She snorted. “That’s not how it works.”
Speculative, Dash asked, “So he doesn’t respect your wishes?”
There was a wealth of interest in the question, much of it unrelated to the current untenable situation. She didn’t want to admit that her dad didn’t respect anything about her. Instead she shrugged. “Hopefully he has his own plans and won’t be able to stay long.”
He withdrew his touch. “You and West are close?”
How to answer that? In some ways they were extremely close. In other ways—because of her—they were galaxies apart. “I’ve always competed with him.”
Dash frowned. “And him with you?”
She gave him a “yeah right” look. “You saw him. He’s bigger, stronger and more intimidating than I could ever be.”
Slowly, Dash approached the driveway. “Intimidating how?”
Poor Dash. He kept wanting to protect her when she didn’t need protection.
She just needed him to live up to the sensual promises he’d made.
“Not to me, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She smoothed her hair, wondering if the lust churning deep inside her showed in some way. “West always treated me like a typical little sister, and I probably drove him nuts trying to keep up with him. What I meant is that he intimidates others when necessary. He looks at people, and they fall into line.”
“And you crack the whip to make it happen.”
It wasn’t really funny given how hard she’d had to work to earn the respect she deserved in the department, but still she found herself smiling. “Something like that. West, well he’s one of those guys that even while he’s putting you in your place, you still like and respect him. But whenever I had to reprimand men, they hated me for it.”
“Sexist jerks hated it.” He put the car in Park. “Anyone with an ounce of sense would know you deserve your position, and they’d like and respect you for it.”
“A position on your lap, naked, facing you?” As if that didn’t tease him enough, she added innocently, “And if you’re still naked, too, well just think what my hands can be doing.”
He went still—and Margo opened the door and got out. After a few seconds, Dash rushed to join her, but she saw him adjust his jeans as he did so.
Good. Take that, you tormentor.
“Dad, West.” Even she heard the lingering breathlessness in her voice. Usually that’d be enough to level her. She didn’t fear her father, but she always strove to make the best possible impression on him.
Now...well, Dash had her distracted enough that she just didn’t care. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
West’s expression went from her to Dash and back again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave a chagrined smile. “I know. Sorry.”
Dash stepped forward and held out his hand. “West.”
Her brother accepted the shake, and Margo heard him whisper, “Sorry.”
Dash glanced at her, but only smiled at West. “No problem.”
Her father wasn’t nearly as welcoming. “You’re still here?” He folded his thick arms over his thicker chest.
“Yes.” Dash stepped away from him. “She’s not supposed to be driving yet.”
Margo felt the animosity swelling in the air and badly wanted to defuse things. “Dad, is everything okay?”
He looked at her arm. “Still wearing the brace, huh?”
“I see the doctor tomorrow. I assume he’ll remove it then.”
Grunting, he eyed her. “You were at work.”
“Yes.” She assumed he would approve of that at least.
“Dan said he put you on leave.”
Yes, of course the two of them had conspired. Unwavering, Margo stared him in the eyes. “I haven’t spoken to Dan.”
Gaze narrowed and nasty, her father took a step closer. “You’re calling him a liar?”
Used to this idiotic game, Margo lifted a brow and asked mildly, “Are you calling me a liar?” Rather than give her father a chance to admit he was, she tipped her head. “I’ve been gone since early morning. Perhaps he called and left a message.”
“Personally,” West said, “I think he’d be better served letting you work as long as you’re up to it.” And then, in a deliberate jab, he added, “Even if you weren’t the most qualified—which you are—after routing out so many dirty cops, it’s not like you have an overflow of available bodies to fill in for you.”
Her father rounded on West. “That’s bullshit and you know it!”
Dash stepped closer to her.
“It’s a fact.” West, unmoved by the riled expression on their father’s face, grinned at Dash. “Margo swept the place clean. All the trash has been kicked to the curb, and if you know my sister at all, she’s meticulous when it comes to replenishing the ranks.”
That statement infuriated her father. “She threw out good men!”
Confused by the sudden contretemps, Dash slid his arm around her. The gesture wasn’t missed by her already fuming father.
To sidetrack him from making Dash his target, Margo said, “Good men don’t accept bribes, Dad. They don’t steal evidence, don’t coerce witnesses and don’t cover for so-called friends who do. Good cops,” she added, “put an end to that behavior.”
West literally applauded her.
Going florid, her dad started forward—and suddenly Dash was in front of her.
Oh, no, Margo thought, her heart shooting into her throat. Her dad could be unpredictable at the best of times. She tried to face her father but Dash held her back.
“Martin.” Dash’s voice, calm and undaunted, rose above the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. “Obviously there’s something personal going on here.”
“Damn right,” her father said. “It’s personal—so none of your goddamned business.”
“Margo is my business,” Dash corrected him, still in that mild, unaffected tone. “I’m sure you would never hurt your daughter—”
West made a rude sound, earning a glare from her father. Dash never wavered at all.
“—but I think it would be better if you finished this conversation later, when everyone is a little cooler.”
Oh, God, Margo thought. She did not need this happening right now.
An uneasy breeze stirred the turbulence in the air. The seconds ticked by in a blanket of smothering silence.
Finally, his voice edged with disgust, West said, “Thanks, Dash. Of course you’re right.” Tone hardening, he added, “And, Dad, we had to go anyway.”
When Margo managed to peek around Dash, she saw West had moved close to their father while Martin continued to stare laser beams through Dash.
Relaxed, unconcerned, Dash remained in front of her—a living, breathing shield.
Teeth locked, Martin said, “I wasn’t ready to leave.”
No one spoke to him as Dash just had.
No one but her.
“Yeah,” West confirmed. “You’re leaving. Now.”
Unlike his relationship with Margo, her brother never had to butt heads with their father because he often showed deference to West.
Lip curled, Martin gave Dash an ugly look, then smoothed his hand over his head. “Fine, but I need to hit the john before I go. Open up your door, Margo.”
Margo would have told him to hold it, but Dash said, “I’ll do it,” and it was clear to one and all that he didn’t want her that close to her father.
Did Dash honestly think he could run interference for the rest of her life? She’d learned to deal with her father; she knew his limits, where and when he’d draw the line—especially when it came to public spectacles that could lead to witnesses observing his boorish behavior.
Turning his back on her father—which, under other circumstances, could be a gigantic mistake—Dash gave her a reassuring smile. “Keys?”
She didn’t like this, how he wrested even this control from her, leaving her to look like the clichéd little woman. It was especially bad in front of her father. She just knew her dad would give her hell about it later—
Dash touched her chin. “Margo?”
Knowing he meant well and anxious to get the dramatics over so she could have Dash to herself, Margo huffed and said, “Fine.” She dug out her keys and dropped them into his extended hand.
He winked at her and, assuming her father would follow, turned away and headed for the front porch. Her father curled his lip...and followed.
Amazing. Margo kept her gaze on the men. It was shocking enough that her father hadn’t kicked up more of a fuss, but when Dash followed him in, she wanted to groan.
“Ballsy,” West said.
“You have no idea,” Margo agreed.
Before she could get too worked up about it, Dash was back—with Oliver in his arms. The cat arched in bliss, rubbing himself against Dash’s chest, his chin. Margo felt herself softening.
He was protecting her cat. How could she not love that about him?
Though he stayed near the front door, at least he didn’t go so far as to follow her father to the bathroom. Still, his positioning made it plain that he didn’t trust the elder Peterson.
Mumbling to herself, Margo started to go to him—and West gently touched her shoulder.
“Wait up, will you?”
“Dash is pushing his luck.”
West gave her a look. “Oh, I don’t know.” He glanced at the front porch and waved. Margo looked, too, and found Dash keeping an eye on her while he petted the cat. “I have a feeling your boyfriend can fend for himself.”
Her face went hot and she sputtered, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Typical of big brothers, West mussed her hair. “No use lying to me, sis.” With a devilish grin, he tsked at her. “You two were fooling around in the car. Bet it was an unwelcome surprise to find us in the driveway, huh?”
More heat burned her cheeks. She wanted to kick West, but she’d probably just hurt her foot. Lifting her chin, she tried for a dose of defiance. “Yes, so?”
“So I’m happy for you.” Carefully, because of her splinted arm, he pulled her in for a brotherly hug. “’Bout damn time, too. I like him. Not many guys would face off with Dad like that, especially when he’s being such a prick.”
“West!”
“Come off it, Margo. You know he’s a bastard. Hell, most people know it. Thing is, you’re one of the few who had the guts to stand up to him.” Going somber, he smoothed the hair he’d just ruffled. “I’m proud of you.”
Such an outpouring in her damned driveway only left her more flummoxed. There was no denying her dad could be a grade-A jerk. But the rest?
Trying to figure him out, she eyed West. “Why now?”