Dash of Peril. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
bungee jumping when she wanted to skydive.
“No,” he said softly, “I don’t suppose you do.” His expression flat, all his natural humor squashed, Dash buttoned up his coat again, opened the door and stepped out. A blast of wintery air slapped her heated face—but it couldn’t compete with the sudden frigidness of his mood. “Drive safely, Margo.”
He was one of the few people other than family who called her that. To the rest of the world she was Margaret, a rigid, by-the-books, untouchable lieutenant.
He didn’t slam the door, just calmly closed it—and walked away, his shoulders hunched against the relentless sleet.
* * *
STANDING BENEATH THE overhang of the bar with snow and sleet trying to blind his view, the chill of the winter storm reaching down deep to his bones, Saul Boyle watched the man exit her car. Must’ve been a short convo. His brother, Curtis, would be pleased.
“She’s all alone now,” he said into the cell.
“The roads are shit,” Curtis mused, and then added, “I’d feel better about this if Toby was with you.”
That made Saul bunch up in jealous anger. “He won’t be available until tomorrow, and then we might miss our chance.”
“There would be other chances.”
He clenched his teeth. “I don’t need Toby. I told you. I got someone to help me.”
“Yes, that pathetic dopehead who needs the cash for his next fix.”
Why did Curtis have to ridicule every decision he made? “He’ll be solid, Curtis. I swear.”
The lengthy pause had Saul sweating before finally, his tone gentle, Curtis said, “I’m trusting you with a lot, Saul.”
“I know.” It made him giddy, the idea of proving himself to Curtis. He was as good as anyone. He was better than Toby. “I got this.”
“Make sure, Saul. I need the police off my ass, not digging deeper into my business.”
“She’s the one leading the dig, so once she’s gone, the others will back off.” Saul started walking toward the van, where his disposable hired hand waited. “After tonight, she’ll be a distant memory.”
“Perfect. Let me know when it’s done.” And with that Curtis hung up.
Anticipation building, Saul grinned as he trod through the accumulating snow. Curtis loved the slow torment inherent in their playtime, but Saul lived for the brutality of a surprise attack—as long as it wasn’t directed at him. Curtis could be unpredictable...but no. His brother was fair. Vicious when necessary, but he knew what he was doing.
Curtis was the brains. It was his money and power that made it all possible. Saul enjoyed being the muscle.
Together, they made an unstoppable team.
* * *
WITH HURT COILING around her, Margo watched Dash go until he disappeared into the darkness. For reasons she couldn’t understand, defeat burned her eyes.
Damn him, why did he need to confuse things?
She turned on her headlights, fastened her seat belt and put the car in gear. With no other cars on the road, she pulled out of the lot and onto the icy street, going slow to accommodate the worsening weather.
The defroster and her wipers couldn’t quite counteract the ever-forming ice on her windshield. Twice she felt her tires slipping and slowed even more. Before the night was over the station would be bombarded with calls. The wrecks would pile up. Hopefully none of them would be too severe.
Lost in deep thought, she’d traveled a little over a mile when suddenly from her left, bright headlights emerged from the obsidian night. Blinded, she threw up a hand to shield her eyes...and several realities crashed through her mind.
She was about to be T-boned; given the speed of the approaching car it had to be deliberate. The impact was going to hurt her, maybe even kill her.
Damn it, now she’d never know what it was like to sleep with Dash Riske.
The last thought had barely formed when metal hit metal with a great grinding crash. The force of the impact jarred every bone in her body. Her forehead connected with the steering wheel...and as a great blackness slowly swallowed her up she didn’t see or hear anything else.
CHAPTER TWO
THE VAN BARRELING toward Margo’s driver’s-side door snapped away Dash’s brooding annoyance.
She was about to get ambushed.
Fear and rage slammed into him, but neither of those emotions would help the situation, so he went on autopilot. Slowing his truck to keep from sliding on the slick roads, he locked his hands on the wheel and said a quick, silent prayer that she wouldn’t be hurt.
Thanks to the shitty weather, he’d made the decision to follow her home to ensure she got there safely. He hadn’t planned on her ever knowing about it, but subterfuge no longer mattered.
His guts twisted when the bulky van rammed headlong into her petite Lexus. Heart hammering, he half-assed parked his truck at the side of the road and, keeping one eye on the van, launched out the door. Knowing he had to reach her, he moved fast, sliding every other step of the way.
Her car careened sideways, spun once and collided with a telephone pole. The air bags released and glass shattered. From overhead wires, clumps of accumulated snow and ice dropped hard.
Even before the sound of the crash faded away on the dark night, Dash reached her. Seeing her demolished door buckled in, the glass everywhere, sent fear jamming into his throat.
“Jesus.” The obscene sound of grinding gears and a revving engine told Dash the driver of the van was okay—and desperate to disengage from the snowbank.
Dash reached for Margo’s door handle.
He jerked at it twice, pulling with all his strength until finally with a sharp screech of bent metal, it wrenched open. Margo lay slumped over the steering wheel and deflated air bags, her small body lifeless.
Carefully, Dash put his fingertips to her throat...and blew out a breath when he felt her steady pulse. Thank God.
How much time did he have before the van freed itself from the snowbank?
And once it did, what would happen?
“Margo? Come on, honey, talk to me.” In case she had neck or spinal injuries, he didn’t want to move her. He pulled out his cell phone and almost by rote dialed his brother instead of 911.
Logan answered with “What’s up?”
“Margo was just in a wreck. Bad. We’re at...” He looked around and found the street signs. “Corner of Second and Main. She’s unconscious.”
Calm and commanding, Logan asked, “Any other cars involved?”
Dash could hear Logan moving and knew he was already on his way. “An old cargo van.” Except for the glare of headlights off Margo’s car and the van, inky darkness blanketed the empty streets. Tension prickled along his spine—he could almost smell the sense of danger.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, but...” Dash could barely believe it, but he knew what he’d seen. “She was rammed, Logan.”
“You mean deliberately?”
Sure looked that way to him. With the roads like an ice rink it was possible the idiot behind the wheel just didn’t know how to drive.
But Dash wasn’t willing to take chances. “That’s my bet.”
A new urgency entered Logan’s tone. “If she’s out, don’t move her unless you have to. But if you get any vibes at all, grab her