Dash of Peril

by Lori Foster

  Smiling, she said, “You make it look so easy.”

  He stilled the bag, wondering why she was here, what she wanted. What he wanted.

  Turning away and heading for the heavy bag, she laughed. “Actually, you make...everything seem easier.”

  Cannon watched her. “If I could, I’d make it easier for you.”

  She kept her back to him. “You already have.” She ran her hand over the bag. “I’m leaving tonight.”

  His heart skipped two beats. “What does that mean? Leaving where?”

  Pasting on a bright and completely false smile, she faced him. “I’m going back to California. Remember the aunt I mentioned? Well, she’s ill and could use some help with her store. I’ll stay with her and in my free time I can get my associates degree and...” She stopped. Cleared her throat. “Grandpa is going to retire. He’ll sell the pawnshop and just take it easy. He said he can visit often, or I can visit him. And of course, I’ll have to come for the trial. But...I can’t stay here.”

  Cannon took a step toward her but she held up a hand.

  “No, please. Don’t tell me I can. Don’t tell me it’ll all be okay.” She closed her arms around herself. “I can’t sleep, I keep jumping over every little sound, and I smell kerosene even when there’s none around and...” She held out her hands. “I can’t stay.” Now she came to him, rushing over. “You’ve been such a huge help. To me and to Grandpa.” Her hand touched his chest, but not for long. She was already walking away when she said, “I can’t thank you enough, and I won’t ever forget what you did for us.”

  By the time she reached the door, she was practically running. She fumbled with the lock a moment and finally got it open. A bell chimed as she darted out into the night.

  Cannon hadn’t yet moved. He had his hand over his chest, on the spot she’d touched so very lightly.

  He’d worried about her making more of that kiss than he’d meant for there to be. He’d thought she might consider it a commitment of some sort. That she’d consider him obligated to explain.

  Instead he was the one left standing behind, wondering how she could walk away without even acknowledging it.

  Striding to the big front window, he watched Yvette rush across the street to a small car parked beneath a big security light. She didn’t look his way, and she didn’t look back.

  She just drove off into the night.

  In three days he’d be gone anyway. But in his subconscious...he’d always figured on her being around when he came home.

  “Shit.” Locking up, he decided against female company and instead went to Rowdy’s bar. He didn’t drink often, but tonight was a special occasion—one he might regret for a very long time.

  EPILOGUE

  IT WAS JUST PAST the dinner hour at Rowdy’s bar, and Dash sat back on the bar stool, watching as Margo came through the door. Wearing skinny jeans that hugged her ass and showed off her small waist, a soft white tank top and heeled strappy sandals, she looked sexy as sin.

  Every guy in the place swiveled his head to look at her, but Dash didn’t mind. Four months ago they’d married and he still couldn’t stop smiling.

  Next to him, Logan laughed. “You’re more pathetic than I ever was.”

  Pathetic. Deliriously happy. Either worked.

  Reese leaned around Logan to see Dash. “She’s really taken to the whole letting-loose thing, hasn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rowdy laughed at how he said that, at the note of lust in his voice. He shoved drinks to the bar and leaned forward on his forearms. “She looks as happy as you, Dash, so you must be doing something right.”

  Margo had paused to talk with Cannon. He was in town for a visit, hanging with some of his friends. Pretty soon he’d fight for the SBC. That made him a local celebrity—although most already considered him that.

  Next she paused to speak with the ladies. Logan’s wife, Pepper, Reese’s wife, Alice, and Rowdy’s wife, Avery, all shared a table. Normally Avery tended bar, but not tonight. Tonight was special.

  Tonight they were celebrating Dash’s impending fatherhood.

  “She doesn’t look pregnant,” Logan noted, and the rest agreed.

  Dash didn’t say that he’d found subtle differences in her breasts, in her sexual appetite—which had already been pretty damned healthy, thank you—or in her desire to nest. She’d literally taken over the entire house, rearranging and remodeling and doing all those things women often liked to do, but that he’d never envisioned Margo doing.

  She still kicked ass when necessary.

  And she was still the most honorable, brave, amazing woman he’d ever met.

  Pepper pushed out a chair, inviting Margo to join them. She agreed, but held up a finger indicating that she needed just a minute first. Then she joined Dash at the bar.

  As soon as she reached him, Dash said, “Hey,” and pulled her in for a soft kiss.

  Logan coughed.

  Reese muttered, “Get a room.”

  Margo just sighed against Dash, then slanted a look at her detectives.

  They each laughed, which made her roll her eyes.

  “Today,” she said, “I am officially back to being just a lieutenant.”

  Logan choked. “Just?”

  “No ‘just’ to it,” Reese added.

  Dash pulled her up to his lap, cradling her close. “You’re happy about that?” During the investigation she’d worked entirely too hard. But she came home to him each night, and that was what mattered.

  “Very.” At her ease perched on his thighs, she leaned in to whisper, “I’d rather put all my free time into being with my husband.”

  Blatantly eavesdropping, Logan said, “I’m glad you’re back to your old position, because we need you.”

  Slowly Dash turned his head. “For?”

  Reese again leaned around Logan. “There’ve been three armed robberies in the past week, and we think they’re all by the same group.”

  Margo slid off his lap. “Anyone hurt?”

  “That’s the weird part. The robbers are polite about it.”

  “How so?”

  As they started talking shop, Dash grinned and turned to complain to Rowdy. But damn it, even as he filled drinks, Rowdy listened in.

  It might have worried Dash more, how often her work came home with her, the peril she put herself in. He knew she could take care of herself, and with Logan, Reese and Rowdy helping, too, she was in good hands.

  With a kiss to her temple, Dash excused himself so Margo could have his stool. When the police talk finished, she’d be going home with him.

  He loved her, everything about her, all her various personas.

  But he loved her best as his.

  Smiling, content, Dash went to join the wives at their table.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from GETTING ROWDY by Lori Foster.

  If you loved Dash of Peril, don’t miss these other great titles in Lori Foster’s New York Times bestselling Love Undercover series:

  Be sure to also catch these other great stories from Lori Foster:

  Back to Buckhorn novella (June 2014)

  Hard Knocks novella (August 2014)

  When You Dare

  Trace of Fever

  Savor the Danger

  A Perfect Storm

  What Chris Wants (digital novella)

  These, and other Lori Foster titles, are now available in ebook format. Be sure to download all of them today!

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  CHAPTER ONE

  AVERY MULLINS HESITATED outside the entrance of the newly renovated bar. This early in the day, only a dim interior showed beyond the locked, glass-and-oak double entry doors—new doors that had just been installed two weeks ago.

  Doors she’d helped to pick out.

  Freshly painted signs crowded the big front window, advertising food, two pool tables, dancing and drinks. Overhead neon lights showcased the name of the bar: Getting Rowdy. It made her smile, remembering how she’d suggested the name, and how he’d followed through.

  In such a short time, so much had changed. The business had gone from a failing, run-down dump of a place known mostly for its cheap drinks and availability of illicit drugs to a promising, fresh new bar with a fast-growing crowd. Even more notable was her switch of positions, from struggling waitress to head bartender.

  Satisfaction had her smiling through most of her days. Thanks to the tips she made along with the raise she’d gotten, she no longer had the grind of two jobs just to make ends meet.

  She’d kept the same apartment that could only be called modest if someone felt generous. And for the sake of anonymity, she still took the bus to and from work, rather than drive. But...

  She had changed.

  Before meeting Rowdy Yates—bar owner, boss and scalding-hot temptation—before being swept up in his enthusiasm for turning around a broke-dick bar, she’d...survived. No more, no less. She hadn’t been unhappy, really. Or rather, there’d been no time to dwell on ideas like happiness.

  But she hadn’t enjoyed her life, either. Not like she did now.

  She loved how Rowdy so often included her in decisions concerning the bar, almost as an equal partner instead of simply an employee. He had final say in all things, but he welcomed her input. He was proud, but not too stubborn to listen. Strong, but never a bully. He made her feel important again.

  And of course, every woman who laid eyes on him noticed his appeal—her included.

  They got along great, working to make the bar as successful as it could be. Associates, and she liked to think friends, as well.

  Rowdy wanted more. God knew he hadn’t been shy in sharing his interest.

  And though he didn’t know it, she returned those sentiments. But...did she dare to get intimately involved with a heartbreaker like Rowdy? He was honest with her; she didn’t worry about what he wanted because he spelled it out. His honesty could sometimes be so brutal that it took her breath away.

  He wanted sex.

  Preferably with her, but every time she refused—and she’d refused every time—he easily found “company” elsewhere. With the way the female patrons came on to him, she doubted he ever had to spend a night alone.

  Yet he always asked her first before moving on to second choice—his words, not hers.

  Who did that?

  Why did he do that?

  If she really mattered to him, wouldn’t he wait until he got her agreement?

  But, being honest with herself, Avery had to admit that went both ways. If he mattered to her, why make him wait? After the year she’d had, she deserved some fun.

  Bad boy Rowdy Yates, with his scrumptious bod, brazen attitude and overactive libido, would be so much fun.

  A brisk October wind cut through Avery’s jacket and sent shivers up her spine, bringing her back to the here and now. Daydreaming about Rowdy had become her prime preoccupation. Seldom did a minute pass that he didn’t plague her mind.

  Maybe tonight, before he hooked up with someone else, she’d clue him in to how she felt.

  With that decision made, Avery unlocked the door. Only she and Rowdy had keys. It still amazed and pleased her that he trusted her so much. She would never do anything to make him regret that.

  Without turning on lights, she made her way through the dim interior of the bar. The early-morning sunshine barely penetrated the shadows. Usually she arrived around two o’clock, an hour or so before her shift so she could get set up. But she had errands to run today, as well as an important phone call to make, and she’d forgotten her phone near the register. She figured she may as well combine the trips.

  After locating her cell phone behind the bar—right where she’d left it—she started to leave. She’d taken only a few steps when she heard the first noise.

  Heart going heavy, alarm prickling, Avery stopped to listen.

  There! She heard it again. A slight rustling, a low...groan?

  She swallowed hard. Had someone gotten in through the back door? A drunk? A vagrant?

  A robber?

  Or worse?

  No. She shook her head, denying that possibility. No one from her past would ever think to look for her here. There were times when she still couldn’t believe the differences in her life. Differences that, since meeting Rowdy, she no longer regretted.

  Besides, Rowdy’s ongoing renovations to the bar had started with updating all the security, installing sturdy new locks to both the front and back door and all the windows that opened. No one could easily break in.

  Before her transformation, she’d been an utter coward. Oh, sure, some might have called it circumspect, but she knew the truth. For far too long she’d relied on others...for everything.

  A year ago, when faced with an unknown noise, she would have slunk back out the front door and called the police to investigate. If it turned out to be nothing, well, she didn’t mind the possible inconvenience to others.

  But a year in hiding had taught her to be more self-reliant, to handle her own problems. Independence had freed her, so she wouldn’t backslide now.

  Trying to be utterly silent, Avery crept toward the sound, her ears straining. She heard another groan that appeared to come from Rowdy’s office. Maybe a radio? The creak of the wind outside?

  Rowdy’s door stood ajar, when he usually kept it closed. Daring took her only so far, but never beyond common sense. Just in case someone had found a way in, Avery pushed 9-1-1 on her cell and put her thumb on the call button. Inching along the wall, she held her breath until she stood right beside the door.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  Recognizing Rowdy’s rough, whispered voice, Avery relaxed. Thinking he spoke on the phone, probably to one of his lady friends, she rolled her eyes, stepped around the door frame...

  And her stomach did a free fall.

  Slouched in the big padded chair behind his desk, his hands gripping the armrests, his blond head tipped back, Rowdy released another low groan, this one deeper, more gravelly. Avery saw him in profile, the large desk hiding most of his lower body—but not the top of the woman’s head moving over him, precisely in the general area of his lap.

  Good God, she knew what they were doing; even an idiot wouldn’t misunderstand. Jealousy, hurt, resentment rose up to choke her. Avery wanted to move, she really did, but her feet stayed glued to the spot.

  She wanted to look away, too, but...she didn’t.

  Rowdy’s body went taut, straining, his expression bordering on acute pleasure. Then, with a final sound of repletion, he released a breath and eased again, his every muscle going lax. With a deep exhalation, he stroked the woman’s hair and said, “Ease up, honey, I’m spent.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Avery tried to swallow, but she couldn’t find any spit. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn’t even manage a blink.

  On her knees before him, the redhead gave her own sound of satisfaction and slowly rose up over Rowdy’s thighs. “My turn.”

  Whoa. No way did she want to hang around to witness that. Horrified, Avery shifted to sneak off—and the floor squeaked.

  Rowdy’s gaze swung around to pinpoint her there in the doorway. His light brown eyes went from mellow satisfaction to razor-sharp focus. He didn’t
straighten, didn’t take his big hand from the woman’s hair.

  Maybe he didn’t even breathe.

  Their gazes clashed for two heavy heartbeats before Avery got it together and lurched away. Heat scalded her face. Her heart punched against her ribs. Please don’t let him follow me. Please don’t.

  From behind her, she heard Rowdy’s low curse, and then the high-pitched laughter of the woman.

  No, no, no. Humiliation chased Avery to the front door. Once there, breathless in a confusing mix of emotions, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.

  No one followed. In fact, she could now hear the quiet conversation between Rowdy and the woman.

  Fury tightened her chest and burned her eyes. Damn you, Rowdy Yates.

  Forcing her chin up, Avery pushed through the door, out of the bar and away from the first man who’d interested her in over a year.

  * * *

  ROWDY FOUGHT THE urge to call Avery back, to chase after her and say...what? Sorry you busted me getting a blow job. Hardly. She’d annihilate him if he even tried.

  He could tell her the truth. I wish it had been you on your knees instead. He snorted at the idiocy of that thought.

  Avery already knew he wanted her. Hell, he’d been so open and up-front with her that his pursuit bordered on infatuation, as asinine as that seemed.

  Growing uneasiness obliterated the pleasure from release. Damn it, he didn’t owe Avery any explanations. She was his employee. Period.

  That’s how she wanted it.

  But what if she didn’t come back?

  No, he wouldn’t think that way. In the short time he’d known her, Avery had proved to have a backbone of iron, an overload of pride and possibly a chip on her shoulder bigger than the one he carried.

  She’d be back, if for no other reason than to fry him with her disapproval.

  Besides, she loved her job, and she was good at it. He checked his watch. Why was she here so early?