Dash of Peril
Page 36
Reluctantly, Logan turned to her again.
Dash almost laughed at the resolute look on his brother’s face as he tried to keep his gaze north of Margo’s br**sts beneath the soft terry robe.
“Rowdy said he called you about the fire?”
“Yes.”
Logan rolled a shoulder as if to relieve tension. “Yeah, well, we have some news. Rowdy was going to call you back, but I figured since we were out I might as well give it to you in person.”
“Less chance of plans being intercepted that way,” Reese told her.
Dash realized they were all still worried about controlling things, and the possibility of any residual corruption left at the station.
“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen?” Dash asked. “They can eat while they talk.”
“Fine.” Margo led the way.
Reese glanced at her ass in the robe, then quickly away. He looked guilty as hell about it, too.
Glaring at Dash, Logan fell into line behind Reese.
It was too damn funny how they both continued to see her in such a one-dimensional way, which, in part, probably contributed to the difficulty Margo had in coming to grips with the different facets of her personality—facets he’d brought to the fore. If everyone else saw her only as a severe authoritarian, how hard must it be for her to show her softer, more vulnerable side?
While Dash divided the rest of the food on plates for his brother and Reese, Logan pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “A few hours before the fire started in that building, some neighborhood kids found kerosene dumped everywhere. They called Cannon because they thought it looked suspicious. Cannon says the kids claimed it was tossed on the walls, all over the floors and on some old tires.”
With grave reservations, Reese sat next to Margo. “Cannon, of course, called us. Before we could get there, though—”
“Fire?” Dash filled in.
“The rear door had been pried open—the boys said they found it like that. They cut through that back alley on their way home from shooting baskets down at Cannon’s rec center.”
“Good thing they didn’t stumble into whoever set the fire.” Dash could only imagine what might have happened to the kids if they had.
“That’s what Cannon said,” Logan confirmed. “He plans to talk to them about not going that way anymore.”
“They need to avoid all alleyways, in my opinion,” Reese added. And then to Margo, “I was going to talk to some of the unis about patrolling along that way a little more often, especially around the time the rec center closes up.”
“Good idea.” Margo fidgeted a moment. “How long before the fire marshal has a report?”
Dash noted her quiet, lethal manner now. Despite her lack of proper clothing, she was back to being a lieutenant, chillingly furious, probably over the fire and the possible danger to the kids. Not giving a damn what Logan or Reese thought, he reached over and took her hand.
Brows raised, she looked at his hand, nonplussed, and her gaze crawled up his arm to his face.
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away, either.
Relenting, Margo accepted the contact and curled her fingers with his.
It took Logan a second to shake off his discomfort. “Chief Williams said there were a series of small explosions that he assumes were tires blowing from the heat. He hadn’t yet determined exactly how the fire ignited, but he’s leaning toward deliberate vandalism.”
Margo stewed in silence a moment. “No one knows we didn’t find evidence. Whoever started the fire didn’t expect kids to call it in so quickly. They probably assumed the building would burn to the ground. But it’s still standing?”
“It is,” Reese said. “The firemen got it under control right away, but everything is a mess.”
“None of the other buildings—also vacant—were affected,” Logan said. “Except for some external smoke damage.”
“So...” Margo looked around the table at each of them. “We could let word out that we found a few leads. Yes?”
“Tell a few lies?” Logan slowly nodded. “Might push the bastards to show themselves.”
Reese grinned. “Want me to put the word out?”
“No.” A sly smile eased away her frown. “Given their connections, I think it’d be better if Cannon and Rowdy put the word out on the street.”
“Hell of an idea.”
“And if that doesn’t work...” Margo drew a deep breath. “I could make myself available.”
“You already did that,” Dash said, starting to feel uneasy.
Logan scowled at her. “She means to set herself up as bait.”
Ice ran through Dash’s veins. “No.”
“It’s not up to you,” she said mildly. “And, no, it wouldn’t be my first choice.”
Dash sat frozen, his gaze drilling into his brother—but Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes. Because he agreed with her? Fuck.
“Let’s try this first.” Logan stood, his cell phone in hand. “I’ll get hold of Rowdy right now.”
Reese also moved from the table. “I’ll talk with Cannon. I was going to stop by tonight to check on the kids who saw the whole thing anyway.”
With satisfaction plain on her face, Margo watched them get started.
His brother would just have to make it work, Dash decided.
Margo looked at the tabletop for several heartbeats before lifting her gaze to his. “I’m a damn good cop.”
“I know.” He really did.
“You can’t interfere.”
That fact made him all the more anxious to bind her to him somehow. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.”
Her smile flickered over her face. “The lie might work. Right now the goons are smug, thinking we’re lost—which we are. But if they start to worry, they’ll make a mistake.”
“And then you’ll have them.”
“Yes. And then I’ll have them.”
Logan spoke to Rowdy, updating him on the plans. Reese was on the phone with Cannon, making arrangements to drop by.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Dash said.
“Always.” Somber, she said, “If I screw this up, another woman could be hurt.”
And she’d never allow that.
Now, more than ever, Dash couldn’t wait to get her alone.
* * *
OLIVER SAT IN HER LAP through half an hour of a boring sitcom. Dash, who could have worked the inquisition, insisted on tidying the kitchen—shirtless—while she relaxed. Or rather, tried to relax. Instead, though, her gaze repeatedly sought him out as he moved around in the other room, giving her occasional glimpses of his magnificent body through the doorway.
Whenever he happened to look up and catch her watching him, he smiled. A few times he even asked her if she needed anything.
Sex, she wanted to say, but he already knew that and she saw no reason to keep belaboring the point.
Normally, on a night like this, she would have been stewing over the case and feeling the futility of trying to locate scumbags before they committed another crime. That frustration was there, but other frustrations trumped it and in some way, it helped her to keep a clearer head where work was concerned. It never made sense to obsess over a case. Doing so kept someone from seeing the obvious.
Right now, on top of the regular due diligence, she could only wait and hope that the tale Rowdy and Cannon would spread would force the bastards to react in a way that left them less protected.
Pans rattled as Dash put them away, and then water ran in the sink. That was enough to, again, distract her.
No one, ever, had pampered her like this. Even as a child she couldn’t recall anyone telling her to sit and relax.
Not that Dash was a martyr. She had no doubt that once she was 100 percent again, he’d enjoy her help in...everything. Cooking, cleaning, caring for Oliver.
Sex.
As he exited the kitchen, her eyes ate him up. She wanted to see him naked, to touch him all over—
He paused in front of her, a small knowing smile making him sexier than ever. “I’m done with the kitchen so I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll need about twenty minutes so I can shave, too.” He rubbed his bristly jaw and some rough emotion darkened his voice. “You’re so soft all over, I don’t want to risk giving you whisker burns.”
Margo’s eyes widened. But with that cryptic comment, which made her stomach tumble over, he walked away.
She twisted to watch him go—and saw he was grinning. How could he give her whisker burns if he refused to have sex with her? Or—oh, God—did he plan to make her insane again while denying himself with another of his superhuman shows of control?
When he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door, she dropped back in her seat. Oliver, disgruntled, resettled himself over her lap.
For the next few minutes her imagination drummed up every sensual possibility known to man. She could hear the shower going, and in her mind she could see him naked, his hard, muscled body wet and glistening, how the water would trail through his gorgeous body hair, over his chest, his abs, down that tantalizing happy trail—
The water shut off and her heart missed a beat. An invisible ribbon pulled tight deep inside her. She realized she’d stopped petting Oliver, that her hands were still and her gaze staring off at nothing in particular.
Oliver stretched, yawned and made his way off the couch—with her help—to go to his bed. He turned three circles, pawing a blanket this way and that before dropping down and stretching out flat, his front paws off one end of the bed, his back paws off the other, his little furry face relaxed.
Margo smiled at him. He was still the sweetest cat ever. No one in her family, not even West, liked to pet him.
But Dash did. He was as attentive to the cat as she was.
She let out a sigh.
“Feeling melancholy?”
Twisting around again, she found Dash standing there, his hair still damp, finger-combed back from his freshly shaved face. He wore only drawstring lounge pants that hung low on his lean hips.
No shirt.
Mercy.
Mouth going dry, Margo stared as he looked toward Oliver. “Is he out for the night?”
“Yes.” Oh, God, she sounded like a frog. A weak frog. Clearing her throat, she said more forcefully, “Yes. I’m surprised, too, because it’s starting to rain and usually that spooks him.”
“Maybe,” Dash said, going to the front door to check that it was locked, “he’s comforted by me being here.”
Because she sure enjoyed having him around, Margo agreed, “Maybe.” And wasn’t that a kicker? She’d been alone so long, she would have sworn a man of Dash’s size and presence would crowd her house, her lifestyle, her way of doing things.
Instead, it was so nice to have him there. Even now, as he took her hand and drew her up from the couch, she could breathe in his intoxicating scent and that, too, was so, so nice.
Dash almost laughed at the resolute look on his brother’s face as he tried to keep his gaze north of Margo’s br**sts beneath the soft terry robe.
“Rowdy said he called you about the fire?”
“Yes.”
Logan rolled a shoulder as if to relieve tension. “Yeah, well, we have some news. Rowdy was going to call you back, but I figured since we were out I might as well give it to you in person.”
“Less chance of plans being intercepted that way,” Reese told her.
Dash realized they were all still worried about controlling things, and the possibility of any residual corruption left at the station.
“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen?” Dash asked. “They can eat while they talk.”
“Fine.” Margo led the way.
Reese glanced at her ass in the robe, then quickly away. He looked guilty as hell about it, too.
Glaring at Dash, Logan fell into line behind Reese.
It was too damn funny how they both continued to see her in such a one-dimensional way, which, in part, probably contributed to the difficulty Margo had in coming to grips with the different facets of her personality—facets he’d brought to the fore. If everyone else saw her only as a severe authoritarian, how hard must it be for her to show her softer, more vulnerable side?
While Dash divided the rest of the food on plates for his brother and Reese, Logan pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “A few hours before the fire started in that building, some neighborhood kids found kerosene dumped everywhere. They called Cannon because they thought it looked suspicious. Cannon says the kids claimed it was tossed on the walls, all over the floors and on some old tires.”
With grave reservations, Reese sat next to Margo. “Cannon, of course, called us. Before we could get there, though—”
“Fire?” Dash filled in.
“The rear door had been pried open—the boys said they found it like that. They cut through that back alley on their way home from shooting baskets down at Cannon’s rec center.”
“Good thing they didn’t stumble into whoever set the fire.” Dash could only imagine what might have happened to the kids if they had.
“That’s what Cannon said,” Logan confirmed. “He plans to talk to them about not going that way anymore.”
“They need to avoid all alleyways, in my opinion,” Reese added. And then to Margo, “I was going to talk to some of the unis about patrolling along that way a little more often, especially around the time the rec center closes up.”
“Good idea.” Margo fidgeted a moment. “How long before the fire marshal has a report?”
Dash noted her quiet, lethal manner now. Despite her lack of proper clothing, she was back to being a lieutenant, chillingly furious, probably over the fire and the possible danger to the kids. Not giving a damn what Logan or Reese thought, he reached over and took her hand.
Brows raised, she looked at his hand, nonplussed, and her gaze crawled up his arm to his face.
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away, either.
Relenting, Margo accepted the contact and curled her fingers with his.
It took Logan a second to shake off his discomfort. “Chief Williams said there were a series of small explosions that he assumes were tires blowing from the heat. He hadn’t yet determined exactly how the fire ignited, but he’s leaning toward deliberate vandalism.”
Margo stewed in silence a moment. “No one knows we didn’t find evidence. Whoever started the fire didn’t expect kids to call it in so quickly. They probably assumed the building would burn to the ground. But it’s still standing?”
“It is,” Reese said. “The firemen got it under control right away, but everything is a mess.”
“None of the other buildings—also vacant—were affected,” Logan said. “Except for some external smoke damage.”
“So...” Margo looked around the table at each of them. “We could let word out that we found a few leads. Yes?”
“Tell a few lies?” Logan slowly nodded. “Might push the bastards to show themselves.”
Reese grinned. “Want me to put the word out?”
“No.” A sly smile eased away her frown. “Given their connections, I think it’d be better if Cannon and Rowdy put the word out on the street.”
“Hell of an idea.”
“And if that doesn’t work...” Margo drew a deep breath. “I could make myself available.”
“You already did that,” Dash said, starting to feel uneasy.
Logan scowled at her. “She means to set herself up as bait.”
Ice ran through Dash’s veins. “No.”
“It’s not up to you,” she said mildly. “And, no, it wouldn’t be my first choice.”
Dash sat frozen, his gaze drilling into his brother—but Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes. Because he agreed with her? Fuck.
“Let’s try this first.” Logan stood, his cell phone in hand. “I’ll get hold of Rowdy right now.”
Reese also moved from the table. “I’ll talk with Cannon. I was going to stop by tonight to check on the kids who saw the whole thing anyway.”
With satisfaction plain on her face, Margo watched them get started.
His brother would just have to make it work, Dash decided.
Margo looked at the tabletop for several heartbeats before lifting her gaze to his. “I’m a damn good cop.”
“I know.” He really did.
“You can’t interfere.”
That fact made him all the more anxious to bind her to him somehow. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.”
Her smile flickered over her face. “The lie might work. Right now the goons are smug, thinking we’re lost—which we are. But if they start to worry, they’ll make a mistake.”
“And then you’ll have them.”
“Yes. And then I’ll have them.”
Logan spoke to Rowdy, updating him on the plans. Reese was on the phone with Cannon, making arrangements to drop by.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Dash said.
“Always.” Somber, she said, “If I screw this up, another woman could be hurt.”
And she’d never allow that.
Now, more than ever, Dash couldn’t wait to get her alone.
* * *
OLIVER SAT IN HER LAP through half an hour of a boring sitcom. Dash, who could have worked the inquisition, insisted on tidying the kitchen—shirtless—while she relaxed. Or rather, tried to relax. Instead, though, her gaze repeatedly sought him out as he moved around in the other room, giving her occasional glimpses of his magnificent body through the doorway.
Whenever he happened to look up and catch her watching him, he smiled. A few times he even asked her if she needed anything.
Sex, she wanted to say, but he already knew that and she saw no reason to keep belaboring the point.
Normally, on a night like this, she would have been stewing over the case and feeling the futility of trying to locate scumbags before they committed another crime. That frustration was there, but other frustrations trumped it and in some way, it helped her to keep a clearer head where work was concerned. It never made sense to obsess over a case. Doing so kept someone from seeing the obvious.
Right now, on top of the regular due diligence, she could only wait and hope that the tale Rowdy and Cannon would spread would force the bastards to react in a way that left them less protected.
Pans rattled as Dash put them away, and then water ran in the sink. That was enough to, again, distract her.
No one, ever, had pampered her like this. Even as a child she couldn’t recall anyone telling her to sit and relax.
Not that Dash was a martyr. She had no doubt that once she was 100 percent again, he’d enjoy her help in...everything. Cooking, cleaning, caring for Oliver.
Sex.
As he exited the kitchen, her eyes ate him up. She wanted to see him naked, to touch him all over—
He paused in front of her, a small knowing smile making him sexier than ever. “I’m done with the kitchen so I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll need about twenty minutes so I can shave, too.” He rubbed his bristly jaw and some rough emotion darkened his voice. “You’re so soft all over, I don’t want to risk giving you whisker burns.”
Margo’s eyes widened. But with that cryptic comment, which made her stomach tumble over, he walked away.
She twisted to watch him go—and saw he was grinning. How could he give her whisker burns if he refused to have sex with her? Or—oh, God—did he plan to make her insane again while denying himself with another of his superhuman shows of control?
When he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door, she dropped back in her seat. Oliver, disgruntled, resettled himself over her lap.
For the next few minutes her imagination drummed up every sensual possibility known to man. She could hear the shower going, and in her mind she could see him naked, his hard, muscled body wet and glistening, how the water would trail through his gorgeous body hair, over his chest, his abs, down that tantalizing happy trail—
The water shut off and her heart missed a beat. An invisible ribbon pulled tight deep inside her. She realized she’d stopped petting Oliver, that her hands were still and her gaze staring off at nothing in particular.
Oliver stretched, yawned and made his way off the couch—with her help—to go to his bed. He turned three circles, pawing a blanket this way and that before dropping down and stretching out flat, his front paws off one end of the bed, his back paws off the other, his little furry face relaxed.
Margo smiled at him. He was still the sweetest cat ever. No one in her family, not even West, liked to pet him.
But Dash did. He was as attentive to the cat as she was.
She let out a sigh.
“Feeling melancholy?”
Twisting around again, she found Dash standing there, his hair still damp, finger-combed back from his freshly shaved face. He wore only drawstring lounge pants that hung low on his lean hips.
No shirt.
Mercy.
Mouth going dry, Margo stared as he looked toward Oliver. “Is he out for the night?”
“Yes.” Oh, God, she sounded like a frog. A weak frog. Clearing her throat, she said more forcefully, “Yes. I’m surprised, too, because it’s starting to rain and usually that spooks him.”
“Maybe,” Dash said, going to the front door to check that it was locked, “he’s comforted by me being here.”
Because she sure enjoyed having him around, Margo agreed, “Maybe.” And wasn’t that a kicker? She’d been alone so long, she would have sworn a man of Dash’s size and presence would crowd her house, her lifestyle, her way of doing things.
Instead, it was so nice to have him there. Even now, as he took her hand and drew her up from the couch, she could breathe in his intoxicating scent and that, too, was so, so nice.
