Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

Mr. Sweeny struggled to sit a little more upright in his chair before Cannon waved him back and came farther into the room.

Hands on his hips, Cannon looked at grandfather and then granddaughter. “Have you eaten?”

Yvette watched him with big adoring eyes. “He ate some canned soup.”

“And you?” Cannon came over and crouched down in front of her. “What did you eat?”

“Nothin’,” her grandfather said. “She’s still too upset to eat.”

“Grandpa!” Blushing, Yvette said to Cannon, “We didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I called,” Cannon told her with a frown. “Where’s your phone?”

“Oh.” She looked toward the kitchen. “I left it in there.”

“Excuse us a minute,” he said to Margo. He took Yvette’s hand, pulled her up from the couch and led her into the kitchen.

Slowly coming to her feet, Margo watched it all with raised brows and a little disbelief. With Cannon, Yvette seemed more like a love-struck young lady than a recovering victim.

She glanced at the grandpa, and saw him smiling after them.

Near her ear, in a low hush, Dash said, “I wonder if Cannon knows what he’s doing.”

She hoped so, and decided to leave him to it. “We’ll be on our way now.”

Cannon returned, now holding Yvette’s phone as he put in a number. “Speed dial,” he told her. “You hit number one and it’ll dial me. Got that?”

“Yes.”

He said to Mr. Sweeny, “If anything happens, if anything doesn’t seem right, call me.”

“Those detectives told us the same thing.”

Cannon nodded. “Sure, that’d work, too.”

Twisting her mouth, Margo tried not to snort. “Gee, thanks, Cannon.”

He still looked far too serious as he explained, “I mean, if someone actually bothers you, call the cops first.” He tipped up Yvette’s chin. “But if anything spooks you, even if you know it’s not a real threat, well, then I can be here in no time.”

“You’d do that?” Yvette asked.

His touch lingered. “Sure.”

Mr. Sweeny pressed a hand to his ribs and nodded. “I appreciate it, Cannon. It’s going to take a little while to stop watching shadows and jumping at every little sound.”

“You make me sound like a baby, Grandpa.”

Margo smiled. “Not so. Anyone would be jumpy after what you went through. I’d say you’re handling it remarkably well.”

“Especially,” Mr. Sweeny said, “with them swearin’ they’d be back.”

Yvette shuddered.

Knowing she should go, Margo reached out for Yvette’s hand. “Remember, anything at all, call. Okay?”

It took a minute, and then Yvette said, “There is one thing.”

Everyone became more alert.

“It’s probably nothing. And I...I’m not sure. But I think two of them were brothers.”

Brothers? “What makes you think so?”

“They... I don’t know. They looked a little alike, and the way they talked to each other. It was different from the other guy.”

“Different from the man with the goatee?” Cannon asked.

“Yes. They...joked about what they were doing. The other man, he was darker and seemed... I don’t know.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “They were all disgusting. But the dark guy just seemed to be more serious about it.”

Cannon slipped an arm around her shoulders and that encouraged her to keep going.

“He treated it like it was his job, but the brothers just did it because they could.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Actually,” Margo told her, “it does. And if they are brothers, it might help us to track them down.” She smiled, hoping to reassure Yvette. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll share with my detectives and we’ll see what we can turn up. You have my number, so if you think of anything else, call me.”

“I will.”

Cannon said, “I’ll walk you out.”

“You’re leaving?”

The stricken note in Yvette’s voice broke Margo’s heart.

“No. I’m going to stick around for about an hour.” Cannon pulled on a stocking cap. “I’ll be right back in.”

As they stepped out, Cannon pulled the door shut behind him, ensuring they could speak privately. Both he and Dash surveyed the area, on the lookout, cautious.

She’d already done the same herself. It was an older neighborhood, the streets lined with sedans and pickups. Cracks split the aged concrete sidewalks and large oak and elm trees grew in every yard.

Similar redbrick houses lined this quiet suburban street. The backyards blended together without fences. At the back of each narrow property was a tall retaining wall, helping to block the sounds of a highway put in a few years ago.

Short of putting around-the-clock guards on the house, it couldn’t be entirely protected. “As long as they don’t open the door without knowing who’s there, they should be safe enough.”

“Convincing yourself, or me?” Cannon asked.

“Both, I guess.”

BRIGHT SUNLIGHT MADE it feel warmer than it was. When the late March wind blew, the chill cut through Margo’s clothes, making her shiver.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, and felt Dash step up to her back, his hands on her shoulders.

“I told them the same.” Cannon shook his head. “They’re supposed to let me know if they go out.”

“You plan to trail them?” Dash asked.

“If I need to, yeah. Best way to catch a thug is to bust him in the act.”

Margo couldn’t believe the enormity of what he took on. “If you see anything—”

“I’ll call.” He squinted up at the bright sky. “Some of my friends helped me clean up the pawnshop today. It’s not perfect yet, but the bulk of it’s done, most of the stench gone.”

Dash shifted in disbelief. “When the hell do you rest?”

Cannon ignored that question. “When they’re ready, they’ll be able to get back to work. But I’m hoping you’ll get the bastards first.”

“I’m hoping the same.” Margo sensed there was more on his mind. “You have something to share?”

“Sort of.” He looked uncomfortable, hands in his pockets, shoulders up against the chill. “I know this all started with some weird black-market pornos, right? Videotaped rapes and stuff.”

“And some women who were badly hurt, two of them killed. Yes.”

His expression hardened. “Well, a friend knows a guy with a few of those type of movies.”

Anticipation brought her forward and she put a hand on Cannon’s arm. “Who? How did he get them?”

“I don’t know the whole story yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

He looked out over the streets, watched an elderly woman walking with a grocery cart, an older man putting mail in the corner mailbox. “Most of the people around here are just average, hardworking middle-class folk trying to get by. But there are some others who want out and can’t figure an easy enough way. So they try for shortcuts.”

“By doing dumb things, you mean.”

He shrugged, still not looking at her. “Often by working for someone with enough money to give a leg up. You prove yourself, gain some cred and you can temporarily change your circumstances.”

Margo sighed. “You’re talking about young men who get hired out as thugs. To do some rich guy’s dirty work?”

“Yeah.” He finally looked at her. “Money doesn’t automatically make someone a good person.”

“No,” Dash agreed. “It doesn’t. But it doesn’t make him a bad guy, either.”

Cannon grinned. “I know the difference—and I know you donated to the rec center. Appreciate it.”

Margo twisted to see Dash, saw him flush and something like pride swelled inside her. She put her hand over his on her shoulder, and leaned into him.

“My point is that wealthier guys come trolling through here all the time. Looking for cheap sex or muscle for hire.” He withdrew a slip of paper with a name written on it.

It was then that Margo noticed his busted knuckles. She caught his hand. “This looks new.”

“Yeah.” He met her gaze without flinching.

“Another of your trained fights?”

“Not exactly, no.” He gave her the paper, then tucked his hands away again. “There’s a local guy who likes to make fast cash when he can. He got hired to buy drugs for a private party. When he delivered them, he said a movie like that was playing on a big screen. About six men and as many women sat around laughing about it as they watched.”

Margo caught her breath at such callous inhumanity— and felt Dash squeeze her shoulders, his touch firm, caressing. Reassuring.

She looked at the paper and saw a name. “This is the address for the man who delivered the drugs, or the man who paid for them?”

“The man who paid.”

“I guess you convinced your friend to give you that address?”

“He’s not my friend.”

And she supposed that was all the answer she’d get.

Dash pulled Margo closer. “You’re sure it’s the real thing?”

“No. I haven’t seen them. But when the guy dropped off the drugs, he saw part of one and it turned his stomach. If you knew him, you’d know that’s not an easy thing to do. He said it was obviously homemade, and that the woman was out of it.”

Drugged. “The same woman in the other video?”

“I don’t think so.” Cannon shared the description he’d gotten—maybe through the use of his fists.

Margo braced herself against the hurt. “Sounds like one of the murdered women we found.” Unsure how much Cannon knew, she explained, “Of the four women we know who were victimized, two made it to us, bruised and beaten up a little, scared and disoriented.” The truth burned like acid in her throat. “Two were bodies we found that had similar marks of abuse.”