by Lori Foster
“Mind if I see the messages now?”
Yes, she did mind. No sane person would want to share the ugliness of his rage. But she accepted that the best way to protect everyone involved was to share everything, so she pulled up the messages and handed her phone to Margaret.
Clearly Cannon wanted to read them also, but she didn’t offer, and he didn’t ask.
Margaret sat in silence, reading, her expression forbidding. When she finished, she handed the phone back to Yvette.
“I know,” Yvette said, chatting through her embarrassment. “He’s nasty. But is he really—”
“Yes, he is.” She asked Cannon, “Have you read any of it?”
He took Yvette’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Not much.”
“I’m sure it’s not the sort of thing any lady wants passed around. Suffice it to say he’s plenty twisted and a definite problem. So here’s what I want you to do.” The lieutenant got a paper and pen from the drawer and made a list. “First, keep your distance from him. You, too, Cannon. Avoid him if you can.”
Cannon scowled over that, but Yvette gave him an “I told you so” look.
“You’ll need a restraining order. That’ll be top of the list on Monday. Unfortunately, it’s not valid until he’s been served with it. If he’s still at the hotel, we’ll get it to him. But in the meantime, if you’re out alone and he approaches you and won’t go away, call someone immediately. Even 911, okay?”
Now she felt alarmed. “You really think it’s that bad?”
“I’ve seen plenty of sick bastards, so why take chances? Second, keep all of the messages he’s sent you. Print them out and bring me a copy. Have your friend print off whatever he’s posting on his wall. Make sure everything is dated.”
With every word she said, Cannon’s mood darkened more.
“I know you’ve been blunt, and that’s good. But no more playing nice at all. Don’t tell him it’s not a good idea to be friends. Tell him you will never again be his friend and you don’t want him contacting you for any reason.”
Knowing that would only cause him to be more caustic, which would definitely cause a scene, Yvette dreaded it—but she agreed. She wasn’t a dummy. The lieutenant knew what she was talking about. She had experience with creeps. Whatever she told Yvette to do, she’d do.
“I know being mean doesn’t come naturally to most of us. But you don’t want him to misunderstand. He can’t think that he might be able to convince you, or that if Cannon was out of the picture you’d be more inclined to hook back up.”
Out of the picture? Fear slammed into her. “You don’t think he’d—”
Gently, Margaret said, “I don’t know what he might do, and neither do you. Given what I’ve read, he’s clearly not right in the head. No sane man says those things about a woman he claims to love.”
Cannon pushed away from the table and went to lean on the sink. She rarely saw him angry, but now his entire body emanated menace.
A big breath didn’t ease the gripping uneasiness, but Yvette nodded. “Okay. Yes, of course.”
“Keep your cell phone on you at all times. Make sure your house is secure.”
“We already did that,” Cannon said.
Margaret twisted to look up at him. “We?”
“I’m living with her.”
Yvette felt her face go hot, but Margaret merely nodded. “Good. You might want to think about getting a dog, too. Something with a big bark.” She continued listing her instructions. “When you start working at the shop, avoid any set schedule. Don’t leave the house at the same time every day or close up the shop when you’re there alone.”
Gradually anger overtook every other emotion. How dare Heath do this to her?
“My last suggestion,” Margaret said, taking her hand, “is to let me go talk with him. We know where he’s at, but we don’t know how long he’ll be here. What if he stays a week, a month or longer? It never hurts for a stalker to know that the cops are watching.”
Cannon turned, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed, silently asking her forgiveness.
Yvette read the emotion there, but she didn’t understand it.
Until he said to Margaret, “She’s concerned about drawing attention again.”
Yvette sat a little straighter. “It’s fine,” she stressed, hoping Cannon would let it go.
He didn’t.
“Last time she was here she was in the thick of a macabre investigation with reporters all wanting her story.” He walked back over to her, his hand on her shoulder. “Her face was on the news every hour, so you can understand why she’d rather avoid the hype.”
“What those men did,” Margaret said, “rocked our entire community. With the investigation and the trial, it was headline news for a very long time.”
“People will never forget,” Yvette agreed.
“But the real story, the only one that matters, is that we all survived. Regardless of what anyone else thinks, that’s what you should remember.”
“I understand.” She really did. And she was grateful. More than anyone could know. “It’s just… I detested being the center of gossip and speculation.”
“Anyone would. But I promise, I can be discreet. As long as he doesn’t go off the rails, no one will need to know that I went to see him.”
“Thank you.”
Margaret gave her hand one last squeeze. “I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”
When the lieutenant stood, so did Yvette.
Cannon tucked her into his side.
Margaret took in his familiar hold and smiled. “You know, as long as you’re here, I’ve been thinking about something else.”
Given the tentative way she said that, Cannon lifted a brow. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”
“You do so much at the rec center already that I hesitate to bring it up.”
“I have plenty of help, so feel free.”
“All right.” She pushed in her chair, then stood behind it. “Have you ever considered teaching self-defense classes for women?” Rushing on, she added, “There are a lot of women in the neighborhood who would benefit.”
And a lot of women, Yvette thought with a grin, who would sign up just to be with the fighters.
First surprised, and then thoughtful, Cannon nodded. “Actually, that’s a terrific idea.”
“I’d be happy to come in and help you get started.”
“Yeah, sure, we could use some direction.” His grin went lopsided. “I’m guessing the moves a woman needs to know might differ some from what I do in a competition.”
Margaret held up her fist. “Smaller hands, smaller bone structure. Most women won’t be able to punch their way out of an attack. But there are ways.”
With a feigned wince of pain, Cannon put a hand over his crotch. “Bet I know what you’re thinking, too.”
She laughed. “There’s always that. But other strikes are effective, too. I can demonstrate and you guys can follow through. How’s that sound?”
Agreeing, he said, “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“You’re in town for a while?”
Yvette wondered that herself. So far Cannon hadn’t said how long he planned to stick around, though she now knew he’d have another fight coming up.
She frowned when he nodded without clarifying just how long “a while” might be.
There was a squeal in the hallway and a second later, a very naked baby came charging around the corner.
Running after her with a towel, his T-shirt and part of his jeans soaked, Dash called, “Bethany Marie Riske.”
A cat that Yvette hadn’t noticed darted up the hall behind them but scooted under the couch when he realized they had company.
“My puppy cat,” Margaret explained. “He’s old, blind and he still tries to keep up with Bethany.”
“Loves her,” Dash said, and he scowled down at his daughter.
She wrinkled her nose, crossed her arms and sc
owled back.
Grinning, his mood lightened, Cannon scooped her up. “Button, what are you doing streaking around the house?”
“Come take a bath wif me.”
“Uh, no. Sorry.” He kissed the end of her nose and handed her over to Dash, who wrapped the big fluffy towel around her.
“Little girls shouldn’t run off before getting dressed,” Dash scolded her. Then he kissed her cheek and her ear and in seconds she was giggling.
Holding her under his arm like a football, he headed back down the hall. Bethany giggled hysterically, and the cat emerged to follow.
Margaret shook her head, but she smiled, too. “Don’t leave before she gets her nightgown on. She’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t get to tell you goodbye.”
It took only another two minutes before Bethany, now wearing a long yellow nightgown and dragging a blanket, returned. She crawled up Cannon again, laid her head on his shoulder and looked ready to call it a night.
Slowly, so she wouldn’t scare her, Yvette reached out to smooth one corkscrew curl.
“You ready for bed, Button?” Cannon asked softly.
“Mama’s gonna read to me.”
“Yes, Mama is,” Margaret said, and she took her daughter, hugging her close. “Tell Cannon and Yvette goodbye, sweetie.”
Around a big yawn, she said, “’Bye, Cannon and ’Vette.”
Margaret touched Yvette’s arm. “We’ll talk again soon. Be careful, okay?”
“Thank you.”
Cannon encased Margaret and Bethany both in a hug. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”
She patted his chest. “Anytime. You know that.” Then, more softly, “Read some of those messages, okay?”
After she walked away, Dash asked, “Get everything squared away?”
“Yes, thank you,” Yvette said. “And again, I’m sorry for bothering—”
“No bother,” he interrupted. “Margo thrives on this stuff. She’s especially sensitive about jackasses bugging women.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Cannon told him.
“And I know it.” He walked them to the door, but then stopped Yvette from leaving with a touch to her arm. “Call anytime, okay? I promise you, Margaret would prefer to get woken up than to find out later that something happened. I don’t know if she told you, but she feels like we all have a bond, given what we went through together.”
Yvette couldn’t fathom what she’d done to deserve such wonderful people. They’d all been brave, even heroic, and she’d been…a complete wuss.
Being honest, she said, “This is not how I wanted anyone to see me when I came back.”
Dash shook his head. “Know what I see? A woman who should have cracked under the pressure and instead is smart enough to handle things the right way.”
“The right way being getting your wife involved?”
Dash grinned. “She’s good at what she does.”
“Very good.” Cannon put an arm around her, drawing her into his side. “She’s a hell of an ally to have.”
“We all need them,” Dash agreed. “Both of you, watch your backs, okay? And if you need anything, let us know.”
It wasn’t until they were in her car and out of the driveway that Cannon spoke. “You can rely on all of them.”
At first Yvette didn’t understand. “Who?” Then she caught his meaning. “You’re talking about Margaret—”
“And Dash. Rowdy, Avery, Logan, Reese…” Steering with one hand, he wrapped his right hand over her knee. “I’ve relied on all of them plenty of times, and vice versa.”
Never would she go crying to his friends, looking for help. If it came to that she’d go back to California. But she was an optimist, so she had to believe it’d all work out somehow.
Now that he’d sort of brought it up, she turned in her seat and gave way to her curiosity. “When you take those long walks at night with your friends, the pole dancers you talk with, all the business people, it’s because you’re checking up on your neighborhood.”
“Something like that.”
“An older couple told me that you ran drug dealers away from their shop.”
Modest in the extreme, Cannon lifted a shoulder. “I strongly suggested they move along.”
“Right. I’m sure that’s all you did. A nice, friendly chat.”
He flashed a quick grin. “Before meeting Rowdy and his whole entourage, we made things happen by backing up what we said. And yeah, before you ask, that means I got into a lot of fights. Came to the point where it was easier for the street thugs to avoid us than to engage.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It was a few times.” His fingers teased over her knee, then behind it. He blew out a breath. “Long ago, my dad died resisting extortion from a local group.”
Yvette’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry.”
“Like I said, it was long ago.”
Covering his hand with hers, knowing there was more, she waited.
“After that, some punks tried to give Merissa a hard time. I decided that wasn’t going to happen.” His brows pinched together a little as he recalled those long-ago days. Only seconds later, he shook off the mood. “That’s when I learned I could fight.” He glanced at her with a quick grin. “And that there was room for improvement. I started training, got involved in some small venues and kept up with the neighborhood network.”
Yvette laced her fingers with his. “You’re pretty amazing. You know that, right?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Not amazing, honey. Just appreciative of what I have and the people I know. Including you. And that brings us full circle.”
“Should I be dizzy?”
“If for any reason you can’t ever reach me, well, Rowdy is the most honorable tough guy I’ve ever known, followed closely by the lieutenant.”
Laughing at that, Yvette said, “A tough guy, huh?”
“Or just tough. And definitely honorable. Dash and the detectives…they’re really good men.” He let her go and returned both hands to the steering wheel. “But you can always go to Armie, too, or Denver or Stack or—”
“Wow.” Mustering a laugh, Yvette dropped back in her seat. “Are you expecting me to rouse up major chaos at every turn? Because seriously, Cannon, I’m hoping Heath takes off and it all just disappears, in which case, why would I need all this excellent backup?”
“I’m expecting you to be beautiful and hot and to keep me crazy with lust.”
Wow again. She had nothing to say to that, except that maybe it’d be better if she appeased his lust. Like…tonight.
“But I’m the cautious sort,” he said, “and I believe in being prepared. So humor me, okay?”
It took her a minute to get her thoughts in order, then she leaned in and stroked his shoulder. His body was so incredibly honed. She loved the feel of him under the soft cotton T-shirt. But she loved to touch his hot skin even more, so she slipped her fingers underneath his sleeve.
He went alert in a very masculine way.
“I don’t want you to worry, Cannon. I’m not going to let Heath dictate my decisions, but I’m not going to do anything foolish either.” He started to say something, but she wasn’t done yet. “The thing is, I really don’t want this to become your problem. Yes, we’re in the same house. And yes, I want…” How to put it? “You.” That seemed clear enough. But just to be sure, she added, “In every way.”
“Damn, honey.” He shifted, straightening one leg, tugging at his jeans.
“I appreciate how you handled Heath today. He took me by surprise and I was embarrassed. But no matter what he said or did, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere alone with him. It might have gotten even more embarrassing, but I could have handled it.”
That only made Cannon look more determined. “Glad to hear it.”
In no way did he sound convinced, and that concerned her. “I hope you listened to what Margaret said. You don’t need to seek Heath out. You don’t need to defend my honor.”
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“I don’t, huh?”
Now he almost sounded annoyed. She eyed him. “I’m not saying you have to ignore Heath’s insults if we run into him.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But you can try letting me deal with him before you get in the middle of it.”
He grunted over that.
“Mostly,” she said, “I want to thank you.”
That got his attention. “For what?”
“For offering to back me up.” Again. “For caring.” God, she hoped he did. “For…everything.” Mostly, for being you.
He was quiet for a very long time, and that made Yvette even more uncertain about his feelings. Cannon was such a great guy to everyone. He was known for always treating women with respect, even the women he turned down. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been a defender…of everyone.
She knew he cared for her, but then, he cared for a lot of people.
Damn it, she wanted to be special.
Because he was so very special to her.
Finally he said, “I’m going to leave my truck at Rissy’s until we get the garage cleaned out. Then we’ll both be able to park inside. I don’t want to leave it sitting out there like bait.”
“That makes sense.” Another thought occurred to her. “You spend most of your time in Harmony, Kentucky, right?”
Suspicious, he asked, “Why?”
“You have a house there?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her. “I’ll show it to you someday, okay? It’s not that long of a drive. Maybe three hours.”
Realizing he had an entire life set up elsewhere did a lot to dampen her mood. Out of necessity, his time here would have to be limited. “I’d like that. Thank you.” Going back to her original train of thought, she asked, “Your house has a garage?”
“Three-car, yeah.” Again he glanced at her. “And a pool. I’d love to see you in a bikini.”
She should have smiled at the wolfish way he said that, but guilt had a stranglehold on her again. “If you weren’t here, playing house with me—” most likely because he worried about her being alone “—then your truck would have already been safely locked in a garage instead of—”
