Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

She looked embarrassed. “I’m pretty useless in a crisis, huh?”

  Cannon shook his head. She was young, and scared. But she hadn’t really gone hysterical until the end, until those earsplitting gunshots. People watched movies and thought they understood how it would be, but until you found yourself in the middle of a shit-storm, you just didn’t know.

  He eased back her dark hair, brushing it behind her shoulders. “You did great.”

  She looked down, touched his chest with restless fingers and then snuggled in close again. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to face your friend and that lieutenant.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. They understand, believe me.”

  “Everyone else was so brave.”

  “And you think you weren’t?” He held out a hand and showed her how badly he trembled. “I was so damned scared it was all I could do to keep it together.”

  She put her hand in his and drew it to her cheek. “When they put that kerosene on you—”

  “No.” He shook his head, not wanting her to understand. “I was afraid for you.” Shut up, Cannon. But of course he didn’t.

  Yvette stared up at him, her eyes so big and wounded, her expression so soft and sweet.

  And her mouth...

  “When that bastard touched you—” For the love of God, don’t go there. “I wanted to kill him.” He still did. He’d taken great satisfaction in kicking Curtis, but it was Toby he’d wanted.

  She gave a rough laugh. “That makes two of us.” Then she shuddered.

  Recalling how Toby had manhandled her, the threats he’d enjoyed making, Cannon ran his hands up and down her arms. “Did he hurt you?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Before you got there, he...he kissed me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing going shallow. “They hurt Grandpa and...and mauled me and made me call the lieutenant....”

  Cramping, Cannon wondered if Toby had died. Sure looked that way to him. And good riddance. “He’ll never touch you again.”

  “I know.” She drew a broken breath. “But I’ll always remember.”

  “No.”

  She looked at him again, her gaze pleading. She touched his mouth. “I don’t want to remember him.”

  Oh, God. Cannon knew what she was asking, but how could he give in to temptation? Yvette wasn’t herself right now. She was desperate and frightened and she’d always had a heavy-duty infatuation with him.

  Plus, he’d be leaving. He didn’t yet know for how long or how far away he’d go. But no way in hell would he be turning down the SBC. It was his long-term dream.

  What he felt for Yvette... Well, it was just here and now. It was immediate and hot, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let it knock him off course.

  “We should join the others.”

  “No.” Her breathing accelerated. “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Shhh. It’s okay. They’ve already taken the bastards out of there. I heard them leave.”

  “No.” She hugged her arms around herself and started to leave his lap.

  Just to escape. Just to flee...but to where?

  “Yvette...”

  “I can’t go out there! I can’t face all of them. I can’t...can’t stay in this house. I can’t.”

  Knowing it was wrong, knowing he should get up and join the others, knowing lust was the very last thing she needed, especially from him, Cannon drew her in close again. “Yes, you can.”

  She shook her head.

  Holding her close, he stood with her. “Yes.” He was so very aware of her bare legs, of those silky little panties she wore.

  Of the way she clung to him.

  “Cannon?”

  Looking at her was his undoing. Slowly, he leaned down.

  To his surprise, she met him halfway.

  And when his mouth touched hers, he forgot everything else, all the reasons why it was wrong, the people milling in the other room, the burns on her legs.

  He turned his head, gently moving his lips over hers, tasting her uncertainty and her need.

  Almost of its own volition, his hand slid down her back.

  She wiggled closer, urging him on.

  Cupping a hand over her bottom, he felt the insubstantial damp cotton of her panties and the silky, warm flesh beneath.

  She made a small sound of surprise and something more. Something out of place for the circumstances. “Cannon...” Knotting a hand in his shirt, she dragged him closer.

  It was the knock on the door that brought Cannon back to his senses. What the hell are you doing? He cleared his throat and managed to say, in a mostly normal voice, “Yeah?”

  Lieutenant Peterson spoke softly. “Tipton found a dry pair of jeans for Yvette, and a pair of his jogging pants for you. I’m going to leave them right outside the door.”

  “Thanks.”

  With only the slightest hesitation, the lieutenant added gently, “You both need to come out now. We’ll be waiting.” He heard her retreating footsteps.

  Damn, but she was one impressive female. Almost to the point of being intimidating, although she sure didn’t affect Dash that way.

  The interruption had helped Cannon to get his head on straight.

  Putting some space between their bodies, he looked down at Yvette. Confusion, need and uncertainty all smoldered in her gaze. He smoothed his thumb over her damp bottom lip, and God, more than anything, he wanted to take her mouth again.

  But he wasn’t an animal. He was a grown man and up until a few minutes ago, he’d always been honorable.

  He opened the door and retrieved the clothes while Yvette stood there in silence. He pulled on the jogging pants, which were a little too loose. Then he knelt and held the jeans for Yvette to step into.

  A nice gesture, but dumb as shit since he was now eye-level with parts of her anatomy that he was trying very hard not to think about. “Step in.”

  She braced a hand on his shoulder and did just that. He tried not to let the material scrape her raw skin as he eased the jeans up and over her trim hips, then was even fool enough to zip and snap them for her, his knuckles brushing the soft skin of her belly.

  When he finished, he smoothed down her shirt, tipped up her chin and said with convincing assurance, “You can.”

  To his relief, she nodded, and together they left the room.

  Later, Cannon thought, he’d tell her about his news. But not tonight. She already had enough to deal with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HER FATHER’S CAR was in Dan’s driveway when they reached the house. Margo stared at it, her heart swelling like a melon to lodge in her throat.

  But by God, she would do her job. “My father is here.”

  “Shit.” Since he was driving, Logan made the decision to pass the house and park around the corner.

  Were they conspiring together? The thought hurt. Down deep inside where no one could see, she ached so badly....

  In the seat behind her, Reese took in her expression and put a hand on her shoulder. “I still think—”

  “Stow it, detective.”

  Logan sided with Reese. “You know you should—”

  “No.” She would not sit this one out. It didn’t matter what Logan and Reese thought. It didn’t even matter what Dash thought.

  Dash.

  Even thinking of him weighed her down with guilt.

  He hadn’t liked staying on the sidelines, but he wasn’t a cop and he had no place in this. Beyond being tangled in her dysfunctional life, which included work and family, he had his own obligations. His own friends, family, house, business... And so she’d convinced him to go home.

  But it had been a concession under duress.

  He loved her.

  It was going to ta
ke time to wrap her mind around that, if in fact he still felt the same way after all the dust settled. That could be days, even weeks.

  She was going to be very, very busy for a while.

  Not really sneaking, but definitely being unobtrusive, they went together up the street to Dan’s house. Clouds crawled over the sun, making the late afternoon feel more like early evening. A slight breeze stirred the air, ramping up her anxiety.

  Wearing a mask of inscrutable nonchalance, she hid the discomfort in her arm, ignored the pain in her jaw from Toby’s slap, and the worse pain in her soul from her father’s deceit.

  Reese led the way up the walk to the front door—but then he held up a hand. When Reese drew his weapon, both she and Logan did the same.

  Normally, she wouldn’t be armed now, not after shooting Toby. It was protocol for an officer to hand over his firearm under those circumstances. If she’d waited any time at all, she knew she’d be put on leave with all the restrictions applied to an officer shooting.

  That’s why she’d insisted on dealing with this right now.

  From inside Dan’s house, they could all hear her father’s booming, enraged voice.

  Reese sent her a look of inquiry, and she nodded. He tried the doorknob and to their surprise it turned.

  As they stepped in, they also heard West speaking. If anything, his quieter voice only sounded more furious than her father’s. Knowing he was there as well sent acid down her throat and into her stomach.

  Dan shouted, “It was necessary, God damn you! What would you have me do? Go down for fucking a hooker?”

  “Ex-hooker,” West insisted, “and Margo didn’t know anything about your involvement!”

  “She was still snooping. She was going to—”

  The sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by a moan, led them to the kitchen. A chair fell. A cup broke.

  They stepped into the doorway to see West trying to pull the senior Peterson off Dan Ford.

  “I’ll fucking kill you myself!”

  West said, “Dad, damn it, stand down.”

  Instead, West got shoved back and her father landed another meaty blow on Dan’s chin. “You crossed a fucking line when you went after her.”

  “You didn’t rein her in!”

  “I warned you to back off.” Jaw clenched, her father wrenched Dan up close. “You should have listened.”

  Margo stood there, waiting to see if the pieces would come together. No one noticed them. They were too involved with their melee.

  “I tried getting close to her!” Dan defended. “I thought if we were sleeping together—”

  Holding Dan by the front of his now bloody shirt, her father slammed his head into the tile floor, silencing him. “She’s smarter than that.” Going nose to nose with the commander, he snarled, “She is my daughter.”

  Beside her, Reese shifted, Logan frowned. Their impatience was palpable, but she was too fascinated to interrupt.

  “You don’t even like her,” Dan accused.

  He hauled up Dan. “She. Is. My. Daughter!” He rattled Dan like a rag doll. “We have our differences, but you actually think I wanted her dead?”

  More uncertain now, Dan ran a forearm over his bloody face. “I figured she’d be scared, not dead. It wasn’t personal. It was just a...a solution.”

  “I have another solution,” West said, putting a hand on their father’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “You can rot in jail.”

  “You aren’t even involved in this,” Dan accused.

  “Asshole, she’s my sister,” West said with rank humor. “That makes me involved enough to want a piece of you myself, so don’t push me!”

  “All right,” Dan conceded. “I deserved your anger. But you need to calm down now. No one is going to jail.”

  Whether it was relief, disbelief, or morbid amusement, Margo couldn’t quite say, but she laughed.

  Three faces jerked around. One badly battered. One enraged. Only West seemed to understand how the proverbial shit had just hit the fan.

  And damn it, that made her laugh even more.

  Frowning, Reese muttered to Logan, “She’s getting hysterical.”

  Logan nudged her. “Get a grip, Lieutenant.”

  “Right.” Still chuckling, she wiped her eyes. “A grip.”

  West narrowed his gaze on her...and saw her bruised cheek. “Jesus, what now?” He started toward her.

  Until Logan stopped him with his raised gun. “That’s far enough.”

  “What the hell?”

  Reese stood next to Logan—both of them defending her.

  Doing what, until now, her family hadn’t done.

  Grinning, Margo stepped between them. “Looks like you’re complicit, West.” She tsked. “When exactly did you plan to report him?”

  Not in the least intimidated, West crossed his arms. “Soon as Dad finished handing his ass to him, actually.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “What? You thought a few punches would cover it?” He chided her with a shake of his head, saying softly, “No. He’s going down. I’ll see to it.”

  “Now that everyone is calmer...” Logan holstered his weapon and stepped forward. “Sorry, Mr. Peterson, but you’ll have to turn him loose.”

  “I’ll call it in,” Reese said.

  Her father still looked...flummoxed. On his knees, a mitt-sized hand twisted in Dan’s shirt, he held the commander suspended above the floor and stared at her. “You’re here.”

  “Alive and well.”

  Having trouble taking it in, he visually searched her over, stopping on her bruised cheek. “Another skirmish?”

  Refusing to be drawn in by false concern, she smirked. “Call the mayor,” she told Reese. “I have a feeling he’ll want to know about this first thing.”

  Dan protested—until her father dropped him hard to the floor.

  Like a turbulent thundercloud, her father jabbed a meaty finger toward Dan. “He opened your bathroom window! The fucker even hired that little shit to come to your house and...” He gulped. Hard. And his voice lost some of the rage, the anger replaced by something else, something that choked him. “He was to burn your house down.”

  “I didn’t think she’d be there,” Dan protested.

  Eyes narrowing, her father turned and kicked him in the chest, knocking him flat again, his rage again taking over. “That is not a fucking excuse!”

  Reese stepped up and, wrapping both arms around the thicker, older man, pinned his elbows down and immobilized him. Her father jerked, trying to shrug him off, but it had no discernible effect on Reese, who said calmly, “Bring it down a notch, Mr. Peterson.”

  Wow, that impressed Margo. True, Reese was a behemoth, but still. Her father was a bear of a man.

  With him contained, she came forward. “That bothers you, Dad? That I might have been cinders?”

  He stopped fighting Reese to face her. “What the hell do you think? That I’d want my own daughter hurt? Dead?”

  “I have to admit,” West said, “there were a few times I wondered.”

  All the fight went out of him. He looked away, his jaw working.

  Cautiously, Reese let him go.

  He stood there while Logan cuffed Dan. When he finished he said, “You, too, sir.”

  Still staring at her, her father paid little attention while Logan caught first one wrist, then the other, to fasten the handcuffs. “Margo?”

  She felt remarkably like a little girl again, sitting in the kitchen chair with the obscene sound of the clippers buzzing over her head.

  That damned squeezing sensation returned to her throat. “You have disliked me a great deal, Dad.”

  “No.” He seemed to realize what Logan had just done and while it disgusted him,
he didn’t fight. “I was furious over things you did, but...” His brows came down so heavily he looked ready to attack again. “You actually think I’d want you hurt?”

  “I assumed you wouldn’t care.” She’d been hurt—and he’d only criticized her.

  He breathed harder. “You think I’d let someone like Dan get away with that?”

  “What difference does it make if it’s Dan?”

  For the first time that she could ever recall, her father looked defeated. Not enraged, not bullying, not self-righteous or in control. “I would never—”

  “Dad, please.” She refused to be drawn in. Before Dash...maybe. But Dash had given her new perspectives and, though she only just now really realized it, new self-worth. “I was ambushed and almost killed in that car wreck, and you acted like it was my fault.”

  “I want you to always be careful so shit like that doesn’t happen! I raised you to be alert so you would survive, not so some asshole like Dan could...” He took one heavy step toward her. “Damn it, Margo, what was I supposed to say? Should I have cried over you? Babied you?”

  Yes, she wanted to reply, you could have shown an emotion other than disdain. But instead she just shook her head. What could she say? That it would have been nice if he’d cared just a little? No, she wouldn’t.

  Her daddy hadn’t raised that kind of woman.

  She put up her chin. “What made you think it was Dan?”

  At the mention of the other man, his eyes went flinty again. “The prick was forever insulting you, worrying that you’d come back and start investigating again. That you’d find out he was involved.”

  That sent her left eyebrow high. “Is that why his wife left him?”

  “Yeah. That and he’s a hound for porn. She found out, but he bought her off, gave her whatever she wanted in the divorce to keep her trap shut.”

  So respectful of the scorned wife, Margo thought.

  West nodded. “It’s true. Dad came to me and said he suspected Dan. I rode along with him to keep everything right and tight, but...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, shit went south when Dan was so cavalier about it.”

  “He expected me to understand,” her dad said with another evil glare for Dan. “He wanted me to cover his ass if anyone questioned him.”