Lori Foster - Dash of Peril

Saul snickered as he stepped into the kitchen and returned with a half-full hypodermic needle. “I’ll dope her up real good. She won’t give you any trouble.”

Jesus, Dash thought, as panic sliced into his composure. Should he yell for Logan now? Had they just run out of time? Curtis still flicked that damned lighter—but he’d have to hand it off to someone else if he planned to... No.

The psychopath would not touch Margo.

“That’s right,” Margo said, still in her abrasive manner—nowhere near a victim—which made it difficult for Dash to understand her strategy. Not that he doubted she had one. “Fill the syringe full, you little worm. Make sure or you’ll be sorry.”

Not a victim, although she’d clearly sent him a message when she’d mentioned being a victim earlier.

As Saul paused, uncertain, she laughed, goading him. That got Toby bunching up, too, and had Curtis twitching with rage.

And then it hit him.

Margo wanted them all rattled. She wanted them to lose sight of their absurd game so that they’d make missteps—and she could take advantage.

As the truth settled in, Dash felt an eerie calm envelop him.

Hands down, the most dangerous person in the room was Margo.

He drew a slow breath while still working to free his hands. As he’d told her many times, she was an excellent cop, able to quickly evaluate any situation. She had a plan, and he’d have to do his part to help her.

His right hand finally slipped free, but he kept it behind him. Whatever happened, he would be ready. She would be fine.

Nothing else was acceptable.

STICKING CLOSE TO the bricks, flattened to the outside wall, Rowdy went around the back of the house. He had to assume that the girl and her grandpa hadn’t willingly let in the very people who had abused them. That meant the sick fucks had gotten in another way.

At the back of the house he found a narrow window. Someone had pried open the ancient lock, leaving it unsecured. It’d be a tight fit, but a man could get through there if he wedged in flat. Constantly surveying the area, Rowdy opened the window and peeked in.

It led to a dank, dark basement filled with cobwebs. He saw a few boxes, and to the side, several cans of kerosene. Ropes hung from the cans, leaving him to believe they’d been lowered in.

Were they planning to burn the house to the ground? It appeared so.

Probably with Margo and Dash inside.

He pulled out his phone and sent Logan a succinct text: Going in through the basement. With the sound already turned off, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, turned around and lowered himself inside.

Few basements had high ceilings so the drop was short. He landed on the balls of his feet without making a sound. The door at the top of the wooden stairs was closed, but he went up anyway, pushing aside floating cobwebs that had already been disturbed.

At the top step he listened, and heard it all. Everything. Too much.

If the door squeaked, he would be caught.

But if he didn’t go now, much worse things could happen.

He turned the doorknob and, with sharp satisfaction, slipped silently into the room.

MARGO PREPARED HERSELF as best she could—but then Toby stopped Saul from going toward her.

Holding out a hand, his expression thoughtful, Toby said, “Wait.”

Anxious to play his games, Saul jiggled in place. “What? Why?” He twisted the needle in his hand. “I want to stick her.”

Turning to Curtis, Toby said, “Have her take her shirt off first.”

Dash cursed, making her silently plead for him to be quiet. To keep their attention, she said, “No. I won’t.”

“Ah.” Pleased, Curtis rubbed his upper lip. “So you balk at the idea of showing us some skin? Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Insist all you want, you miserable little puke. I said no.”

Curtis grabbed Yvette and dragged her into his side. “You’ll do it, or I’ll strip her shirt off, and then light her up and let you watch her burn.”

Doing her best to block Yvette’s terror-stricken face, Margo weighed the seriousness of the awful threat. They all looked deranged enough to do it. “I thought Toby wanted to rape her?” She shifted her gaze to Toby. “I thought he needed an intimidated girl that he could easily control. If you toast her, then what will he do? Excuse himself to the bathroom to play with himself?”

Toby locked his jaw.

Nervously, Saul snickered.

She knew they waited to see what Curtis wanted. She prayed he wouldn’t make her strip. She was afraid if he did, it’d force Dash to react too quickly.

Releasing Yvette, Curtis walked to the dining table and picked up Toby’s knife. “He’s fucked bleeding women before.”

Cannon took a step forward.

Quickly she did the same, causing him to halt. Calmly, meaning it with every fiber of her being, she said, “Then for that, he’ll die.” And she pulled off her shirt. Without fanfare, without even really caring. She wanted Saul to get close so she could end this. She would enjoy killing the sick fool.

Dash was breathing hard. Cannon looked away.

Tipton kept his worried gaze on his granddaughter.

But Toby...Toby breathed deeper, put a hand to his crotch and rubbed. “The bra, too.”

Uncaring, Margo opened the front catch to her bra and let it drop. She didn’t slump, didn’t let her shoulders droop or her chin lower. Stuffy air washed over her naked breasts and shoulders, her waist and belly above her slacks.

Toby thought she’d be less cocky if he got her half-naked. Well, he could bite the big one. She wouldn’t cower—no matter how mortified she felt.

“Now?” Saul asked, staring at her chest while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stick her now?”

“Yes,” Curtis said softly, his gaze locked to hers, hoping to see some wayward emotion. “I think it’s time.”

Dash was deathly still, Toby distracted by her boobs, Curtis expectant. Only when Saul got close did Margo shift her attention to him.

Yvette softly sobbed, and poor Tipton suffered in silence.

Cannon kept his gaze averted, but Margo would bet on him being very aware, and very prepared.

With a low, guttural giggle, Saul looked at her chest and wiggled the needle, maybe thinking of where he’d like to stick it. In his other hand he held the gun...loosely. Jaw slack, eyes vacuous, he inched closer—and finally put himself within her reach.

As fluid as possible, Margo lunged. She knocked aside Saul’s gun hand while grabbing his wrist and forcing his hand up and into his own chest...where she depressed the plunger.

At the same time Dash sprang from the chair. He only had his right hand loose, but that didn’t stop him from hefting the dining chair and swinging it straight into Toby’s head, where it shattered off a leg and a slat from the back.

Cannon reacted, too, kicking out and sending Curtis backward into the table.

Screaming, Curtis squeezed the lighter, but from out of the kitchen, Rowdy grabbed his wrist—and broke it with little effort. The lighter fell from his grasp and Rowdy kicked it away.

Yvette had dropped down to the floor, curled in on herself, hands over her head, sobbing.

Logan and Reese burst in, guns drawn.

Saul quietly went numb, slumping down, spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Ignoring her own near-nakedness, Margo quickly relieved him of his gun.

In the middle of the floor, Toby and Dash fought in a tangle of arms and legs. Toby was meatier, but Dash was far more pissed. He pounded on him, and in the process took a few blows himself that barely registered. Parts of the chair still hung from his left wrist, handicapping him only a little.

He half sat up and with undeniable force, punched Toby right between his legs.

The bastard gave a throat-stripping groan and curled in on himself. Still heaving, Dash stood and turned to her.

Toby, too dumb to know when to quit, picked up one of the broken chair pieces and drew it back.

Margo shot him. Once, twice. Right in the chest.

Yvette screamed.

Chaos reigned.

Toby went blank, his eyes losing their evil glint. Sinking back, he hit the floor, sprawled out and just...died.

Shirtless, her recovering arm now hurting like a son of a bitch, Margo crossed her arms over herself. “Dash?”

He was there in the next second, pulling her up and into his arms, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Her breasts were now hidden against his chest, but that left her naked back still exposed. She was vaguely aware of Logan giving orders, or other cops now crowding in.

Reese took Curtis from Rowdy, roughly cuffing him, uncaring of his broken arm.

“Cut me loose,” Cannon demanded, and it was Rowdy who produced a big folding knife and took care of that.

Immediately Cannon went to Yvette. He lifted her in his arms and went down the hall and into the bathroom. Margo heard water turn on.

Dash ran his hand through her hair, keeping her tucked close. “He’s washing off the kerosene,” Dash explained. “It burns.”

Burns? “Call an ambulance,” Margo said to the room at large, knowing Logan or Reese would handle it. And then to Dash she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Dash opened his big hands on her back, pressing her ever closer. “I am now.”

“I need my shirt,” she whispered, feeling a little slow. “And we should call the fire department about the fumes, and—”