Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

  Dash just waited.

  “I’m happy to keep seeing you. Even after this weekend, I mean. That is, if you—”

  Dash leaned across the seat and took her mouth. He kept the kiss warm, firm, but not too consuming, considering they sat in front of a victim’s house. He opened her seat belt, cupped her waist in his hand and finally eased up. One more peck, and he moved back to his seat. “I do.” Definitely.

  This weekend, he’d make sure she understood just how much.

  * * *

  YVETTE DIDN’T REMEMBER the rims. Or if she did, she didn’t want to say so. She and her grandfather were literally holed up, the front door locked and barricaded, all of the curtains drawn.

  Tipton, her grandfather, rested in an easy chair, still trying to heal. He was a tough guy, doing his best to give a show of strength for his granddaughter, but anyone could see that Yvette was still terrified.

  She was a very pretty girl, Margo thought. Long dark hair, a very pretty face and a slender body with noticeable curves. No doubt she had her fair share of boyfriends chasing after her.

  But now, after what she’d endured, the awful threat of rape, death, burning...would she ever be the same?

  During her questions, Margo tried to be brusque, impartial, but she didn’t have it in her. When Yvette said, yet again, that she didn’t remember anything else, Margo sat close to her.

  Dash, showing a lot of consideration, moved closer to the grandfather, conversing quietly.

  Margo took the younger woman’s hands. “I’m so very sorry for what happened, Yvette.”

  The girl nodded, her gaze averted.

  “I’m sure Detective Bareden told you that officers will be doing more frequent drive-bys until we catch the men who terrorized you.”

  “Yes.”

  Clearly Yvette also knew that didn’t assure her safety. And Margo, much as she’d like to, wouldn’t make guarantees to the girl that she couldn’t keep. “Detective Bareden is a man of his word. He and Detective Riske will be working very hard to get the animals who threatened you.”

  Drawing a slow, deep breath, Yvette freed her hands—and faced Margo. “I know. They’re...nice men.”

  “Yes, they are.” Folding her hands in her lap, Margo tried to put the girl at ease. “They’re also very honorable and excellent at what they do.”

  Swallowing hard, Yvette dared a quick peek at Dash. “I wish there was something more I could tell you.”

  “Oftentimes, after things have settled down, something will come to mind. It could be anything. No matter how insignificant, please share with us. You’d be amazed at what turns out to be important.”

  That made Yvette thoughtful. Chewing her bottom lip, she again peeked at Dash. Clearly men now made her nervous. She had seen things no girl her age should have to see.

  Things no one human should have to see.

  When the knock sounded on the door, Yvette almost came out of her seat. She gasped and her eyes rounded. Margo put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Yvette. You aren’t alone.”

  The grandfather narrowed his eyes and stared at the door as if he expected someone to break it in.

  She nodded at Dash. He went to the front window, eased aside the curtain, and smiled. “It’s Cannon.”

  The way Yvette reacted, going boneless with relief but also brightening, gave Margo pause. Maybe all men didn’t worry her after all.

  They could hear a quiet conversation between Dash and Cannon before both men appeared in the living room. Margo realized she was staring as openly as Yvette. Either of the men alone made an impressive sight. Together...well, it was testosterone overload.

  Cannon was too young for her to look at seriously, and with Dash next to him, well, Margo could appreciate him—but she wanted Dash, and only Dash.

  Yvette, however, looked as if the sun had just come out and shone specifically on her.

  Mr. Sweeny struggled to sit a little more upright in his chair before Cannon waved him back and came farther into the room.

  Hands on his hips, Cannon looked at grandfather and then granddaughter. “Have you eaten?”

  Yvette watched him with big adoring eyes. “He ate some canned soup.”

  “And you?” Cannon came over and crouched down in front of her. “What did you eat?”

  “Nothin’,” her grandfather said. “She’s still too upset to eat.”

  “Grandpa!” Blushing, Yvette said to Cannon, “We didn’t know you were coming by.”

  “I called,” Cannon told her with a frown. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Oh.” She looked toward the kitchen. “I left it in there.”

  “Excuse us a minute,” he said to Margo. He took Yvette’s hand, pulled her up from the couch and led her into the kitchen.

  Slowly coming to her feet, Margo watched it all with raised brows and a little disbelief. With Cannon, Yvette seemed more like a love-struck young lady than a recovering victim.

  She glanced at the grandpa, and saw him smiling after them.

  Near her ear, in a low hush, Dash said, “I wonder if Cannon knows what he’s doing.”

  She hoped so, and decided to leave him to it. “We’ll be on our way now.”

  Cannon returned, now holding Yvette’s phone as he put in a number. “Speed dial,” he told her. “You hit number one and it’ll dial me. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  He said to Mr. Sweeny, “If anything happens, if anything doesn’t seem right, call me.”

  “Those detectives told us the same thing.”

  Cannon nodded. “Sure, that’d work, too.”

  Twisting her mouth, Margo tried not to snort. “Gee, thanks, Cannon.”

  He still looked far too serious as he explained, “I mean, if someone actually bothers you, call the cops first.” He tipped up Yvette’s chin. “But if anything spooks you, even if you know it’s not a real threat, well, then I can be here in no time.”

  “You’d do that?” Yvette asked.

  His touch lingered. “Sure.”

  Mr. Sweeny pressed a hand to his ribs and nodded. “I appreciate it, Cannon. It’s going to take a little while to stop watching shadows and jumping at every little sound.”

  “You make me sound like a baby, Grandpa.”

  Margo smiled. “Not so. Anyone would be jumpy after what you went through. I’d say you’re handling it remarkably well.”

  “Especially,” Mr. Sweeny said, “with them swearin’ they’d be back.”

  Yvette shuddered.

  Knowing she should go, Margo reached out for Yvette’s hand. “Remember, anything at all, call. Okay?”

  It took a minute, and then Yvette said, “There is one thing.”

  Everyone became more alert.

  “It’s probably nothing. And I...I’m not sure. But I think two of them were brothers.”

  Brothers? “What makes you think so?”

  “They... I don’t know. They looked a little alike, and the way they talked to each other. It was different from the other guy.”

  “Different from the man with the goatee?” Cannon asked.

  “Yes. They...joked about what they were doing. The other man, he was darker and seemed... I don’t know.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “They were all disgusting. But the dark guy just seemed to be more serious about it.”

  Cannon slipped an arm around her shoulders and that encouraged her to keep going.

  “He treated it like it was his job, but the brothers just did it because they could.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Actually,” Margo told her, “it does. And if they are brothers, it might help us to track them down.” She smiled, hoping to reassure Yvette. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll share with my de
tectives and we’ll see what we can turn up. You have my number, so if you think of anything else, call me.”

  “I will.”

  Cannon said, “I’ll walk you out.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  The stricken note in Yvette’s voice broke Margo’s heart.

  “No. I’m going to stick around for about an hour.” Cannon pulled on a stocking cap. “I’ll be right back in.”

  As they stepped out, Cannon pulled the door shut behind him, ensuring they could speak privately. Both he and Dash surveyed the area, on the lookout, cautious.

  She’d already done the same herself. It was an older neighborhood, the streets lined with sedans and pickups. Cracks split the aged concrete sidewalks and large oak and elm trees grew in every yard.

  Similar redbrick houses lined this quiet suburban street. The backyards blended together without fences. At the back of each narrow property was a tall retaining wall, helping to block the sounds of a highway put in a few years ago.

  Short of putting around-the-clock guards on the house, it couldn’t be entirely protected. “As long as they don’t open the door without knowing who’s there, they should be safe enough.”

  “Convincing yourself, or me?” Cannon asked.

  “Both, I guess.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BRIGHT SUNLIGHT MADE it feel warmer than it was. When the late March wind blew, the chill cut through Margo’s clothes, making her shiver.

  She pulled her coat tighter around her, and felt Dash step up to her back, his hands on her shoulders.

  “I told them the same.” Cannon shook his head. “They’re supposed to let me know if they go out.”

  “You plan to trail them?” Dash asked.

  “If I need to, yeah. Best way to catch a thug is to bust him in the act.”

  Margo couldn’t believe the enormity of what he took on. “If you see anything—”

  “I’ll call.” He squinted up at the bright sky. “Some of my friends helped me clean up the pawnshop today. It’s not perfect yet, but the bulk of it’s done, most of the stench gone.”

  Dash shifted in disbelief. “When the hell do you rest?”

  Cannon ignored that question. “When they’re ready, they’ll be able to get back to work. But I’m hoping you’ll get the bastards first.”

  “I’m hoping the same.” Margo sensed there was more on his mind. “You have something to share?”

  “Sort of.” He looked uncomfortable, hands in his pockets, shoulders up against the chill. “I know this all started with some weird black-market pornos, right? Videotaped rapes and stuff.”

  “And some women who were badly hurt, two of them killed. Yes.”

  His expression hardened. “Well, a friend knows a guy with a few of those type of movies.”

  Anticipation brought her forward and she put a hand on Cannon’s arm. “Who? How did he get them?”

  “I don’t know the whole story yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  He looked out over the streets, watched an elderly woman walking with a grocery cart, an older man putting mail in the corner mailbox. “Most of the people around here are just average, hardworking middle-class folk trying to get by. But there are some others who want out and can’t figure an easy enough way. So they try for shortcuts.”

  “By doing dumb things, you mean.”

  He shrugged, still not looking at her. “Often by working for someone with enough money to give a leg up. You prove yourself, gain some cred and you can temporarily change your circumstances.”

  Margo sighed. “You’re talking about young men who get hired out as thugs. To do some rich guy’s dirty work?”

  “Yeah.” He finally looked at her. “Money doesn’t automatically make someone a good person.”

  “No,” Dash agreed. “It doesn’t. But it doesn’t make him a bad guy, either.”

  Cannon grinned. “I know the difference—and I know you donated to the rec center. Appreciate it.”

  Margo twisted to see Dash, saw him flush and something like pride swelled inside her. She put her hand over his on her shoulder, and leaned into him.

  “My point is that wealthier guys come trolling through here all the time. Looking for cheap sex or muscle for hire.” He withdrew a slip of paper with a name written on it.

  It was then that Margo noticed his busted knuckles. She caught his hand. “This looks new.”

  “Yeah.” He met her gaze without flinching.

  “Another of your trained fights?”

  “Not exactly, no.” He gave her the paper, then tucked his hands away again. “There’s a local guy who likes to make fast cash when he can. He got hired to buy drugs for a private party. When he delivered them, he said a movie like that was playing on a big screen. About six men and as many women sat around laughing about it as they watched.”

  Margo caught her breath at such callous inhumanity— and felt Dash squeeze her shoulders, his touch firm, caressing. Reassuring.

  She looked at the paper and saw a name. “This is the address for the man who delivered the drugs, or the man who paid for them?”

  “The man who paid.”

  “I guess you convinced your friend to give you that address?”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  And she supposed that was all the answer she’d get.

  Dash pulled Margo closer. “You’re sure it’s the real thing?”

  “No. I haven’t seen them. But when the guy dropped off the drugs, he saw part of one and it turned his stomach. If you knew him, you’d know that’s not an easy thing to do. He said it was obviously homemade, and that the woman was out of it.”

  Drugged. “The same woman in the other video?”

  “I don’t think so.” Cannon shared the description he’d gotten—maybe through the use of his fists.

  Margo braced herself against the hurt. “Sounds like one of the murdered women we found.” Unsure how much Cannon knew, she explained, “Of the four women we know who were victimized, two made it to us, bruised and beaten up a little, scared and disoriented.” The truth burned like acid in her throat. “Two were bodies we found that had similar marks of abuse.”

  “And then there’s the woman in the last video,” Dash growled. “They can’t be doing this for money. They’d never make enough. So if a wealthier guy had a copy, then maybe he got it from one of his peers.”

  Margo wanted to grab Dash and kiss him. Of course she’d realized the enterprise couldn’t be that lucrative, that the sick bastards did it to feed their perversions. But she hadn’t thought about them being men of means, able to move around so easily.

  Able to pay for immunity.

  The buildings they’d used so far were disreputable, abandoned. But still... “I think you’re right, Dash—and that gives us some direction.”

  He turned her to face him. “We’re heading out of town. Right now.”

  “I know.”

  He literally lifted her to her tiptoes. “I hear it in your voice, honey. You’re ready to jump in again, feetfirst. But you know it’s not safe. They know you. Anywhere you go, any scene you touch, is a tip-off.”

  She put her hands to his chest. “I know.” And just to reassure him, she gave him a quick kiss that startled him quiet. “Now let me go. I need to get Logan on the phone ASAP.”

  When she turned, Cannon wore a crooked grin. “I’ll hold tight until I hear from you or Logan. But I’m willing to do whatever I can to get this done. Just so you know.”

  Margo held out her hand. “You’re proving to be a very handy person to have around.”

  Grin spreading, Cannon accepted her gesture of gratitude. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When he didn’t let go, Margo lifted he
r brows in question. “Is there anything else?”

  “Not really.” He held her hand in both of his now. “I just wondered how you’re doing. Rowdy told me what happened this morning with the break-in, the kerosene.”

  “We’re fine.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Did you tell Yvette about it?”

  “No.” Margo would never do anything to alarm the girl more. “She doesn’t need to hear about things that would only upset her.”

  Relieved, Cannon nodded. “This is so messed up.”

  “Very,” Dash agreed. “That’s why I’m taking Margo away for a few days.”

  “Yeah.” Finally releasing her hand, he tugged at his stocking hat, rearranged it. “I think it’s smart.”

  Men, Margo decided, at least the good men, all tended to think along the same lines. “Logan will be in touch very soon, I’m sure. And Cannon? I’ll tell you what I told Yvette. If anything else happens, anything at all, I want to know.”

  Flashing a grin, he said again, “Yes, ma’am.”

  After he went back into the house, Margo took Dash’s hand and headed for the car. “Why do I get the feeling that he’s a softer-edged version of Rowdy?”

  After checking up and down the street, Dash opened the door for her. “I think Cannon is his own man, different from anyone else I’ve known—including Rowdy. From what he said, he had a great upbringing.”

  “With loving parents,” Margo agreed. And then, more quietly she added, “Until his dad was murdered.” Childhood trauma had a way of molding a person. Sometimes it screwed him up, put him on the wrong path and he never found his way back.

  But sometimes it made him determined to be better. With Cannon, she figured it was the latter.

  * * *

  WITH EVERY MINUTE that passed, Dash felt more urgent to get her away to someplace safe. With him.

  Just knowing they were going wasn’t enough. He wanted to be there, now.

  It had always been difficult, knowing the risks that Logan took as a detective. But with Margo everything was amplified tenfold. He didn’t like to think of himself as sexist. Yes, the fact that she was a small woman played into his uneasiness. Never mind her larger-than-life attitude and kick-ass authoritativeness. She was still a woman, slender in all the ways that mattered, without a man’s muscle strength or bone structure.