So he stayed silent...but close.

Cannon remained well out of the viewing area, his face averted, his body set in angry lines of disgust.

If it weren’t for the possibility of it being, as Cannon had said, “real,” it would have been regular, poor-quality, run-of-the-mill porn. But they all knew that rather than being an actor, the woman in the film could be a victim, and that not only kept it from being sexually exciting, but it also made it revolting and enraging.

“All we’re getting is the back view of the bastards,” Reese said, “but one has dark hair and the other is—”

“Bald,” Logan finished. “Could be the same guys the boys spoke with.”

Quietly, above the sounds of bodies slapping together and the woman’s faint moans, Cannon said, “I think I recognize the place.”

Logan looked up. “It’s a business?”

“Local. A family-run pawnshop.”

“Pawnshop?” Logan gave his attention back to the video, his brow knit as he studied the scene.

Dash looked, too. “That’s a display case,” he pointed out, referring to the image to the right. “I see watches, rings, bracelets.”

“And behind that are some older guns and knives.” Logan searched the scenery as the men continued with their sexual escapades. “Damn. I think you’re right, Cannon.”

“I went by there before coming here, but it’s closed up. I don’t know why. Usually Tipton Sweeny, the guy who runs it, is there from sunup to sundown. His granddaughter, Yvette, helps out but I didn’t see her, either.”

Everyone looked at Cannon. Margo spoke first. “Do you think it’s her in the video?”

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Yvette just graduated last summer. She’s small, with a different build. Just turned nineteen, I think. That woman is older and heavier than Yvette.”

Margo glanced at the images again. “You can’t see her face very well, and the guys are mostly covering her body—”

“Still,” Logan confirmed, “she’s definitely older. I’d say late twenties.”

Peeved, Margo started to argue.

“She doesn’t have the figure of a kid,” Dash explained. As a woman, Margo might not see the nuances and probably didn’t have the same perception of the female body. “No one can be certain, especially with the light so dim, but Logan’s right. It’s a good guess that she’s older. I’d say even early thirties.”

Reese concurred. “Somewhere in there.”

Bracing her hand on the desk, Margo leaned in for a closer look—then used the mouse to pause the screen so she could study it in more minute detail.

Recognizing her in cop mode, Reese and Logan went on the alert, too.

“You see something?” Logan asked, crowding in closer and shouldering Dash aside.

Reese, being so big, looked over their shoulders.

“There.” Margo pointed to the glass front on a large display case. “A reflection.”

In a rush, Cannon came around the desk to join them.

Dash stepped farther back, giving them all room. “Do you recognize him, Cannon?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Hard to tell with the image so blurred.” He leaned in. “He’s white, though. Wearing glasses.”

“I can see that the prick is smiling,” Reese growled.

“Smug.” Logan studied the image. “Light-colored hair. Polo shirt or some other casual button-up collared shirt. He looks heavy.”

“Could be our man from the backseat.” Margo looked at each man. “Maybe the one in charge.”

Cannon stepped away. “I can ask around, see if the description rings any bells.”

“Discreetly,” Margo warned. “We don’t want the public stalking all the overweight, blond, spectacle-wearing men in the area.”

Cannon nodded. “I can be discreet, no worries.”

“In the meantime...” Margo pushed a notepad forward. “Write down the address of the pawnshop.”

He accepted the pen she offered. “I have their home address, too, if you want it.” Worry kept his voice tight. “No one is there, either—I already checked.”

Jesus. Dash hoped a nineteen-year-old girl wasn’t caught up in this mess.

“Got a phone number?” Margo asked as Cannon jotted on the paper.

“No, sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’ve been a huge help.” Taking the notepad from him, Margo started out around her desk. “I’ll check it out and—”

“No.” Reese stood in front of the door, cautiously barring the way. “All respect, Lieutenant, it’ll be better if Logan and I go.”

To Dash’s surprise, she didn’t argue. Rubbing her forehead, her frustration palpable, she nodded. “Yes, of course, you’re right.”

Logan took the notepad from her. “We’ll report back as soon as we know something.”

Cannon turned to the detectives. “Mind if I go along? I’m...worried.”

“Sure.” Reese held the door open for him. “Long as Logan doesn’t object, I don’t mind if you show us the way.”

“Why not.” Mockery twisted Logan’s mouth; they damn well didn’t need a guide. “You know their routine and we don’t. Can’t hurt to have you along.”

Once everyone was out the door, Margo looked toward Dash. He saw the dark thoughts reflected in her blue eyes; he knew exactly what she was thinking...and why.

He wanted to reassure her. It ate at him, the need to gather her close and offer comfort. With any other woman he wouldn’t have hesitated. But this was Margo, a woman so extraordinary that she’d become the youngest female lieutenant in the city’s history. So he held himself still, unsure of the right move for a woman like her, in her position, with her injuries—

“God, this is so frustrating,” she growled, and then she took the steps necessary to come up against to him, to lean on him.

She trusted him.

Staggered but inordinately pleased, Dash slowly put his arms around her, holding her closer as he weighed the significance of the moment. “What can I do?”

“There’s nothing.”

A world of difference existed between playing games with a man of her choosing—him—and a victim being forced into an abusive situation by rapists.

But Dash suspected that didn’t stop her from reacting to the similarities.

“Margo.” His mouth brushed her temple. “I want to help.”

She pushed back a little to see him. “You already are. Being here. Understanding.”

Because it was so important, because he wanted her to acknowledge it, he asked, “Not interfering?”

“That, too.” The weight of her responsibility reflected in her blue eyes and still she teased him. “I appreciate your restraint.”

He cupped his big hand to the side of her face, brushed his thumb over the warm downy skin of her cheek. “Why would I interfere? Clearly you know what you’re doing or you wouldn’t be the lieutenant, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

For her job, her rank, the duty assigned her, she was more than competent. In so many ways, Dash thought that might be the source of her personal demons.

“And only a very intelligent woman, an astute woman with a lot of intuition and logic, would be trusted with that rank.”

“I suppose.” Suspicion brought her slim brows together. “Where are you going with this?”

Not kissing her proved a great trial. But this was too important to skimp on, and a kiss would have easily sidetracked him. “Just pointing out the obvious—which I’m already sure you know.” But just in case... “What we did—” what he hoped to do again with her “—and what is on that video are night and day.”

Her breath left her in a long exhalation. “Games versus reality.”

So she had already been thinking about it, just as he’d assumed. “One is for pleasure, honey.”

Her eyes closed. “My pleasure.”

Did she think her desires were so twisted? So dark? Silly woman. After he’d taken her a few dozen times, she’d learn that anything between them was special, and oh-so-right. “Mutual pleasure. And the other is all about abuse, about a lack of consideration or even feeling.”

She swallowed hard. “Still, I can’t help it that it...it disturbs me.”

“Because you enjoy giving up control every now and then?”

“It makes me weak.”

He laughed, and when her flashing blue eyes slanted his way, he wanted to pick her up and kiss her silly for her misplaced anger and guilt. “Enjoying a few sex games no more makes you weak than it makes me abusive.” He drew her closer. “And honest to God, Margo, I do enjoy playing with you.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “You enjoy being a man.”

“And I enjoy you being a woman.” And before she could misinterpret that, he expounded on it. “You’re complicated. So strong at times you leave me in awe, so rock-solid and steady when you need to be.”

“That’s part of my problem, you know.”

He pretended disbelief. “A woman as perfect as you has problems?”

“I intimidate men.”

“Not me.” From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d wanted her. The want had grown stronger every day.

Lifting a hand she indicated the station full of department personnel on the other side of her closed office door. “In one way or another I’ve competed with most of the men here.”

“And you always win?”

“Whenever I can.” Her chin went up. “Men resent that. They resent me.”

Chiding, he corrected her. “Not Logan and Reese. They respect you.”

“And in no way see me as a sexual being.”

Thank God. He and his brother shared many things, but no way in hell did Dash want to share lust for Margo.

She paced away from him, a nervous habit that Dash had noticed whenever she tried to sort her thoughts. “My job is my life. And that means the men I have time to know, the men who know me, see me only one way.” She drew in a slow breath. “And it’s not as a woman who wants to get down and dirty in the bedroom.”