Dash of Peril

Done with the nonsense, Margo said, “I’m going to get dressed—and yes,” she added, eyeing Dash, “I can manage on my own.”

“Would you like me to play host until you return?”

She no longer knew what she wanted, so she simply nodded.

He kissed her again before she could stop him. “Take your time.” Leading the way, Dash had Rowdy and Avery in the kitchen before the enormity of his familiarity really hit her.

Why didn’t he just beat his chest and brand her? Eyes narrowed, stomping as much as a woman could in nothing more than a blanket, Margo exited the room.

But damn it, she knew Oliver would be concerned with others invading the kitchen and she had no idea what Dash might tell Rowdy, so she hurriedly struggled into the big flannel—she really did need to find something else to wear—and a pair of leggings.

God, doing things one-handed took forever.

She slowed down long enough to clean her teeth and wash her face, but one look at her hair and she knew that was a lost cause. She finger-combed it, and bypassed any efforts at makeup; nothing would hide the bruises anyway.

How was it that Dash looked more gorgeous after their night of chaos and she just looked a wreck? Unfair.

Barefoot, furious about the possibility of gossip, she rushed back into the kitchen.

They were all seated at the table and Dash, with Oliver in his lap, regaled them with tales of her heroism during the debacle. Oliver didn’t look the least bit upset by the company. Even from the doorway Margo could hear his rumbling purr.

No one seemed to notice her.

Dash said, “She didn’t let on that her elbow was dislocated until after it was safe.”

“Wow,” Avery said. “I knew she was tough, but that’s amazing.”

Rowdy sipped his coffee and kept silent.

Dash continued to stroke Oliver’s back while talking. Though he sounded grim, his touch on the old tomcat was gentle. “I’m glad it wasn’t her right arm. Not that I think that would have slowed her down, either. Even injured, she’s deadly when she has a target.”

Margo’s face heated. What she’d done wasn’t all that extraordinary. She was a lieutenant, trained to act, and so she had.

“Logan and Reese have nothing but good things to say about her,” Avery added. “They trust her completely. I mean, not just to make the right decision, but to back them up when necessary. I think it’s awesome that she’s as lethal and controlled as they are.”

“I give major props to Logan and Reese for being badass cops,” Dash agreed, “but Margo has them both beat.”

Rowdy dunked a doughnut into his coffee and murmured without looking at her, “Margo is embarrassed by the praise.”

Avery and Dash both twisted in their seats—and chagrin showed in their expressions.

Dash pushed back his chair and stood, the cat held close to his chest. “Rowdy and Avery brought us coffee.” He searched her face. “I already fixed a cup for you.”

Oliver’s continuing purrs overrode the awkward silence.

Rowdy turned his head and looked at her. “The right focus can mask pain when you need it to. But after things settle down, the pain settles in, and it sucks.”

Because Rowdy would know that firsthand, Margo just tipped her head in a nod.

“I’m guessing,” he said thoughtfully, “that like me, you were more pissed than anything and that helped to put the injury on hold.”

“You guess right.” Sure, the pain had been there, but overriding it was the fury that she’d been attacked, and even more, that Dash was in danger. “Luckily, Dash wasn’t a slouch.”

“You thought he was?”

Dash said, “Compared to her...”

“He’s a cop’s brother,” Rowdy argued with a frown. “He understands the risks. Hell, we’ve both seen him in action and he keeps his cool.”

Dash saluted him.

Margo didn’t want to think about the time a perp had gotten the jump on her, handcuffing her to a bed with Reese while another goon aimed a gun at Rowdy.

Thanks to Reese’s wife, Alice, Logan had been notified and he and Dash had taken control of the situation. They’d all escaped unscathed. “Dash wasn’t in the thick of that.”

“He’d disabled a goon out front.”

Avery chimed in, saying, “Since he works construction he’s pretty fit. I can’t imagine him being a slouch at anything.”

Margo rubbed her temple. “He’s a civilian. We were pinned down in an alley and people tried to shoot us.”

Dash sat forward. “It was you they wanted dead. I was just in the way.”

She ignored Dash and said to Rowdy, “I assumed he’d be more rattled by it all than he was.” Grudgingly, she admitted, “He handled himself well, though. It’s in large part due to him that we survived.”

Rowdy looked at Dash’s grin and shook his head. “If you two are done with the mutual admiration, I’d like to make a suggestion.”

Already knowing what he’d say, Margo shook her head. “No.”

“It wouldn’t take me any time at all to check into things for you.”

She should have known he hadn’t made the visit just to drop off food. “No.”

“I could ask my contacts on the street.”

Margo came forward in a rush, her scowl fierce. “Do not involve yourself.” Not in that way. It was bad enough that Dash was now likely a target. She didn’t want Rowdy in danger, too. “I can handle it.”

Dash held out a chair. In contrast to her tone, he sounded like calmness personified when he said, “Come sit down. Drink some coffee.”

He said it more like a request than an order, and she needed that coffee, so she agreed. Her splint clunked on the tabletop, making her wince. She grabbed the coffee with greed. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Dash went to the refrigerator, got a premade bag of ice and a hand towel, and gently layered them on her arm.

Margo said nothing. She needed the ice, but she hated the weakness.

Rowdy waited until that was done, but he didn’t let it go. “I never said you couldn’t handle things, but you know I can’t resist lending a hand.”

“Try.” Flustered anew, she gulped more coffee. Dash, damn him, had fixed it exactly as she liked it.

Did he have to be so considerate, so annoyingly perfect, as well as a scorching sex partner?

“It was bad enough when we thought they’d moved on, that they were out of reach.” Folding his muscular arms on the tabletop, Rowdy gave her his most intimidating stare. “The fact that they made a grab for you proves the opposite, that if anything, they’re more brazen and more dangerous than ever.”

“We don’t know for sure that it was the same group. I’m a cop. I make enemies.” Inside the department and out. “That’s a fact.”

“They’re still here, still a threat, and I could—”

Imbuing as much command into her tone as she could muster, Margo rejected him. “Absolutely not. This is a matter for the police.”

He replied with a very rude snort.

“I mean it!” Losing her aplomb, Margo pointed at him. “This is no concern of yours.”

“Bullshit, Lieutenant.”

Dash started to protest but Margo silenced him with a touch to his wrist. The last thing this conversation needed was Dash acting territorial. To her relief, he didn’t press it. In fact, other than that familiar kiss, he’d been as respectful and gentlemanly as always in front of Rowdy and Avery.

“You told me months ago that you thought my bar was involved.” Rowdy paid no attention to Dash at all. “That makes it my concern.”

“Not involved precisely. Only that we’d found some of your cocktail napkins and a matchbook at one of the crime scenes.”

“There you go.” Rowdy sat back in his chair. “They’ve encroached on my territory.”

“But,” Margo said with emphasis, “you know I gave up on any probable link when no one from your bar approached me.”

“That doesn’t prove jack shit. Could be it went down right outside the bar. Maybe someone followed women home.” He scrutinized her. “Tell me what you have and maybe I’ll agree there’s no connection.”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.”

He gave her a look of censure. “Avery...”

“She’s a capable professional, Rowdy. You heard what Dash said. She knows what she’s doing—and she knows if she needs your help. Respect her authority.”

“I do respect her. Like her, too, and that’s why I want to help.”

Now Margo felt guilty. She refused to look at Dash as she tried to explain. “It’s personal now, so I’ll handle it.”

“My brother-in-law is a freaking cop,” Rowdy said, as if she needed the reminder.

“So?”

“So thanks to that connection, I’m determined to walk the straight and narrow.”

Dash coughed a laugh.

A grin breaking, Rowdy admitted, “At least whenever possible.” He crossed his heart. “If I find out anything, you’ll be the first I tell. And then you can personally decide what to do with the info.”

Margo considered it. Short of locking him up, stopping Rowdy probably wasn’t possible, so maybe it made sense to have him working with her. “You won’t act without me?”

“Not if I can help it.”

For Rowdy Yates, that was an enormous promise. “You won’t put yourself in danger?”

He took longer to reply to that one—until Avery shoved his shoulder. He looked at his wife, his expression softened with obvious love, and he drew her out of her seat and into his lap. “I’m not allowed to endanger myself anymore. Avery forbids it.”

Dash grinned. “Good for you, Avery.”

Margo was willing to bet that Avery’s idea of danger varied greatly from Rowdy’s, but she kept that to herself. “What do you think you can do?”

“Running a bar comes with its own challenges, especially when the place used to be such a dive. So I’ve maintained my contacts on the streets. Nothing gets by them, and for a few bucks they’ll spill their guts on anyone and anything. I’ll ask around—discreetly—and see what I can come up with.”

“I have street contacts, too, you know.”

“Maybe.” While hugging Avery, he gave Margo an indulgent smile. “But these people will talk to me when they refuse to say shit to a cop.”

Avery slid a hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. “Rowdy knows things about the city, but Cannon knows about the neighborhood. You should probably talk to him, too.”

Slowly, Rowdy nodded to acknowledge that. “True enough. And he’s trustworthy.”