“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.”

“And then there’s the woman in the last video,” Dash growled. “They can’t be doing this for money. They’d never make enough. So if a wealthier guy had a copy, then maybe he got it from one of his peers.”

Margo wanted to grab Dash and kiss him. Of course she’d realized the enterprise couldn’t be that lucrative, that the sick bastards did it to feed their perversions. But she hadn’t thought about them being men of means, able to move around so easily.

Able to pay for immunity.

The buildings they’d used so far were disreputable, abandoned. But still... “I think you’re right, Dash—and that gives us some direction.”

He turned her to face him. “We’re heading out of town. Right now.”

“I know.”

He literally lifted her to her tiptoes. “I hear it in your voice, honey. You’re ready to jump in again, feetfirst. But you know it’s not safe. They know you. Anywhere you go, any scene you touch, is a tip-off.”

She put her hands to his chest. “I know.” And just to reassure him, she gave him a quick kiss that startled him quiet. “Now let me go. I need to get Logan on the phone ASAP.”

When she turned, Cannon wore a crooked grin. “I’ll hold tight until I hear from you or Logan. But I’m willing to do whatever I can to get this done. Just so you know.”

Margo held out her hand. “You’re proving to be a very handy person to have around.”

Grin spreading, Cannon accepted her gesture of gratitude. “Yes, ma’am.”

When he didn’t let go, Margo lifted her brows in question. “Is there anything else?”

“Not really.” He held her hand in both of his now. “I just wondered how you’re doing. Rowdy told me what happened this morning with the break-in, the kerosene.”

“We’re fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Did you tell Yvette about it?”

“No.” Margo would never do anything to alarm the girl more. “She doesn’t need to hear about things that would only upset her.”

Relieved, Cannon nodded. “This is so messed up.”

“Very,” Dash agreed. “That’s why I’m taking Margo away for a few days.”

“Yeah.” Finally releasing her hand, he tugged at his stocking hat, rearranged it. “I think it’s smart.”

Men, Margo decided, at least the good men, all tended to think along the same lines. “Logan will be in touch very soon, I’m sure. And Cannon? I’ll tell you what I told Yvette. If anything else happens, anything at all, I want to know.”

Flashing a grin, he said again, “Yes, ma’am.”

After he went back into the house, Margo took Dash’s hand and headed for the car. “Why do I get the feeling that he’s a softer-edged version of Rowdy?”

After checking up and down the street, Dash opened the door for her. “I think Cannon is his own man, different from anyone else I’ve known—including Rowdy. From what he said, he had a great upbringing.”

“With loving parents,” Margo agreed. And then, more quietly she added, “Until his dad was murdered.” Childhood trauma had a way of molding a person. Sometimes it screwed him up, put him on the wrong path and he never found his way back.

But sometimes it made him determined to be better. With Cannon, she figured it was the latter.

* * *

WITH EVERY MINUTE that passed, Dash felt more urgent to get her away to someplace safe. With him.

Just knowing they were going wasn’t enough. He wanted to be there, now.

It had always been difficult, knowing the risks that Logan took as a detective. But with Margo everything was amplified tenfold. He didn’t like to think of himself as sexist. Yes, the fact that she was a small woman played into his uneasiness. Never mind her larger-than-life attitude and kick-ass authoritativeness. She was still a woman, slender in all the ways that mattered, without a man’s muscle strength or bone structure.

He’d seen his brother fight, knew he could handle himself physically.

But Margo? If she didn’t have her weapon, what would she do against a threat? He stewed over that concern the entire time they prepped to leave.

Putting the call on speakerphone so Dash could join in, she contacted Logan on the drive to her house.

“How are Yvette and Tipton?” Logan wanted to know.

“Nervous. Worried.” Continually watching for a tail, she said, “You’re on speakerphone. Yvette had some news to share, but Cannon stopped in, too.” She explained about the possibility of the men being brothers, and the possible connection Cannon had exposed.

“I’ll look into it,” Logan said. “Give me the address.”

She read the slip of paper, then went one further. “This could be nothing more than run-of-the-mill porn. But just in case, don’t go in heavy-handed. If you start asking too many questions, you could spook him. Evidence will scatter and we’ll never get answers.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone dry. “Because that’s what I do. I just bulldoze in, no finesse, no common sense. I haven’t a clue how to work a witness or how to gather evidence, or—”

“Enough.” Margo sat back, rubbing at her elbow.

Dash doubted she realized what she was doing. “Cut her some slack, Logan. The doctor didn’t release her.”

“Damn.”

Margo gave him a dirty look.

“He’d have found out soon anyway, honey.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still returning Monday,” she told him. “So don’t get any ideas.”

“You’re worried,” Logan said. “I get it. Try a little trust, okay?” As if he expected her to do just that, he changed the subject. “I’ve got news, as well. Reese just left the car shop and the owner was real helpful. Says he remembers the guy who ordered the rims because he’s customized his truck in other ways, too.”

“Paper trail?”

“Doesn’t look like. The owner considers him a great customer—who always paid in cash. But he agreed to give a call if the man shows up again anytime soon.”

“Damn.”

They reached her house, so Margo finished the call. Dash stopped her from getting out.

“Your arm is bothering you?”

“No, it’s just...tight.”

“You don’t need to do that.” He leaned in, brushing a warm kiss over her mouth. “Not with me, okay?”

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “It’s not a big deal.”

“So then take some aspirin for me, please.” His plans for the night would include plenty of coddling mixed in with lovemaking, but he’d be damned before he hurt her.

Surrendering with a sigh, she said, “Fine. For you.” Flexing her arm, she admitted, “It is sort of achy.”

Dash had to kiss her again. With his hand on the back of her head, his fingers threaded through her dark curls, he held her close and moved his mouth over hers until her soft lips parted. Slowly, he licked her bottom lip, dipped inside to taste the warmth of her mouth, and when he felt his heartbeat thumping too hard, he put his forehead to hers.

He couldn’t wait to have her alone. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t push your luck.” Another quick kiss softened that order before she turned and got out of the car.

Smiling, Dash followed her to the door. They found Rowdy sitting forward on the couch, Oliver curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully. Rowdy was on the phone, brows down, expression stern. He greeted them with a nod but kept on talking.

Rather than listen in, Margo headed to the kitchen. Toasting Dash with a glass of water, she downed two aspirin, then starting gathering up Oliver’s stuff. She packed up a spare food-and-water dish, his favorite bed and blanket, several cans of food and a few toys.

Dash carried it out while Margo got the cat’s carrier from her small garage. She left it by the front door.

As she retreated down the hall, he went along with her.

“You won’t need much.” He stood just inside the bedroom rather than step on the kerosene-drenched carpet. Luckily the cops had already taken a lot of photos, gathered evidence and given clearance for her to get what she needed from the room.

Still, she didn’t disturb much as she tiptoed around the wet spots. “Now that my stupid splint is gone, I can barely wait for a long hot shower,” she told him. Then thought to add, “Alone.”

Dash noticed how she favored her arm, holding it close to her side. Icing it would be a good idea, too, but knowing how she felt about it, he didn’t mention it again. Hopefully the aspirin would give her some relief. “Spoilsport.”

“The next shower,” she promised. And then with a hot look, “Or another bath.”

Hell, yeah.

“But tonight I want to take a real shower, wash and condition my hair, use my lotion...all the things that have been difficult to do.”

Did she want to pretty up for him? Dash could have told her it wasn’t necessary. No matter what, Margo made him hotter than any woman he’d ever known. She could scowl at him and he wanted her. When she talked about showering, he had to fight off a boner.

“Can I help?”

“I’m about done.” In the open overnight bag on her bed, she stuffed a few pairs of panties, a few T-shirts, a pair of jeans, socks. With another suggestive glance, she said, “I’m hoping a lot of clothes won’t be necessary.”

“If you want to stay naked, I won’t object.”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “I would hope not. When I’m naked, you have to be naked, too. And I expect you to be very agreeable to my turn.”