Getting Rowdy
Page 111

She could feel him growing hard. Revulsion made her stomach pitch and she gagged.
“Don’t,” Fisher said near her ear. “You will regret it if you vomit on me.”
Through locked teeth, Avery said, “You will regret it more, I swear to you, if you do this.”
“A challenge,” Meyer said with anticipation. “Go on, then.”
Fisher stalled. “Here?”
“Yes.” He settled back in his chair. “I believe I’ll watch.”
Fisher gave a disbelieving laugh. “No, I don’t think so, Meyer. Having an audience is not my thing.”
“That’s unfortunate, because I’m finding it might be mine.” Meyer aimed the gun. “And you will do it, or lose everything.”
She could feel Fisher’s breath on her temple, the bellowing of his chest on her back. Instead of outright refusing, he said, “What if her junkyard dog returns?”
“I’ll handle the crude bastard. Don’t worry about that.” Meyer showed his teeth in a sick smile. “He’s as good as gone.”
Terror gave Avery courage. Rowdy could return at any minute, so she knew she needed to do something now, even if it got her shot. In fact, a gunshot would maybe alert others. It’d give Pepper a chance to escape. And it would bring the police, maybe even Logan and Reese.
Rowdy would be safe—and at the moment, that’s what mattered most of all.
* * *
CANNON DETESTED INDECISION. He was out jogging—part of his conditioning—and he’d just so happened to be going past the bar when he noticed the men heading into Rowdy’s apartment building. He recognized one of them as the man who’d visited the bar.
The other guy... He had a bad feeling.
Being that he wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with running shoes, he didn’t have his wallet or cell phone on him. He couldn’t call Rowdy to verify things were copasetic.
Should he go up to Rowdy’s apartment to check on them, even though it seemed like ridiculous overkill to get bent out of shape over two clean-cut visitors? Rowdy could sure as hell handle himself.
Still...
“Screw it,” Cannon said aloud and, choices limited, jogged toward the family-owned restaurant less than a block away. He’d use their phone to call Rowdy and then he’d decide what to do.
* * *
WITH SEVERAL PURCHASES on the seat beside him, Rowdy drove toward Avery’s apartment. He’d thought to take his time, to use up a few hours while he thought things through.
Instead, he’d rushed, grabbing what he knew he needed, because he missed Avery. He kept thinking of how stoic she’d looked when he mentioned her cutting back at work.
She read him so easily, knowing without him saying it that he wanted her to return to her safe, cushioned life.
Only...he didn’t. Not really. He wanted to keep her close.
He wanted her forever.
Would that be fair to her, though? She said she loved him. Could she really be content as the bartender in a neighborhood joint, living on a budget and married to a man like him?
Marriage.
He swallowed hard, for the first time in his life letting himself consider it—
When his cell rang, he was actually glad to have a new focus. Seeing it was Pepper, he answered with, “What’s up, kiddo?”
Instead of anyone replying, he heard background noise, like that through a speaker. At first the conversation was indistinct, and then he recognized Avery’s voice.
“This isn’t happening, so you can both forget it.”
A man said, “Can’t you shut her up?”
Meyer.
And Fisher’s voice, strained, replied, “I can, but I’m thinking we should go somewhere else.”
“Can you imagine the fuss she’ll kick up if we try to drag her out of here? Besides, how can I get her boyfriend if we’re not here when he arrives?”
A dozen emotions slammed into Rowdy, but overriding everything else was the pounding urgency to protect Avery.
With only a glance in the rearview mirror he made a sharp U-turn, sending the car into a skid before it righted itself back in the direction of his apartment. Brakes squealed, horns blared. He pressed his foot to the accelerator. “I’m on my way,” he whispered, just in case Pepper could hear him.
He turned his phone on speaker and laid it on the seat so that he could use both hands to drive.
His eyes went dry and hot, his throat so tight he couldn’t swallow. Every muscle tensed as he maneuvered the road, speeding up to pass a van, then punching it once he found a clear spot on the road, going well over the speed limit.
He heard Avery gasp, heard her cursing Fisher, calling him some choice names. Meyer demanded that she be quiet.
A slap.
He squeezed the steering wheel; for right now, she was okay, fighting back and more angry than terrified. He had to tell himself that or he’d drive through the front doors of his building.
It took him less than ten minutes that felt like an hour before he saw the building. Slowing, he pulled down an alley before he got too close.
He would park behind the bar and cross over on foot, just in case Meyer or Fisher watched the road. He needed to call...well, maybe not Logan. He was a good cop, but with Pepper involved, would he be able to keep his head?
Reese, then. Except that he’d have to hang up on Pepper to do that. He slammed the car into Park at the back of the bar and, praying he wouldn’t be too late, picked up his cell.
Cannon stepped out of nowhere, covered in sweat, almost like he’d been watching for him.