Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

  Half-smiling, Cannon said, “Yeah, well I think our reactions are based on very different circumstances.” He looked up at Margo. “My mother would have skinned me if she’d ever had reason to visit the police on my behalf.”

  “Good for her.”

  “That’s one of the biggest differences.” Cannon shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. “I had a mom, and Rowdy never did.”

  “She passed away?” Reese took up his usual posture as he rested a shoulder against the wall.

  “A few years ago. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.” Margo tipped her head. “Your father?”

  “He used to own a bar a lot like Rowdy’s. He got murdered when I was eighteen.”

  “Robbery?” Margo asked.

  Cannon shook his head. “Street thugs tried to extort money from him in exchange for ‘protection.’ Dad refused to play along. One night when he was closing up they came in and beat him to death.”

  “Damn,” Dash muttered. He’d known Cannon had some deep motivations for protecting the neighborhood, but he’d never heard why.

  “Mom almost worked herself to death to keep things afloat, but when Marissa got cornered one day coming home from school—”

  “Marissa?” Dash asked.

  “My little sister. Well, not so little now. She’s nearly as tall as me, but a hundred pounds lighter.” His pride showed in a soft smile. “Really pretty. And smart.”

  “Was she hurt?” Logan asked.

  “Scared mostly. She was only sixteen then. A bunch of guys told her...” In a silent struggle his expression darkened and his hands fisted. “They said they would do things to her if mom didn’t sell.”

  “And so she did,” Dash concluded for him. “Damn, man, I’m sorry.”

  “I found them.” Sitting back, Cannon shook off the tension. “The bar was already sold by then, but I found them and I gave them the beat-down they deserved. Thing is, I knew I couldn’t be there 24/7.” He looked at Margo. “It’s not a good thing to feel helpless.”

  “No,” Dash agreed. “It isn’t.”

  “The cops didn’t help you?” Logan asked.

  “Didn’t ask them to.” Almost apologetic, he looked away. “They knew the area businesses were getting squeezed and they didn’t do anything about it. Most knew not to bother going to them. Some even figured the cops were in on it.”

  Margo rubbed her temple. “Possibly. Corruption had wormed its way in pretty deep here.”

  Dash said what Margo wouldn’t. “She took care of that, though, so if it ever comes up again, know that you can trust her.”

  “And Reese and Logan,” Cannon added. “Yeah, I know. That’s one reason I’m here now. My mother gave up the family business but she refused to give up her home. It had sentimental value to her. Now my sister lives there and she’s as stubborn as my mom ever was.”

  “Huh.” Logan nodded as if just figuring out a puzzle.

  “As Rowdy can tell you,” Cannon said, “little sisters are big motivation.”

  Dash smiled at that statement. Far as he could see, they were big motivation to honorable men. He included Rowdy and Cannon both in that category.

  “So yeah, I sort of keep a watch on the neighborhood.”

  “Big brother to one and all?” Margo asked.

  “I grew up here.” Cannon shrugged as if that explained it all. “I know just about everyone. Most of the business owners, the local guys who go to the same gym as me, the elders who’ve been around for a while.” His eyes narrowed. “The troublemakers. The thugs.”

  “It’s like a network,” Reese said.

  “Pretty much.” Cannon tugged on his ear. “But the info I have now came from some kids, so I don’t know how reliable it is.”

  “I appreciate it that you came to me so we could sort it out.” Margo went to her desk in front of Cannon. She propped her sweet behind on the edge, crossed her ankles and waited.

  Was her head hurting? Her arm? Her expression was now so enigmatic, Dash couldn’t tell.

  To get things going, he offered up a brief explanation. “Cannon started a gym as part of a community project to help get some of the at-risk kids off the street. It’s sort of a supervised rec center with a lot of coaching and direction thrown in.”

  “Yeah.” Uneasy with the credit, Cannon shifted. “I just got it organized. Rowdy and Avery footed the bill.”

  “Thanks to Avery’s inheritance from her stepfather,” Reese explained to Margo. “Rowdy didn’t want the guy’s money—”

  “So they decided to put it to good use,” Logan finished.

  Cannon narrowed his eyes on Logan, then Dash. “I’ve also had some anonymous donors who’ve helped in a really big way.”

  “Cash only goes so far,” Dash replied. “You’re the one who puts that money to good use and keeps the place running...along with a few other projects.” Like working at a bar, staying on track with his MMA training and engaging in actual competition.

  “A lot of guys pitch in.”

  “Guys like you?” Margo asked.

  “If you mean other fighters, yeah. Some who are doing really well, some just starting out, some who are also looking for a little guidance.” He shifted yet again. “It’s a good mix, having the youths in there with the more experienced guys. They pick up a lot just by watching, every guy volunteers a little help to the kids, to show them the way. There’s an overall camaraderie that makes the kids feel involved and wanted, and gives the men a chance to contribute.”

  Impressed, Dash decided to make yet another generous donation. Again, anonymously. He had no doubts that Logan would do the same. They’d both been blessed, and they knew it.

  “Out of curiosity...” Margo again checked out Cannon’s bruised face. “Who won that last fight?”

  “I did.” For once he didn’t look uncomfortable. When it came to his ability, he had no reserve. “TKO.”

  “I suppose the other guy looks worse.”

  Cannon laughed. “These were just a few taps. He didn’t hurt me.”

  She shook her head, seemingly enthralled. Dash understood because he felt the same way. Professional fighting? He loved it.

  At least she wasn’t looking at Cannon with personal interest. Dash could tell the difference.

  She didn’t look at Cannon the same way she looked at him.

  “How old are the kids you work with?” Margo asked.

  “Anywhere from ten to eighteen.” Cannon sat forward. “It was a couple of boys, fourteen and fifteen, who came forward after I asked around. They’re brothers, lousy home life but still good kids. Just...energetic.”

  Dash grinned at the judicious way Cannon phrased that. “Meaning they’ve been in and out of trouble with juvie?”

  “Minor stuff,” Cannon defended. “Stealing beer, fighting, skipping school. That sort of thing.”

  Perspectives, Dash thought. If he’d have tried any of that, his parents would have grounded him for eternity. But then, he’d had everything given to him. He had no reason to search for escapes, not when his life had been golden.

  How had Margo’s life been growing up, especially given her folks hadn’t wanted a daughter...ever?

  “I understand,” she said to Cannon. “I’m not looking to go after any kids. Just tell me what they know.”

  “First, I need your assurance they won’t be drawn into anything. I don’t want them in danger just because they tried to do the right thing.”

  “You have my word.”

  Her word must’ve been good enough, because Cannon did finally relax. “I fudged things a bit, saying you and I are friends and that I was worried about you after the wreck. I mean, most of these kids are at best suspicious of the law, at worst, scared to death of anyone official. If you weren’t a personal friend t
o me, they wouldn’t give two thoughts to what happened to a cop.”

  “Understood.” She smiled at him. “And I like to think we are friends.”

  Despite the assurances he’d just given himself, Dash went on the alert—until Logan “accidentally” thumped his ear while stepping forward. “Promises aside, it’s possible Reese and I might need to talk to the boys. Will that be a problem?”

  “Not as long as you make it low-key, keep it quiet and take it easy on them. They’re tough little nuts—but they’ve been through enough.” Cannon nodded at Reese. “I know you understand.”

  Because he’d adopted Marcus, Reese had firsthand experience with troubled kids. “Only too well.”

  Margo stepped away from her desk. To Dash, she seemed antsy—or sore. “Both of my detectives are great in dealing with kids. Rest easy on that.”

  “Thanks.” Cannon glanced at Dash, cleared his throat, rubbed his chin. “There’s a hit out on you. Apparently the bastards that want you dead have offered up a grand to anyone who can make it happen.”

  Even though Cannon had already told him, Dash still reacted. The urge to hold her, to somehow shield her, crashed through him.

  Unfazed, Margo asked, “How are they to collect?”

  Jesus, Dash thought. She took that without a single flinch of emotion. But then, neither Reese nor Logan looked all that shook up about it, either.

  “Once the deed is done, they’re to spread the word on the street. The right goons will find out and be in touch. That’s all I know.”

  Reese frowned thoughtfully. “How did the kids know this? Where did they hear it?”

  “They were approached on the street. Because of the snow they were off school, hanging out front of a liquor store, and a car pulled up and called them over. There were six of them in the group, but I don’t know the other boys.” Cannon pulled out a photocopied news article with Margo’s face shown. “They were given this, so they’d know for sure who you are.”

  Reese took it from him, holding it so Margo could see, too. “This is the write-up when you made lieutenant.”

  She barely gave it a glance. “What liquor store?”

  Cannon shared the info and Logan wrote it down.

  “There’s more,” Cannon warned them.

  Knowing it all had to be shared, Dash’s curled his hands into fists.

  “The thing is...” Cannon cleared his throat. “If they take you alive, the price jumps up to five grand.”

  “Alive?” Logan asked.

  “So that...” Cannon worked his jaw. “So that she can be used.”

  Hearing it again ramped up Dash’s killing mood. No way would he let anyone hurt her, but he was counting on his brother to find the men, and to put them away for good.

  Reese no longer looked so relaxed. “Did the kids give you a description?”

  “Older—which could mean just about anything since they’re kids. The driver had dark hair and a goatee. The passenger was big and bald. There was a third man in the backseat, but they didn’t get a good look at him.”

  “The car?” Logan asked.

  “Black sedan. That’s all they noticed.” He cleared his throat again. “They gave me something, though.”

  Everyone waited.

  Cannon reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “It’s...well, a video. Explicit stuff. Not something the boys should have seen.”

  Logan started to reach for it, but Margo took it instead. On the way to her desk, she asked, “You watched it already?”

  More uneasy by the second, Cannon nodded. “I don’t know if it’s acting or real. A naked woman tied to a display case, two guys...” Revulsion roughened his voice, and he gestured. “You get the idea. The woman is drugged I think. At least she looked it to me.”

  Logan cursed. Reese growled.

  “The driver gave it to the kids as...prepayment for helping out. Told them they’d like it and there was more where that came from.”

  Margo reached her computer and inserted the flash drive. When no one joined her, she scowled. “Well? You have to see it whether you want to or not. It’s evidence. There could be a clue here.”

  Cannon came to his feet but turned away. Dash was the first to reach Margo, not because he wanted to watch, but because he insisted on being by her side.

  Reese and Logan, their moods thunderous, flanked them.

  Logan said, “We could watch this later—”

  “Now,” Margo said.

  “I’m not a meek schoolboy,” Reese told her. “But this is awkward.”

  “Grow a pair, why don’t you?” The file loaded and, with only a heartbeat of hesitation, she clicked it to play, straightened and waited.

  More than ever, Dash wanted to put his arm around her, to offer support in any way she needed. She was so damned indifferent, so distant and contained that it bothered him on an elemental level.

  At the same time, he accepted that this was her job, that she was good at it. Seeing her like this filled him with pride.

  So he stayed silent...but close.

  Cannon remained well out of the viewing area, his face averted, his body set in angry lines of disgust.

  If it weren’t for the possibility of it being, as Cannon had said, “real,” it would have been regular, poor-quality, run-of-the-mill porn. But they all knew that rather than being an actor, the woman in the film could be a victim, and that not only kept it from being sexually exciting, but it also made it revolting and enraging.

  “All we’re getting is the back view of the bastards,” Reese said, “but one has dark hair and the other is—”

  “Bald,” Logan finished. “Could be the same guys the boys spoke with.”

  Quietly, above the sounds of bodies slapping together and the woman’s faint moans, Cannon said, “I think I recognize the place.”

  Logan looked up. “It’s a business?”

  “Local. A family-run pawnshop.”

  “Pawnshop?” Logan gave his attention back to the video, his brow knit as he studied the scene.

  Dash looked, too. “That’s a display case,” he pointed out, referring to the image to the right. “I see watches, rings, bracelets.”

  “And behind that are some older guns and knives.” Logan searched the scenery as the men continued with their sexual escapades. “Damn. I think you’re right, Cannon.”

  “I went by there before coming here, but it’s closed up. I don’t know why. Usually Tipton Sweeny, the guy who runs it, is there from sunup to sundown. His granddaughter, Yvette, helps out but I didn’t see her, either.”

  Everyone looked at Cannon. Margo spoke first. “Do you think it’s her in the video?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “Yvette just graduated last summer. She’s small, with a different build. Just turned nineteen, I think. That woman is older and heavier than Yvette.”

  Margo glanced at the images again. “You can’t see her face very well, and the guys are mostly covering her body—”

  “Still,” Logan confirmed, “she’s definitely older. I’d say late twenties.”

  Peeved, Margo started to argue.

  “She doesn’t have the figure of a kid,” Dash explained. As a woman, Margo might not see the nuances and probably didn’t have the same perception of the female body. “No one can be certain, especially with the light so dim, but Logan’s right. It’s a good guess that she’s older. I’d say even early thirties.”

  Reese concurred. “Somewhere in there.”

  Bracing her hand on the desk, Margo leaned in for a closer look—then used the mouse to pause the screen so she could study it in more minute detail.

  Recognizing her in cop mode, Reese and Logan went on the alert, to
o.

  “You see something?” Logan asked, crowding in closer and shouldering Dash aside.

  Reese, being so big, looked over their shoulders.

  “There.” Margo pointed to the glass front on a large display case. “A reflection.”

  In a rush, Cannon came around the desk to join them.

  Dash stepped farther back, giving them all room. “Do you recognize him, Cannon?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Hard to tell with the image so blurred.” He leaned in. “He’s white, though. Wearing glasses.”

  “I can see that the prick is smiling,” Reese growled.

  “Smug.” Logan studied the image. “Light-colored hair. Polo shirt or some other casual button-up collared shirt. He looks heavy.”

  “Could be our man from the backseat.” Margo looked at each man. “Maybe the one in charge.”

  Cannon stepped away. “I can ask around, see if the description rings any bells.”

  “Discreetly,” Margo warned. “We don’t want the public stalking all the overweight, blond, spectacle-wearing men in the area.”

  Cannon nodded. “I can be discreet, no worries.”

  “In the meantime...” Margo pushed a notepad forward. “Write down the address of the pawnshop.”

  He accepted the pen she offered. “I have their home address, too, if you want it.” Worry kept his voice tight. “No one is there, either—I already checked.”

  Jesus. Dash hoped a nineteen-year-old girl wasn’t caught up in this mess.

  “Got a phone number?” Margo asked as Cannon jotted on the paper.

  “No, sorry.”

  “It’s all right. You’ve been a huge help.” Taking the notepad from him, Margo started out around her desk. “I’ll check it out and—”

  “No.” Reese stood in front of the door, cautiously barring the way. “All respect, Lieutenant, it’ll be better if Logan and I go.”

  To Dash’s surprise, she didn’t argue. Rubbing her forehead, her frustration palpable, she nodded. “Yes, of course, you’re right.”

  Logan took the notepad from her. “We’ll report back as soon as we know something.”

  Cannon turned to the detectives. “Mind if I go along? I’m...worried.”