Men of Honour: Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

He barely noticed.

Shooting to his feet, he circled the building and edged out along the side, using the shadows of the apartment building next door as concealment. Off in the distance, a dog barked. Cold wind rustled dry leaves and cut through his thin shirt.

Senses alert, Dare listened for any unnatural sound as he edged closer and closer to the street.

He detected the quiet rumbling of the van’s motor and the hushed drone of conversation inside.

Certain words pricked his mind: daughter and payment. They were incriminating words that worked to ramp up his instinctive protectiveness.

Without making a sound, he edged closer until he could see the license plates on the van. He committed them to memory.

The ringing of a cell phone made the driver curse. He answered with a sharp “What?”

Silence, and then, “She’s here. No, we didn’t see her, but there are lights on inside.” The driver waited, and then, “No one is going to see us. I know how to … Fine. Are you sure? Yeah, all right.”

He disconnected the call with a curse, saying to his passenger, “We’re done here for tonight.” Then he put the van in gear.

The urge to go after them ripped through Dare. He could reach them before they picked up speed. He could drag the driver through the window and beat some answers out of him. If there were more than two of them …

Through his nose, he inhaled a long, deep breath.

The smart thing to do, the unemotional thing, would be to wait. If he got hurt, who would look after Molly? Who would protect her?

He had the plates. It’d be better to get hold of Trace and have him find out what he could about the owner of the van.

Putting his head back against a brick wall, Dare let out the breath and tried to ease the killing tension. The adrenaline dump left him humming with the need for violence.

He couldn’t go back to Molly like this. The mention of the van had thrown her for a loop. She needed him calm and in control. She needed him to comfort her.

Somehow, he would manage that. But one word the driver said kept pounding in his brain: daughter.

For her own safety, he had to tell Molly that her father was likely the one who’d plotted against her, the one who’d wanted her hurt.

Dare still had to find out why. And until he did, Molly would never be satisfied.

Pissed off, more at himself than the situation, Dare reentered the building by the front door. Hell, anyone could walk in and out of the place. And her apartment door wouldn’t offer even a modicum of protection, not even to the dumbest criminal. And that damned fire escape …

Her apartment door opened right before Dare reached it. Jett stood there, a half-eaten piece of pizza in his free hand. “Didn’t go after them, huh?”

He shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. From the corner of his eye, he saw Molly sitting on the couch. She curled in the corner, her knees up to her chest, her arms around herself, her shoulders hunched.

Beside her, Natalie hovered, no doubt offering comfort.

Dare punched in Trace’s number as he went to Molly and sat down beside her. The couch dipped, and her hip rolled against his. He put his arm around her.

She remained rigid, but she’d get over it.

As soon as Trace answered, he said, “Sorry to wake you, but I need you to run some plates for me.”

Looking suitably impressed over that, Jett went for another slice of pizza. The excitement of the night hadn’t dented his appetite one bit—or else he was used to danger.

That’d make sense, because it wasn’t the danger that affected Dare as much as Molly’s reaction. If he wasn’t so drawn to her, he’d have gone for the pizza, too.

There was the sound of Trace moving, probably hunting up a pen and paper, and then he said, “Go.”

Dare gave him the number. “Soon as you know, let me know. And if you can connect the driver with anyone, it’d help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

Jett watched him. “Men of few words, huh?”

Ignoring Jett, Dare closed the phone and put it back in his pocket. That done, he caught Molly’s chin and, ignoring her sister, turned her face up for a kiss.

From the beginning, that had been the easiest way to reach her, to take her out of her worry.

He meant it to just be a peck of affection, to thaw her a little. But her lips were firmed, and he could feel the tension vibrating through her, so he lingered, keeping his mouth on hers until she softened.

Smoothing her bottom lip with his thumb, he asked, “You okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Snippy. Dare gave a tight smile. “Good. Let’s eat.”

Her hands knotted his shirt. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, you are.” He stood, caught her wrists and pulled her to her feet, too. “But you’re also pissed. And scared. Not eating isn’t going to help, though.”

Her eyes reddened. Her bottom lip quivered.

Ah, hell. More softly, he said, “Everything is fine.”

“What happened?”

“You heard me give the plates to Trace. He’ll check them and we’ll go from there.”

“You … you didn’t …”

“Chat with them? No.” Fuck, he hated explaining himself. Especially with Natalie and Jett as a fascinated audience. “The driver got a call and left before I could decide what I wanted to do.”

“Oh.” Relief left her swaying on her feet. She averted her gaze.

“Molly.”

“What?”

It wasn’t like her to be detached. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, so it’d be better if you used the time we had for something other than sulking.”