something other than the usual.
    He brought his gaze back to the neighbor. Sitting there in his
truck, Logan Stark peered around as if he felt Rowdy’s attention. Huh.
Perceptive bastard.
    Finally the neighbor put his truck in gear and drove away.
    Stowing the binoculars in the glove box, Rowdy got out of his
car, locked it up and pocketed the keys. The bar he’d chosen to use for
surveillance had an ideal location. With his binoculars he could see all the way
up the road to the apartment building, as well as the grocery and small strip
mall—basically any place his sister was likely to go.
    While debating his next move, he strode toward the bar. He
noticed a “For Sale” sign crudely attached to the brick wall above a collapsing
cardboard box of trash. Old papers, a few cans and a broken bottle had already
spilled out. Hazardous.
    He thought of Checkers, the upscale club Morton owned. Pricey
liquor, chic decor, classy-looking women and high-stakes activities. Checkers
had been kept visually pristine, but he’d bet his life that more filth had
happened inside its walls than could ever occur in the back alleys of the town
where he now kept his sister under wraps.
    Checkers boasted three floors. It was the main floor where
Rowdy had usually worked, overseeing lap dances, ensuring none of the ordinary
men got too grabby or overstepped the services they’d paid for. More adventurous
activity was reserved for the second floor and for men with deeper pockets. On
the second floor, patrons could buy hand jobs, blow jobs and a variety of sex
ranging from one partner to three.
    Morton’s sprawling office was on the third floor, along with a
private boardroom and other, smaller offices.
    Rowdy had been paid well to know the difference in the
clientele, to keep his mouth shut about illegal sex acts, and to alert the
guards stationed at the upper levels whenever the law came calling.
    It all ran smoothly, even in moments of chaos. And when it
didn’t… Rowdy closed his eyes, not wanting to think about the city commissioner
who’d been murdered. Jack Carmin had died at a young thirty-two—and Rowdy hadn’t
done a damn thing about it.
    Acid burned in his gut. Rumor had it that Morton would be
expanding his enterprise into human trafficking. Rowdy knew he’d have to do
something about that, and soon. But now, with Pepper’s admirer putting him on
edge, he couldn’t act. He had to guarantee her safety first.
    His sister would always be his top priority.
    If it turned out Logan Stark was on the up-and-up, well then,
maybe she’d be safe without Rowdy keeping tabs on her. At least for a short
time.
    Long enough for him to take care of Morton as he should have
two long years ago.
    A drunk loitered outside the bar entrance. Off to the side, two
youths smoked and talked too loud.
    Distractions like that would never have happened at Checkers,
but for here and now, an uninterested owner worked to Rowdy’s advantage; the
less accountability at