I think I’ll save my breath.”
“Good plan.” Margo would kick Logan out, and then she’d never let Dash in. Dash had to take advantage of her current vulnerability because once she had a chance to catch her breath, she wouldn’t admit to needing help. “Don’t worry about it, Reese. I’ve got it covered.” He pulled out his cell phone and called his foreman. Owning a company meant he could take days off when needed.
And though Margo might not realize, it also meant he was used to calling the shots. She might run roughshod over most men, and intimidate others, and she probably mistook his good humor for weakness—but very soon, Lieutenant Margaret Peterson would get to know him better.
And she’d learn that appearances seldom told the whole story.
* * *
GETTING HER CLOTHES OFF was the hardest part, especially that damn leather glove. Her fingers had swollen so badly that they had to cut it away. After that, the meds they gave her kicked in and although they didn’t obliterate the pain, they did make it more manageable.
Now if only they could medicate her frustration and worry.
By following her, Dash had become a target, same as her. Never, ever, did she want to involve him like this. He wasn’t a cop, wasn’t equipped for the danger about to come their way.
But every time that worry wormed into her mind, she recalled Dash’s quick thinking and capability in fending off two armed men. She remembered how he’d cared for her without being condescending. She recalled his concern, and how he’d deferred to her.
Such a nice surprise. And sort of...a turn-on. Thinking of Dash was easier than concentrating on her aches and pains.
Through the long process of X-rays, exams, setting her elbow and the numerous tests on her noggin, he’d stayed with her at the hospital.
Why would he do that? She wasn’t an infant in need of help. She could have taken a taxi home. It especially unsettled her when she found out Logan had brought Dash a change of clothes and toiletries because Dash planned to go home with her.
And now her two top detectives knew it.
It was so humiliating, and so...comforting, that she almost couldn’t bear it. She had not come from a family of coddlers. Pep talks, commonsense commands and a good push in the right direction were given at times of need.
Nothing else was needed or expected.
Her family knew she’d been injured, but none of them were willing to run out in the predawn hours to check on her. During a very brief phone call, her dad had asked, “You’ll be okay?”
Without a single hint of pain in her voice, she’d replied, “Yes, sir, of course.”
She could hear the approval in his voice when he said, “Good. We’ll talk later.”
That’s how mature adults treated minor injuries. Not that Dash seemed to understand the protocol. She was a lieutenant, for crying out loud—the youngest woman ever promoted to that rank in their city. She was not a frail, helpless civilian.
She didn’t need anyone fussing over her.
But he’d stayed anyway, and by the time they got out of the hospital, her head stitched and her arm snug in a splint and sling, the sun was already on the rise.
Slumping against the passenger door, her left arm cushioned by his coat, Margo kept her eyes closed. That was easier than seeing his concern.
“We’re almost there,” Dash said softly.
Red splashes of dawn glistened off every ice-covered surface of road, trees and buildings in blinding display. It amplified the ache in her head. Each small bump in the road made her elbow throb. She had more bruises than she could count. Over her entire body, a never-ending pulse of discomfort tried to claim all her concentration.
But a few minutes later, with Dash pulling into her driveway, Margo had other things on her mind, more important things.
Thanks to her, Dash was now in danger. Would he be safer away from her—or with her? More importantly, would his presence hinder her from doing what needed to be done?
What she damn well intended to do.
“Easy,” Dash told her as he parked. He circled around the hood of the truck and opened the passenger door. The ground looked a fair distance away and she dreaded the effort it would take to get back on her feet.
She half turned, and Dash carefully slid one arm under her thighs, the other behind her back so he could lift her out. He handled her weight without a single sign of strain, cradling her against his broad, warm chest.
A lesser woman would have stayed put and let him carry her in.
She had not been raised to be a lesser woman.
“Thank you.” She truly appreciated the assistance since his truck rode so high off the ground. The very prospect of hopping out made her ache all over. “I can walk from here.” I hope.
At close range, his deep brown eyes took her measure. “You’ll insist?”
“Yes.”
“Shame, since I like holding you.” He treated her to a molten look, and then slowly bent so that her feet touched the ground. He continued to hold on to her until she’d steadied herself. Tucking her coat back around her, he asked, “Okay?”
It hurt to breathe, but she nodded.
“So stubborn.” He reached in to the floor and snagged up her purse, the stuff Logan had brought him and the bag of her bloodied clothes. The clothes she would pitch, but thank God he’d had the foresight to retrieve her purse from her car.
Her brand-new ruined car.
That alone warranted a groan, but she bit it back and tried not to drag her feet along the lit walkway to her front door. Because of the splint and sling, her coat was only draped over her left shoulder and the bitter wind easily tore it away again. The borrowed scrubs were no barrier at all and the chill cut right through to her bones. Tiredly, she readjusted her coat again.
Dash transferred his load to one hand and with the other wrapped her up close. “Come on. The last thing you need is a cold on top of everything else.”
Given her hectic work schedule, she got home at all different hours. The outdoor lights were automated, set to come on at dusk and go off again at dawn. She had plenty of mature trees that blocked the rising sun in the front, but they’d be flickering off very soon.
“Nice place.”
Ha. Dash hadn’t looked around; ever since the doctor had allowed him behind the curtain at the hospital, she’d felt his constant attention focused on her.
No one had ever scrutinized her as he did; it went beyond the intimate way a man watched a woman he wanted. What it meant, she didn’t know for sure because she’d never encountered it before.
She knew Dash was worried because he only smiled when he knew she was watching. But the emotion in his eyes held more than worry—and it unnerved her,
