Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

  “You share the videos,” Margo said.

  “With each other, of course.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “With other swine.”

  She could tell her insults were starting to grate on him. The muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed and twitched. “Yes, on occasion, I share. It pays to appease people in high places just in case my plans go awry and I need assistance.”

  High places? Like...in the police department? Her stomach knotted and her lungs compressed.

  “Now,” Curtis said to Cannon, unconcerned with her distress. “Who exactly are you?”

  “He’s no one,” Yvette rushed to say. “He’s just a neighbor. He—”

  Toby grabbed her face in his big hand, squeezing so that she had to look up at him. He stared into her eyes...and laughed. “Damn, but I think she’s smitten.”

  Curtis smiled over that. “A boyfriend? Interesting.”

  “He’s not!”

  Ignoring her, Curtis pondered things. “I can imagine all kinds of interesting scenarios between the two of them.”

  “Fuck that,” Toby said. “I’m not sharing.”

  At the same time, getting so excited he damned near drooled on himself, Saul asked, “Like what?”

  “I’ll tell you after we set up the camera. Now, young man.” He waved his finger in a circle. “Hands up while you turn around so we can see that you’re not hiding a weapon.”

  Cannon raised his hands and slowly did a turn. Margo saw the bunching of his muscles under his shirt and in his thighs. He was coiled so tightly she wondered that the trippy trio didn’t worry more about it.

  “Good, good. Saul, go and secure his hands.” And then to Cannon, “Make one wrong move, and Toby will break her neck. Do we understand each other?”

  With no discernible emotion at all, Cannon stared at him. “Perfectly.”

  Wow, Margo thought. Cannon was so contained. Both he and Dash were handling things as well as could be expected. No posturing, no drawing undue attention or escalating the tension with ineffectual cursing and struggles.

  Cannon stood docile while Saul wrenched his hands back and looped the nylon cuffs around him, zipping them tightly. Cannon’s gaze met hers, and they both understood.

  Saul didn’t realize that the restraints needed to be against the skin, not over a long-sleeved T-shirt and jacket.

  Cannon turned his back to the wall and stood still. With any luck, Yvette had secured Dash the same way—meaning Dash might be able to get his hands free.

  Oh, God, please let us have an advantage.

  “She’s up to something,” Toby said.

  Margo gave a caustic laugh. “Easy, Toby. Keep that up and everyone is going to think you’re afraid of me!”

  “No.” Still holding the knife, Toby rubbed his hand over Yvette’s stomach. “I just don’t want you.”

  “Because I make you nervous,” Margo taunted. “I do understand.”

  Curtis moved Tipton forward and pushed him roughly into his lounge chair. Tipton bit back an agonizing groan. “Sit in the chair, old man, and don’t move.” Then he grinned at Toby. “You know, I’m starting to think she might be right. Does the little lady scare you?”

  “No.”

  “She’s...what? Five-four? Maybe weighs a buck-ten?”

  Margo shrugged. “Height is right, but you’re off by seven pounds.” Sneering, she added, “Maybe it’s those extra seven pounds that concern old Toby.”

  Taking the bait, Toby stopped his unwelcome caress on Yvette and glared at her.

  “What?” Margo said, and she prayed Dash would understand. “You want me to play the victim, Toby? Is that it? You want the helpless little woman to cower and cry over the big, bad man?”

  Dash’s head jerked up and he breathed harder.

  “Yes.” Pushing Yvette aside so roughly she almost fell, Toby took a step forward. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  “Toby,” Curtis said in soft warning. “I have plans for her. Do not even think about stealing my fun.”

  Filled with evil intent, Toby put his gun and knife behind him on the dining room table, right next to Margo’s purse and weapon. “I won’t kill her,” he said. “I’ll just get her warmed up for you.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Curtis handed over the heavy can. “Douse the men in kerosene first.”

  Yvette was nearly hysterical, but Toby grabbed her hair and licked her cheek. “No more on you, honey,” he said against her skin. “I’m going to play with you and I don’t want that shit on me. But if you don’t stand there quietly and be a good girl I’ll fucking drown you in it, then just give you a bath before I have my fun.”

  Wanting their attention on her, not anyone else, Margo got snide again. “Chickenshit bastard.”

  Forgetting his order, Toby started for her, his intent plain.

  Dash struggled to free his arms.

  Margo ignored him—and his lack of trust. “Afraid of a real woman, aren’t you, Toby? It’s easy to dominate a girl, to play caveman and conqueror against someone so young and—”

  Reaching her in three long strides, Toby backhanded her.

  Margo staggered but didn’t fall. Her cheek throbbed, her jaw ached, but luckily he hadn’t broken anything. She didn’t show any pain, didn’t rub her face or tear up.

  “Toby,” Curtis chastised, but he sounded entertained.

  “You’re going to watch,” Toby said, “as I rape her.”

  Margo made herself stare into his black eyes, her own gaze unflinching. “That makes you more comfortable, doesn’t it? Attacking a child instead of a woman? Bullying someone who’s so young and afraid. Maybe,” she continued, “because you can’t get it up otherwise.”

  “Jesus,” Cannon mumbled under his breath.

  Dash just stared at her. Did he remember their game of victim, how she showed him her ruse? Please don’t let him interfere, she thought. If he pushed them and got shot, or... She almost shuddered at the awful thought. No, they wouldn’t burn anyone. Not yet.

  “I bet none of you prickless wonders would know what to do with a real woman.”

  Toby reached for her—but Curtis said, “No.”

  Breathing hard, Toby stopped, even stepped back from her.

  Maybe because she’d included him in her insults, Curtis went coldly furious. “You’re going to regret that smart mouth, bitch.”

  “A smart mouth is better than a dumb ass any day.”

  Toby stared at her like she was the insane one, then he laughed with derision. “Seriously, Curtis, just shoot her already.”

  “No.” Curtis curled and uncurled his fists. “I’ve decided that I’ll take her myself. You two can work over the child after I finish with this one.”

  That took Toby by surprise. He ran a hand over his goatee. “You sure, Curtis? I mean, you never risk being seen on camera.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted with determined meanness. “Usually,” he said to Margo, “I prefer only to watch. Touching the girls...” He slowly shook his head. “Not really my interest. But for you I’ll make an exception.”

  Her heart started racing but she kept her tone unconcerned. “Wow, I feel so special.” The more enraged she got them the more likely they would be to make a mistake. All she needed was one opportunity, and she would react.

  Saul actually clapped his hands. “Can I videotape?”

  “No, you may not.” Curtis’s attention never wavered from her. “Toby is right. I don’t want to be on film. This will be for my own private memory, not for anyone else.”

  Cursing, Dash drew their attention. That slowed things as Toby went over and soaked his legs with the kerosene all the way to his upper thighs. “Just settle down now,” Toby said. “That kerosene is going to itch and burn pretty soo
n, but at least you’ll have a front-row seat to the show.” He laughed at his own twisted humor and moved to do the same with Cannon.

  Bypassing Margo, Toby said, “We’ll leave you clean and dry for now,” but added, “There’ll be plenty of time to fuel you up later.”

  She half expected Cannon to react, to kick or fight. Instead he stood still, looking almost bored.

  While the men all watched that, Dash wrestled with his bindings.

  Margo knew that Dash was trying to send a message. The three stooges might not have noticed, but in her peripheral vision she’d watched him cautiously tug and twist.

  She was counting on him getting free, because she wasn’t sure she could do this without him.

  Now with the men effectively contained, Curtis took a step closer to her, his attention on her breasts—and her cell phone rang.

  * * *

  SILENT AS DEATH, Logan, Reese and Rowdy crept up behind thick shrubbery to survey the house. Thanks to the high sun they were able to stay out of view in tall shadows.

  “I had hoped Cannon was wrong.” Rowdy glanced around the area, taking in every shrub, every source of concealment.

  “He wasn’t,” Logan said. They each sensed the gloom in the air, the tension that good cops learned to pick up on. Good cops—and men like Rowdy, men who had lived most of their lives on the edge.

  Things were off, and they could all feel it.

  “Maybe this is why Toby wasn’t at his place when I got there,” Reese said.

  “Probably.” Earlier that day, the custom-car dealership had come through for them with an address. Reese had gone there to “talk” but found the wooded cabin empty.

  The twisted lunatic was here, instead.

  “That’s Margo’s rental,” Reese added, nodding toward the car parked out front of the house.

  “Yeah, it’s a regular fucking party inside.” Logan stared at the darkened front windows, trying to decide how to proceed. “How did they get in?” He turned to Reese. “No way did Yvette or her grandpa invite them. But if they forced their way in, why didn’t the patrolmen notice?”

  “They’re supposed to come by every fifteen minutes, but I haven’t seen anyone and we’ve been here—” Reese checked his watch “—almost twenty-three minutes.”

  Logan didn’t like the significance of that oversight. “Who the hell would have called them off?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Rowdy sat on his haunches, his gaze studying the house from front to back. “My snitch says it was a tall silver-haired man who hired the hit on her house.”

  “The hell you say.” Reese stared at him. “You just now think to mention it?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “After Cannon called, that bit of news went secondary.”

  Reese turned to Logan. “So maybe the commander also called off the extra surveillance.” And under his breath, “I never did like cheaters.”

  Logan didn’t want to get distracted, not now, not with his brother inside. But he had to share. “The address Cannon gave me? I just found out an hour ago that it’s the house Dan inherited from his folks.”

  Reese shifted, listening while also surveying the surroundings. “I’d say that seals the deal.” And then he asked, “You asked him about it?”

  “Right before Rowdy called us.” They’d each been off following their own leads, but now everything was coming to a head at the same time. “Dan said he hadn’t used that house for months, so whoever gave me the address must’ve gotten it wrong.”

  “Of course he’ll be able to come up with an alibi if he needs to.”

  “Yeah.” Logan hoped like hell Margo’s father hadn’t aligned himself with Dan. All of it was twisted enough, but the idea of a dad setting you up as kindling for a bonfire would fuck up anyone’s life. “I think Dan has a lot to answer for.”

  “Soon as we get this settled.”

  “Right.” Logan pulled out his phone and punched in Margo’s number.

  It went unanswered.

  Grim, he said, “I’ll try Yvette.” Again, nothing. “Straight to voice mail.”

  “Maybe she turned it off.”

  Maybe murderous scum turned it off for her. Logan turned to speak to Rowdy, but found him gone. “Damn it.”

  Reese looked, too. “He is so fucking competent.” Sounding impressed, he asked, “Where do you think he went?”

  “Knowing Rowdy, he’s probably finding a way to play the hero.” Logan punched in another number, this time Dash.

  He finally got an answer.

  * * *

  “GET HIS PHONE,” Curtis told Yvette. “And hurry it up.”

  Breathing in short, gasping breaths, she skirted over to Dash and then waffled helplessly, undecided.

  “Front pocket,” Dash told her gently. “Right side.” He helped by lifting his hips a little...and used that movement to further loosen his hands from the nylon cords.

  Awkwardly, her face hot, Yvette dug in his pocket and finally got the phone out.

  “Put it on speakerphone,” Curtis ordered her, and then to Dash said, “One wrong word and the lady cop is the first one dead.” To shore that up, Saul pointed his gun at her.

  With trembling hands, Yvette opened the phone and held it out.

  Knowing who it would be, and knowing his brother was too slick to give anything away, Dash said, “Hey.”

  “What the hell, Dash,” Logan said. “You stood me up.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” He and his brother had talked often enough about cases that he knew how to convey a message without actually saying it. “I forgot to call.”

  Already the kerosene on his legs grew uncomfortable. He saw Cannon shift a few times, too. He could only imagine how miserable poor Yvette had to be. He thanked God that they hadn’t put that shit on Margo.

  There was a single second of thought, and then Logan asked, “You hanging out with Margo, or Cannon?”

  “Both.” He glanced over at Margo, so afraid for her but determined to keep his facade of calm. Somehow they had to get out of this—nothing else was acceptable.

  And then he had to tell her how much he loved her.

  “Well, don’t sweat it,” Logan said. “Reese and I got called in to work anyway.”

  Meaning they knew what was going on.

  “I’ll see you soon, though, okay?”

  So they were already right outside. If necessary, they could bust in—all he’d need to do was clue them in.

  “Sure, but it won’t be anytime real soon.” If they tried to enter now, Margo might be shot. “I’ll give you a call when I have some free time.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Hang in there.”

  “Sure, thanks, Logan.”

  “Bring me the phone,” Curtis demanded as soon as the call ended. He tossed it onto the table and glared at Dash.

  “We were supposed to meet for lunch,” Dash lied.

  Toby laughed. “You are so full of shit.”

  Dash continued to look at Curtis. Toby was harder to convince, but luckily Curtis was—for whatever reason—in charge. “You wanted me to throw him off but I didn’t have to. He’s a cop, like you said. Stuff came up.”

  Still Curtis frowned. “What stuff?”

  “You heard what I heard. But you know he tried calling Margo first because she’s his lieutenant, so whatever he’s working on must be routine police business.”

  After some thought, Curtis nodded. “I believe him. If he’d given his brother any cause for alarm, they’d already be at the door.”

  Agitated, Toby paced, his suspicion cast on everyone. “I don’t like it.”

  “I didn’t ask you.” Curtis took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “Saul, give her the shot.”

  Shot? What the fuck? Dash worked his wrists. He alm
ost had his right hand free. No way in hell would he let them inject anything into Margo. If it became necessary, he could attack with the damn chair still strapped to him.

  Curtis took in his expression, but had no idea that he was close to being free. “Now, now. Don’t worry. It’s nothing lethal. Just something to help her be more compliant.” He smiled. “I agree with Toby. She will not be easy to control.”

  Dash knew the woman in the video had been drugged. He would not let that happen to Margo. He’d die before he let her be used like that.

  Saul snickered as he stepped into the kitchen and returned with a half-full hypodermic needle. “I’ll dope her up real good. She won’t give you any trouble.”

  Jesus, Dash thought, as panic sliced into his composure. Should he yell for Logan now? Had they just run out of time? Curtis still flicked that damned lighter—but he’d have to hand it off to someone else if he planned to... No.

  The psychopath would not touch Margo.

  “That’s right,” Margo said, still in her abrasive manner—nowhere near a victim—which made it difficult for Dash to understand her strategy. Not that he doubted she had one. “Fill the syringe full, you little worm. Make sure or you’ll be sorry.”

  Not a victim, although she’d clearly sent him a message when she’d mentioned being a victim earlier.

  As Saul paused, uncertain, she laughed, goading him. That got Toby bunching up, too, and had Curtis twitching with rage.

  And then it hit him.

  Margo wanted them all rattled. She wanted them to lose sight of their absurd game so that they’d make missteps—and she could take advantage.

  As the truth settled in, Dash felt an eerie calm envelop him.

  Hands down, the most dangerous person in the room was Margo.

  He drew a slow breath while still working to free his hands. As he’d told her many times, she was an excellent cop, able to quickly evaluate any situation. She had a plan, and he’d have to do his part to help her.

  His right hand finally slipped free, but he kept it behind him. Whatever happened, he would be ready. She would be fine.

  Nothing else was acceptable.