The muscles of his neck knotted, and he murmured with sarcasm, “Home sweet home.”
“Don’t judge.”
Oh, he’d judge all right. Something didn’t add up. He knew all about dirt poor, and he knew about disappearing. If Avery only wanted cheap rent, there were more secure places.
His little bartender wanted to hide, probably where no one would ever think to look for her.
He’d honed his instincts on a cutthroat society that ate the weak. He recognized the signs on a gut level.
Now he had to decide what to do about it.
Unaware of his darkening mood, Avery pointed. “Last apartment on the left.” She picked up her purse from the floor and began digging for her keys. “You can go in the second driveway and pull around back.”
Worse and worse. The back of the two-story structure butted up to the parking lot of an all-night convenience store. Three scruffy men hung around, drinking, smoking and talking too loud. No good ever came from a scenario like this. Even as Rowdy parked, he heard the breaking of a glass bottle, followed by loud guffaws and a few rank curses.
The stiffness of his neck crawled all the way down to his toes. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll walk you in.” A statement, not an offer.
Avery didn’t argue. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She gripped her keys tightly in one hand.
He noticed a small can of mace hanging from the key ring. Did she honestly think that’d do her any good?
Circling the hood of the car, he reached her just as she stepped out. He took the bag holding the T-shirts and apron.
“Usually,” she said, “the fast-food restaurants and liquor store are still open when I get here, and they help to light up the lot. I’ve never gotten in this late, though.”
And she never would again, not if he could help it. “Where does the bus drop you off?” He looked around and saw nothing but trouble waiting to happen.
“One block down. Not far. It’s only a pain if it’s raining.”
For the love of... He’d gotten through a lot of ugliness in his lifetime, but right now, seeing how Avery lived, he was about as grim as a man could get. “Come on.”
Hooking her purse strap over her shoulder, she looked around with apprehension, not at the men—who Rowdy considered the obvious threat—but again at the shadows. “Guess I should pick up a flashlight, huh?”
Or a gun. Maybe a bodyguard or two.
But with him nearby, she didn’t need anything or anyone else. He would protect her.
“Doesn’t matter.” More often than not, the dark had been Rowdy’s friend. In so many ways, he was still more comfortable in it than in the light. As he walked with her to the back entrance of the tall, narrow brick building, he eyed the motley trio hanging out. Given the way they watched Avery, he wondered if he should talk with them, make sure they understood—
“Behave, Rowdy.”
Yeah, she picked up on his cues as easily as he picked up on hers. “I am behaving.” And weighing my options.
“I don’t want any trouble, so ignore them, please.”
He had a feeling there’d be trouble regardless of her wants. “Are they always there?”
She kept her attention on the apartment building. “Or their ilk. It’s not like we’ve had introductions so I can’t say for sure if it’s always the same men.” She sorted through her keys. “So far it’s been fine. No big problems.”
Little problems, he knew, could sometimes escalate into a tsunami of threats. While Rowdy waited impatiently, Avery struggled to get the key to work the old rusted lock.
One of the men must’ve been feeling brave, because he took a few steps closer and called out to them in a drunken slur. “Ain’t had no ponytail in a while. Maybe I can be up next?”
The other two chortled, offering their encouragement and egging on the drunken bum. The comments continued, going from Avery’s hair to her ass, getting more crude by the second.
When another bottle broke, that one too close to be an accident, Avery nearly dropped her keys.
“Let me.” Rowdy took the keys from her and opened both locks, then pushed the warped door open.
The guy moved closer, probably no more than three or four yards behind them. “What will five bucks get me?”
More hilarity, some cheering on. “Might get you a handy,” his buddy called out.
“Or a least a flash peek of that bod.”
“Yeah,” the nearest man demanded. “Five bucks for a peep show! Prove you’re a real redhead.”
And Rowdy decided aloud, “Fuck it.”
Oftentimes it was better to confront a problem head-on instead of trying to avoid it. This was one of those problems.
As he shoved the bag of apparel back at Avery, she said, “Don’t you dare!”
He gave her one stern look. “Get inside. Lock the door behind you.”
“Damn you, Rowdy Yates—”
Shaking off her clutching hands, he moved farther away from her while assessing the group.
What he saw was no challenge at all, not as long as Avery went in and secured the door so he’d know she was safe.
The group looked to be late thirties, early forties.
Drunk and dumb.
He understood both firsthand.
Staring at the leader with dead eyes, Rowdy walked toward him. “Got something to say?”
Too wasted to understand his precarious position, the fool gave a loud laugh. “If the honey is taking on customers, I’ve got some change I can spare.”
Eyes narrowed, Rowdy kept up a steady but unhurried approach. As he drew closer, the man balked, dropping his hands from his hips, looking back at his buddies. As one, they crowded in with silent support, chins out, shoulders squared, mouths sneering—and strides staggered.
Rowdy curled his mouth in a mean, provoking smile. “I know you’re firing on liquid courage, but you really might want to rethink this. Whatever bullshit you’re considering, I’ve been there and done it better.”
“I’m thinking it’s three against one.”
“Lousy odds for you.” Rowdy stopped only inches in front of the other man. “You’ve shown your ass and had your fun. But nothing else is happening here. Not this time. Not ever with her.”
One of the men, heavily bearded like a damned yeti, tried to move to Rowdy’s side. Rowdy stopped him with a look. “I wouldn’t if I were
