Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

“I’d better be.”

“And,” Logan said, ignoring her tone, “that’s why I’m telling you that we’re being followed.”

She frowned, then grabbed Dash’s thigh when he started to look out the rear window. “Don’t.” Leaning forward, she asked Logan, “You’re sure?”

“Whoever he is, he’s good, staying just far enough back that it’s not obvious. But yeah, he’s been on us almost since we left the station.”

No longer distracted by Dash, Margo’s blood surged for a whole different reason. “Can you lose him?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She considered things. “If Dash wasn’t staying with me, I wouldn’t mind laying a trap for the bastard. But—”

Dash spoke over her, saying, “Fuck that. Don’t change things because of me.”

At least he hadn’t objected to the trap part. In so many ways, Dash proved that he trusted her ability, her instincts and her position.

Oh, he was still a guy with a guy’s instinct to protect the little lady. But he didn’t downplay her own skill.

“No,” she said, thinking it through. “It’s never a good idea to leave a trail to your home. If we knew he was the only one involved—”

“But we know he isn’t,” Dash interjected. “There are at least three.”

“And maybe more,” Logan said. “So if I can make a suggestion...”

“Let’s hear it.” Margo leaned forward to look through the side-view mirror but she didn’t see anyone suspicious.

“How about I draw him out?” Already making the decision, Logan turned away from their destination. “I can lead him on a winding chase until he’s forced to get closer. At the very least we can maybe pick up the plates.”

Appearing fascinated by it all, Dash asked, “Do you think they might match the plates from the van?”

“Doubtful. We’d have to be dealing with morons. Plus it’s a truck following us, not a van.” Margo opened her seat belt and moved into the window seat—away from Dash. Her Glock had a fully loaded clip and she had another weapon in her purse. It bothered her that Dash was along for the ride, and it bothered her more that she cared.

Making up her mind, she met Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a nod. “Let’s do it.”

AS ROCK-STEADY as Logan with the same lethal look, Margo said to him, “Don’t interfere.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” But Dash couldn’t help but look—repeatedly—for their tail. He saw several trucks but none seemed more nosy than the others. As always the mind of a cop intrigued him.

He wanted to tell Margo not to hurt her arm, but knew better. Instead he asked his brother, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah.” Logan took a right, then an immediate left, but he drove without haste—as if he didn’t know a killer followed them. “Be cool. Stop looking around.”

“Okay.” He sat forward, but damn it wasn’t easy.

“He’s good,” Margo complained.

“Meaning?”

Logan said, “He’s not getting close enough for me to see anything. He might be on to us.”

“The bastard is even dropping back,” Margo said.

Dash thought about it for a second, then said, “Is he far enough back that you could let me out without him seeing?”

Logan shot a sharp look over his shoulder. “No.”

But Margo took it differently. “It might be possible.” And then to Logan she said, “There’s no reason for him to be involved in this.”

Laughing, Logan stated the obvious. “He’s not dodging out to avoid the danger, Lieutenant. He wants out so can lay in wait for the bastard to go by.”

Incredulous, Margo twisted to face Dash.

Dash tried for nonchalance. “If I’m just a bystander on the road, I could get a good look at him, read his plates, get you a description—”

“No!” But that shouted word must not have sufficed, because she pressed her anger forward and said not two inches from his face, “Are you out of your mind?”

Was she incensed from worry, or because she didn’t want him butting in? “How could it hurt?” Gently, Dash touched her cheek, but she jerked away. “I seriously doubt he’s twisted enough to shoot me on the street corner. And look, there’s a park up ahead—”

“No and no!” She turned her face away, grumbling to herself about male stupidity.

“Actually,” Logan said, “it’s not a bad idea.”

“Absolutely not.” They turned another corner, and Margo cursed. “We’re losing him anyway. He’s so far back I can’t even see him anymore.”

“If we can’t see him, he can’t see us, right?” Dash pointed to a small convenience store. “Pull in there, around the back. We can watch to see if he shows up.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Logan said, already maneuvering into the lot. “You will remain in the car, Dash. Got it?”

“I already said I wouldn’t interfere.”

Surly, Margo gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “You’re having way too much fun, damn you.”

“I like watching you work.” Especially when she wasn’t in any real danger. Dash stretched out an arm along the back of the seat, but he didn’t quite touch her yet. He’d confused her enough for one day. “More so this time since no one is shooting at us and you aren’t bleeding.”

The angle Logan used kept the car hidden, but if anyone drove past, they’d be able to see. Margo kept watch out the back just in case their tail had the same idea about pulling over.

Thirty seconds later—which felt like an eternity to Dash—the big truck drove past.

“There he is,” Logan murmured.

“Are we going after him?” Dash wasn’t sure of the protocol for this sort of thing.

“No.” Margo answered since Logan was busy putting in a call. She sat back in frustration. “We’ll have the plates checked, see if we can find out anything.”

“Couldn’t you have someone pick him up?”

“For what?” She holstered her weapon. “We don’t know for certain that he’s done anything wrong.”

Logan finished a call. “They’ll run the plates and get back to me.” He started another call.

“Who now?” Margo asked.

Without answering her, Logan said into the phone, “Rowdy, hey. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a plate number and a description for you, just in case you find out anything.”

Margo rolled her eyes. “I forgot we brought Rowdy in on this.”

“That he forced his way in, you mean?” Dash grinned. Damn, but Rowdy led an exciting life. If being a bar owner wasn’t enough, he also managed to get enmeshed in more conspiracies than anyone else Dash knew.

Rowdy was more domesticated now, but deep down, he still relished life on the edge.

Logan relayed some details to Rowdy, adding, “It was a big black muscle truck all tricked out. Light bar over the front bumper, a silver toolbox in the bed. The driver wore a ball cap and sunglasses, but I could tell he has a dark mustache and goatee.” Logan nodded. “Yeah, right. If you find out anything, do not—” He listened, and his frown eased. “Good. I’m glad you understand.”

While Logan and Rowdy talked a little more, Margo seemed lost in deep thought.

Dash touched the soft curls in her hair—such a stark contrast to her iron determination. “What are you thinking?” Not about him this time, though he knew earlier she’d been daydreaming about sex, about what they would do tonight, about what he would do to her.

She’d been so flushed, so soft and aroused and trembling, he’d gotten semihard just looking at her.

Now, though, sex was far from her mind. She had that calculating, concentrated look about her that showed concern and cunning and an indomitable will to take charge.

Margo kept her attention on the street. “I’m betting he had fictitious plates, that he and his cronies are too inept to kill me, but too cunning to be easily caught. I’m thinking that this is going to take longer than it should.” Her gaze flickered to Dash. “And I’m thinking that once I get them, I’ll make damn sure they never again have the ability to hurt women.”

“Castration?” Dash asked, half teasing, but with the way she looked he just wasn’t sure.

“Life in prison.” She turned away again.

By-the-book Margo. She was as honorable as she was sexy. A nice combo. “Will you share the info with Cannon also?”

“Yes.” She stewed a moment more, then leaned forward to speak to Logan. “I think Dash was right.”

Having just finished his call with Rowdy, Logan disconnected and put the phone back in his pocket. “About?”

“Stepping out. Waiting.” She opened her seat belt. “Our perp isn’t an idiot. He’ll circle back looking for us. I want to be there, where he can see me.”

Gut clenching, Dash froze. Logan, damn him, didn’t react at all.

Margo continued. “You stay here. I doubt he’ll stop, but if he tries to grab me—”

“Or shoot you,” Dash interjected, already forgetting that he’d said himself how unlikely that would be.

Logan only spared him one dismissive look before addressing Margo again. “I’ll be on him.”

She opened her door—and Dash cracked. “Wait.”

She didn’t. She stepped out, so Dash slid across the seat and followed.

Margo rounded on him. “Back in the car, now.”

He was not one of her lackeys to be ordered around!

But damn it, at the same time, he knew her mind-set was different from many women. Tamping down on his basic nature, Dash drew one breath, then another.

As calmly as he could, he asked, “What if we underestimated him and he does something stupid?”

From the driver’s seat, Logan let out an exasperated huff. “Before he could shoot her he’d have to show a gun. He can’t shoot through the damn car door. He’d pull his weapon, and we’d see it.”