“Ambulance is on the way.” Logan, gaze averted, handed over the shirt. “Fire department will be here soon.” He nodded at Dash’s legs. “If that’s kerosene, you need to get it washed off.”

“Right.” He kissed Margo’s temple, her cheek. “Come on.” Holding her close, still shielding her with his body, he walked with her into the kitchen.

Once they were alone, he set her back from him, his hands on her head, smoothing, touching her everywhere as he looked her over. “You’re okay?”

She nodded. “Take off your jeans.”

At the same time he said, “Put on your shirt.” With a shaky smile, he shook his head. “God, things are fucked up.”

He helped her first, lifting the shirt and smoothing it over her head. He swallowed hard, then drew her in for a warmer, longer kiss to her mouth.

Hands cupped to her face, he put his forehead to hers. “Is your arm okay?”

No. Nothing was okay. She felt tears well up, but no way in hell would she cry right now. Nodding, she choked out, “Yes.”

Dash studied her face, and sucked in a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oh. Dear. God.

Talk about timing. She tried to get air into her lungs, but none of her important organs seemed to be working. She felt her lips move, but not a single sound came out.

Dash’s smile went crooked, reassuring her that he wasn’t insulted by her lack of a response.

Yet.

But God almighty, she had to get it together. “I—”

Logan stuck his head in, saw Dash with his jeans still on and scowled. “Get them off, already. You could end up with blisters. Wash off in the sink.” Then he said to Margo, “Paramedics are here. Do you need—”

Still reeling, she shook her head and said, “No.” She hadn’t been hurt. Not physically. “Have them tend to Yvette.”

Normally, that would have been enough for Logan.

No longer.

He stepped into the kitchen and moved close, watching her like he might any other vic who could possibly be traumatized. He even touched her chin, turning her face to the side to inspect the growing bruise from where Toby had slapped her.

“Logan...” she began, unsure what to say. Your brother loves me. No, that wasn’t something she wanted to start blabbing about here and now, especially when it could just be emotion talking. Dash wasn’t used to life-or-death scenarios. He wasn’t a cop.

He was just...awesome. Incredible. Cool under pressure. Burning-hot in the sack. Sweet but controlling. And how he controlled...

Oh, God, oh, God.

Ignoring her, Logan again turned to Dash. “Damn, do I need to strip them off you myself? Because I will if you don’t immediately—”

“All right, yeah. Got it.” Dash hurriedly kicked off his soggy shoes and peeled off his socks. Opening his jeans, he pushed them down and off. All while Logan continued to hold Margo’s face—and for some stupid reason she let him.

“Did you get any on your boxers?”

“No, they’re dry.”

Logan said nothing as he waited until Dash went to the sink and ran water over a dishcloth.

Satisfied, he turned back to Margo. Finally he released her face and...handed over her bra. He didn’t look discomfited by it. Apparently he’d gotten over the idea of her being a woman.

Glad that her underwear wasn’t still out in the middle of the floor where any number of cops might’ve stepped over it, she nodded. “Thanks.” Putting on a bra was the least of her concerns at the moment, so she just let the lacy garment hang from her hand.

“I checked on Yvette and Cannon.” Logan glanced at Dash. “He got them both stripped of their pants and in the shower. She’s pretty shook up, but he already talked her into letting the EMTs check her legs. The skin looks raw, broken in a few spots. But I think she’ll be okay.”

Margo knew better. It was going to be a very long time before Yvette recovered. “That poor girl.” Twice now she’d gone through this mess.

“Hey, thanks to you she’s alive and we have the bastards.” Logan ran his big hand over the side of her head, smoothing her hair in a way similar to how Dash often touched her, only without the hot look. “That is, we have two of them. Toby is dead.”

“Good,” Dash said from the sink.

Margo didn’t say anything. She’d promised the pervert that she’d end him, and she had.

Her only regret was that the other two hadn’t given her cause to shoot them, as well.

Logan searched her face. “Before things get too crazy, we need to talk.”

In his black boxers, Dash rejoined them, his legs now dripping water all over the floor. His skin looked sunburned, making her frown.

Logan folded his arms over his chest. “Rowdy’s snitch said it was a silver-haired man who ordered our perp to your house.” He waited one heartbeat. “The patrols were pulled back. That’s how the creeps got in here in the first place.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Dan?”

“He fits the description. Plus that address you gave me?”

“No way. Dan? Seriously?”

“Afraid so. He claims the address is wrong, but...” Logan shrugged. “Has he ever had a chance to unlock your window?”

She blinked twice while thinking. But of course she already knew. “It’s possible. He’s been to my house several times.” She said to Dash, “Remember that’s why I didn’t want to answer when he called? I didn’t want him to know I’d be gone and I didn’t want him to invite himself over.”

Dash put his arm around her waist. “I remember.”

Pulling it together wasn’t easy. But she needed to get this sorted out. “For a while there he made a real pest of himself, always trying to talk his way in.”

“Hitting on her,” Dash said.

“Obviously not, if he wanted me dead!”

“I’ll take care of it,” Logan assured her, and she heard the steel in his voice.

“Not without me you won’t.” It struck her, really sunk in, the enormity of it. “That slimy bastard! I knew he was up to something, I just never realized...”

Dash gave her a hug, tucking her in close, his chin on top of her head. “Take it easy.”

She knew she was talking too loud, but so many possibilities jumbled together. She desperately wanted her father to be uninvolved. The idea that he might not care at all, that he might actually despise her enough to want her dead, made her ill inside. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, much less anyone else. “Would he go that far to defend my dad?”

“We’ll find out.” Then Logan cleared his throat. “Only because I think it might matter to you, I’m going to tell you that it’s obvious you’re not wearing a bra. And assuming you want to come take control of this mess—”

Jerking around, her face hot, she gave him her back. “I’ll be right there.”

She actually heard the smile in his voice when he said, “All right, Lieutenant. Don’t take too long, though.”

Dash’s arms came around her. “If you want to put on your bra, I’ll keep watch.” He kissed her temple. “About what I said...”

Her heart started bouncing around in her chest and her knees went shaky. He loved her. “Yes?”

“I know you’ve got to do your thing. We can talk later, okay?”

A reprieve. The knotted stress loosened from her shoulders and finally she was able to take a deep enough breath. “Okay, thank you.” She turned and smiled up at him—but said nothing else. What could she say? I hope you mean it but you just might be hysterical? Overwrought? Emotional?

He wouldn’t appreciate any of those considerations. So she said nothing.

Flexing his bruised knuckles, Dash searched her face, touched the corner of her mouth and with shadowy acceptance turned to ensure no one walked in on her.

* * *

CANNON KEPT YVETTE on his lap, his arms folded over her middle, hiding her upper thighs and her now transparent panties. They were both soaked from the waist down, but knowing how his own legs burned, he’d thought only of getting the kerosene off her. The shower seemed the quickest option.

She hadn’t protested when he’d carried her into the bathroom, stripped the jeans off and set her into the shower—with him. The cold water stung at first, but it felt better than kerosene.

Yvette kept her face tucked into his neck as the EMT put ointment on her burns. Cannon couldn’t help but notice the length of those shapely legs, how slender she was, how pale.

He glanced at the EMT but that guy looked only intent on aiding her.

When he felt Yvette tighten, he shushed her with sympathy. The ointment shouldn’t hurt, but she was so devastated, so wounded and afraid.

His legs from the knees down were hot and itchy, but nothing like hers. Because she’d already had the kerosene on her once before, her skin was far more tender.

Hell, she was tender all over.

That thought bothered him enough that he put his jaw to her cheek and hugged her again.

Once the EMT finished, he stood.

“My grandpa?” Yvette asked from the safety of Cannon’s embrace.

“He’s okay,” the EMT said. “Because he already had broken ribs we’re going to take him for some X-rays, but you have a few minutes yet.”

“Thank you.”

The EMT nodded to Cannon and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

For a few minutes Cannon just held her...until he heard her sniff. That tore at his heart, made him feel helpless rage and so much more.

“Hey.” He touched her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes and cheeks were blotchy but he didn’t see any more tears. “You’re safe now. They’re going away for a very long time, maybe even life.”

She looked embarrassed. “I’m pretty useless in a crisis, huh?”