“I’m fine.” But frustrated. Yesterday, in the culmination of a lengthy investigation, a damn parade had trooped through his apartment. Friends, suspects and heinous thugs. Murderous thugs. Thugs so ugly, their souls were surely black and decrepit.

Rowdy Yates, a “witness”—what a joke that had turned out to be—who should have been in protective custody, instead had gone to Reese’s apartment to snoop. Alice had recognized that Rowdy was up to no good and had called Reese. He’d gotten to his apartment only minutes before his lieutenant also showed up.

They’d all been taken unawares by the lowlifes, and while a gun stayed on Rowdy, Reese and the lieutenant had been handcuffed to the headboard of his bed. That he and the female lieutenant butted heads more often than not made it an especially unpropitious situation. Lieutenant Peterson hadn’t taken it well, and his efforts to shield her had been met with much resistance.

Instead of getting the protection afforded all witnesses, Rowdy had ended up a target for death. He had abilities, which included breaking into Reese’s apartment to snoop, but against two gunmen set on executing him? The odds had not been with him. If they’d killed Rowdy, they would have next turned those guns on Reese and the lieutenant.

Without Alice’s help, there would have been several dead bodies in his apartment, instead of just one.

And hell, one was bad enough. It wasn’t easy to get death out of the carpet, curtains and off the walls.

Fortunately, sensible Alice had assessed the situation and sent in Reese’s good friend Detective Logan Riske as backup. Because Logan possessed a lethal skill set unique to only a select few, he’d gotten the upper hand—but not before taking a bullet to the arm.

Chaos had reigned for a couple of minutes, all but destroying Reese’s bedroom. In the end, they’d apprehended one gunman and another man who’d played lookout at the front of the apartment building.

The worst villain Reese had ever known had died from a broken neck. Never again would he threaten anyone.

Reese eyed Alice with renewed interest. At the tail end of the bloody melee, not long after Reese had been freed from the cuffs, Alice had shown up in his apartment with a big gun held in her slender, delicate hand.

She was a good judge of character, but then, so was he. And in his gut, Reese knew his straitlaced, often silent, skittish, timid and sexy-as-hell neighbor would have used that gun with fatal precision.

It made his blood run cold and ramped up his interest in her and her past. So many unanswered questions. He knew Alice was good with his dog and that he liked her. He definitely knew he wanted to get her under him.

But so far their relationship had been so odd, he didn’t even know her last name yet. Alice...something or other.

Insane.

She inched closer still—just as she had in  his dream.

“You have some dark bruising.”

Reese followed her concerned gaze to his wrist and saw the ugly marks there, testament to how he’d tried to free himself from the key-lock metal  cuffs—his own friggin’ handcuffs—that had been used against him.

“It’s fine.” Never had he felt more helpless than when he’d been in those restraints, knowing that his own failure could facilitate the murder of others. Never again would he be caught unawares.

Once was more than enough.

Alice hesitated. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Other than his pride at being taken off guard in his own apartment... “No.” He wanted nothing more than to move past it all.

She accepted that without an excess of coddling. “Your friend will be all right?”

“Logan? He’s a detective, like me.”

“I thought so. When I saw him yesterday, I knew he was safe.”

Safe? The things she said always had double meanings. “Just as you knew the others were dangerous?” Alice had seen people come into the apartment building, and somehow she’d known they weren’t friends. Not only was she astute, but she also wasn’t afraid to react—thank God.

“Yes.” She gave him a level stare. “I can usually tell.”

How? Reese wanted to know. It wasn’t as if criminals walked around with a damn sign on their foreheads. God knew, if they did, his job would be a hell of a lot easier.

As a detective, he’d dealt with enough shady characters that he’d gained something of a sixth sense about them. He noticed things, slight nuances that others missed.

But what had happened in Alice’s life to give her that edge? “Logan is fine. You met Pepper?”

“Yes. She stayed in my apartment with me while Detective Riske went to your aid.”

“Call him Logan—I’m sure he’d insist.” Reese thought of the moment when he’d realized Logan had been shot. He hadn’t let the wound slow him down, until blood loss had done that for him. “He’s home with Pepper now, healing and no doubt being pampered.”

Because of Alice’s quick thinking, Reese and his friends were all alive, and a very bad character dealing in every aspect of corruption, including new ventures into human trafficking, was dead.

Reese had a lot of regrets for how things had gone down yesterday, but he didn’t feel even a smidge of remorse over that.

Alice tipped her head. “Logan and Pepper are in love?”

“He is for sure.” It wasn’t like him to talk out of turn, but he heard himself say, “And that added to the craziness of the sting. Cops going undercover do not fall in love with key witnesses.”