Dash of Peril

She blinked twice while thinking. But of course she already knew. “It’s possible. He’s been to my house several times.” She said to Dash, “Remember that’s why I didn’t want to answer when he called? I didn’t want him to know I’d be gone and I didn’t want him to invite himself over.”

Dash put his arm around her waist. “I remember.”

Pulling it together wasn’t easy. But she needed to get this sorted out. “For a while there he made a real pest of himself, always trying to talk his way in.”

“Hitting on her,” Dash said.

“Obviously not, if he wanted me dead!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Logan assured her, and she heard the steel in his voice.

“Not without me you won’t.” It struck her, really sunk in, the enormity of it. “That slimy bastard! I knew he was up to something, I just never realized...”

Dash gave her a hug, tucking her in close, his chin on top of her head. “Take it easy.”

She knew she was talking too loud, but so many possibilities jumbled together. She desperately wanted her father to be uninvolved. The idea that he might not care at all, that he might actually despise her enough to want her dead, made her ill inside. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, much less anyone else. “Would he go that far to defend my dad?”

“We’ll find out.” Then Logan cleared his throat. “Only because I think it might matter to you, I’m going to tell you that it’s obvious you’re not wearing a bra. And assuming you want to come take control of this mess—”

Jerking around, her face hot, she gave him her back. “I’ll be right there.”

She actually heard the smile in his voice when he said, “All right, Lieutenant. Don’t take too long, though.”

Dash’s arms came around her. “If you want to put on your bra, I’ll keep watch.” He kissed her temple. “About what I said...”

Her heart started bouncing around in her chest and her knees went shaky. He loved her. “Yes?”

“I know you’ve got to do your thing. We can talk later, okay?”

A reprieve. The knotted stress loosened from her shoulders and finally she was able to take a deep enough breath. “Okay, thank you.” She turned and smiled up at him—but said nothing else. What could she say? I hope you mean it but you just might be hysterical? Overwrought? Emotional?

He wouldn’t appreciate any of those considerations. So she said nothing.

Flexing his bruised knuckles, Dash searched her face, touched the corner of her mouth and with shadowy acceptance turned to ensure no one walked in on her.

* * *

CANNON KEPT YVETTE on his lap, his arms folded over her middle, hiding her upper thighs and her now transparent panties. They were both soaked from the waist down, but knowing how his own legs burned, he’d thought only of getting the kerosene off her. The shower seemed the quickest option.

She hadn’t protested when he’d carried her into the bathroom, stripped the jeans off and set her into the shower—with him. The cold water stung at first, but it felt better than kerosene.

Yvette kept her face tucked into his neck as the EMT put ointment on her burns. Cannon couldn’t help but notice the length of those shapely legs, how slender she was, how pale.

He glanced at the EMT but that guy looked only intent on aiding her.

When he felt Yvette tighten, he shushed her with sympathy. The ointment shouldn’t hurt, but she was so devastated, so wounded and afraid.

His legs from the knees down were hot and itchy, but nothing like hers. Because she’d already had the kerosene on her once before, her skin was far more tender.

Hell, she was tender all over.

That thought bothered him enough that he put his jaw to her cheek and hugged her again.

Once the EMT finished, he stood.

“My grandpa?” Yvette asked from the safety of Cannon’s embrace.

“He’s okay,” the EMT said. “Because he already had broken ribs we’re going to take him for some X-rays, but you have a few minutes yet.”

“Thank you.”

The EMT nodded to Cannon and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

For a few minutes Cannon just held her...until he heard her sniff. That tore at his heart, made him feel helpless rage and so much more.

“Hey.” He touched her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes and cheeks were blotchy but he didn’t see any more tears. “You’re safe now. They’re going away for a very long time, maybe even life.”

She looked embarrassed. “I’m pretty useless in a crisis, huh?”

Cannon shook his head. She was young, and scared. But she hadn’t really gone hysterical until the end, until those earsplitting gunshots. People watched movies and thought they understood how it would be, but until you found yourself in the middle of a shit-storm, you just didn’t know.

He eased back her dark hair, brushing it behind her shoulders. “You did great.”

She looked down, touched his chest with restless fingers and then snuggled in close again. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to face your friend and that lieutenant.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. They understand, believe me.”

“Everyone else was so brave.”

“And you think you weren’t?” He held out a hand and showed her how badly he trembled. “I was so damned scared it was all I could do to keep it together.”

She put her hand in his and drew it to her cheek. “When they put that kerosene on you—”

“No.” He shook his head, not wanting her to understand. “I was afraid for you.” Shut up, Cannon. But of course he didn’t.

Yvette stared up at him, her eyes so big and wounded, her expression so soft and sweet.

And her mouth...

“When that bastard touched you—” For the love of God, don’t go there. “I wanted to kill him.” He still did. He’d taken great satisfaction in kicking Curtis, but it was Toby he’d wanted.

She gave a rough laugh. “That makes two of us.” Then she shuddered.

Recalling how Toby had manhandled her, the threats he’d enjoyed making, Cannon ran his hands up and down her arms. “Did he hurt you?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Before you got there, he...he kissed me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing going shallow. “They hurt Grandpa and...and mauled me and made me call the lieutenant....”

Cramping, Cannon wondered if Toby had died. Sure looked that way to him. And good riddance. “He’ll never touch you again.”

“I know.” She drew a broken breath. “But I’ll always remember.”

“No.”

She looked at him again, her gaze pleading. She touched his mouth. “I don’t want to remember him.”

Oh, God. Cannon knew what she was asking, but how could he give in to temptation? Yvette wasn’t herself right now. She was desperate and frightened and she’d always had a heavy-duty infatuation with him.

Plus, he’d be leaving. He didn’t yet know for how long or how far away he’d go. But no way in hell would he be turning down the SBC. It was his long-term dream.

What he felt for Yvette... Well, it was just here and now. It was immediate and hot, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let it knock him off course.

“We should join the others.”

“No.” Her breathing accelerated. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. They’ve already taken the bastards out of there. I heard them leave.”

“No.” She hugged her arms around herself and started to leave his lap.

Just to escape. Just to flee...but to where?

“Yvette...”

“I can’t go out there! I can’t face all of them. I can’t...can’t stay in this house. I can’t.”

Knowing it was wrong, knowing he should get up and join the others, knowing lust was the very last thing she needed, especially from him, Cannon drew her in close again. “Yes, you can.”

She shook her head.

Holding her close, he stood with her. “Yes.” He was so very aware of her bare legs, of those silky little panties she wore.

Of the way she clung to him.

“Cannon?”

Looking at her was his undoing. Slowly, he leaned down.

To his surprise, she met him halfway.

And when his mouth touched hers, he forgot everything else, all the reasons why it was wrong, the people milling in the other room, the burns on her legs.

He turned his head, gently moving his lips over hers, tasting her uncertainty and her need.

Almost of its own volition, his hand slid down her back.

She wiggled closer, urging him on.

Cupping a hand over her bottom, he felt the insubstantial damp cotton of her panties and the silky, warm flesh beneath.

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.