CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIEUTENANT MARGARET PETERSON-RISKE was as stunning as Yvette remembered. A dynamo who exuded confidence, control and femininity. Dash, her very adoring husband, seemed every bit attentive as she remembered, even this many years later.
After Cannon called her, Margaret had insisted they stop by and so here they were, in her home, with her precious little daughter, Bethany, climbing up Cannon and squealing his name.
Cannon scooped up the toddler and held her at eye level. “Hey, Button. Did you miss me?”
She squealed again and smooched his cheek, making Yvette smile.
“Bethany,” Margaret said, “this is Cannon’s friend Yvette.”
“’Vette,” Bethany said, eyeing her warily.
Cannon held her close to his chest and smoothed her dark curly hair—hair just like her mother’s, though she had her father’s dark eyes.
“Hi, Bethany,” Yvette said.
When the little girl just scowled at her, Cannon said, “Come on, Button. Be nice.”
Instead the little girl hid her face in Cannon’s neck while reaching out a hand to Yvette.
Charmed, Yvette took it. “You’re very pretty.”
“Like Mama,” Bethany said.
“Exactly,” Dash said. “She listens when it suits her. Again, like her mama.”
Margaret slanted him a look. “Hush, Daddy.”
Laughing, Cannon kissed the top of Bethany’s head.
“It’s time for your bath, honey. You can visit with Cannon later.”
Because she loved her baths even more than Cannon, Bethany went willingly, more or less launching herself from Cannon’s arms into her father’s. “I want bubbles. And my boat, and SpongeBob, and Barbie, and...”
They disappeared down the hall with Bethany still listing toys. SpongeBob and Barbie—quite the mixed couple.
Margaret seated them at the kitchen table, offered drinks, then got down to business.
Cannon had told her a little about Heath on the phone. It bothered Yvette than she hadn’t been the one to make the call, but he knew the lieutenant better than she did.
Still hoping to deal with Heath without causing a lot of fanfare, she was hesitant to get the police involved. But he had been out of control today, and she knew it. That meant he could be a threat to Cannon or the rec center, not just her.
So they’d compromised, and were talking with Margaret outside the station.
But unfortunately, that only meant they’d invaded her free time. Yvette detested the drama. “I’m very sorry to bother you with this, especially at home.”
“Nonsense. Cannon has great instincts. If he’s concerned, then I’m glad you contacted me.” She sat at the table opposite them. “I’ve thought of you often. It’s nice to see you again.”
“And you.” She sounded genuine enough, so Yvette tried to relax. “Your daughter is precious.”
“Yes, she is.” Her happiness came through in a serene smile. “Dash is hilarious with her. And the men! As you just saw, she adores Cannon, but also Reese and Logan.” She leaned forward. “And, oh, my God, Rowdy. It’s a riot how he melts for her.”
Yvette couldn’t imagine the detectives, much less the big badass Rowdy, playing with a tiny little girl. Of course, it seemed natural enough for Cannon to cuddle her.
“She shies away from women,” Cannon said. “But she expects every guy she meets to bend to her will.”
“And they do,” Margaret told her. “Even Reese’s son, Marcus. She treats him like a revered big brother and he falls for it.”
Cannon had told her about Marcus being adopted by the detective and his wife after his abusive father went to jail and his mother died from an overdose. Thinking about it now left her in a melancholy mood. She had no business being so weak when a child like Marcus could be so strong.
“So.” Margaret sat back. “Your ex came all the way from California just to pester you?”
“I assume so, though he’ll probably have an excuse for being here. He travels a lot with his job, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he has an arranged reason for being here other than me.”
Yvette spent some time answering questions, explaining Heath’s job as a sales rep for a drug company, how long she’d known him, when they’d dated, as well as when and why they’d broken up.
“She can show you a picture of him,” Cannon said.
Yvette pulled one up on her phone. “I noticed his hair was a little shorter now, but otherwise he looks the same.”
“Mind if I send this to myself to have on hand?”
“Of course not.” Yvette really hated airing her dirty laundry, but because she and Cannon had already discussed it, and she’d agreed, she shared the rest. “I have emails, texts and Facebook posts from him. Plus my friend says he’s posting about me on his wall.”
“Mind if I see the messages now?”
Yes, she did mind. No sane person would want to share the ugliness of his rage. But she accepted that the best way to protect everyone involved was to share everything, so she pulled up the messages and handed her phone to Margaret.
Clearly Cannon wanted to read them also, but she didn’t offer, and he didn’t ask.
Margaret sat in silence, reading, her expression forbidding. When she finished, she handed the phone back to Yvette.
“I know,” Yvette said, chatting through her embarrassment. “He’s nasty. But is he really—”