Dash of Peril
Page 27
“Yeah, Pepper is great.” But he enjoyed taking part in the running joke. Pepper could be noticeably demanding when it suited her, and despite all earlier indications, she was a true mother hen when it came to worrying about the people she loved.
Margo seated herself in the back of Logan’s car. “Cannon might not be comfortable leaving Tipton and Yvette. I got the feeling he’s taking responsibility for them both.”
“For the entire neighborhood,” Dash said. “At least that’s how it seemed to me.”
Rather than get in the front seat as Margo had probably expected, Dash squeezed into the back beside her, forcing her to scoot over, and then he put an arm around her before she could move all the way to the other side.
Smiling at her disgruntled expression, he helped to fasten her seat belt.
“We talked about that.” Logan got behind the wheel, denying her the opportunity to switch things around. “I convinced him they’d be safer once we found the guys responsible, so for now, he’s willing to trust Reese to help see to their protection.”
“We’ll definitely get them,” Margo decreed. “Sooner would be better than later.”
“We’re on it.” Logan started the car. “But until then, watch your ass.”
“My words to you, Detective.” Margo got comfortable against Dash. “But yes, we’ll be careful.” She glanced up at Dash. “Both of us.”
* * *
PULLING HIS STOCKING cap a little lower, Curtis ordered, “Follow them.”
Toby, who’d also worn a hat and kept his back to the scene, glanced over his shoulder. Two vehicles headed in two different directions. Without looking at Curtis, he asked, “Which one?”
“The car.” Curtis took off his glasses and polished them on a sleeve. “I want to know where they go, what they do—I want to know where she lives, if she’s alone or if he stays with her. I want to know...everything.”
In that inscrutable way of his, Toby said, “No problem,” and in two long strides he reached his big muscle truck. He’d catch them at the next light and because he was good, Saul knew he wouldn’t lose them.
Curtis held back, looking at the police station, at the truck the big cop drove, and then at Saul.
Feeling like an anxious puppy hoping for affection, Saul waited. Ever since the cluster-fuck where the cop had gotten away, Curtis had been more glacial than usual—which was saying something given Curtis’s aloof manner. Saul was used to him being that way to others. And to some extent he froze Saul out, too.
But never like this.
Taking in Saul’s ball cap, his aviator sunglasses, Curtis smiled.
And Jesus, that scared Saul more than anything else. He’d been told to disguise himself and so he had. He’d left the morning whiskers on his face, dressed down in an old corduroy jacket and worn jeans. Should he have worn a fake mustache, too?
Very uncertain of his brother’s mood, he asked, “Everything okay, Curtis?”
“It will be.” He approached Saul, his expression indulgent in that big-brotherly way. He cupped his face. “No more f**kups, Saul.”
His thighs actually felt shaky. “No—no, there won’t be. I swear.”
“You like spending my money, don’t you, Saul? You enjoy the house I supply, the clothes. The playtimes?”
“Yes.” It was thanks to Curtis that Saul never had to work a legitimate job. Curtis was a genius at making money, and even better at entertaining.
“Very soon,” Curtis continued, as if Saul hadn’t spoken, “you’ll get the opportunity to right your wrongs, to make up for the extra trouble you’ve caused me.” His fingers tightened, squeezing into Saul’s face, deliberately painful. “You will not disappoint me again.”
As Curtis walked away, Saul stood there, working his jaw, awed by his brother’s strength...and hating him just a little for it.
* * *
MARGO COULDN’T BELIEVE how affected she was by the promise of getting alone with Dash. Never had she experienced such a level of anticipation. And here she’d thought he might not be exciting enough.
She’d missed the mark on that one by a mile.
Dash’s muscular thigh pressed against hers and his long arm kept her close. Logan continued to talk, probably just to make conversation, but Margo didn’t bother trying to follow along. When necessary, Dash replied.
He also kept his fingers teasing her arm. The sunny day had warmed his skin, amplifying his scent, making her blood surge. She wanted to put her nose in his neck, but not with Logan continually glancing in the rearview mirror.
Hopefully on the outside she looked impassive because on the inside an inferno of sensation and need burned. She kept thinking about Dash naked, running her hands over all that solid muscle, rough hair, warm flesh.... She could almost feel the wet heat of his kiss, his hard fingers on her, in her....
She closed her eyes, but that only made her picture him over her, his biceps bulging, his hair-roughened thighs spreading her more slender legs as he slid deep.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she tried to compose herself—and instead drew the attention of both men.
Gaze dark and knowing, Dash watched her.
Logan asked, “You okay?”
Get it together, Margaret. “I’m sorry. I... It’s not easy for me to...” The stammering didn’t help. She straightened away from Dash. “No offense to you or Reese, but I’d rather be handling things myself.”
“I know.” Sympathetic, Logan said, “I’d feel the same, so I get it. But don’t worry about it. You’ll be plenty involved.”
“I’d better be.”
“And,” Logan said, ignoring her tone, “that’s why I’m telling you that we’re being followed.”
She frowned, then grabbed Dash’s thigh when he started to look out the rear window. “Don’t.” Leaning forward, she asked Logan, “You’re sure?”
“Whoever he is, he’s good, staying just far enough back that it’s not obvious. But yeah, he’s been on us almost since we left the station.”
No longer distracted by Dash, Margo’s blood surged for a whole different reason. “Can you lose him?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She considered things. “If Dash wasn’t staying with me, I wouldn’t mind laying a trap for the bastard. But—”
Dash spoke over her, saying, “Fuck that. Don’t change things because of me.”
At least he hadn’t objected to the trap part. In so many ways, Dash proved that he trusted her ability, her instincts and her position.
Oh, he was still a guy with a guy’s instinct to protect the little lady. But he didn’t downplay her own skill.
“No,” she said, thinking it through. “It’s never a good idea to leave a trail to your home. If we knew he was the only one involved—”
“But we know he isn’t,” Dash interjected. “There are at least three.”
“And maybe more,” Logan said. “So if I can make a suggestion...”
“Let’s hear it.” Margo leaned forward to look through the side-view mirror but she didn’t see anyone suspicious.
“How about I draw him out?” Already making the decision, Logan turned away from their destination. “I can lead him on a winding chase until he’s forced to get closer. At the very least we can maybe pick up the plates.”
Appearing fascinated by it all, Dash asked, “Do you think they might match the plates from the van?”
“Doubtful. We’d have to be dealing with morons. Plus it’s a truck following us, not a van.” Margo opened her seat belt and moved into the window seat—away from Dash. Her Glock had a fully loaded clip and she had another weapon in her purse. It bothered her that Dash was along for the ride, and it bothered her more that she cared.
Making up her mind, she met Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a nod. “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AS ROCK-STEADY as Logan with the same lethal look, Margo said to him, “Don’t interfere.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” But Dash couldn’t help but look—repeatedly—for their tail. He saw several trucks but none seemed more nosy than the others. As always the mind of a cop intrigued him.
He wanted to tell Margo not to hurt her arm, but knew better. Instead he asked his brother, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah.” Logan took a right, then an immediate left, but he drove without haste—as if he didn’t know a killer followed them. “Be cool. Stop looking around.”
“Okay.” He sat forward, but damn it wasn’t easy.
“He’s good,” Margo complained.
“Meaning?”
Logan said, “He’s not getting close enough for me to see anything. He might be on to us.”
“The bastard is even dropping back,” Margo said.
Dash thought about it for a second, then said, “Is he far enough back that you could let me out without him seeing?”
Logan shot a sharp look over his shoulder. “No.”
But Margo took it differently. “It might be possible.” And then to Logan she said, “There’s no reason for him to be involved in this.”
Laughing, Logan stated the obvious. “He’s not dodging out to avoid the danger, Lieutenant. He wants out so can lay in wait for the bastard to go by.”
Incredulous, Margo twisted to face Dash.
Dash tried for nonchalance. “If I’m just a bystander on the road, I could get a good look at him, read his plates, get you a description—”
“No!” But that shouted word must not have sufficed, because she pressed her anger forward and said not two inches from his face, “Are you out of your mind?”
Was she incensed from worry, or because she didn’t want him butting in? “How could it hurt?” Gently, Dash touched her cheek, but she jerked away. “I seriously doubt he’s twisted enough to shoot me on the street corner. And look, there’s a park up ahead—”
“No and no!” She turned her face away, grumbling to herself about male stupidity.
“Actually,” Logan said, “it’s not a bad idea.”
“Absolutely not.” They turned another corner, and Margo cursed. “We’re losing him anyway. He’s so far back I can’t even see him anymore.”
“If we can’t see him, he can’t see us, right?” Dash pointed to a small convenience store. “Pull in there, around the back. We can watch to see if he shows up.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Logan said, already maneuvering into the lot. “You will remain in the car, Dash. Got it?”
“I already said I wouldn’t interfere.”
Margo seated herself in the back of Logan’s car. “Cannon might not be comfortable leaving Tipton and Yvette. I got the feeling he’s taking responsibility for them both.”
“For the entire neighborhood,” Dash said. “At least that’s how it seemed to me.”
Rather than get in the front seat as Margo had probably expected, Dash squeezed into the back beside her, forcing her to scoot over, and then he put an arm around her before she could move all the way to the other side.
Smiling at her disgruntled expression, he helped to fasten her seat belt.
“We talked about that.” Logan got behind the wheel, denying her the opportunity to switch things around. “I convinced him they’d be safer once we found the guys responsible, so for now, he’s willing to trust Reese to help see to their protection.”
“We’ll definitely get them,” Margo decreed. “Sooner would be better than later.”
“We’re on it.” Logan started the car. “But until then, watch your ass.”
“My words to you, Detective.” Margo got comfortable against Dash. “But yes, we’ll be careful.” She glanced up at Dash. “Both of us.”
* * *
PULLING HIS STOCKING cap a little lower, Curtis ordered, “Follow them.”
Toby, who’d also worn a hat and kept his back to the scene, glanced over his shoulder. Two vehicles headed in two different directions. Without looking at Curtis, he asked, “Which one?”
“The car.” Curtis took off his glasses and polished them on a sleeve. “I want to know where they go, what they do—I want to know where she lives, if she’s alone or if he stays with her. I want to know...everything.”
In that inscrutable way of his, Toby said, “No problem,” and in two long strides he reached his big muscle truck. He’d catch them at the next light and because he was good, Saul knew he wouldn’t lose them.
Curtis held back, looking at the police station, at the truck the big cop drove, and then at Saul.
Feeling like an anxious puppy hoping for affection, Saul waited. Ever since the cluster-fuck where the cop had gotten away, Curtis had been more glacial than usual—which was saying something given Curtis’s aloof manner. Saul was used to him being that way to others. And to some extent he froze Saul out, too.
But never like this.
Taking in Saul’s ball cap, his aviator sunglasses, Curtis smiled.
And Jesus, that scared Saul more than anything else. He’d been told to disguise himself and so he had. He’d left the morning whiskers on his face, dressed down in an old corduroy jacket and worn jeans. Should he have worn a fake mustache, too?
Very uncertain of his brother’s mood, he asked, “Everything okay, Curtis?”
“It will be.” He approached Saul, his expression indulgent in that big-brotherly way. He cupped his face. “No more f**kups, Saul.”
His thighs actually felt shaky. “No—no, there won’t be. I swear.”
“You like spending my money, don’t you, Saul? You enjoy the house I supply, the clothes. The playtimes?”
“Yes.” It was thanks to Curtis that Saul never had to work a legitimate job. Curtis was a genius at making money, and even better at entertaining.
“Very soon,” Curtis continued, as if Saul hadn’t spoken, “you’ll get the opportunity to right your wrongs, to make up for the extra trouble you’ve caused me.” His fingers tightened, squeezing into Saul’s face, deliberately painful. “You will not disappoint me again.”
As Curtis walked away, Saul stood there, working his jaw, awed by his brother’s strength...and hating him just a little for it.
* * *
MARGO COULDN’T BELIEVE how affected she was by the promise of getting alone with Dash. Never had she experienced such a level of anticipation. And here she’d thought he might not be exciting enough.
She’d missed the mark on that one by a mile.
Dash’s muscular thigh pressed against hers and his long arm kept her close. Logan continued to talk, probably just to make conversation, but Margo didn’t bother trying to follow along. When necessary, Dash replied.
He also kept his fingers teasing her arm. The sunny day had warmed his skin, amplifying his scent, making her blood surge. She wanted to put her nose in his neck, but not with Logan continually glancing in the rearview mirror.
Hopefully on the outside she looked impassive because on the inside an inferno of sensation and need burned. She kept thinking about Dash naked, running her hands over all that solid muscle, rough hair, warm flesh.... She could almost feel the wet heat of his kiss, his hard fingers on her, in her....
She closed her eyes, but that only made her picture him over her, his biceps bulging, his hair-roughened thighs spreading her more slender legs as he slid deep.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she tried to compose herself—and instead drew the attention of both men.
Gaze dark and knowing, Dash watched her.
Logan asked, “You okay?”
Get it together, Margaret. “I’m sorry. I... It’s not easy for me to...” The stammering didn’t help. She straightened away from Dash. “No offense to you or Reese, but I’d rather be handling things myself.”
“I know.” Sympathetic, Logan said, “I’d feel the same, so I get it. But don’t worry about it. You’ll be plenty involved.”
“I’d better be.”
“And,” Logan said, ignoring her tone, “that’s why I’m telling you that we’re being followed.”
She frowned, then grabbed Dash’s thigh when he started to look out the rear window. “Don’t.” Leaning forward, she asked Logan, “You’re sure?”
“Whoever he is, he’s good, staying just far enough back that it’s not obvious. But yeah, he’s been on us almost since we left the station.”
No longer distracted by Dash, Margo’s blood surged for a whole different reason. “Can you lose him?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She considered things. “If Dash wasn’t staying with me, I wouldn’t mind laying a trap for the bastard. But—”
Dash spoke over her, saying, “Fuck that. Don’t change things because of me.”
At least he hadn’t objected to the trap part. In so many ways, Dash proved that he trusted her ability, her instincts and her position.
Oh, he was still a guy with a guy’s instinct to protect the little lady. But he didn’t downplay her own skill.
“No,” she said, thinking it through. “It’s never a good idea to leave a trail to your home. If we knew he was the only one involved—”
“But we know he isn’t,” Dash interjected. “There are at least three.”
“And maybe more,” Logan said. “So if I can make a suggestion...”
“Let’s hear it.” Margo leaned forward to look through the side-view mirror but she didn’t see anyone suspicious.
“How about I draw him out?” Already making the decision, Logan turned away from their destination. “I can lead him on a winding chase until he’s forced to get closer. At the very least we can maybe pick up the plates.”
Appearing fascinated by it all, Dash asked, “Do you think they might match the plates from the van?”
“Doubtful. We’d have to be dealing with morons. Plus it’s a truck following us, not a van.” Margo opened her seat belt and moved into the window seat—away from Dash. Her Glock had a fully loaded clip and she had another weapon in her purse. It bothered her that Dash was along for the ride, and it bothered her more that she cared.
Making up her mind, she met Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a nod. “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AS ROCK-STEADY as Logan with the same lethal look, Margo said to him, “Don’t interfere.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” But Dash couldn’t help but look—repeatedly—for their tail. He saw several trucks but none seemed more nosy than the others. As always the mind of a cop intrigued him.
He wanted to tell Margo not to hurt her arm, but knew better. Instead he asked his brother, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah.” Logan took a right, then an immediate left, but he drove without haste—as if he didn’t know a killer followed them. “Be cool. Stop looking around.”
“Okay.” He sat forward, but damn it wasn’t easy.
“He’s good,” Margo complained.
“Meaning?”
Logan said, “He’s not getting close enough for me to see anything. He might be on to us.”
“The bastard is even dropping back,” Margo said.
Dash thought about it for a second, then said, “Is he far enough back that you could let me out without him seeing?”
Logan shot a sharp look over his shoulder. “No.”
But Margo took it differently. “It might be possible.” And then to Logan she said, “There’s no reason for him to be involved in this.”
Laughing, Logan stated the obvious. “He’s not dodging out to avoid the danger, Lieutenant. He wants out so can lay in wait for the bastard to go by.”
Incredulous, Margo twisted to face Dash.
Dash tried for nonchalance. “If I’m just a bystander on the road, I could get a good look at him, read his plates, get you a description—”
“No!” But that shouted word must not have sufficed, because she pressed her anger forward and said not two inches from his face, “Are you out of your mind?”
Was she incensed from worry, or because she didn’t want him butting in? “How could it hurt?” Gently, Dash touched her cheek, but she jerked away. “I seriously doubt he’s twisted enough to shoot me on the street corner. And look, there’s a park up ahead—”
“No and no!” She turned her face away, grumbling to herself about male stupidity.
“Actually,” Logan said, “it’s not a bad idea.”
“Absolutely not.” They turned another corner, and Margo cursed. “We’re losing him anyway. He’s so far back I can’t even see him anymore.”
“If we can’t see him, he can’t see us, right?” Dash pointed to a small convenience store. “Pull in there, around the back. We can watch to see if he shows up.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Logan said, already maneuvering into the lot. “You will remain in the car, Dash. Got it?”
“I already said I wouldn’t interfere.”
