Dash of Peril

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ARMS FOLDED, SHOULDER against the wall, Rowdy made sure to stay out of the way while the cops finished up—but he observed everything. Dash, he realized, was head-over-ass in love. It was there in his face, in the set of his posture, in the overall possessive way he tracked the lieutenant’s every movement.

Margaret, however, didn’t seem to realize it. Right now, in the center of the crime scene, she was focused on dictating every step of the process—while wearing that soft robe that emphasized her figure, her face clean of makeup and with her cute little feet showing.

When she’d decided to send out false reports of evidence found at the garage, she probably hadn’t expected a direct attack. In fact, he was damned surprised, as well.

It didn’t...fit.

Dash shouldered him, drawing his attention. The crusty old cat Dash held, now wrapped in a towel, complained with a rusty meow.

Contrite, Rowdy tickled the cat’s chin. “Something on your mind, Dash?”

“You’re staring at her. Again.”

“Hate to break it to you, but every guy in the room is stealing looks at her.”

Dash cursed low, but didn’t deny it. “It’s the way she’s dressed. They’re not used to it.”

Rowdy acknowledged that with a nod, but added, “And it’s intriguing, how she’s dressed—or undressed—contrasted to her barking orders and verbally kicking everyone’s ass.”

“Yeah.”

Rowdy leaned in to taunt him. “Thanks to you, everyone is seeing her differently.”

Demeanor growing grumpier, Dash worked his jaw and kept silent.

That only left him open for more harassment. “They know you two have been hitting the sheets and that has all those male minds churning with speculation—”

Dash rounded on him. “You?”

Enjoying that reaction, Rowdy shrugged. “I’m not immune to imagination.” And before Dash could deck him, even while holding that mangled cat, he added, “But you know me better than that, so why don’t you get it together? It’s almost embarrassing.”

“Shit.” Dash rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No sweat. Falling in love is hard on a guy.”

Dash shot him a look, but didn’t bother denying it.

“She’s more prickly than ever.”

“Her house reeks of kerosene.” Dash went back to scrutinizing the lieutenant’s every breath. “I’d say she has reason.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s it.” Again, Rowdy stroked the cat, this time using two fingers. He wanted the animal to warm up to him, but he recognized the signs of wariness. “I think it’s you.”

“Me?”

“You scared her.”

Dash frowned.

“She’s used to running into hostile situations. To seeing Logan and Reese and all those boys in blue confront danger. But she’s not involved with any of them.”

“Like she’s involved with me.”

“Right.”

As if Dash had already concluded as much himself, he grumbled, “I’m a man, damn it. Not a kid. Not a—”

“Woman?” Rowdy gave him a grim smile. “Don’t let the lieutenant hear that sexist comment.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Not in question. My point is that she hasn’t had to deal with that before.”

“With what?”

“Seeing someone she really cares about caught in the middle of danger.” Unfortunately, Rowdy had plenty of experience with it. He understood the sickening feeling all too well. “You get this clench in your gut, a cold sweat and a brain-numbing fear when you realize someone important to you could have been lost.”

Dash stared toward her. He still frowned, but his voice softened. “I was never in danger.”

“You’re not that dumb, Dash. A man with a gun, kerosene and bad intent is a threat to everyone.”

Dash chewed on that idea. “It did seem like something was off. I figured she was pissed at me for interfering.”

“Yeah, you probably have that coming yet.” He watched two officers pull on clear rain slickers in preparation for leaving. “But you know women as well as I do.”

That had Dash coughing.

Rowdy didn’t take the bait. “You specifically know her better.”

“Yeah.”

“So figure it out.”

Dash started to speak, and Margo’s voice drew both their gazes.

“Run him through the system,” she commanded. “See what pops.” And then, more disgruntled, she barked, “Who the hell called the press?”

They both turned to see a lady reporter and a cameraman trying to get in the front door. A uniformed officer held them back.

“Seriously?” Dash complained.

Rowdy frowned. “This feels like a fucking setup to me.”

“I don’t like it, either.”

It was another ten minutes before Margaret finished up, and by then, the reporter had taken a fair share of notes.

Things were quickly getting complicated, and it wasn’t just the complexities of Dash’s intimate relationship with a top-notch, well-known lieutenant.

There was more at work than what met the eye.

Rowdy knew it, and because Margaret was so sharp, he was pretty damned certain she had figured it out, as well.

EVEN WITH SO MANY jumbled thoughts and emotions plaguing his mind, Dash enjoyed seeing Margo like this. There was something innately sexy about a confident, take-charge woman. Given the attentive way Rowdy watched her, he agreed.

Icy fingers knotted in his gut. True, he knew Rowdy was in love with Avery, that he was honorable and would never cheat.

But knowing it only helped a little.

With her right hand fisted and her brow pinched, Margo approached. She stared at the cat instead of Dash. “How’s Oliver?”

“Nervous.” Like you. Dash shifted the cat to the other arm. “I had to wash him twice to get all of the kerosene off him. He didn’t like his baths, and he’s still pretty shaken up.”

Uncertainty had her nibbling on her soft bottom lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there helping—”

“You had your hands full with other things. Oliver and I managed just fine.”

“Maybe I should take him to the vet.”

Dash switched so that now it was Margo he petted—her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. It helped that she didn’t seem to mind, even leaned into his touch a little. “It’s not quite seven. They won’t open for appointments for a couple more hours and by then Oliver will have calmed down.” And hopefully the time would also give Margo a chance to come to grips with his intrusion. “Besides, the vet said as long as he didn’t ingest the kerosene, it wasn’t a worry. You already had the dish liquid she recommended for cleaning, so he’ll be fine.”

She surprised Rowdy by cooing to the cat, kissing its wet head and in general babying it.

Dash smiled. Eventually everyone would know what a warm, sweet and caring woman she was. There was so much more to Margo than her innate ability to lead.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed on Rowdy. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

Rowdy seemed to have difficulty taking her rude tone to heart when she looked so...feminine. “Pepper called me after Logan took off. She knew I was helping out with things and that I’d want to know.”

“So she informed you. I would have done that myself. But it doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“To see your intruder.” Rowdy had no problem with her knowing his motives. “There’s always the chance I would have recognized him.”

“But you didn’t?”

“Nope.” He leaned in, his voice lowered—because while he didn’t have reason to hide anything from the lieutenant, Logan or Reese, he clearly didn’t feel the same about the rest of the cops in attendance. “I’ll ask around, though. Show his picture to my snitches—specifically the snitch that knew about the garage fire, the same snitch that I told about our fictitious evidence. Someone, somewhere, will know him.”

Her dark eyes widened marginally. “You photographed him?”

Damn. The sneaky bastard. Dash hadn’t noticed Rowdy taking any pictures, but then, he’d been consumed with watching Margo. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Rowdy said. “It isn’t.”

Logan and Reese approached as the last of the cops filed out. The intruder had already been put in the back of a squad car. The reporter had reluctantly retreated.

Thankfully, the storm had mostly blown over and dawn approached with only a gentle rain.

Logan looked beat, and that concerned Dash. “You okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine.”

Reese threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I think Pepper awoke him extra early, and then forced him through a workout.” Reese raised a suggestive eyebrow. “Before he could recover, he got called here, so—”

Logan and Rowdy said together, “Shut up, Reese,” making Dash grin.

Yeah, right here, right now, with the cat shivering in his arms, the stench of spilled kerosene burning his nostrils, there wasn’t much to laugh about. But Logan had been a cop a long time so Dash knew well how morbid humor often covered darker emotions.

Of course, Reese didn’t dial it down. If anything, he ramped it up now that he’d gotten a rise. But this time he aimed his sarcasm at Margo. “You sure threw everyone for a loop. Those poor guys, they kept tripping over their own tongues.”

Dash started to say something, but Margo beat him to it. “You’re so disgustingly chipper, Detective, how would you like some extra paperwork?”

Reese just smiled at her.

Indignation stiffened her spine. “You think that’s funny?”

“’Course not.” But the smile turned into a grin.

Rowdy shook his head, then laughed. Wagging a finger around the circle of people, he included them all, but spoke specifically to Margo. “Things have changed, you know.” He tugged at her lapel. “Thanks to you and Dash hooking up, these two clowns now feel free to drop in on you, and to make jokes, and to treat you—”

“Like family,” Logan said defensively.

Whoa. Dash would have said only “more familiar.” But family? Yeah. That covered it as far as he was concerned. Nice that his brother understood it, as well.

He just hoped the teasing didn’t scare Margo off. At the moment, she looked a little frozen.

“I sympathize,” Rowdy told her. “I felt the same way at first myself. But you might as well get used to it.”

Dash pulled her closer, pleased that the guys all understood what Margo hadn’t yet accepted. “And as long as you’re adjusting to that...I’m sorry if I worried you.”

She sucked in an angry breath, ready to blast them all...but deflated. “It’s difficult.”

Reese laughed at her. “Lighten up, Margaret. He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

“You—”

Logan cut in. “You have to admit, the dynamics are different now.”

Instead, she shifted her gaze from Logan to Reese and back again—and changed the subject. “We need to know if Cannon leaked our story about evidence, and to whom. Same with you, Rowdy.”

“Sorry, but I already checked. This doesn’t connect back to me. In fact, I’m not convinced it’s even related.”

Dash wasn’t surprised when Margo agreed.

“Our visitor is no more than a local yahoo, a dime-store thug who someone paid to come to my house—specifically, my house—to set a kerosene fire. He claims he doesn’t know or care why.”

“Who hired him?” Rowdy asked.

Logan filled him in. “A man in a dark car gave him the kerosene and twenty bucks and told him he’d give him two hundred more after he caused the vandalism. He never got a name.”

“Vandalism, huh?” What a schmuck, Dash thought. “Is that what he called it?”

“Yes.”

“He said he thought the house was supposed to be empty.” Rubbing her forehead, Margo drew a steadying breath that every one of the men noticed.

Dash bristled again.

“The thing is,” she continued, “Oliver startled him, and once he’d run through the kerosene, our intruder didn’t want to light it.”

Reese, too, gave Oliver a few affectionate pats. “Luckily, the little worm is pet-friendly. He doesn’t mind burning down a house, and possibly two sleeping people, but he drew the line at frying an animal.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Dash said, holding the old cat protectively closer. In a very short time he’d grown fond of the cat—and not just because Margo so clearly loved him.

“I suspect he’s telling the truth, that he doesn’t know anything more. But you two,” Margaret said to Logan and Reese, “will of course question him further.”

They agreed.

“The idea of the ‘dark car’...” Reese shook his head. “I don’t know. A lot of people drive dark cars. That part could be pure coincidence.”

“That reminds me. Hold up a second.” Margo went to her office. They all heard the hum of the printer, and less than a minute later she returned with several sheets of paper. She gave one to Logan, one to Rowdy. “Dash and I were doing some computer work when the firebug showed up. Notice the unique rims on the truck? We located a local dealer who sells a customizable rim identical to them.” She handed out more papers with the name and address of the dealership.

“Could lead to an address for the driver.”

Margo nodded. “I want you two to check out the dealership.”

Reese checked his watch. “Soon as it opens.”

“Rowdy, I thought maybe you could do some more asking on the street.”

“Consider it done.”

“The way things are heating up, I need everyone on their toes—and reporting back promptly.”

Over Margo’s head, Dash shared a look with his brother. “I think the biggest problem now is that your address is out there. I mean, not only did someone send that bastard here, but that reporter asked a lot of questions and took some pictures. It’s probably going to be on the news. Everyone will know where you live.”

“Why the hell was a reporter here anyway?” Rowdy wanted to know. “They sure as hell don’t chase down every cop car that pulls onto a scene.”

“Someone had to have alerted them...of something.” More or less herding them all, Dash got everyone into the living room. Reese leaned up against the wall. Rowdy sat at the edge of a chair. Margo settled into the center of her couch and immediately reached for Oliver.

Taking the seat next to her, Dash handed over the big cat. He was now more dry than not and began grooming himself.

Logan went to her other side. “Someone wanted us to assume the perp was hired by the same men who visited the pawnshop.”

Margo shook her head. “I don’t like assumptions.”

“It does feel off,” Logan agreed. “The thugs from the pawnshop wouldn’t care about a cat.”

“Agreed. So what are you thinking?” Reese considered things. “We all agree it’s not part of the underground porno operation, but because of the kerosene, it was made to look as if it is.”

“Someone,” Rowdy said, “is conveniently using one thing to instigate another.”

That cryptic comment could have been confusing, but Dash knew exactly what he meant. “Someone on the inside track is working against you.”

It gave him a very bad feeling, but Margo only seemed thoughtful.

He didn’t want to voice the possibility, but more than that he wanted Margo protected—even if that meant protecting her from those closest to her.

“How did the guy get in?” He knew he would have heard the crash of breaking glass, but if someone picked a lock...

“Through the bathroom attached to her bedroom,” Reese explained. “The window was jimmied open. He must have crawled in after you two were already in the lieutenant’s office.”

Margo stared down at the cat as she stroked him. “The window locks securely. There’s no way to ‘jimmy’ it open.”

“The lock wasn’t broken,” Logan said.

Rowdy couldn’t understand the ramifications as he pressed her. “Lieutenant?”

She glanced at Dash, then away.

Did she want him to keep quiet? Was that her way of saying to stay out of it?

Like hell.

“If you two have something to share,” Logan said, “now would be the time.”

“I have to wonder,” Margo said, all business again. “Any chance you two were followed when you came to visit?”

Immediately Reese and Logan objected.

“Definitely not.”

“Hell, no.”

She held up a hand, silencing them. “I didn’t really think so. Even if you had been, it wouldn’t explain the open window.” She took a really big breath—and turned to Dash. “When my dad was here...which bathroom did he use?”

He should have known she’d have the same suspicion. Margo wasn’t a dummy. She was, unfortunately, tough as nails, in part due to her father’s never-ending hostility.

“I didn’t follow him in.” Dash wanted to hold her, but she’d hate that. With the others present he knew she’d insist on showing her strength. “I just waited at the door.”

Logan sat forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging loose. “Your father was here?”

“He and West came by to...check on me.”

Cursing softly, Reese pushed away from the wall.

Dash and Rowdy were left in the dark. He wouldn’t ask her now, not in front of everyone.

Rowdy didn’t have the same reserve. “Someone want to fill me in?”

Silence. Dash felt the tension mounting—until Margo shook it off. She faced Rowdy with cool composure. “This goes no further.”

“Who the hell would I tell?”

She smiled as if she saw the humor in that. “My father was chief of police before he retired.”

“I knew that.”

“But you probably didn’t know that I forced him to retire. And unfortunately, he’s never forgiven me for that.”

BREATHING HARD, EXCITEMENT making him clumsy, Saul ran down the polished hallway and into his brother’s posh office. It had taken him thirty excruciating minutes to get there, the drive feeling endless. He’d wanted to speed, but Curtis was strict about things like that. Other than their playtimes, which they deserved—and the occasional need to snuff someone who got in the way—they were to live as law-abiding citizens, the same as the good, ordinary, insignificant people.

As slow as the drive had been, the elevator to the twenty-sixth floor seemed more so. By the time Saul got to the posh office that encompassed the entire floor, he forgot the general rule about always knocking first.

Curtis was on the phone behind his massive mahogany desk when Saul literally fell in through the doorway with a lot of noise and fanfare.

Toby, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, lurched forward, his gun already drawn. Seeing Saul, he scowled and put the gun away, then cursed over the coffee he’d spilled everywhere.

“I’ll call you back,” Curtis said into the phone. Frowning, he stood as he placed the landline phone back into the cradle. “What is it?”

Trying to catch his breath, Saul hung on the doorknob. This was his opportunity to redeem himself and he almost pissed himself in his excitement. “I know where she lives.”

Curtis circled around his desk. “She who?”

“That nosy cop. The one that got away.” Why couldn’t he ever remember names? It infuriated Curtis when he had to dance around without details. “The one Toby tried to follow today.”

Toby narrowed his eyes. “The one you let get away!”

Curtis raised a hand, silencing them both. “Get in here and shut the goddamned door.”

Saul slammed it behind him, wiped the sweat off his bald head, then pressed his damp palms to the front of his slacks.

Curtis rested a hip on his desk, studying Saul. “You’re talking about Lieutenant Margaret Peterson.”

“Yeah, her. Someone broke into her house. Someone acting like us!”

Curtis’s frown darkened more. “Calmly, Saul, tell me what you mean. Who acted like us? How?”

Saul drew a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Someone tried to burn her house down with kerosene, but she and the dude stopped him.”

Curtis and Toby shared a look. “You’re not making any sense.”

God, why couldn’t Curtis ever understand him? He took another step forward. “The cops arrested him. I was watching the TV and I saw the whole report. They said some masked guy broke into her place and dumped kerosene everywhere.”

“But he didn’t light it?”

“No. Something about there being a cat and he didn’t want it hurt—”

“Jesus,” Toby interrupted, glancing worriedly at Curtis. “What the fuck?”

Looking very unhappy with the information, Curtis asked through his teeth, “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Why did Curtis care about that? He wanted the bitch dead anyway. “They said the dude staying with her restrained the guy until the cops got there and arrested him. But it had happened at the bitch’s house. They showed her picture! It’s her!”

Toby stood. “I don’t like it. First the cops say they found something at the scene of that damned garage—”

Curtis slashed a hand through the air, making Saul duck in reflex. Curtis wasn’t within striking range, and still his heart lodged in his throat and refused to budge.

Quietly furious, Curtis said, “We didn’t leave any clues. The kerosene was everywhere. Regardless of the rumors we’re hearing, I know it all burned. Every last single shred of evidence.”

Often they had to get rid of evidence. Saul and Toby both knew Curtis’s preference for burning it. After that damned druggie had let him down with the driving the night he tried to get the bitch, Saul had no choice but to kill him. He’d dumped the body at a current construction site where it would end up buried. Everything else had been burned in the garage.

Toby didn’t look convinced, and that worried Saul. He didn’t want to go to jail. Just the thought of it gave him nightmares for a week. It wasn’t enough to discourage him from taking part in playtime. But close. “They found something at the garage?”

“No!” Curtis bunched up in that dangerous way of his. “I just fucking told you they couldn’t have.”

Still worried, he glanced at Toby, who gave one small shake of his head.

“I was on the phone when you burst in here,” Curtis explained, “verifying that there was nothing but ash.”

“Oh.” Saul swallowed hard, but his throat felt restricted. “Well, I just wanted to let you know. About the break-in at her place, I mean. And...and that they arrested someone.”

Eyes narrowed and mean, Curtis turned to Toby. “Find out what the fuck is going on.”

“Right.” After giving Saul a pitying look, Toby walked out of the room.

Staring at him with laserlike intensity, Curtis said, “You came here, to my office.”

“Well...yeah. I didn’t think you’d want me to use the phone. I mean, in case it was—”

“You burst in here, drawing notice. You know how important it is to keep business separate from pleasure.”

“Yeah, I do.” Saul didn’t understand. “But I thought you’d want to know where she lives.”

Curtis turned away. “I would have found the woman eventually, at the right time, when it suited me. But now I know that someone is daring to copy me, to mock me.”

“Oh, well...I guess.” Saul chewed the side of the mouth, backing up a little. “I can see where that’d piss you off.”

“And now.” His voice went gravelly and deep. “Now that bitch will be watched more closely. She won’t stay at her house or travel freely, giving me the opportunity to get to her. No, she might even go into hiding somewhere. It’s going to make everything very difficult.”

Saul looked behind him, but unfortunately Toby had pulled the door shut again when he left.

No escape.

Curtis’s hand curled around a heavy paperweight on his desktop. “Now, thanks to some fucking copycat, she’ll have protection all around her.” He turned suddenly and threw the weight with precision.

Gasping, Saul tried to cover up, but it bounced off his hunched shoulder, a solid hit that felt like it broke a bone. Better than hitting his head and cracking his skull, but still he cried out, cowering, closing in on himself.

“I know how to get to her, though. Because I always have a plan.” As Curtis advanced, he seemed deaf and blind to Saul’s panic, his pain. “The fucking whore is going to pay for causing me so much trouble! Do you hear me?”

But Saul couldn’t hear anything.

He was crying too loudly.