“Burned down. It was an abandoned garage and someone torched it.”

Thinking of the threat against her, Dash stiffened. The ones responsible proved more dangerous by the hour. “It was empty? No one else was hurt.”

“Thankfully.” She ate a few more bites. “I’ll call your brother in a minute to find out the rest of the details, and of course we’ll still check for evidence since Rowdy insists his informant was solid, but it’s doubtful we’ll be able to find much. Rowdy is going back to his snitch to see if there’s anything new.”

“Was it burned with kerosene?”

Before she could answer, a knock sounded on her door. Margo groaned. “It’s like Grand Central Station around here.”

Dash left the table again, pausing to pull out her chair. “You might want to get a housecoat or something. I’ll answer the door for you.”

Grousing, she grabbed up one more bite of chicken on her way out.

Oliver awoke with the knock and he darted into the kitchen to hide under the table. Dash sympathized with him, gave him a few quick treats and went to the door.

Logan and Reese stood there. The sky had darkened and it smelled like rain, but so far the skies remained dry. “Hey.”

Giving him a disgruntled frown, Logan pushed his way in. “Where’s Peterson?”

Margo appeared around the corner. “Is something wrong?”

Logan and Reese both froze comically, their gazes going all over her from her tiny bare feet to the tightly cinched belt on her robe, to her tousled hair and makeup-free face.

Logan’s widened gaze came back to Dash and stayed there.

Reese looked at the ceiling, the floor, his own feet.

Fighting a grin, Dash said, “Come on in. We were just having dinner.”

“Fried chicken,” Logan said while sniffing the air. And then to Reese he added, “He makes it just like our grandma does.”

“Damn, that smells good,” Reese told him. “Don’t suppose you have any left?”

“A little. You want to—”

Margo cleared her throat loudly. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

Reluctantly, Logan turned to her again.

Dash almost laughed at the resolute look on his brother’s face as he tried to keep his gaze north of Margo’s breasts beneath the soft terry robe.

“Rowdy said he called you about the fire?”

“Yes.”

Logan rolled a shoulder as if to relieve tension. “Yeah, well, we have some news. Rowdy was going to call you back, but I figured since we were out I might as well give it to you in person.”

“Less chance of plans being intercepted that way,” Reese told her.

Dash realized they were all still worried about controlling things, and the possibility of any residual corruption left at the station.

“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen?” Dash asked. “They can eat while they talk.”

“Fine.” Margo led the way.

Reese glanced at her ass in the robe, then quickly away. He looked guilty as hell about it, too.

Glaring at Dash, Logan fell into line behind Reese.

It was too damn funny how they both continued to see her in such a one-dimensional way, which, in part, probably contributed to the difficulty Margo had in coming to grips with the different facets of her personality—facets he’d brought to the fore. If everyone else saw her only as a severe authoritarian, how hard must it be for her to show her softer, more vulnerable side?

While Dash divided the rest of the food on plates for his brother and Reese, Logan pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “A few hours before the fire started in that building, some neighborhood kids found kerosene dumped everywhere. They called Cannon because they thought it looked suspicious. Cannon says the kids claimed it was tossed on the walls, all over the floors and on some old tires.”

With grave reservations, Reese sat next to Margo. “Cannon, of course, called us. Before we could get there, though—”

“Fire?” Dash filled in.

“The rear door had been pried open—the boys said they found it like that. They cut through that back alley on their way home from shooting baskets down at Cannon’s rec center.”

“Good thing they didn’t stumble into whoever set the fire.” Dash could only imagine what might have happened to the kids if they had.

“That’s what Cannon said,” Logan confirmed. “He plans to talk to them about not going that way anymore.”

“They need to avoid all alleyways, in my opinion,” Reese added. And then to Margo, “I was going to talk to some of the unis about patrolling along that way a little more often, especially around the time the rec center closes up.”

“Good idea.” Margo fidgeted a moment. “How long before the fire marshal has a report?”

Dash noted her quiet, lethal manner now. Despite her lack of proper clothing, she was back to being a lieutenant, chillingly furious, probably over the fire and the possible danger to the kids. Not giving a damn what Logan or Reese thought, he reached over and took her hand.

Brows raised, she looked at his hand, nonplussed, and her gaze crawled up his arm to his face.

He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away, either.

Relenting, Margo accepted the contact and curled her fingers with his.

It took Logan a second to shake off his discomfort. “Chief Williams said there were a series of small explosions that he assumes were tires blowing from the heat. He hadn’t yet determined exactly how the fire ignited, but he’s leaning toward deliberate vandalism.”

Margo stewed in silence a moment. “No one knows we didn’t find evidence. Whoever started the fire didn’t expect kids to call it in so quickly. They probably assumed the building would burn to the ground. But it’s still standing?”

“It is,” Reese said. “The firemen got it under control right away, but everything is a mess.”

“None of the other buildings—also vacant—were affected,” Logan said. “Except for some external smoke damage.”

“So...” Margo looked around the table at each of them. “We could let word out that we found a few leads. Yes?”

“Tell a few lies?” Logan slowly nodded. “Might push the bastards to show themselves.”

Reese grinned. “Want me to put the word out?”

“No.” A sly smile eased away her frown. “Given their connections, I think it’d be better if Cannon and Rowdy put the word out on the street.”

“Hell of an idea.”

“And if that doesn’t work...” Margo drew a deep breath. “I could make myself available.”

“You already did that,” Dash said, starting to feel uneasy.

Logan scowled at her. “She means to set herself up as bait.”

Ice ran through Dash’s veins. “No.”

“It’s not up to you,” she said mildly. “And, no, it wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Dash sat frozen, his gaze drilling into his brother—but Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes. Because he agreed with her? Fuck.

“Let’s try this first.” Logan stood, his cell phone in hand. “I’ll get hold of Rowdy right now.”

Reese also moved from the table. “I’ll talk with Cannon. I was going to stop by tonight to check on the kids who saw the whole thing anyway.”

With satisfaction plain on her face, Margo watched them get started.

His brother would just have to make it work, Dash decided.

Margo looked at the tabletop for several heartbeats before lifting her gaze to his. “I’m a damn good cop.”

“I know.” He really did.

“You can’t interfere.”

That fact made him all the more anxious to bind her to him somehow. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.”

Her smile flickered over her face. “The lie might work. Right now the goons are smug, thinking we’re lost—which we are. But if they start to worry, they’ll make a mistake.”

“And then you’ll have them.”

“Yes. And then I’ll have them.”

Logan spoke to Rowdy, updating him on the plans. Reese was on the phone with Cannon, making arrangements to drop by.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Dash said.

“Always.” Somber, she said, “If I screw this up, another woman could be hurt.”

And she’d never allow that.

Now, more than ever, Dash couldn’t wait to get her alone.

* * *

OLIVER SAT IN HER LAP through half an hour of a boring sitcom. Dash, who could have worked the inquisition, insisted on tidying the kitchen—shirtless—while she relaxed. Or rather, tried to relax. Instead, though, her gaze repeatedly sought him out as he moved around in the other room, giving her occasional glimpses of his magnificent body through the doorway.

Whenever he happened to look up and catch her watching him, he smiled. A few times he even asked her if she needed anything.

Sex, she wanted to say, but he already knew that and she saw no reason to keep belaboring the point.

Normally, on a night like this, she would have been stewing over the case and feeling the futility of trying to locate scumbags before they committed another crime. That frustration was there, but other frustrations trumped it and in some way, it helped her to keep a clearer head where work was concerned. It never made sense to obsess over a case. Doing so kept someone from seeing the obvious.

Right now, on top of the regular due diligence, she could only wait and hope that the tale Rowdy and Cannon would spread would force the bastards to react in a way that left them less protected.

Pans rattled as Dash put them away, and then water ran in the sink. That was enough to, again, distract her.

No one, ever, had pampered her like this. Even as a child she couldn’t recall anyone telling her to sit and relax.

Not that Dash was a martyr. She had no doubt that once she was 100 percent again, he’d enjoy her help in...everything. Cooking, cleaning, caring for Oliver.