Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

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.

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 take 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.