by Lori Foster
Her splinted arm banged into a wall, making her clench with pain. Furious, she snapped on the hall light, took aim...and saw that Dash had completely subdued a masked, armed man. The panicked fellow’s gun lay a few feet away on the floor, and Dash—who was much taller than their intruder, and far more muscular—had the man pinned on the ground with a knee in his back. He’d taken the thug’s right arm and twisted it severely back and up, levering it almost to his shoulders.
“Move,” Dash said low, “and I promise she will shoot you.”
Behind the stocking mask, wild eyes widened more. “I ain’t movin’! I ain’t movin’!”
Dash jerked off the man’s mask, revealing a pasty-faced middle-aged goon with faded blond hair and loose jowls. Doing a quick search of the man’s pockets, Dash found a lighter, but nothing else.
Retrieving the other gun, Margo dropped it into her housecoat pocket. Never did she shake over doing her job, but she was shaking now. Suppressed rage made it difficult to speak normally. “Can you hang on to him?”
Dash gave her a longer, searching look. “The prick isn’t going anywhere I don’t want him to go.”
“Okay.” She located her cell phone and, keeping an eye on Dash and the intruder, called it in.
Right after that, she dialed Logan.
He answered with a grumpy, somewhat breathless, “What the fuck?”
Hmmm. It was five in the morning, and yet she’d interrupted...something. “Your brother has detained a masked man who broke into my house and dumped kerosene in my bedroom.”
With a new surge of energy, Logan asked, “Anyone hurt?”
Margo lowered the phone. “Dash,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice, “were you hurt?”
He snorted.
“No,” she said to Logan. “Not hurt.” Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth. “I already called it in. I just figured, with Dash here, you’d want to—”
“Definitely. Reese, too. I’ll pick him up on the way.” She heard the rustle of hurried movement, presumably Logan dressing. “And Margaret? I’d have wanted you to call whether Dash was there was not.”
She’d just disconnected the call when sirens sounded nearby. “Hold him tight, Dash. I’ll be right back.”
“No worries.”
So damned cocky. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. The intruder had a gun. He could have shot Dash. He could have killed him.
She might have lost him—after she’d just realized how much she cared for him.
At the door, she closed her eyes for just a moment to regain her aplomb. It helped only the tiniest bit.
Forgetting her state of undress, her messy hair and lack of makeup, Margo opened the door and let the officers in.
They were drenched from the downpour—and agog at her attire, but she just didn’t care. She needed to find Oliver, needed to relieve Dash of their intrusive thug, and she needed to figure out how she’d been tracked down.
Because not for a minute did she think this was a random act. The porno-happy firebugs had somehow found her. She had a price on her head.
And Dash was more involved than ever.
They’d rattled the bushes with false claims of leads from the abandoned garage fire, and look what happened.
Now what?
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 hi
m, 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.