Dash of Peril

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MARGO PAUSED AT THE DOOR without knocking. They were ten minutes late—a delay that couldn’t be helped. She hated leaving Oliver after he’d been sick, so she’d spent extra time coddling him, ensuring he felt better and understood that he’d been returned home to familiar surroundings.

She especially regretted arguing with Dash.

The weekend had been so wonderful that the intrusion of reality seemed doubly harsh. It threw her off, making her testier than she should have been.

Right now, standing on the concrete porch with the hot sun overhead, her frustration level hit an all-time high.

Sensing a problem, she turned to gaze up at Dash. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait in the car?”

Dark eyes direct, he said, “Positive.” He stood very close to her back, reminding her of all they’d shared.

“Now stop stalling.” To preempt any further discussion on it, he reached past her to rap on the door.

Disquiet growing, Margo chewed her bottom lip and looked around the area. “Something’s not right.”

Dash kept a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think it is?”

All the blinds were drawn, blocking the windows. Not unthinkable given what Tipton and Yvette had gone through and their desire for privacy. Shaking her head, Margo listened but heard nothing, no ruckus from inside, no whispered conversations. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

Dash rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe it was just me.” His hand slid down to her upper arm, intent, she knew, on moving in front to shield her.

From behind them, Cannon said, “Why are you here?”

Margo turned in time to see him bound up the steps. Without his usual hat, his jacket open, he looked hot—in more ways than one. “Cannon. I didn’t hear you.”

“I didn’t want you to.” He’d obviously rushed, but still wasn’t breathing heavy. “Did Yvette call you? What’s going on?”

“She wanted to meet to talk.”

His light blue eyes burned bright with anger. “Something’s wrong.”

Dash searched the area. “We were just thinking the same thing.”

The door opened, and they all three turned, Cannon stepping up front.

Her face pale, a wild pulse racing in her throat, Yvette stood there in something akin to shock. “Cannon.”

“Yeah, me.”

It surprised Margo how furious he sounded when she’d never heard him even raise his voice.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Sickly, maybe even a little desperate, Yvette shook her head. “Nothing. I just...” She tried for a smile and failed. Looking past Cannon, she said to Margo, “I thought maybe you weren’t coming after all.”

Margo studied her and knew, down deep in her gut, that Yvette wasn’t alone. Cannon was right; something was seriously wrong.

She could handle it. She was trained for this. But damn it, she did not need Dash or Cannon caught in the same trap.

Her smile was more successful than Yvette’s, but then she’d had more practice. “I’m so sorry that we’re late. My cat got sick in the car and we had a mess to clean up.” Turning, she looked up at Dash. “Yvette and I might need to talk awhile. Why don’t you and Cannon—”

“Hell, no,” Cannon said.

Dash was more subtle. He stared into her eyes, and she knew, damn it, she knew he understood what she was asking.

And still he refused.

He gave one small shake of his head. “Sorry, no.”

Cannon said, “Let me in.”

Yvette’s eyes went glassy. “No. No, I’m... I called Lieutenant Peterson. I need to talk with her.”

Cannon snorted, put a hand flat on the door and shoved it open to search the room. Arms around herself, Yvette stepped back and away from him.

Drawing her gun, Margo whispered to Dash, “It’s a trap.”

He tried to stay in front of her. “I figured.” Ignoring Yvette, he, too, looked around. Voice as low as hers had been, he said, “Also figured you wouldn’t leave her.”

And that meant he wouldn’t leave, either?

Cannon glanced at her gun, at how Yvette stood off to the side shaking, and murmured, “I’m glad I told Rowdy to send in the troops.”

Margo was glad he had, too. She didn’t see Tipton; his easy chair was empty. She glanced to either side of the narrow living room, but saw no place for thugs to hide.

The kitchen, then.

It opened both to a dining room and to the living room. You could literally circle from the front door to the kitchen, into the dining room, the living room and back to the front door again.

Cannon took a step toward Yvette but she backed up, farther and farther until she stood in the dining room. “I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably. “I’m so sorry.”

Tipton, holding his ribs, limped painfully out of the kitchen first. “She didn’t have a choice, Cannon.” Two men came out behind him.

They stood back, using Tipton and Yvette as shields. They each held lethal guns, but the darker man—the one who’d tailed them—also kept a big knife pressed close to Tipton’s ribs. Judging by the renewed pain on the older man’s face he’d already suffered a few fresh blows.

Margo studied both the thugs. Neither Dash nor Cannon said a word, but she noticed Dash separating a little, spreading out, dividing the target. She wasn’t surprised. Dash had proven himself to be both intuitive and intelligent.

She prayed Logan and Reese would arrive in time to keep them safe.

“Put the gun down, bitch,” the dark man said. “Now, before I gut the old man.”

She had another gun in her purse. Best to play it calm for right now. Finger off the trigger, she held up her hands and slowly lowered the gun to a side table—within easy reach if she got a single opportunity.

“You,” he said to Dash, “that’s far enough. Take another step and I promise I’ll make you very sorry.”

The bald guy cackled maniacally.

To keep them talking, and therefore distracted, Margo gestured between them. “You two aren’t brothers, so let’s see...” Finger to her mouth, she gave them each due attention, then pointed to the hulk with the goatee. “You were ordered to tail us, so you must be the hired muscle.”

His flinty gaze never blinked. It was so probing, so icy, she could almost feel his hatred.

Ignoring that for the moment, she looked at the balding man, who couldn’t stop snickering like a demented brat. “So that must make you a brother. But obviously you’re not the brains behind this circus, so where is the other one?”

A laugh sounded—and kerosene flooded the floor, washing around Tipton’s and Yvette’s feet.

The girl went rigid, making the balding fool snicker louder.

Out stepped the third man. He looked...inconsequential. Average. Like any other middle-aged guy on the street.

Until he smiled.

Why couldn’t the loonies just look loony and make her job easier?

“That would be me.” He held a lighter that he repeatedly flicked. With fumes in the air, that worried Margo. “I’m the mastermind, thank you.”

She lifted a brow. “Right, if you can call a deranged sicko a mastermind.” Just how combustible was kerosene?

Dash shifted—and from one heartbeat to the next, the main guy went ballistic. “Step away from her, right now!”

When Dash hesitated, the guy clubbed Tipton in the gut, making him groan and almost fall to his knees. Only the bearded guy kept Tipton on his feet.

“That’s not necessary,” Dash said. “You’re giving me mixed directions. He told me not to move, and now you’re telling me to move.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Okay, okay.” Placating, Dash held up his hands and took a step away from her. “No problem.”

So much anger radiated off of Dash that it worried Margo. To anyone who didn’t know him, it might not be noticeable. He looked calm, collected, but alert.

Margo did know him, though, and she saw that he kept his composure with a strict and enviable discipline.

“Over there,” the man said, gesturing toward a wooden dining chair that had been placed in the far corner of the living room. “Take a seat. Now.”

His gaze constantly burning over the three men, Dash walked over and seated himself.

“Good, good.” The bossy one handed nylon hand ties to Yvette. “You’re going to fasten his hands behind him to the chair rails. But first...” Grinning, he poured more kerosene on her legs, her feet, soaking her jeans up to her knees.

Screeching, she struggled to move away, high-stepping, recoiling, but he locked an arm around her, holding her tight, the lighter in his hand pressing into her stomach.

The brother giggled and wiggled as if the terror excited him.

Only the muscleman stayed silent and deadly, his ebony gaze going steadily back and forth from Dash, Cannon and Margo, his gun raised, his finger on the trigger.

That one, she decided, wanted a reason to kill. The gunshot, however, would draw notice. And if he tried it, well, she had her own gun within reach and—

“Toby,” the main man said, “if she moves even an inch, shoot her.”

Eyes narrowing in satisfaction, Toby nodded.

She had one name now. Margo wanted the other names. She wanted to be able to address them more casually. The more familiar she could make things, the better her chances.

The head guy pushed Yvette toward Dash, saying, “Hurry it up or your grandpa will pay.”

Stumbling, trailing kerosene everywhere, Yvette rushed over to Dash.

“It’s okay,” Dash said softly. “You’re doing great.” He put his hands behind him.

It was a bad time for Margo’s heart to expand, but that didn’t stop it from happening. God love the man for reassuring Yvette.

“You see, bitch,” said the head honcho, “I know you’re still armed. I know you’re a cop. I know everything about you.”

“My name?”

“Lieutenant Margaret Peterson.” He posed, studying her. “I put a bounty out on you, didn’t get even a nibble, and now, here you are.” And then to Yvette he bellowed, “Hurry it up, damn it! Lash his hands together and then lash them again through the rails.”

Biting her lip, concentrating hard, Yvette got Dash secured and jumped back, as if she might be punished for not finishing on time.

Margo was about to ask for their names in return when he ordered, “Saul, go and check that it’s done right.”

The idiot rushed to do just that—making certain he skirted the kerosene. Holding the gun to Dash’s temple with one hand, he used the other to test the restraints.

Margo was deathly afraid that someone as unbalanced as Saul might accidentally shoot. Dash must’ve had the same thought, especially since Saul kept his finger on the trigger. Dash didn’t even blink. He stared at nothing, staying perfectly still.

“It’s fine, Curtis.”

“Good. Good. Now get her gun.”

At that, Saul hesitated.

Now she knew all their names. Margo gave him her meanest smile. “The women in the videos—”

“What about them?”

“Where are they?”

“The videos?”

“You don’t need to play dumb. I’m already a believer.”

His mouth compressed. “As long as they don’t force us to kill them, we dump the women after we’re done with them.”

“Dump them where?”

He shrugged. “Anyplace convenient. They don’t know us, are too doped up to remember anything, and usually aren’t in a hurry to go blabbing about their exploits.”

It gave her hope that perhaps the other women involved were still alive. “What constitutes forcing you to murder?”

“Usually that’s an error.” And with that Curtis glared at Saul. “If everything is handled correctly, the women are grabbed, drugged, used and dumped. Nice and neat. But Saul has been...messy a few times. And of course, we can’t have women running around who know what he looks like.” He grinned at her, making sure she knew that she was in that same category.

Luckily Yvette didn’t seem to catch on. She could still have hope that they’d get away.

“Damn it, Saul, get her gun!”

Margo turned to the brother. “Come on, Saul. Be a good baby brother and do as you’re told.”

Toby snarled. “She’s trouble. We should take care of her now. I could drag her to the basement and shoot her down there. No one would hear a thing.”

Dash stiffened.

“Oh, no,” Curtis said. “I’m going to enjoy watching her beg.”

Well, hell, Margo thought. That wouldn’t do much to help calm Dash. She stole a quick look at him and saw his eyes narrow, his shoulders bunch. But otherwise he kept quiet.

When he looked at her, she gave an almost indistinguishable shake of her head.

“You and Saul will enjoy her,” Curtis continued. “And once she’s broken, after she’s sobbing and desperate, then we’ll kill her. But not before.”

Proving he was smarter than the others, Toby curled his lip and shook his head. “Saul can have her. I’ll take the girl.”

This disruption to his plans clearly disgusted Curtis, but he accepted Toby’s decision. “Suit yourself.”

With a lecherous look at Yvette, Toby said, “Oh, I plan to.”

Yvette wrapped her arms tightly around herself and stared at her feet.

Cannon still hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Other than an occasional flinching in his jaw, he remained perfectly still.

When Curtis barked, “Goddamn it, Saul, don’t make me tell you again!” Yvette jumped and cried out.

Putting his arm around her, Toby held her tight to his bulky body. “Easy now, little girl. Things are just getting started.” He rubbed his goatee against her face, bit a little roughly at her ear. “No screaming before I give you a good reason.”

Margo held out her arms while Saul—oh, so cautiously—snatched away her purse. He grabbed the gun off the table and literally bolted, high-stepping around the kerosene to place everything on the dining room table behind them.

“You share the videos,” Margo said.

“With each other, of course.”

“No.” She shook her head. “With other swine.”

She could tell her insults were starting to grate on him. The muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed and twitched. “Yes, on occasion, I share. It pays to appease people in high places just in case my plans go awry and I need assistance.”

High places? Like...in the police department? Her stomach knotted and her lungs compressed.

“Now,” Curtis said to Cannon, unconcerned with her distress. “Who exactly are you?”

“He’s no one,” Yvette rushed to say. “He’s just a neighbor. He—”

Toby grabbed her face in his big hand, squeezing so that she had to look up at him. He stared into her eyes...and laughed. “Damn, but I think she’s smitten.”

Curtis smiled over that. “A boyfriend? Interesting.”

“He’s not!”

Ignoring her, Curtis pondered things. “I can imagine all kinds of interesting scenarios between the two of them.”

“Fuck that,” Toby said. “I’m not sharing.”

At the same time, getting so excited he damned near drooled on himself, Saul asked, “Like what?”

“I’ll tell you after we set up the camera. Now, young man.” He waved his finger in a circle. “Hands up while you turn around so we can see that you’re not hiding a weapon.”

Cannon raised his hands and slowly did a turn. Margo saw the bunching of his muscles under his shirt and in his thighs. He was coiled so tightly she wondered that the trippy trio didn’t worry more about it.

“Good, good. Saul, go and secure his hands.” And then to Cannon, “Make one wrong move, and Toby will break her neck. Do we understand each other?”

With no discernible emotion at all, Cannon stared at him. “Perfectly.”

Wow, Margo thought. Cannon was so contained. Both he and Dash were handling things as well as could be expected. No posturing, no drawing undue attention or escalating the tension with ineffectual cursing and struggles.

Cannon stood docile while Saul wrenched his hands back and looped the nylon cuffs around him, zipping them tightly. Cannon’s gaze met hers, and they both understood.

Saul didn’t realize that the restraints needed to be against the skin, not over a long-sleeved T-shirt and jacket.

Cannon turned his back to the wall and stood still. With any luck, Yvette had secured Dash the same way—meaning Dash might be able to get his hands free.

Oh, God, please let us have an advantage.

“She’s up to something,” Toby said.

Margo gave a caustic laugh. “Easy, Toby. Keep that up and everyone is going to think you’re afraid of me!”

“No.” Still holding the knife, Toby rubbed his hand over Yvette’s stomach. “I just don’t want you.”

“Because I make you nervous,” Margo taunted. “I do understand.”

Curtis moved Tipton forward and pushed him roughly into his lounge chair. Tipton bit back an agonizing groan. “Sit in the chair, old man, and don’t move.” Then he grinned at Toby. “You know, I’m starting to think she might be right. Does the little lady scare you?”

“No.”

“She’s...what? Five-four? Maybe weighs a buck-ten?”

Margo shrugged. “Height is right, but you’re off by seven pounds.” Sneering, she added, “Maybe it’s those extra seven pounds that concern old Toby.”

Taking the bait, Toby stopped his unwelcome caress on Yvette and glared at her.

“What?” Margo said, and she prayed Dash would understand. “You want me to play the victim, Toby? Is that it? You want the helpless little woman to cower and cry over the big, bad man?”

Dash’s head jerked up and he breathed harder.

“Yes.” Pushing Yvette aside so roughly she almost fell, Toby took a step forward. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“Toby,” Curtis said in soft warning. “I have plans for her. Do not even think about stealing my fun.”

Filled with evil intent, Toby put his gun and knife behind him on the dining room table, right next to Margo’s purse and weapon. “I won’t kill her,” he said. “I’ll just get her warmed up for you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Curtis handed over the heavy can. “Douse the men in kerosene first.”

Yvette was nearly hysterical, but Toby grabbed her hair and licked her cheek. “No more on you, honey,” he said against her skin. “I’m going to play with you and I don’t want that shit on me. But if you don’t stand there quietly and be a good girl I’ll fucking drown you in it, then just give you a bath before I have my fun.”

Wanting their attention on her, not anyone else, Margo got snide again. “Chickenshit bastard.”

Forgetting his order, Toby started for her, his intent plain.

Dash struggled to free his arms.

Margo ignored him—and his lack of trust. “Afraid of a real woman, aren’t you, Toby? It’s easy to dominate a girl, to play caveman and conqueror against someone so young and—”

Reaching her in three long strides, Toby backhanded her.

Margo staggered but didn’t fall. Her cheek throbbed, her jaw ached, but luckily he hadn’t broken anything. She didn’t show any pain, didn’t rub her face or tear up.

“Toby,” Curtis chastised, but he sounded entertained.

“You’re going to watch,” Toby said, “as I rape her.”

Margo made herself stare into his black eyes, her own gaze unflinching. “That makes you more comfortable, doesn’t it? Attacking a child instead of a woman? Bullying someone who’s so young and afraid. Maybe,” she continued, “because you can’t get it up otherwise.”

“Jesus,” Cannon mumbled under his breath.

Dash just stared at her. Did he remember their game of victim, how she showed him her ruse? Please don’t let him interfere, she thought. If he pushed them and got shot, or... She almost shuddered at the awful thought. No, they wouldn’t burn anyone. Not yet.

“I bet none of you prickless wonders would know what to do with a real woman.”

Toby reached for her—but Curtis said, “No.”

Breathing hard, Toby stopped, even stepped back from her.

Maybe because she’d included him in her insults, Curtis went coldly furious. “You’re going to regret that smart mouth, bitch.”

“A smart mouth is better than a dumb ass any day.”

Toby stared at her like she was the insane one, then he laughed with derision. “Seriously, Curtis, just shoot her already.”

“No.” Curtis curled and uncurled his fists. “I’ve decided that I’ll take her myself. You two can work over the child after I finish with this one.”

That took Toby by surprise. He ran a hand over his goatee. “You sure, Curtis? I mean, you never risk being seen on camera.”

The corners of his mouth lifted with determined meanness. “Usually,” he said to Margo, “I prefer only to watch. Touching the girls...” He slowly shook his head. “Not really my interest. But for you I’ll make an exception.”

Her heart started racing but she kept her tone unconcerned. “Wow, I feel so special.” The more enraged she got them the more likely they would be to make a mistake. All she needed was one opportunity, and she would react.

Saul actually clapped his hands. “Can I videotape?”

“No, you may not.” Curtis’s attention never wavered from her. “Toby is right. I don’t want to be on film. This will be for my own private memory, not for anyone else.”

Cursing, Dash drew their attention. That slowed things as Toby went over and soaked his legs with the kerosene all the way to his upper thighs. “Just settle down now,” Toby said. “That kerosene is going to itch and burn pretty soon, but at least you’ll have a front-row seat to the show.” He laughed at his own twisted humor and moved to do the same with Cannon.

Bypassing Margo, Toby said, “We’ll leave you clean and dry for now,” but added, “There’ll be plenty of time to fuel you up later.”

She half expected Cannon to react, to kick or fight. Instead he stood still, looking almost bored.

While the men all watched that, Dash wrestled with his bindings.

Margo knew that Dash was trying to send a message. The three stooges might not have noticed, but in her peripheral vision she’d watched him cautiously tug and twist.

She was counting on him getting free, because she wasn’t sure she could do this without him.

Now with the men effectively contained, Curtis took a step closer to her, his attention on her breasts—and her cell phone rang.

SILENT AS DEATH, Logan, Reese and Rowdy crept up behind thick shrubbery to survey the house. Thanks to the high sun they were able to stay out of view in tall shadows.

“I had hoped Cannon was wrong.” Rowdy glanced around the area, taking in every shrub, every source of concealment.

“He wasn’t,” Logan said. They each sensed the gloom in the air, the tension that good cops learned to pick up on. Good cops—and men like Rowdy, men who had lived most of their lives on the edge.

Things were off, and they could all feel it.

“Maybe this is why Toby wasn’t at his place when I got there,” Reese said.

“Probably.” Earlier that day, the custom-car dealership had come through for them with an address. Reese had gone there to “talk” but found the wooded cabin empty.

The twisted lunatic was here, instead.

“That’s Margo’s rental,” Reese added, nodding toward the car parked out front of the house.

“Yeah, it’s a regular fucking party inside.” Logan stared at the darkened front windows, trying to decide how to proceed. “How did they get in?” He turned to Reese. “No way did Yvette or her grandpa invite them. But if they forced their way in, why didn’t the patrolmen notice?”

“They’re supposed to come by every fifteen minutes, but I haven’t seen anyone and we’ve been here—” Reese checked his watch “—almost twenty-three minutes.”

Logan didn’t like the significance of that oversight. “Who the hell would have called them off?”

“Oh, yeah.” Rowdy sat on his haunches, his gaze studying the house from front to back. “My snitch says it was a tall silver-haired man who hired the hit on her house.”

“The hell you say.” Reese stared at him. “You just now think to mention it?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “After Cannon called, that bit of news went secondary.”

Reese turned to Logan. “So maybe the commander also called off the extra surveillance.” And under his breath, “I never did like cheaters.”

Logan didn’t want to get distracted, not now, not with his brother inside. But he had to share. “The address Cannon gave me? I just found out an hour ago that it’s the house Dan inherited from his folks.”

Reese shifted, listening while also surveying the surroundings. “I’d say that seals the deal.” And then he asked, “You asked him about it?”

“Right before Rowdy called us.” They’d each been off following their own leads, but now everything was coming to a head at the same time. “Dan said he hadn’t used that house for months, so whoever gave me the address must’ve gotten it wrong.”

“Of course he’ll be able to come up with an alibi if he needs to.”

“Yeah.” Logan hoped like hell Margo’s father hadn’t aligned himself with Dan. All of it was twisted enough, but the idea of a dad setting you up as kindling for a bonfire would fuck up anyone’s life. “I think Dan has a lot to answer for.”

“Soon as we get this settled.”

“Right.” Logan pulled out his phone and punched in Margo’s number.

It went unanswered.

Grim, he said, “I’ll try Yvette.” Again, nothing. “Straight to voice mail.”

“Maybe she turned it off.”

Maybe murderous scum turned it off for her. Logan turned to speak to Rowdy, but found him gone. “Damn it.”

Reese looked, too. “He is so fucking competent.” Sounding impressed, he asked, “Where do you think he went?”

“Knowing Rowdy, he’s probably finding a way to play the hero.” Logan punched in another number, this time Dash.

He finally got an answer.

“GET HIS PHONE,” Curtis told Yvette. “And hurry it up.”

Breathing in short, gasping breaths, she skirted over to Dash and then waffled helplessly, undecided.

“Front pocket,” Dash told her gently. “Right side.” He helped by lifting his hips a little...and used that movement to further loosen his hands from the nylon cords.

Awkwardly, her face hot, Yvette dug in his pocket and finally got the phone out.

“Put it on speakerphone,” Curtis ordered her, and then to Dash said, “One wrong word and the lady cop is the first one dead.” To shore that up, Saul pointed his gun at her.

With trembling hands, Yvette opened the phone and held it out.

Knowing who it would be, and knowing his brother was too slick to give anything away, Dash said, “Hey.”

“What the hell, Dash,” Logan said. “You stood me up.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He and his brother had talked often enough about cases that he knew how to convey a message without actually saying it. “I forgot to call.”

Already the kerosene on his legs grew uncomfortable. He saw Cannon shift a few times, too. He could only imagine how miserable poor Yvette had to be. He thanked God that they hadn’t put that shit on Margo.

There was a single second of thought, and then Logan asked, “You hanging out with Margo, or Cannon?”

“Both.” He glanced over at Margo, so afraid for her but determined to keep his facade of calm. Somehow they had to get out of this—nothing else was acceptable.

And then he had to tell her how much he loved her.

“Well, don’t sweat it,” Logan said. “Reese and I got called in to work anyway.”

Meaning they knew what was going on.

“I’ll see you soon, though, okay?”

So they were already right outside. If necessary, they could bust in—all he’d need to do was clue them in.

“Sure, but it won’t be anytime real soon.” If they tried to enter now, Margo might be shot. “I’ll give you a call when I have some free time.”

“Sounds like a plan. Hang in there.”

“Sure, thanks, Logan.”

“Bring me the phone,” Curtis demanded as soon as the call ended. He tossed it onto the table and glared at Dash.

“We were supposed to meet for lunch,” Dash lied.

Toby laughed. “You are so full of shit.”

Dash continued to look at Curtis. Toby was harder to convince, but luckily Curtis was—for whatever reason—in charge. “You wanted me to throw him off but I didn’t have to. He’s a cop, like you said. Stuff came up.”

Still Curtis frowned. “What stuff?”

“You heard what I heard. But you know he tried calling Margo first because she’s his lieutenant, so whatever he’s working on must be routine police business.”

After some thought, Curtis nodded. “I believe him. If he’d given his brother any cause for alarm, they’d already be at the door.”

Agitated, Toby paced, his suspicion cast on everyone. “I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Curtis took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “Saul, give her the shot.”

Shot? What the fuck? Dash worked his wrists. He almost had his right hand free. No way in hell would he let them inject anything into Margo. If it became necessary, he could attack with the damn chair still strapped to him.

Curtis took in his expression, but had no idea that he was close to being free. “Now, now. Don’t worry. It’s nothing lethal. Just something to help her be more compliant.” He smiled. “I agree with Toby. She will not be easy to control.”

Dash knew the woman in the video had been drugged. He would not let that happen to Margo. He’d die before he let her be used like that.

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.