Causing Havoc (28 page)

things to do."

Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, Roger forged ahead. "I just thought. . . Wel , considering

Cam and I wil be married—"

"Maybe."

That one word, and the possibilities that came with it, nearly spurred Roger to violence. "We wil be married," he snarled. "Don't doubt it."

Interesting reaction. Dean thought. Did Roger actual y love Cam? Or was he driven by other

motives? "Is there a point to this, Rog?"

The shortened name had Roger bristling, but he brought himself under control. "Since we'l be"—his lip curled— "family, I thought you might want to get to know me better."

Dean laughed. "No." Family? No, no, no. He would not start interviewing suitors for his sister. If he ever did anything that asinine, he deserved to be blindfolded and stuck in the ring with two of the best

Brazil had to offer. "Cam can make up her own mind who she wants to associate with."

"Damn it, man, I'm trying—"

"Dean. Roger. What's going on?"

At that familiar female voice, Dean closed his eyes in dread. But only for a second. He didn't want to

miss a thing, not Roger's reaction, and not Cam's reception.

His sister knew he was staying at the motel, but so far they hadn't run into each other. Of course

he'd been more away from the motel than in it.

He, intended to keep it that way.

Harsh with guilt, Roger spun on his heel toward Cam. "Sweetheart." His smile wouldn't convince

anyone. "I didn't hear you there."

Dean smirked at Roger's obvious discomfort. Idiot.

For her part, Cam stood near to Roger with a familiarity Dean couldn't ignore. So maybe they were

an item. That didn't mean his sister would actual y marry the ass.

Along with a trim black skirt and tailored blouse, Cam wore a name badge. It infuriated Dean.

What type of man had a woman he loved working second shift for him?

Roger cleared his throat. "Cam, honey, I thought you were doing some inventory."

She sent Roger a gentle smile. "Yes, but I finished." She turned to Dean with caution. "How is everything?"

Dean couldn't help but grin. "You lack subtlety, Cam." Without thinking about it, he touched her cheek. "Eve is fine. Don't worry about it."

Chagrined, she smiled an apology. "I know it's none of my business."

It was none of Roger's business, but Dean had no problem with Cam's honest concern for her

friend. "It's okay."

"When I left for work, Eve was about to leave, too, and I know you two were stil sniping at each

other." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry if the work on the roof made it more difficult for you to patch things up."

Dean shook his head. "Stop fretting. There's nothing to patch up. I'm heading over there tonight, just as soon as I shower and change."

Delight relaxed Cam's posture. "That's wonderful. I'm glad to hear it."

"Maybe," Roger offered, "Eve wil be incentive enough to keep your brother around longer." He put his arm around Cam's waist. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Whatever makes Dean happy makes me happy." Cam dug in her skirt pocket. "By the way, you

have a couple of messages. They're on your voice mail in your room, but I also wrote them down."

She handed several slips of paper to Dean.

He gave them a brief glance. "Simon Evans, my trainer—among other things." He hoped there

wasn't anything urgent that needed his attention. When he first came to Harmony, he'd planned a very

brief visit. Simon knew that.

But now .. . Wel , he didn't know how long he'd stay; he only knew that he didn't want to leave yet.

"He cal ed three times," Cam prompted.

"Yeah." Dean frowned. "I had my cel off while I was working on the roof because I didn't want to be bothered."

And he hadn't thought anyone would try to reach him anyway. "It's probably nothing." At least, he hoped so. "Maybe a sponsorship offer or something. Those come up a lot."

Restless with wariness, Cam touched his arm. "Dean . . ." She dropped her hand, shifted, looked at Dean, looked away, and final y said, "You won't leave without tel ing me, wil you?"

Like a punch in the heart, her concern struck him. Damn. Did she real y think he'd do that? That he'd

sneak away without so much as a farewel ? Had he given her reason to think it?

Before Dean could reassure her, she rushed into more nervous chatter.

"I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. It's just that with your trainer cal ing, I figured he might want you back for some reason. And I understand that. You have a very serious career."

A career that she figured was a whole lot more important than any long-lost family?

Her smile trembled. "I'm afraid I'l wake up one morning and find out that you've left as suddenly as you arrived. I'm afraid I won't have a chance to say .. ." Her voice faded. "Good-bye."

"Cam. . ."

Desperate, she moved closer to him. "If you wouldn't mind too much, I'd like your number and

address and al that. I wouldn't intrude, I promise. I wouldn't visit without an invitation. But—"

Empathy, affection, and the need to protect, al crashed down on Dean, blinding him and stealing his

tongue. He couldn't get a single word choked out, so instead he went with his gut and lifted Cam off

her feet in a forceful bear hug.

It was the most uncommon thing, how it felt to hold a sister. Good, but not a routine type of good. He

put his nose in her hair and inhaled, and it al seemed familiar and yet very, very strange. Somehow

comforting. And reassuring.

Cam's affection worked like quicksand, sucking him in until he knew struggling wouldn't help at al . In

fact, it'd make things worse.

Voice gruff, Dean said, "I won't disappear, Cam. I promise."

She gasped, then whispered, "Dean,
please
."

He lifted his head—and saw Roger's anxiety and anger. Wel , hel . He had Cam compressed

against his chest tight enough to asphyxiate her. Unlike him, she wasn't made of muscle and thick

bones. In comparison, her frame was smal and delicate.

Roger wanted to attack him. Dean saw it in his eyes, in the way he breathed and how he held

himself. Dean would almost relish a reason to put the bastard out with one nose-crunching blow.

But Roger only snarled, "For God's sake, you're cutting off her air, man. Let her go."

Having already loosened his hold, Dean tilted Cam back. "I'm sorry, hon. You're okay?"

"A few broken ribs, that's al ." Her wicked, teasing smile showed a strong resemblance to Jacki that Dean hadn't before noticed.

After Cam smoothed her clothes, she reached up to cup Dean's face. "Do you mean it? You'l let me

know before you leave Harmony?"

His sister was a demonstrative woman, a natural nur-turer. A woman who enjoyed physical contact.

Dean thought of her with Roger, and it plain didn't sit right with him.

"Yeah." He met Roger's gaze with a clear warning. "You'l know."

"Thank you." She put her arms around his waist and this time, it seemed a natural thing to return her embrace.

* * *

freshly showered and changed into clean clothes. He assumed Roger had gone home, and Cam

likely had duties elsewhere. He felt a reprieve at avoiding more emotional conflict with her.

Once outside, the hot humid air closed in on Dean. The crunching sounds of his soft-soled shoes

on the gravel lot echoed through the darkness. Security lights, stationed near the entrance to Roger's

establishment, failed to reach the far end of the lot, leaving many cars cloaked in heavy shadow.

Because Dean always parked away from other cars, the Sebring presented a lone, hazy structure,

barely visible against the overgrown weeds and untended shrubs from the convenience store behind

it.

As he crossed the lot. Dean dialed Simon Evans. His trainer picked up on the fourth ring.

"Evans here."

Dean started to reply, and a slight noise and a shifting in the shadows snagged his attention. Vague,

maybe even part of his imagination, it stil triggered his senses, putting him on alert. His gaze

scanned the area, peering through the thick cover of darkness.

Nothing.

Evans hung up on him.

Shit. Dean redialed and this time when Simon answered, he said, "Hey, it's Dean. Sorry for losing

you, there."

"Bad connection?" Simon asked.

"Just a distraction." He saw no reason to tel Simon he'd gotten spooked enough not to reply. "I got your messages. What's up?"

"A great deal, that's what. Pack your bags and get on back here."

"No."

Simon hesitated. "What the fuck is this? You don't even want the details before refusing?"

It wouldn't matter. "You're dying to tel me, so go ahead."

With gruesome delight, Simon said, "Desmond broke his hand in the last fight. Shattered a couple of

bones. He's out for awhile."

"Sucks for him. What's it have to do with me?"

"That fight drew a lot of attention. Most of it negative."

"Nothing unusual in that." Dean continued to look around the blackened area as he went to his car.

He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. "We've always gotten more than our fair share of bad

press."

"And that's where you come in. You're their golden boy. Successful in your own right, polite and

upbeat. Clean cut."

"Clean cut?" Dean laughed at that. A daily shave and shower was as close as he got to spiffing up.

"How does anyone figure that?"

"You keep short hair and avoid piercings. Other than that tattoo you got ages ago, you haven't been

inked. You don't smoke or drink and when half the world is caving into steroids, you speak out against

their use."

"I did one freaking commercial." Dean shook his head. The twenty-second clip that blasted the use of steroids in sports wasn't played in the States, but it aired often in other countries.

"And you donate to educational pursuits, along with a shitload of other charities."

"It's a tax deduction."

Simon spoke over him. "And you saved that one old lady. We'l be getting mileage from that for

years."

Dean locked his jaw. "I hope you're joking."

"It'l be a video of you. Sort of a reality thing where they tail you everywhere you go—"

"No."

"They'l plug in highlights of some of your fights. Thirty-second knockouts and some that went the

distance. They'l show you without a scratch and beaten bloody."

"No." Hel no. The last thing he wanted was a camera stuck in his face twenty-four/seven.

Simon let out an aggrieved breath, then switched tactics. "I thought you were going to ring me up

once you got settled in."

Dean shrugged. He hadn't settled yet, and he doubted he ever would. Not with the way Harmony

dredged up so many mixed memories—some good, most bad. "I got sidetracked with a few things."

"Right." Simon hesitated. "Look, I'm coming to see you."

Dean dug his keys out of his jeans pocket. "What for?"

Leaving no doubt as to his mood, Simon snarled, "Something's going on. You're not acting right."

"I'm fine." If being buried in confusion over two sisters he barely knew was fine. If thinking you heard and saw things moving in the darkness was fine. If—

"You got the shit beat out of you in that last fight, Dean."

"I won."

He snorted. "You moved like a fucking rookie. A dozen opportunities to submit the bastard came

and went and you did jack shit."

True. Stil ... he had won. "Gregor's here. I'm going to spar with him."

Stunned disbelief sounded as harsh as cannon blast. "The hel you are!" Simon's voice rose loud

enough to break his eardrums. "Do
not
spar with Gregor until I'm there, Dean. I mean it. You'l end up kil ing him." Simon took a breath, then continued to mutter for a few more seconds, before saying,

"I've got a pen and paper ready. Give me the damn address. I'l be there in just a few days."

Wel , hel . With everyone fol owing Dean into Harmony, maybe they should do an exhibition. They

could put that in their ridiculous video. Eve could set it up. Her family would love it.

Which meant she'd love it.

Not a bad idea.

In fact, the only bad idea was his repeated use of the world "love."

Dean cut his thoughts short, saying, "Do me a favor first, wil you?"

"Depends. Crazy as you're acting, I need to hear the favor first."

"Hire someone to do a background check on Roger Sims. He's a local here with a lot of

enterprises." Dean named some of the establishments to make it easier to investigate Roger.

"This Roger fel ow do something to you?"

"Not real y." Staring at the darkness surrounding him, Dean tacked on a silent: Not yet.

"Then what's the problem?"

Seeing no real hope for it, Dean said, "He's dating my sister."

More stunned silence, then with dry humor, "That bastard. Want me to have him kil ed?"

Trust Simon to make light of surprising news. "If you're not going to gril me on my never-before-

mentioned family, then can I suggest that you bring some gear with you?"

"Gear?"

"For sparring. If I'm going to do this with Gregor, might as wel do it right."

And maybe, just maybe, that applied to everything, Dean thought.

Even that damned "L" word.

MOONLIGHT danced on the surface of the pool water. A warm breeze lifted stray hairs from her

face and teased over body parts exposed by her bikini: her throat, her bel y, and her thighs. Jacki

heard the crickets in the woods beyond. The cal of an owl.

And she heard her own heartbeat, fast with trepidation and anticipation.

Standing close behind her, feeding her senses with his scent, his masculine presence, Gregor