Dash of Peril

So then why did vague discontent gnaw on the outer edges of his satisfaction, blunting some of the pleasure?

“Cannon?”

That faint, whispery voice drew him around. As if he’d somehow summoned her with his churning thoughts, Yvette stood in the doorway, her body outlined by the floodlights out front.

As usual she wore jeans, but these were a boyfriend cut, not like the tight denim she’d always preferred. Since the night was cool she’d pulled on a hooded sweatshirt a few sizes too big. Her long dark hair trailed over her chest, around her br**sts.

At his continued scrutiny, she shifted.

Realizing he was staring, Cannon unglued his feet. “Hey.” He looked beyond her but didn’t see her grandpa. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to bother you.” She, too, looked around. “You’re closed?”

“Just locking up, yeah.” Since he wasn’t working at the bar tonight, he’d planned to find a little female recreation before calling it a night. But despite the ill-advised kiss he’d given into in her bathroom, Yvette wasn’t an option. For a dozen different reasons, she was off-limits.

“I thought you’d be at the bar, but...you weren’t.”

She’d gone to Getting Rowdy looking for him? “You’re not twenty-one.” Number two reason why he could never again forget himself. “You can’t go in there.”

A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “So Rowdy told me, very quickly.” She continued to stand in the doorway instead of coming in. “He’s the one who told me you’d be here.”

Had Rowdy frightened her? He was big and imposing...and she’d been through so much. Number one reason he had to keep his attention off her curvy little body in the slouchy clothes. “You’re okay?”

Nodding, she said, “I wanted to talk to you. I mean, if you have a minute. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Come on in.” He held the door wide and then secured it behind her. “How’d you get here?”

“I drove.” Trailing a hand along a rack of weights, she explored the rec center. “I’m almost twenty you know, not twelve. I got my license a long time ago.”

No, he didn’t know that. And he’d be better off thinking of her as twelve. “I thought you just graduated.”

When she looked away, he wanted to kick his own ass. Way to bring up a failure.

Gliding over to a speed bag, she gave it a shove, watched it a minute, then said, so softly he barely heard, “I live with Grandpa because my parents are both gone. They died with I was thirteen. I...lost a few months of the school year and had to redo it. Only I was moving around a lot, from my aunts to my cousins and then finally here.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t attended enough school in any one place to count the year.”

That had to be really rough. “I’m sorry.” He came up behind her, but not too close. No reason to tempt himself. “Things didn’t work out with the other relatives?”

She pushed back the hood of her sweatshirt and gave the speed bag another tap. “I guess not.” Flashing him a smile, she asked, “How’s this work?”

Drawn to her despite his better sense, Cannon stepped up to the bag. “It’s hung a little high for you.” He moved his feet into position and held his arms at the right angles. “Like this, okay?”

She nodded.

“After you’re in the proper stance...” He struck the belly of the bag and immediately circled his fist back. “You count the rebounds to know when to strike again.” After showing her what he meant, he did a thirty-second round, repeatedly and fluidly hitting the bag.

Smiling, she said, “You make it look so easy.”

He stilled the bag, wondering why she was here, what she wanted. What he wanted.

Turning away and heading for the heavy bag, she laughed. “Actually, you make...everything seem easier.”

Cannon watched her. “If I could, I’d make it easier for you.”

She kept her back to him. “You already have.” She ran her hand over the bag. “I’m leaving tonight.”

His heart skipped two beats. “What does that mean? Leaving where?”

Pasting on a bright and completely false smile, she faced him. “I’m going back to California. Remember the aunt I mentioned? Well, she’s ill and could use some help with her store. I’ll stay with her and in my free time I can get my associates degree and...” She stopped. Cleared her throat. “Grandpa is going to retire. He’ll sell the pawnshop and just take it easy. He said he can visit often, or I can visit him. And of course, I’ll have to come for the trial. But...I can’t stay here.”

Cannon took a step toward her but she held up a hand.

“No, please. Don’t tell me I can. Don’t tell me it’ll all be okay.” She closed her arms around herself. “I can’t sleep, I keep jumping over every little sound, and I smell kerosene even when there’s none around and...” She held out her hands. “I can’t stay.” Now she came to him, rushing over. “You’ve been such a huge help. To me and to Grandpa.” Her hand touched his chest, but not for long. She was already walking away when she said, “I can’t thank you enough, and I won’t ever forget what you did for us.”

By the time she reached the door, she was practically running. She fumbled with the lock a moment and finally got it open. A bell chimed as she darted out into the night.

Cannon hadn’t yet moved. He had his hand over his chest, on the spot she’d touched so very lightly.

He’d worried about her making more of that kiss than he’d meant for there to be. He’d thought she might consider it a commitment of some sort. That she’d consider him obligated to explain.

Instead he was the one left standing behind, wondering how she could walk away without even acknowledging it.

Striding to the big front window, he watched Yvette rush across the street to a small car parked beneath a big security light. She didn’t look his way, and she didn’t look back.

She just drove off into the night.

In three days he’d be gone anyway. But in his subconscious...he’d always figured on her being around when he came home.

“Shit.” Locking up, he decided against female company and instead went to Rowdy’s bar. He didn’t drink often, but tonight was a special occasion—one he might regret for a very long time.

EPILOGUE

IT WAS JUST PAST the dinner hour at Rowdy’s bar, and Dash sat back on the bar stool, watching as Margo came through the door. Wearing skinny jeans that hugged her ass and showed off her small waist, a soft white tank top and heeled strappy sandals, she looked sexy as sin.

Every guy in the place swiveled his head to look at her, but Dash didn’t mind. Four months ago they’d married and he still couldn’t stop smiling.

Next to him, Logan laughed. “You’re more pathetic than I ever was.”

Pathetic. Deliriously happy. Either worked.

Reese leaned around Logan to see Dash. “She’s really taken to the whole letting-loose thing, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Rowdy laughed at how he said that, at the note of lust in his voice. He shoved drinks to the bar and leaned forward on his forearms. “She looks as happy as you, Dash, so you must be doing something right.”

Margo had paused to talk with Cannon. He was in town for a visit, hanging with some of his friends. Pretty soon he’d fight for the SBC. That made him a local celebrity—although most already considered him that.

Next she paused to speak with the ladies. Logan’s wife, Pepper, Reese’s wife, Alice, and Rowdy’s wife, Avery, all shared a table. Normally Avery tended bar, but not tonight. Tonight was special.

Tonight they were celebrating Dash’s impending fatherhood.

“She doesn’t look pregnant,” Logan noted, and the rest agreed.

Dash didn’t say that he’d found subtle differences in her br**sts, in her sexual appetite—which had already been pretty damned healthy, thank you—or in her desire to nest. She’d literally taken over the entire house, rearranging and remodeling and doing all those things women often liked to do, but that he’d never envisioned Margo doing.

She still kicked ass when necessary.

And she was still the most honorable, brave, amazing woman he’d ever met.

Pepper pushed out a chair, inviting Margo to join them. She agreed, but held up a finger indicating that she needed just a minute first. Then she joined Dash at the bar.

As soon as she reached him, Dash said, “Hey,” and pulled her in for a soft kiss.

Logan coughed.

Reese muttered, “Get a room.”

Margo just sighed against Dash, then slanted a look at her detectives.

They each laughed, which made her roll her eyes.

“Today,” she said, “I am officially back to being just a lieutenant.”

Logan choked. “Just?”

“No ‘just’ to it,” Reese added.

Dash pulled her up to his lap, cradling her close. “You’re happy about that?” During the investigation she’d worked entirely too hard. But she came home to him each night, and that was what mattered.

“Very.” At her ease perched on his thighs, she leaned in to whisper, “I’d rather put all my free time into being with my husband.”

Blatantly eavesdropping, Logan said, “I’m glad you’re back to your old position, because we need you.”

Slowly Dash turned his head. “For?”

Reese again leaned around Logan. “There’ve been three armed robberies in the past week, and we think they’re all by the same group.”

Margo slid off his lap. “Anyone hurt?”

“That’s the weird part. The robbers are polite about it.”

“How so?”

As they started talking shop, Dash grinned and turned to complain to Rowdy. But damn it, even as he filled drinks, Rowdy listened in.

It might have worried Dash more, how often her work came home with her, the peril she put herself in. He knew she could take care of herself, and with Logan, Reese and Rowdy helping, too, she was in good hands.

With a kiss to her temple, Dash excused himself so Margo could have his stool. When the police talk finished, she’d be going home with him.

He loved her, everything about her, all her various personas.

But he loved her best as his.

Smiling, content, Dash went to join the wives at their table.