In an instant Margo knew she wasn’t in peril. He wouldn’t try to nab her, or shoot her. No, he just wanted to mock her.

Bastard.

Well, two could play that game. Wearing her own cocky smile, Margo held out her right arm and took a step closer to the curb—offering herself. Come and get me, you miserable f**k. She even used her fingertips to beckon him forward.

When he rolled closer, his truck directly in front of her, she mouthed a single word—coward.

Thanks to his reflective sunglasses she couldn’t see his eyes, but she saw his smile tighten, saw his jaw lock and his mouth compress.

And that made her smile.

When the traffic stopped, he had to brake hard to keep from rear-ending the vehicle in front of him. That finished off his provocative expression really quick.

Displaying her own arrogance, Margo gave him her most intimidating stare without blinking. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, turned to her again and jerked off his sunglasses to show her flashing black eyes—and a fresh bruise on his cheekbone.

Talk about a look of hatred.

He wasted it on her.

She took another step into the road. “What?” One more step. “You want something, big boy? You want me? Come on, then. Come and get me.”

The light changed, traffic moved. He said nothing, but he did give the slightest nod.

Margo felt a rush of power. “I’ll be waiting.”

Elbow resting on the open window frame, he drove off, not speeding, not even looking at her again.

And it infuriated her because there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

When she could no longer see him she turned to head back to Logan and Dash.

Dash. She’d almost forgotten about him. But now, thinking of him added to her smoldering annoyance. She reached the car just as he pushed open the door for her. And blast the man, as she moved into the backseat and faced him, she saw that he looked admiring.

“That was a bust,” she grumbled, trying to hide her mounting fury and concern.

Logan kept watching the road. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You daring him like that will maybe get them to make a move sooner rather than later.”

“Maybe.” She refastened her seat belt. “Any news on the plates?”

“Soon.”

If the search on the plates had come back wrong, they’d have had a reason to pull him in.

Dash put a hand on her shoulder, drawing a questioning look from her. As if nothing else had happened, he asked, “Getting hungry?”

“Yes.” But not so much for food. What she wanted, what she needed, was Dash. Every inch of him. Hot, grinding sex would do a lot to improve her mood and take the edge off.

Looking at her mouth, he gave a small sexy smile. “Good, because I’m starved.”

Well, damn. Maybe he wasn’t still peeved.

“Logan?” Dash kept his arm around her. “We headed back now? The rental place might close soon.”

“Up to the lieutenant.”

“Let’s call it quits,” she agreed. “But make sure we’re not followed.”

They had just pulled into the rental office when Logan got his return call. The plates on the truck belonged to a stolen SUV. He twisted to see Margo in the backseat. “I’ll call it in. If he’s still on the road, someone will spot him.”

Sinking into a bad mood, Margo jerked open her seat belt and got out. The odds of spotting him now were slim. Damn it.

She heard Dash say to Logan, “Thanks for the lift.”

“No problem. Stay prepared, okay?”

“Will do.”

Seconds later Dash jogged up to her. When he reached her he put his arm around her waist. “You’re tense.”

“I’m pissed.”

“Understandably.”

God, how did he roll with the punches so easily? She wanted to ask him, to know his thoughts, but she didn’t want to invite his criticism.

His hand opened on the small of her back. “Seeing you like that, swaggering and so authoritative, really got to me.”

Unsure of him, Margo pushed the door opened to the office. “Got to you how?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It turned me on. I had to fight off a boner.”

No way. She pushed him back. “You were afraid for me.”

With a shrug, he said, “I’d have felt the same about Logan or Reese. Crazy people do crazy things, and there’s no controlling that regardless of how badass you might be, so don’t crucify me for caring.”

Caring. Did he?

Teasing her, he said, “So yeah, I was worried. And turned on. And I f**king can’t wait to get you alone.” His hand dipped down to her hip. “You want to know what I’ll do to you?”

How did he always manage to keep her off balance? Margo slowed her step, swallowed, licked her lips. “Yes.”

His gaze burning, Dash stared down at her. “I’ll give you a few clues in the car on the ride home.”

That was all the incentive she needed to take care of the paperwork in record time. Within fifteen minutes they were on the road in a sporty little Ford Escort. Her heart thumped heavily, her thighs quivered and tingling heat swirled low in her belly. Arousal. With Dash, it happened so easily, so overwhelmingly, that she stayed in a damned fog.

Dash kept his attention on the road—and one hand on her knee.

She was just about to moan in frustration when he said, so very calmly, “I want you to part your legs for me...and then leave them that way.”

* * *

CANNON STOOD IN the waiting room facing a window, watching the people come and go from the hospital. Only minutes ago a woman and her husband had left the room, ready for a tearful visit with a relative.

He relished the moment alone to think. Hitting a heavy bag would have been nice. Or a long jog.

Or prolonged, sweaty sex.

But at the moment, he had no way to work off the tension.

What would he do about Tipton and Yvette?

He had enough friends in the neighborhood that he’d already called in reinforcements. As long as Yvette and Tipton stayed indoors, or told him if or when they had to go out, he could ensure someone kept an eye on them.

He figured for at least a few days they’d be home, locked in and safe. But after that?

Sometimes it sucked that he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

For such a long time he’d felt territorial about his neighborhood. He especially felt protective of those who lived there.

And for a girl like Yvette, someone so close to his sister’s age—

“Cannon?”

With his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he braced himself and turned to face her. She looked so damned small, so defenseless. Her dark, freshly washed hair hung in long wet hanks over her shoulders. The ghastly makeup had been removed, but her cheeks were still blotchy, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed from crying. She looked painfully young.

Young, innocent, scared...and full of hero worship.

Shit. He drew a breath and tried to relax, but for some reason that proved impossible. He felt strung tight in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

The stench of kerosene was gone, along with her ruined clothes. She wore a pair of scrubs...and no bra.

He shouldn’t have noticed that, but damn it, he did. The girl had an impossible-to-ignore body. “How’s Tipton?”

“The nurse said he’ll be okay.” She bit her lush bottom lip to still the fine trembling, drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I should be able to take him home in a few hours.”

Though she tried to hide it, her nervousness over that prospect was plain to see. She probably felt safer at the hospital around so many people. “Come here, Yvette.”

Hugging her arms under her br**sts, she slunk in.

It used to amuse him how she’d strut her stuff, slim hips swaying, firm br**sts thrust forward as she tested the boundaries of her sex appeal.

Now she looked utterly cowed and it bothered him. A lot.

He waited for her to choose a seat, her eyes averted, her hands twisted together. Once she did, perching on the edge as if she might bolt at any minute, he sat next to her—nearby but not too close. “You won’t be alone, you know. One of Reese’s guys will make sure you get home okay. The locks on your doors and windows are good, right?”

“Grandpa says they are.”

“Tipton would know. He won’t take chances with you.” But Tipton was hardly in any shape to console, much less protect her. Cannon bent to see her face behind the fall of her damp hair—and committed himself. “I’m going to make sure someone keeps an eye on things.”

That had her big green eyes wide on his face. “Someone?”

“Me, when I can. Friends that I trust when I’m not available.”

Dropping her gaze again, she fretted. Cannon took her hand, and was surprised at how she gripped him, her hold tight, desperate.

Screw it. He moved closer still and put an arm around her narrow shoulders as he told her what he had planned. “Forget their threats, okay? They won’t get to you again.”

She didn’t answer—maybe because she didn’t believe him.

“You’re safe inside. But I’ll need you or Tipton to always let me know when you go out.” To ensure she understood, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face.

When she looked up at him, it hit him like a punch. Her lips were soft and pink, her eyes once again liquid. Her breath low and fast.

Get a grip, Cannon. “Do you understand, Yvette?”

She swallowed, nodded. “Grandpa said we won’t be able to open the shop for a while.”

Relieved to hear that, Cannon put his hands back on safer ground. Like her elbow. “I’ll talk to Tipton, too, but don’t worry about the shop right now. I’ll go over and get it cleaned up. Okay?”

“You...what?”

Yeah, he could understand her confusion. He knew her grandpa, but they weren’t related, weren’t all that close really. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll round up some friends and we’ll clean it up. It won’t take long. Then when Tipton is ready, he can go back.”

Her attention went from his eyes to his mouth. He stilled, on the alert...until more tears welled up and that damp bottom lip started to quiver again. “You are so nice.”

Her soft voice unnerved Cannon. “Friends help friends,” he told her gently, and he hoped she accepted that.

Her face flushed and she looked down at her hands. “You mean my grandpa.”

Without intending to, he smoothed back her hair. “We’re friends, too.”

“No,” she said in a tiny voice that crumpled at the end. “You don’t even like me.”

The last was said almost as a sob, ripping at his heart. If she hadn’t spent so much time flirting with him, he’d...what? Hold her closer? Touch her more? Cannon shook his head and tried to think of her as his little sister.

Right.