Dash of Peril

CHAPTER TWELVE

AS ROCK-STEADY as Logan with the same lethal look, Margo said to him, “Don’t interfere.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” But Dash couldn’t help but look—repeatedly—for their tail. He saw several trucks but none seemed more nosy than the others. As always the mind of a cop intrigued him.

He wanted to tell Margo not to hurt her arm, but knew better. Instead he asked his brother, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah.” Logan took a right, then an immediate left, but he drove without haste—as if he didn’t know a killer followed them. “Be cool. Stop looking around.”

“Okay.” He sat forward, but damn it wasn’t easy.

“He’s good,” Margo complained.

“Meaning?”

Logan said, “He’s not getting close enough for me to see anything. He might be on to us.”

“The bastard is even dropping back,” Margo said.

Dash thought about it for a second, then said, “Is he far enough back that you could let me out without him seeing?”

Logan shot a sharp look over his shoulder. “No.”

But Margo took it differently. “It might be possible.” And then to Logan she said, “There’s no reason for him to be involved in this.”

Laughing, Logan stated the obvious. “He’s not dodging out to avoid the danger, Lieutenant. He wants out so can lay in wait for the bastard to go by.”

Incredulous, Margo twisted to face Dash.

Dash tried for nonchalance. “If I’m just a bystander on the road, I could get a good look at him, read his plates, get you a description—”

“No!” But that shouted word must not have sufficed, because she pressed her anger forward and said not two inches from his face, “Are you out of your mind?”

Was she incensed from worry, or because she didn’t want him butting in? “How could it hurt?” Gently, Dash touched her cheek, but she jerked away. “I seriously doubt he’s twisted enough to shoot me on the street corner. And look, there’s a park up ahead—”

“No and no!” She turned her face away, grumbling to herself about male stupidity.

“Actually,” Logan said, “it’s not a bad idea.”

“Absolutely not.” They turned another corner, and Margo cursed. “We’re losing him anyway. He’s so far back I can’t even see him anymore.”

“If we can’t see him, he can’t see us, right?” Dash pointed to a small convenience store. “Pull in there, around the back. We can watch to see if he shows up.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Logan said, already maneuvering into the lot. “You will remain in the car, Dash. Got it?”

“I already said I wouldn’t interfere.”

Surly, Margo gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “You’re having way too much fun, damn you.”

“I like watching you work.” Especially when she wasn’t in any real danger. Dash stretched out an arm along the back of the seat, but he didn’t quite touch her yet. He’d confused her enough for one day. “More so this time since no one is shooting at us and you aren’t bleeding.”

The angle Logan used kept the car hidden, but if anyone drove past, they’d be able to see. Margo kept watch out the back just in case their tail had the same idea about pulling over.

Thirty seconds later—which felt like an eternity to Dash—the big truck drove past.

“There he is,” Logan murmured.

“Are we going after him?” Dash wasn’t sure of the protocol for this sort of thing.

“No.” Margo answered since Logan was busy putting in a call. She sat back in frustration. “We’ll have the plates checked, see if we can find out anything.”

“Couldn’t you have someone pick him up?”

“For what?” She holstered her weapon. “We don’t know for certain that he’s done anything wrong.”

Logan finished a call. “They’ll run the plates and get back to me.” He started another call.

“Who now?” Margo asked.

Without answering her, Logan said into the phone, “Rowdy, hey. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a plate number and a description for you, just in case you find out anything.”

Margo rolled her eyes. “I forgot we brought Rowdy in on this.”

“That he forced his way in, you mean?” Dash grinned. Damn, but Rowdy led an exciting life. If being a bar owner wasn’t enough, he also managed to get enmeshed in more conspiracies than anyone else Dash knew.

Rowdy was more domesticated now, but deep down, he still relished life on the edge.

Logan relayed some details to Rowdy, adding, “It was a big black muscle truck all tricked out. Light bar over the front bumper, a silver toolbox in the bed. The driver wore a ball cap and sunglasses, but I could tell he has a dark mustache and goatee.” Logan nodded. “Yeah, right. If you find out anything, do not—” He listened, and his frown eased. “Good. I’m glad you understand.”

While Logan and Rowdy talked a little more, Margo seemed lost in deep thought.

Dash touched the soft curls in her hair—such a stark contrast to her iron determination. “What are you thinking?” Not about him this time, though he knew earlier she’d been daydreaming about sex, about what they would do tonight, about what he would do to her.

She’d been so flushed, so soft and aroused and trembling, he’d gotten semihard just looking at her.

Now, though, sex was far from her mind. She had that calculating, concentrated look about her that showed concern and cunning and an indomitable will to take charge.

Margo kept her attention on the street. “I’m betting he had fictitious plates, that he and his cronies are too inept to kill me, but too cunning to be easily caught. I’m thinking that this is going to take longer than it should.” Her gaze flickered to Dash. “And I’m thinking that once I get them, I’ll make damn sure they never again have the ability to hurt women.”

“Castration?” Dash asked, half teasing, but with the way she looked he just wasn’t sure.

“Life in prison.” She turned away again.

By-the-book Margo. She was as honorable as she was sexy. A nice combo. “Will you share the info with Cannon also?”

“Yes.” She stewed a moment more, then leaned forward to speak to Logan. “I think Dash was right.”

Having just finished his call with Rowdy, Logan disconnected and put the phone back in his pocket. “About?”

“Stepping out. Waiting.” She opened her seat belt. “Our perp isn’t an idiot. He’ll circle back looking for us. I want to be there, where he can see me.”

Gut clenching, Dash froze. Logan, damn him, didn’t react at all.

Margo continued. “You stay here. I doubt he’ll stop, but if he tries to grab me—”

“Or shoot you,” Dash interjected, already forgetting that he’d said himself how unlikely that would be.

Logan only spared him one dismissive look before addressing Margo again. “I’ll be on him.”

She opened her door—and Dash cracked. “Wait.”

She didn’t. She stepped out, so Dash slid across the seat and followed.

Margo rounded on him. “Back in the car, now.”

He was not one of her lackeys to be ordered around!

But damn it, at the same time, he knew her mind-set was different from many women. Tamping down on his basic nature, Dash drew one breath, then another.

As calmly as he could, he asked, “What if we underestimated him and he does something stupid?”

From the driver’s seat, Logan let out an exasperated huff. “Before he could shoot her he’d have to show a gun. He can’t shoot through the damn car door. He’d pull his weapon, and we’d see it.”

“And I would react,” Margo told him, still bristling. “And if I couldn’t shoot fast enough to defend myself—”

“Then I would,” Logan finished for her.

Standing over her, Dash looked down into her stern face. Such a beautiful face to him. “All right.”

“It isn’t up to you!”

“Yeah, I know.” Strung tight with frustration and worry, he ran a hand over his hair. “I meant I’ll stop being an annoying ass and let you get to it.”

Margo lightened up, but not much. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Obviously.”

“If she doesn’t do it now,” Logan grumbled, “we might miss our chance.”

Dash framed her face in his hands, kissed her hard and quick and turned back to the car. He didn’t watch her walk away because, damn it all, he couldn’t.

“You are being an ass,” Logan said while keeping his gaze on Margo. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” He slumped in his seat. “I know.” He pulled out his cell phone.

“She’s a damn fine cop. More competent than most.”

“Yeah.” Opening the phone to access the camera, he prepared himself.

Logan’s tone went acerbic. “I’d have made myself the sitting duck except that with her arm in the sling she can’t be the driver, and using a civilian could fuck us on regulations.”

So Logan wasn’t any more thrilled with the scenario than he was? That made Dash feel better. “She’ll be fine.”

“Of course she will.” Logan had his weapon in his hand, his senses on high alert. “Now be quiet and let me concentrate.”

TOBY PULLED OVER to the curb a good distance away. The sun was behind him, aiding him because it highlighted her, but would make it difficult for her to look toward him.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, sweetheart?” He watched the woman make herself available at the curb, watched her look around in casual disregard, then lean against a light pole.

Toby snorted. She didn’t blend in any more than he would have. She was too alert. He saw it, felt it.

Lifting the cell phone, he called Curtis.

“Is she home already?” Curtis asked after only one ring.

“They took a scattered route, and then pulled over. The woman is standing on the curb. A trap, I assume.”

“Meaning they saw you.”

“Guess so.” He wouldn’t apologize when he knew it took someone really good to spot him. “I think she expects me to make a grab for her. Probably has a few cop buddies waiting in the wings to close in on me if I do.”

“She’s appealing to your vanity. She expects your male ego to demand you confront her. That, or she thinks you’re an idiot.”

Curtis always admired wit. “Yeah, she’s a real clever bitch,” Toby said with dry impatience. “Want me to pop her?” He had a clear aim from a good distance away. It’d draw a lot of attention, but with Curtis’s influence, he could—

“No. We don’t need that much heat coming down on us.” For the longest time Curtis thought things over. With a smile in his voice, he said, “Here’s what I want you to do instead.”

Toby listened without interrupting. Curtis was a spoiled, entitled, twisted fuck, but sometimes he was funny, too. “Consider it done.”

THOUGHTS OF DASH divided Margo’s concentration. Men, she well knew, could be prickly when their pride took a blow. Dash, like other men, had wanted to play the superiority role. He wanted to do her job even though he had zip experience and even less authority to do so.

Anger again sent her pacing along the curb, her eyes squinted against the low-hanging sun. Where was that damned truck? Did they want her enough to risk taking her off a crowded street? She wanted them to try.

She wanted that a lot.

She also wanted Dash. Tonight. Every part of him. She wanted to feel his tall, hard frame over her, his muscles straining in pleasure, his breath hot, his thick erection sliding in, filling her up....

Something flashed in her peripheral vision and she took closer notice. But no, it was nothing. A woman pushing a stroller. Not a threat.

Would Dash be annoyed with her for ordering him into the car, for so totally discounting his concern— concern that had insulted her because he’d shown it toward a woman. Not a cop. Not a lieutenant.

Just a woman.

A woman he...cared about?

One of the things she enjoyed most about being with Dash was that he didn’t treat her differently. Right? So why start nitpicking with him now?

Rubbing her temples, she strode to a bus bench and circled it, too antsy to sit.

Yes, the fact that Dash saw her as a woman thrilled her.

But not when she was working.

Not when she needed utmost respect from all those around her. She’d fought too long and hard to gain that respect to give it up for anyone. She’d even fought her own father, for God’s sake. But with Dash, everything was wonderfully different.

Would he still want her tonight? He seemed pretty annoyed. Maybe he, like most men, would use an excuse to punish her.

He could even be put off enough to leave her tonight instead of staying over. That possibility caused an invisible fist to squeeze her heart....

Another flash of light drew her away from her personal problems. This time when she looked up she found the truck slowly rolling toward her. Being so close, she noticed things she hadn’t before. Like oversize wheels and customized, colorful rims unlike any she’d ever seen before. Those rims had to have cost plenty, so maybe he was a man of means.

Or underground porn paid well.

The driver wasn’t surprised to see her, and didn’t bother trying to hide from her. No, he smiled at her, a smug, obnoxious tilt of his mouth that dared her to react.

In an instant Margo knew she wasn’t in peril. He wouldn’t try to nab her, or shoot her. No, he just wanted to mock her.

Bastard.

Well, two could play that game. Wearing her own cocky smile, Margo held out her right arm and took a step closer to the curb—offering herself. Come and get me, you miserable fuck. She even used her fingertips to beckon him forward.

When he rolled closer, his truck directly in front of her, she mouthed a single word—coward.

Thanks to his reflective sunglasses she couldn’t see his eyes, but she saw his smile tighten, saw his jaw lock and his mouth compress.

And that made her smile.

When the traffic stopped, he had to brake hard to keep from rear-ending the vehicle in front of him. That finished off his provocative expression really quick.

Displaying her own arrogance, Margo gave him her most intimidating stare without blinking. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, turned to her again and jerked off his sunglasses to show her flashing black eyes—and a fresh bruise on his cheekbone.

Talk about a look of hatred.

He wasted it on her.

She took another step into the road. “What?” One more step. “You want something, big boy? You want me? Come on, then. Come and get me.”

The light changed, traffic moved. He said nothing, but he did give the slightest nod.

Margo felt a rush of power. “I’ll be waiting.”

Elbow resting on the open window frame, he drove off, not speeding, not even looking at her again.

And it infuriated her because there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

When she could no longer see him she turned to head back to Logan and Dash.

Dash. She’d almost forgotten about him. But now, thinking of him added to her smoldering annoyance. She reached the car just as he pushed open the door for her. And blast the man, as she moved into the backseat and faced him, she saw that he looked admiring.

“That was a bust,” she grumbled, trying to hide her mounting fury and concern.

Logan kept watching the road. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You daring him like that will maybe get them to make a move sooner rather than later.”

“Maybe.” She refastened her seat belt. “Any news on the plates?”

“Soon.”

If the search on the plates had come back wrong, they’d have had a reason to pull him in.

Dash put a hand on her shoulder, drawing a questioning look from her. As if nothing else had happened, he asked, “Getting hungry?”

“Yes.” But not so much for food. What she wanted, what she needed, was Dash. Every inch of him. Hot, grinding sex would do a lot to improve her mood and take the edge off.

Looking at her mouth, he gave a small sexy smile. “Good, because I’m starved.”

Well, damn. Maybe he wasn’t still peeved.

“Logan?” Dash kept his arm around her. “We headed back now? The rental place might close soon.”

“Up to the lieutenant.”

“Let’s call it quits,” she agreed. “But make sure we’re not followed.”

They had just pulled into the rental office when Logan got his return call. The plates on the truck belonged to a stolen SUV. He twisted to see Margo in the backseat. “I’ll call it in. If he’s still on the road, someone will spot him.”

Sinking into a bad mood, Margo jerked open her seat belt and got out. The odds of spotting him now were slim. Damn it.

She heard Dash say to Logan, “Thanks for the lift.”

“No problem. Stay prepared, okay?”

“Will do.”

Seconds later Dash jogged up to her. When he reached her he put his arm around her waist. “You’re tense.”

“I’m pissed.”

“Understandably.”

God, how did he roll with the punches so easily? She wanted to ask him, to know his thoughts, but she didn’t want to invite his criticism.

His hand opened on the small of her back. “Seeing you like that, swaggering and so authoritative, really got to me.”

Unsure of him, Margo pushed the door opened to the office. “Got to you how?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It turned me on. I had to fight off a boner.”

No way. She pushed him back. “You were afraid for me.”

With a shrug, he said, “I’d have felt the same about Logan or Reese. Crazy people do crazy things, and there’s no controlling that regardless of how badass you might be, so don’t crucify me for caring.”

Caring. Did he?

Teasing her, he said, “So yeah, I was worried. And turned on. And I fucking can’t wait to get you alone.” His hand dipped down to her hip. “You want to know what I’ll do to you?”

How did he always manage to keep her off balance? Margo slowed her step, swallowed, licked her lips. “Yes.”

His gaze burning, Dash stared down at her. “I’ll give you a few clues in the car on the ride home.”

That was all the incentive she needed to take care of the paperwork in record time. Within fifteen minutes they were on the road in a sporty little Ford Escort. Her heart thumped heavily, her thighs quivered and tingling heat swirled low in her belly. Arousal. With Dash, it happened so easily, so overwhelmingly, that she stayed in a damned fog.

Dash kept his attention on the road—and one hand on her knee.

She was just about to moan in frustration when he said, so very calmly, “I want you to part your legs for me...and then leave them that way.”

CANNON STOOD IN the waiting room facing a window, watching the people come and go from the hospital. Only minutes ago a woman and her husband had left the room, ready for a tearful visit with a relative.

He relished the moment alone to think. Hitting a heavy bag would have been nice. Or a long jog.

Or prolonged, sweaty sex.

But at the moment, he had no way to work off the tension.

What would he do about Tipton and Yvette?

He had enough friends in the neighborhood that he’d already called in reinforcements. As long as Yvette and Tipton stayed indoors, or told him if or when they had to go out, he could ensure someone kept an eye on them.

He figured for at least a few days they’d be home, locked in and safe. But after that?

Sometimes it sucked that he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

For such a long time he’d felt territorial about his neighborhood. He especially felt protective of those who lived there.

And for a girl like Yvette, someone so close to his sister’s age—

“Cannon?”

With his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he braced himself and turned to face her. She looked so damned small, so defenseless. Her dark, freshly washed hair hung in long wet hanks over her shoulders. The ghastly makeup had been removed, but her cheeks were still blotchy, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from crying. She looked painfully young.

Young, innocent, scared...and full of hero worship.

Shit. He drew a breath and tried to relax, but for some reason that proved impossible. He felt strung tight in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

The stench of kerosene was gone, along with her ruined clothes. She wore a pair of scrubs...and no bra.

He shouldn’t have noticed that, but damn it, he did. The girl had an impossible-to-ignore body. “How’s Tipton?”

“The nurse said he’ll be okay.” She bit her lush bottom lip to still the fine trembling, drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I should be able to take him home in a few hours.”

Though she tried to hide it, her nervousness over that prospect was plain to see. She probably felt safer at the hospital around so many people. “Come here, Yvette.”

Hugging her arms under her breasts, she slunk in.

It used to amuse him how she’d strut her stuff, slim hips swaying, firm breasts thrust forward as she tested the boundaries of her sex appeal.

Now she looked utterly cowed and it bothered him. A lot.

He waited for her to choose a seat, her eyes averted, her hands twisted together. Once she did, perching on the edge as if she might bolt at any minute, he sat next to her—nearby but not too close. “You won’t be alone, you know. One of Reese’s guys will make sure you get home okay. The locks on your doors and windows are good, right?”

“Grandpa says they are.”

“Tipton would know. He won’t take chances with you.” But Tipton was hardly in any shape to console, much less protect her. Cannon bent to see her face behind the fall of her damp hair—and committed himself. “I’m going to make sure someone keeps an eye on things.”

That had her big green eyes wide on his face. “Someone?”

“Me, when I can. Friends that I trust when I’m not available.”

Dropping her gaze again, she fretted. Cannon took her hand, and was surprised at how she gripped him, her hold tight, desperate.

Screw it. He moved closer still and put an arm around her narrow shoulders as he told her what he had planned. “Forget their threats, okay? They won’t get to you again.”

She didn’t answer—maybe because she didn’t believe him.

“You’re safe inside. But I’ll need you or Tipton to always let me know when you go out.” To ensure she understood, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face.

When she looked up at him, it hit him like a punch. Her lips were soft and pink, her eyes once again liquid. Her breath low and fast.

Get a grip, Cannon. “Do you understand, Yvette?”

She swallowed, nodded. “Grandpa said we won’t be able to open the shop for a while.”

Relieved to hear that, Cannon put his hands back on safer ground. Like her elbow. “I’ll talk to Tipton, too, but don’t worry about the shop right now. I’ll go over and get it cleaned up. Okay?”

“You...what?”

Yeah, he could understand her confusion. He knew her grandpa, but they weren’t related, weren’t all that close really. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll round up some friends and we’ll clean it up. It won’t take long. Then when Tipton is ready, he can go back.”

Her attention went from his eyes to his mouth. He stilled, on the alert...until more tears welled up and that damp bottom lip started to quiver again. “You are so nice.”

Her soft voice unnerved Cannon. “Friends help friends,” he told her gently, and he hoped she accepted that.

Her face flushed and she looked down at her hands. “You mean my grandpa.”

Without intending to, he smoothed back her hair. “We’re friends, too.”

“No,” she said in a tiny voice that crumpled at the end. “You don’t even like me.”

The last was said almost as a sob, ripping at his heart. If she hadn’t spent so much time flirting with him, he’d...what? Hold her closer? Touch her more? Cannon shook his head and tried to think of her as his little sister.

Right.

“Don’t be silly,” he whispered, his voice gruff. “I like you fine.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled. “I know I should stop crying like a baby—”

“You’re upset. Anyone would be.” He sat back from her a little. “But I don’t want you to worry. Reese said he’s going to have cops patrol the area for a while, and my friends and I will keep a watch on things, too. You’ll be protected.”

She nodded, but covered her face. “Nothing is ever going to be the same again.”

Lost, Cannon gave in, pulling her into his lap and cradling her against his chest, rocking her a little. She leaned into him, saying over and over, “I’m so sorry.”

He felt her rounded bottom on his thighs, her breasts against his chest.

He felt himself sinking.

Hugging her closer, he lied and said, “No problem.” It was a big problem—but somehow he’d deal with it.

Determined, he kissed her temple, smoothed her hair. Somehow he would make everything okay. It wouldn’t be easy, but few things in life ever were.