Dash of Peril

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

STICKING CLOSE TO the bricks, flattened to the outside wall, Rowdy went around the back of the house. He had to assume that the girl and her grandpa hadn’t willingly let in the very people who had abused them. That meant the sick fucks had gotten in another way.

At the back of the house he found a narrow window. Someone had pried open the ancient lock, leaving it unsecured. It’d be a tight fit, but a man could get through there if he wedged in flat. Constantly surveying the area, Rowdy opened the window and peeked in.

It led to a dank, dark basement filled with cobwebs. He saw a few boxes, and to the side, several cans of kerosene. Ropes hung from the cans, leaving him to believe they’d been lowered in.

Were they planning to burn the house to the ground? It appeared so.

Probably with Margo and Dash inside.

He pulled out his phone and sent Logan a succinct text: Going in through the basement. With the sound already turned off, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, turned around and lowered himself inside.

Few basements had high ceilings so the drop was short. He landed on the balls of his feet without making a sound. The door at the top of the wooden stairs was closed, but he went up anyway, pushing aside floating cobwebs that had already been disturbed.

At the top step he listened, and heard it all. Everything. Too much.

If the door squeaked, he would be caught.

But if he didn’t go now, much worse things could happen.

He turned the doorknob and, with sharp satisfaction, slipped silently into the room.

MARGO PREPARED HERSELF as best she could—but then Toby stopped Saul from going toward her.

Holding out a hand, his expression thoughtful, Toby said, “Wait.”

Anxious to play his games, Saul jiggled in place. “What? Why?” He twisted the needle in his hand. “I want to stick her.”

Turning to Curtis, Toby said, “Have her take her shirt off first.”

Dash cursed, making her silently plead for him to be quiet. To keep their attention, she said, “No. I won’t.”

“Ah.” Pleased, Curtis rubbed his upper lip. “So you balk at the idea of showing us some skin? Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Insist all you want, you miserable little puke. I said no.”

Curtis grabbed Yvette and dragged her into his side. “You’ll do it, or I’ll strip her shirt off, and then light her up and let you watch her burn.”

Doing her best to block Yvette’s terror-stricken face, Margo weighed the seriousness of the awful threat. They all looked deranged enough to do it. “I thought Toby wanted to rape her?” She shifted her gaze to Toby. “I thought he needed an intimidated girl that he could easily control. If you toast her, then what will he do? Excuse himself to the bathroom to play with himself?”

Toby locked his jaw.

Nervously, Saul snickered.

She knew they waited to see what Curtis wanted. She prayed he wouldn’t make her strip. She was afraid if he did, it’d force Dash to react too quickly.

Releasing Yvette, Curtis walked to the dining table and picked up Toby’s knife. “He’s fucked bleeding women before.”

Cannon took a step forward.

Quickly she did the same, causing him to halt. Calmly, meaning it with every fiber of her being, she said, “Then for that, he’ll die.” And she pulled off her shirt. Without fanfare, without even really caring. She wanted Saul to get close so she could end this. She would enjoy killing the sick fool.

Dash was breathing hard. Cannon looked away.

Tipton kept his worried gaze on his granddaughter.

But Toby...Toby breathed deeper, put a hand to his crotch and rubbed. “The bra, too.”

Uncaring, Margo opened the front catch to her bra and let it drop. She didn’t slump, didn’t let her shoulders droop or her chin lower. Stuffy air washed over her naked breasts and shoulders, her waist and belly above her slacks.

Toby thought she’d be less cocky if he got her half-naked. Well, he could bite the big one. She wouldn’t cower—no matter how mortified she felt.

“Now?” Saul asked, staring at her chest while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stick her now?”

“Yes,” Curtis said softly, his gaze locked to hers, hoping to see some wayward emotion. “I think it’s time.”

Dash was deathly still, Toby distracted by her boobs, Curtis expectant. Only when Saul got close did Margo shift her attention to him.

Yvette softly sobbed, and poor Tipton suffered in silence.

Cannon kept his gaze averted, but Margo would bet on him being very aware, and very prepared.

With a low, guttural giggle, Saul looked at her chest and wiggled the needle, maybe thinking of where he’d like to stick it. In his other hand he held the gun...loosely. Jaw slack, eyes vacuous, he inched closer—and finally put himself within her reach.

As fluid as possible, Margo lunged. She knocked aside Saul’s gun hand while grabbing his wrist and forcing his hand up and into his own chest...where she depressed the plunger.

At the same time Dash sprang from the chair. He only had his right hand loose, but that didn’t stop him from hefting the dining chair and swinging it straight into Toby’s head, where it shattered off a leg and a slat from the back.

Cannon reacted, too, kicking out and sending Curtis backward into the table.

Screaming, Curtis squeezed the lighter, but from out of the kitchen, Rowdy grabbed his wrist—and broke it with little effort. The lighter fell from his grasp and Rowdy kicked it away.

Yvette had dropped down to the floor, curled in on herself, hands over her head, sobbing.

Logan and Reese burst in, guns drawn.

Saul quietly went numb, slumping down, spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Ignoring her own near-nakedness, Margo quickly relieved him of his gun.

In the middle of the floor, Toby and Dash fought in a tangle of arms and legs. Toby was meatier, but Dash was far more pissed. He pounded on him, and in the process took a few blows himself that barely registered. Parts of the chair still hung from his left wrist, handicapping him only a little.

He half sat up and with undeniable force, punched Toby right between his legs.

The bastard gave a throat-stripping groan and curled in on himself. Still heaving, Dash stood and turned to her.

Toby, too dumb to know when to quit, picked up one of the broken chair pieces and drew it back.

Margo shot him. Once, twice. Right in the chest.

Yvette screamed.

Chaos reigned.

Toby went blank, his eyes losing their evil glint. Sinking back, he hit the floor, sprawled out and just...died.

Shirtless, her recovering arm now hurting like a son of a bitch, Margo crossed her arms over herself. “Dash?”

He was there in the next second, pulling her up and into his arms, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Her breasts were now hidden against his chest, but that left her naked back still exposed. She was vaguely aware of Logan giving orders, or other cops now crowding in.

Reese took Curtis from Rowdy, roughly cuffing him, uncaring of his broken arm.

“Cut me loose,” Cannon demanded, and it was Rowdy who produced a big folding knife and took care of that.

Immediately Cannon went to Yvette. He lifted her in his arms and went down the hall and into the bathroom. Margo heard water turn on.

Dash ran his hand through her hair, keeping her tucked close. “He’s washing off the kerosene,” Dash explained. “It burns.”

Burns? “Call an ambulance,” Margo said to the room at large, knowing Logan or Reese would handle it. And then to Dash she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Dash opened his big hands on her back, pressing her ever closer. “I am now.”

“I need my shirt,” she whispered, feeling a little slow. “And we should call the fire department about the fumes, and—”

“Ambulance is on the way.” Logan, gaze averted, handed over the shirt. “Fire department will be here soon.” He nodded at Dash’s legs. “If that’s kerosene, you need to get it washed off.”

“Right.” He kissed Margo’s temple, her cheek. “Come on.” Holding her close, still shielding her with his body, he walked with her into the kitchen.

Once they were alone, he set her back from him, his hands on her head, smoothing, touching her everywhere as he looked her over. “You’re okay?”

She nodded. “Take off your jeans.”

At the same time he said, “Put on your shirt.” With a shaky smile, he shook his head. “God, things are fucked up.”

He helped her first, lifting the shirt and smoothing it over her head. He swallowed hard, then drew her in for a warmer, longer kiss to her mouth.

Hands cupped to her face, he put his forehead to hers. “Is your arm okay?”

No. Nothing was okay. She felt tears well up, but no way in hell would she cry right now. Nodding, she choked out, “Yes.”

Dash studied her face, and sucked in a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oh. Dear. God.

Talk about timing. She tried to get air into her lungs, but none of her important organs seemed to be working. She felt her lips move, but not a single sound came out.

Dash’s smile went crooked, reassuring her that he wasn’t insulted by her lack of a response.

Yet.

But God almighty, she had to get it together. “I—”

Logan stuck his head in, saw Dash with his jeans still on and scowled. “Get them off, already. You could end up with blisters. Wash off in the sink.” Then he said to Margo, “Paramedics are here. Do you need—”

Still reeling, she shook her head and said, “No.” She hadn’t been hurt. Not physically. “Have them tend to Yvette.”

Normally, that would have been enough for Logan.

No longer.

He stepped into the kitchen and moved close, watching her like he might any other vic who could possibly be traumatized. He even touched her chin, turning her face to the side to inspect the growing bruise from where Toby had slapped her.

“Logan...” she began, unsure what to say. Your brother loves me. No, that wasn’t something she wanted to start blabbing about here and now, especially when it could just be emotion talking. Dash wasn’t used to life-or-death scenarios. He wasn’t a cop.

He was just...awesome. Incredible. Cool under pressure. Burning-hot in the sack. Sweet but controlling. And how he controlled...

Oh, God, oh, God.

Ignoring her, Logan again turned to Dash. “Damn, do I need to strip them off you myself? Because I will if you don’t immediately—”

“All right, yeah. Got it.” Dash hurriedly kicked off his soggy shoes and peeled off his socks. Opening his jeans, he pushed them down and off. All while Logan continued to hold Margo’s face—and for some stupid reason she let him.

“Did you get any on your boxers?”

“No, they’re dry.”

Logan said nothing as he waited until Dash went to the sink and ran water over a dishcloth.

Satisfied, he turned back to Margo. Finally he released her face and...handed over her bra. He didn’t look discomfited by it. Apparently he’d gotten over the idea of her being a woman.

Glad that her underwear wasn’t still out in the middle of the floor where any number of cops might’ve stepped over it, she nodded. “Thanks.” Putting on a bra was the least of her concerns at the moment, so she just let the lacy garment hang from her hand.

“I checked on Yvette and Cannon.” Logan glanced at Dash. “He got them both stripped of their pants and in the shower. She’s pretty shook up, but he already talked her into letting the EMTs check her legs. The skin looks raw, broken in a few spots. But I think she’ll be okay.”

Margo knew better. It was going to be a very long time before Yvette recovered. “That poor girl.” Twice now she’d gone through this mess.

“Hey, thanks to you she’s alive and we have the bastards.” Logan ran his big hand over the side of her head, smoothing her hair in a way similar to how Dash often touched her, only without the hot look. “That is, we have two of them. Toby is dead.”

“Good,” Dash said from the sink.

Margo didn’t say anything. She’d promised the pervert that she’d end him, and she had.

Her only regret was that the other two hadn’t given her cause to shoot them, as well.

Logan searched her face. “Before things get too crazy, we need to talk.”

In his black boxers, Dash rejoined them, his legs now dripping water all over the floor. His skin looked sunburned, making her frown.

Logan folded his arms over his chest. “Rowdy’s snitch said it was a silver-haired man who ordered our perp to your house.” He waited one heartbeat. “The patrols were pulled back. That’s how the creeps got in here in the first place.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Dan?”

“He fits the description. Plus that address you gave me?”

“No way. Dan? Seriously?”

“Afraid so. He claims the address is wrong, but...” Logan shrugged. “Has he ever had a chance to unlock your window?”

She blinked twice while thinking. But of course she already knew. “It’s possible. He’s been to my house several times.” She said to Dash, “Remember that’s why I didn’t want to answer when he called? I didn’t want him to know I’d be gone and I didn’t want him to invite himself over.”

Dash put his arm around her waist. “I remember.”

Pulling it together wasn’t easy. But she needed to get this sorted out. “For a while there he made a real pest of himself, always trying to talk his way in.”

“Hitting on her,” Dash said.

“Obviously not, if he wanted me dead!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Logan assured her, and she heard the steel in his voice.

“Not without me you won’t.” It struck her, really sunk in, the enormity of it. “That slimy bastard! I knew he was up to something, I just never realized...”

Dash gave her a hug, tucking her in close, his chin on top of her head. “Take it easy.”

She knew she was talking too loud, but so many possibilities jumbled together. She desperately wanted her father to be uninvolved. The idea that he might not care at all, that he might actually despise her enough to want her dead, made her ill inside. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, much less anyone else. “Would he go that far to defend my dad?”

“We’ll find out.” Then Logan cleared his throat. “Only because I think it might matter to you, I’m going to tell you that it’s obvious you’re not wearing a bra. And assuming you want to come take control of this mess—”

Jerking around, her face hot, she gave him her back. “I’ll be right there.”

She actually heard the smile in his voice when he said, “All right, Lieutenant. Don’t take too long, though.”

Dash’s arms came around her. “If you want to put on your bra, I’ll keep watch.” He kissed her temple. “About what I said...”

Her heart started bouncing around in her chest and her knees went shaky. He loved her. “Yes?”

“I know you’ve got to do your thing. We can talk later, okay?”

A reprieve. The knotted stress loosened from her shoulders and finally she was able to take a deep enough breath. “Okay, thank you.” She turned and smiled up at him—but said nothing else. What could she say? I hope you mean it but you just might be hysterical? Overwrought? Emotional?

He wouldn’t appreciate any of those considerations. So she said nothing.

Flexing his bruised knuckles, Dash searched her face, touched the corner of her mouth and with shadowy acceptance turned to ensure no one walked in on her.

CANNON KEPT YVETTE on his lap, his arms folded over her middle, hiding her upper thighs and her now transparent panties. They were both soaked from the waist down, but knowing how his own legs burned, he’d thought only of getting the kerosene off her. The shower seemed the quickest option.

She hadn’t protested when he’d carried her into the bathroom, stripped the jeans off and set her into the shower—with him. The cold water stung at first, but it felt better than kerosene.

Yvette kept her face tucked into his neck as the EMT put ointment on her burns. Cannon couldn’t help but notice the length of those shapely legs, how slender she was, how pale.

He glanced at the EMT but that guy looked only intent on aiding her.

When he felt Yvette tighten, he shushed her with sympathy. The ointment shouldn’t hurt, but she was so devastated, so wounded and afraid.

His legs from the knees down were hot and itchy, but nothing like hers. Because she’d already had the kerosene on her once before, her skin was far more tender.

Hell, she was tender all over.

That thought bothered him enough that he put his jaw to her cheek and hugged her again.

Once the EMT finished, he stood.

“My grandpa?” Yvette asked from the safety of Cannon’s embrace.

“He’s okay,” the EMT said. “Because he already had broken ribs we’re going to take him for some X-rays, but you have a few minutes yet.”

“Thank you.”

The EMT nodded to Cannon and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

For a few minutes Cannon just held her...until he heard her sniff. That tore at his heart, made him feel helpless rage and so much more.

“Hey.” He touched her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes and cheeks were blotchy but he didn’t see any more tears. “You’re safe now. They’re going away for a very long time, maybe even life.”

She looked embarrassed. “I’m pretty useless in a crisis, huh?”

Cannon shook his head. She was young, and scared. But she hadn’t really gone hysterical until the end, until those earsplitting gunshots. People watched movies and thought they understood how it would be, but until you found yourself in the middle of a shit-storm, you just didn’t know.

He eased back her dark hair, brushing it behind her shoulders. “You did great.”

She looked down, touched his chest with restless fingers and then snuggled in close again. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to face your friend and that lieutenant.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. They understand, believe me.”

“Everyone else was so brave.”

“And you think you weren’t?” He held out a hand and showed her how badly he trembled. “I was so damned scared it was all I could do to keep it together.”

She put her hand in his and drew it to her cheek. “When they put that kerosene on you—”

“No.” He shook his head, not wanting her to understand. “I was afraid for you.” Shut up, Cannon. But of course he didn’t.

Yvette stared up at him, her eyes so big and wounded, her expression so soft and sweet.

And her mouth...

“When that bastard touched you—” For the love of God, don’t go there. “I wanted to kill him.” He still did. He’d taken great satisfaction in kicking Curtis, but it was Toby he’d wanted.

She gave a rough laugh. “That makes two of us.” Then she shuddered.

Recalling how Toby had manhandled her, the threats he’d enjoyed making, Cannon ran his hands up and down her arms. “Did he hurt you?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Before you got there, he...he kissed me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing going shallow. “They hurt Grandpa and...and mauled me and made me call the lieutenant....”

Cramping, Cannon wondered if Toby had died. Sure looked that way to him. And good riddance. “He’ll never touch you again.”

“I know.” She drew a broken breath. “But I’ll always remember.”

“No.”

She looked at him again, her gaze pleading. She touched his mouth. “I don’t want to remember him.”

Oh, God. Cannon knew what she was asking, but how could he give in to temptation? Yvette wasn’t herself right now. She was desperate and frightened and she’d always had a heavy-duty infatuation with him.

Plus, he’d be leaving. He didn’t yet know for how long or how far away he’d go. But no way in hell would he be turning down the SBC. It was his long-term dream.

What he felt for Yvette... Well, it was just here and now. It was immediate and hot, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let it knock him off course.

“We should join the others.”

“No.” Her breathing accelerated. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. They’ve already taken the bastards out of there. I heard them leave.”

“No.” She hugged her arms around herself and started to leave his lap.

Just to escape. Just to flee...but to where?

“Yvette...”

“I can’t go out there! I can’t face all of them. I can’t...can’t stay in this house. I can’t.”

Knowing it was wrong, knowing he should get up and join the others, knowing lust was the very last thing she needed, especially from him, Cannon drew her in close again. “Yes, you can.”

She shook her head.

Holding her close, he stood with her. “Yes.” He was so very aware of her bare legs, of those silky little panties she wore.

Of the way she clung to him.

“Cannon?”

Looking at her was his undoing. Slowly, he leaned down.

To his surprise, she met him halfway.

And when his mouth touched hers, he forgot everything else, all the reasons why it was wrong, the people milling in the other room, the burns on her legs.

He turned his head, gently moving his lips over hers, tasting her uncertainty and her need.

Almost of its own volition, his hand slid down her back.

She wiggled closer, urging him on.

Cupping a hand over her bottom, he felt the insubstantial damp cotton of her panties and the silky, warm flesh beneath.

She made a small sound of surprise and something more. Something out of place for the circumstances. “Cannon...” Knotting a hand in his shirt, she dragged him closer.

It was the knock on the door that brought Cannon back to his senses. What the hell are you doing? He cleared his throat and managed to say, in a mostly normal voice, “Yeah?”

Lieutenant Peterson spoke softly. “Tipton found a dry pair of jeans for Yvette, and a pair of his jogging pants for you. I’m going to leave them right outside the door.”

“Thanks.”

With only the slightest hesitation, the lieutenant added gently, “You both need to come out now. We’ll be waiting.” He heard her retreating footsteps.

Damn, but she was one impressive female. Almost to the point of being intimidating, although she sure didn’t affect Dash that way.

The interruption had helped Cannon to get his head on straight.

Putting some space between their bodies, he looked down at Yvette. Confusion, need and uncertainty all smoldered in her gaze. He smoothed his thumb over her damp bottom lip, and God, more than anything, he wanted to take her mouth again.

But he wasn’t an animal. He was a grown man and up until a few minutes ago, he’d always been honorable.

He opened the door and retrieved the clothes while Yvette stood there in silence. He pulled on the jogging pants, which were a little too loose. Then he knelt and held the jeans for Yvette to step into.

A nice gesture, but dumb as shit since he was now eye-level with parts of her anatomy that he was trying very hard not to think about. “Step in.”

She braced a hand on his shoulder and did just that. He tried not to let the material scrape her raw skin as he eased the jeans up and over her trim hips, then was even fool enough to zip and snap them for her, his knuckles brushing the soft skin of her belly.

When he finished, he smoothed down her shirt, tipped up her chin and said with convincing assurance, “You can.”

To his relief, she nodded, and together they left the room.

Later, Cannon thought, he’d tell her about his news. But not tonight. She already had enough to deal with.