Causing Havoc (36 page)

Not again. Not this time.

He had his back to the wal . He had nothing more to lose.

* * *

Before he could ask any questions, Gregor said, "About damn time," and fel into step beside him. "I would've knocked, but I couldn't remember which room was yours."

"Something wrong?"

"If you consider your sister gettin' surgery wrong, then yeah."

Dean turned so fast that Gregor bounded back in surprise. "What the bel are you talking about?

Jacki's sick? Hurt?"

"No. Shit. Calm down, al right? I didn't mean to scare you."

Scare him? He'd more than scared him. Dean frowned at that and mental y col ected himself. "What

surgery is she getting?"

"She's not. Not now anyway."

His patience run thin, Dean said, "Gregor," in a way that spurred the other man to spit it out.

"Roger was goin' to pick up the tab on a boob job for her."

Of al the things Gregor could have said, that one left Dean's brain scrambling to decipher. He didn't

even want to think about Jacki having boobs, for God's sake. But for Roger to be involved, for him to

have suggested . ..

Dean started away with a purpose. "I'l kil that son of a bitch."

"No way, man." Gregor hurried to catch up. "If anyone gets to kil him. it'l be me."

Dean didn't slow down. "Then why the fuck are you here bothering me?"

"Jacki made me promise I wouldn't."

Dean barked a laugh. "That's your problem. I didn't promise jack shit."

Grinning ear to ear, Gregor said, "Hey, that's right. Wel hold up then. At least let me watch."

They made it to the lobby and found it empty. Again.

Dean stormed up to the front desk and banged on a smal bel until a young man presented himself.

But he didn't know where Cam or Roger might be, and Roger didn't answer his page. The young man

offered to take a message, and Dean declined the offer.

Frustrated, Dean ran a hand through his hair, considered his options, and came to the crazy

conclusion that maybe he should discuss this with Eve. She knew Jacki better than he did. She'd be

rational about it, instead of emotional, which he knew he damn wel was.

On that thought, Dean stalked from the hotel, total y forgetting that Gregor dogged his heels.

"Hold up, wil ya?"

Dean stopped, closed his eyes, and slowly turned. "What now?"

"I wanna know what you're plannin' to do."

"I don't know yet." Dean continued on to his car—this time parked closer to the building, under a bright lamp. And then, with accusation and annoyance, "What the hel was Jacki thinking?"

Gregor rol ed a shoulder. "That she needed a bigger rack to get a guy's interest, I guess."

Dean stared at him.

"She's not real endowed in that department, not that I mind at al , but she didn't know that—"

"Forget I asked." Head spinning, Dean unlocked his car door.

As if he hadn't spoken, Gregor leaned back on the car and continued. "I told her she was already

sexy as hel ."

"Gregor—"

"You bein' her brother and al , you probably don't see it. But she's hot."

"Do you want me to kil you, too?"

Gregor shook his head, but he couldn't hide his smile. "I reckon she's convinced, because she said

she'd forget about that whole cuttin' and addin' plastic business."

Good God. "Not another word."

"You know, I'd like nothin' more than to see old Rog flattened like a bug, but it did seem important to Jacki that I leave the man intact."

A safer subject. Dean started to relax. "Yeah. Cam's probably in love with Roger, and that'l make

him important to Jacki, too."

"Damn, Havoc. That's real astute of you."

In a kil ing mood, Dean turned on Gregor. "Are you trying to egg me into a fight?"

"Nah. Course not. But that's exactly what Jacki said." He grinned. "I guess you know her pretty good now, huh?"

Dean started to tel Gregor what he could do with his observations when an insect, probably

mammoth in size given the noise it made, buzzed right past his ear. He cursed, swatted at the bug,

and a second later Gregor landed against him ful force.

Taken off guard, it was an easy thing for Gregor to throw him to the ground. But it wouldn't be so

easy for him to keep him there.

Dean reacted instinctively. He went with the momentum, turning as they landed to reverse the

position so that he was on top. He under-hooked Gregor's thick arms, put the boots in on his legs,

and effectively left Gregor with no way to move.

Staring into Gregor's eyes at close range, Dean calmly demanded, "Are you out of your fucking

mind?"

Gregor struggled against him and said with a gasp,
"Gunshot."

Confused, Dean frowned at him—and a bul et hit the ground right next to them, sending up a spatter

of gravel and . . . blue paint. "Oh shit."

Together they rol ed out of the way and behind Dean's car.

Dean already had his cel phone in his hand when Gregor said in disgust, ' Damned annoyin' kids."

"Kids?" Dean asked, while waiting for a cop to answer his cal .

"Doncha think? I mean, it's paintbal , right?" Gregor shook his head. "Don't mind tel in' you, it scared the shit out of me. I thought it was a real gun, with real bul ets. And that first shot damn near took off your ear."

"If that's your way of explaining why you jumped me, no explanation is necessary."

Gregor pul ed on his ear. "I was just sayin' .. . Hey, listen, no more shots."

Dean gave him a look. "Maybe that's because we're hiding, so they don't have a target." Final y the police answered his cal , and within ten minutes, a cruiser showed up, lights and sirens blaring.

People left the hotel to investigate the commotion.

And stil Roger didn't present himself.

But how could Dean point the finger at him without more evidence?

More?

Hel , he had none. Not real y. Because of that, Dean left it to the cops to figure out what they could

while he cal ed Eve to let her know he'd be late and why. He ended his cal just in time to see Gregor

whispering into his own phone.

"Jacki?"

Gregor nodded, said a few things more, and final y said his good-byes. "Too bad Cam doesn't have

a cel phone. You could cal her, too."

No cel phone? That was news to Dean. His surprise must have shown, because Gregor

elaborated.

"I asked Jacki for her number, but she said that neither one of them had a cel . They don't like

monthly bil s."

Dean put his hands on his hips and walked away. It wasn't that they didn't like monthly bil s, but rather

that they couldn't afford them.

If he hadn't been so busy trying to keep Cam and Jacki at arm's length, maybe he'd have known that.

Then he could have ...

His thoughts tripped up at that point. Cam already resented the money he spent on the roof and car,

and he stil intended to do other repairs to the home's interior.

How the hel would he have convinced her to keep a cel phone and let him pay the monthly bil ? And

why did he want to so badly anyway?

But Dean already knew the answer to that.

They were his sisters.

Twenty years had passed, and yet, not a single day over al that time real y mattered. Not anymore.

Maybe family was like that. Cam had never doubted their connection. From jump, she'd claimed him

and expected him to al ow her to do so.

He'd fought it, but now Dean had to admit that Cam had won.

Damn but he wanted to talk to Eve about this.

Officer Ramsey, a veteran of twenty years, stopped to talk with Dean while his partner spoke with

the crowd.

"We checked around the area, but you know how it is. Al we found were a few spent paintbal s. They

were probably shot from somewhere up the hil . The shooter would be able to see you two down here

beneath al the security lights, while keeping himself wel hidden in the dark."

"Cowardly bastard," Dean muttered, convinced more than ever that Roger was behind the attacks.

"You think it was kids?" Gregor wanted to know.

The cop shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's stil a serious assault. One or both of you could have been

kil ed."

Gregor scoffed at that. "From a toy gun?"

Dead serious, the cop stuck his clipboard under his arm and launched into a lecture. "In my day, it

was BB guns. I knew a lot of boys who got hurt by those things. A few even blinded. Now the paintbal

gun has taken over as the lethal weapon of choice for kids."

"Lethal?" Gregor asked.

"Over three mil ion of the damn things were sold in our country this year. But just because they use

compressed air instead of gunpowder to launch their projectiles doesn't make them any less powerful

than a regular firearm. And because people consider them toys, they don't take near the precautions

they should."

"I didn't know," Gregor said, looking suitably chastised.

"You want some statistics? I got statistics coming out my ass." Ramsey held up a finger. "The muzzle velocity of a paintbal gun can range from around a hundred and fifty feet a second to twelve

hundred feet a second. For traditional firearm pistols, it's seven-hundred and fifty to fourteen hundred

feet a second."

Dean whistled. "Not much difference."

Another finger went into the air. "There're over twenty thousand serious injuries and approximately

four deaths every year."

Gregor rubbed the back of his neck, il at ease with the rebuke.

A third finger went up, accompanied by a hard stare. "Most of those injuries and nearly al the deaths are kids under the age of fifteen."

Feeling for Gregor, Dean clapped the cop on the shoulder. "Must be tough to deal with."

"You can take that to the bank. I see parents al the time who want to argue that they're toy guns. If I had my way, they'd be off the market. Then we wouldn't have to deal with shit like this." He indicated the splattered paint in the hotel's parking lot.

Gregor cleared his throat. "What's the chance of catchin' the kids who did this?"

"Slim to none, and unfortunately, Slim's outta town. We don't have any witnesses and not much in

the way of evidence. The shooter or shooters are long gone. And I can't very wel shake every kid in

town who owns a paintbal gun. But I'l be watching, and if I come up with anything, I'l let you both

know."

Dean shook his hand. "We understand. Thanks for coming out so quickly."

"I only wish we could do more."

As the officers left, Dean looked toward the hotel.

Truthful y he was sort of glad the cops couldn't nail anyone in particular.

He wanted to deal with Roger himself.

* * *

put her arms around him. Odd how her grumpiness just evaporated away the second she touched

him.

He did his best to hug her back, considering he held a bucket of chicken and a bag of side dishes.

"Hey," he said, "you okay?"

Eve leaned back to look at him. "You crazy man. Of course, I'm okay. I'm offering you comfort from

your lousy day."

That sexy grin she'd grown to adore made him look less tired. "Comfort, huh?" He stepped back to eye her head to toe. "Look at you. Is it possible for you not to look sexy?"

Eve smiled. She'd chosen the white and pink striped cami with matching floral boy shorts just for him.

"I had the flu once." She took the food from him and started for the kitchen. "I was sweaty with a fever, throwing up every ten minutes, and felt too lousy to even comb my hair. Trust me, it was a very

ugly thing."

"I wish I'd been here to help you."

Her heart did a smal flip. Yeah, Dean would have helped. And knowing him now, she didn't think he

would have minded her icky appearance al that much. He was so earthy, so natural about life and the

trials that came with it, that he probably just rol ed with the punches on everything.

"You know, after the day you had. we could have just thrown together peanut-butter-and-jel y

sandwiches. You didn't have to stop for food."

"I wanted to."

When she reached up to the cabinet to retrieve two plates. Dean put his arms around her and

hugged her from behind.

Nuzzling against her nape, he whispered, "I missed you."

And her heart did another flip. If he kept that up, she'd be dizzy and breathless in no time. Plates in

hand, she turned in his arms and smiled to soften what she'd say next.

Dean looked at her and sighed. "Okay, what is it?"

His intuition surprised her, but she didn't doubt it. "I think you should tel Cam what's going on."

"Not yet." He kissed her nose and took the plates from her to carry to the table.

"But this is getting out of hand. Messing with your tires was one thing. Causing a fal from a ladder, shooting at you—you could have lost an eye!"

"Or worse, I know." Dean opened the bucket of chicken and inhaled. "I'm starved."

"Dean," Eve said with exasperation. "She's your sister. You have to trust her."

"No," he said, glancing up at her. "I don't."

"Wel , you should!"

"She thinks she's in love with Roger." He took silverware from a drawer and put it on the table. "She won't be unbiased about any of this."

It was nice, Eve thought, how Dean just automatical y worked with her to do what needed to be done.

He wouldn't be a man content to sit in front of the television while others—especial y a wife—worked

around him.

And that was about the most dangerous thought she'd had yet.

"I know. She told me." After getting two bottled drinks from the refrigerator, Eve sat at the table. "But Cam isn't a woman who takes love lightly."