by Lori Foster
“Whatever I have to prove,” Dean told him, “I prove in sanctioned SBC fights where I get paid and where I won’t get arrested. Outside the SBC, I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“But it wouldn’t take you much time to annihilate him,” Mark predicted. “You should offer to teach him a lesson. I’d love to see it.”
“That’s what he’s hoping I’ll do. But if I did, every upcoming fighter would try the same tactic. So I don’t make requests or denials. I leave the matchups to the people who run the SBC. It’s their jobs to know which fights will generate the most interest.”
Mark couldn’t let it go. “Marsh says that if he gets you in a fight—”
“He’ll knock me out. Yeah, I know what he says. He spouts off every chance he gets.”
“And?”
Obviously they wanted some assurances from him, so Dean placated them. “Marsh isn’t a marshmallow. He has KO power. But to knock me out, he’d have to plant his big feet for the punch. If he did that, I’d take him down, and he sucks on the ground. No submission defense at all. He’d be tapping out within a minute.”
That bit of boasting must have sufficed, because both Mark and Ted beamed at him.
But Dean didn’t stop there. “Of course, he could catch me. It happens.” Luckily it didn’t happen to him often, and not in recent years.
“No way!”
“You never know. It only takes one mistake. Did you see that last fight?”
Ted nodded. “We watched it on pay-per-view. We never miss a fight.”
Dean touched the colorful swollen bruise high on his cheekbone near his temple, remembering the numbing pain of the blow that landed there, a blow that had nearly knocked him out. “I damn near lost that one.”
“Yeah, but Dima Cheslav is a freakin’ monster. You’re huge, but he’s two inches taller than you and outweighs you by twenty-five pounds.” Mark sat on the very edge of his seat. “And that tattoo! It’s like Death or something on the back of his head and neck.”
“He’s a billboard for every asinine tattoo out there. He’s even got a couple on his ass now.”
Eyes wide, Mark said, “Seriously?” He barked a laugh. “Well, no wonder he came out so crazy—roaring and foaming at the mouth like he was really pissed off or something.”
Dean half smiled. “He always carries on like he’s berserk. The audience loves it. But outside the SBC, he’s a regular guy.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” Ted said, “thinking of Dima as a regular guy is tough. They say he has a hard time getting anyone to accept fights with him these days. But from the start of the fight, you looked as cool as ever.”
“Against a man like Dima, you have to stay focused. Otherwise, you lose.”
“You were focused all right.” Ted shook his head in wonder. “He plowed his fist into your face, you went down, and I hate to say it, but I thought it was over.”
For a moment there, Dean had thought so, too.
“Then in the next second you had him in a perfect knee-bar. It was like an automatic thing for you, just going with the momentum. He never saw it coming.”
“Yeah.” To Dean’s surprise, he actually enjoyed the conversation. “Dima’s so used to knocking people out in the first round, he tends to get cocky.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Dean took in Mark’s anxious expression, and he shrugged. “Shoot.”
“You’ve fought with injuries. You’ve been knocked down, caught in submissions. You’ve gone up against guys known for doing real damage.” Warming to his subject, Mark eased closer to him. “Does it ever scare you?”
With no hesitation, Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Never?”
Not since he was a kid kicked out of his own home, sent to live with an uncle whom he didn’t know, had Dean experienced real fear. In those early days, he’d learned that fear was a waste of energy.
“Being afraid doesn’t change the circumstances. It only affects how well you deal with them.”
“Well…yeah. But still—”
“It’s counterproductive,” Dean continued. “You get scared, and you make mistakes. You take your eyes off your opponent to flinch, and you can’t see where the next punch or kick is coming from. You lose the offense and turn defensive, and any good fighter will take immediate advantage of it.”
“The way you took advantage of Dima.”
Dean nodded. “They dubbed me Havoc because when I first started everyone thought I didn’t have a plan. It didn’t take them long to realize that they were wrong. My plan is to win. One step at a time, whatever I have to do, however I have to do it. When the fight changes, I adjust. I couldn’t do that if I let fear take over.”
To Dean, it seemed a simple philosophy. Being afraid could never be part of his plan.
Yet…seeing his sisters had shaken up some strange sensations that felt too close to fear. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it did unnerve him that, despite everything, it would be so easy to get sucked into the family dynamics.
He didn’t know jack about being a big brother or caring for siblings. He didn’t know how to fit into an existing family atmosphere. He didn’t know how to offer security or how to say the right things at the right time.
For Cam and Jacki’s sake, as well as his own, he’d have to remember that he was an outsider, here for a visit.
Nothing less—and definitely nothing more.
CHAPTER 6
“HOW big are your biceps?”
That question threw Dean, but one look at Mark, and he knew he was serious. “Hell, I don’t know.”
“You’re kidding? You have guns like that and you’ve never measured them?”
Because Mark looked ready to hunt up a measuring tape, Dean added, “No, and I never will.” Where the hell was Eve? He looked toward the arched doorway where she’d disappeared, but she didn’t return.
Ted and Mark had an endless store of oddball questions, but at least they weren’t prying into how much he made. More often than not, that question was the first. Most people considered the fighters celebrities, and while he couldn’t complain about the pay, he worked damn hard for what he made. People didn’t realize the amount of commitment and the hours of hard work that went into training. He more than earned every cent he made.
“You’re a credit to the sport.”
Again surprised, Dean looked at Ted. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“You don’t talk trash. You don’t boast. You’re respectful of the other fighters. You’ve got a quiet dignity instead of all that showmanship.”
Dignity? Ted had to be kidding.
Rubbing his chin, Dean tried to figure out how to set Eve’s father and brother straight. “Look, I don’t sound off because I know there’s always the chance I can lose. I say I’ll do my best, and that’s what I do.”
Ted smiled. “There, you see? A class act all the way.”
Oh God. The man was delusional. If Eve didn’t show herself soon, he’d—
As if on cue, Eve strolled back into the room. “Here.” She handed Dean a beer. “If we’re going to have a social gathering, you might as well have a drink.”
Dean noted that her family didn’t harbor the same hang-ups about alcohol as his own. He accepted the longneck bottle. “Thanks.”
She plopped down next to him, curled her bare legs up beneath the skirt of her dress, and leaned into him. To the casual observer, it would seem they’d known each other a lot longer than a few hours. Eve showed no reservations at all in front of her family, which meant she felt very comfortable with them. He liked that.
Ted sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “Do you know when you fight again?”
“Not for a while. I took a small leave.”
Faces fell. “You aren’t going to be in the bout with Canada?”
“No. Maybe not the one after that, either.”
“I told you,” Eve said. “He’s here to get acquainted with
Cam and Jacki. They haven’t seen each other for years.”
Dean slipped his arm around Eve’s bare shoulders. Even in the cool interior of the house, her skin felt like warmed silk. “Actually it has nothing to do with them. I’d already decided to take a little time away.”
“Why?” As Eve turned slightly toward him, her breast pressed into his ribs.
Dean forgot what he wanted to say. He stared at her. “Why what?”
Her smile flickered, then warmed. “Never mind.”
“To think Cam had a famous brother and I never knew it.” Ted shook his head. “She’s practically part of the family. The girls have been friends for years.”
“Since grade school,” Eve admitted.
“But Cam’s never mentioned you.” Ted sounded very confused about that.
Dean went still, but only for a moment, then he forced a smile. “No, I don’t suppose she did.” He took a swig of his beer and tried to ignore that niggling of unease roiling in his guts again. Cam hadn’t known of him, so how could she have mentioned him—or missed him?
“If I start dating Jacki,” Mark asked, breaking the tension, “can I get free tickets to the fights?”
Eve tossed a round decorative pillow at her brother’s head.
“It can’t hurt to ask.” Mark threw the pillow right back, nearly causing Eve to spill her drink on Dean.
Unused to sibling antics, Dean snatched the pillow away. “Sorry, Mark, but I’m not that type of brother.”
Mark settled back with a grin. “Then I think I’ll keep a safe distance. Truth is, Jacki scares me anyway.”
“Mark.”
“Stop squawking, Eve.” Her father frowned at her. “I’m sure Dean knows he’s kidding.”
Actually Dean didn’t know what to think. At Mark’s words, some strange disquiet squirreled through him. Mark was a decent-looking kid, tall and lean. Young and goofy. So why did Dean suddenly want to smack him upside his head? “What’s scary about her?”
“She’s outspoken,” Mark explained. “You never know what she’s going to do or when she’s going to do it. She used to be different—well, she was never like Cam.”
Dean knew he shouldn’t ask, but what better opportunity would he get to find out more about his sisters? Cam and Jacki weren’t here to mistake his curiosity for caring.
And he was curious—nothing unnatural in that. It didn’t mean anything. “Like Cam how?”
“You know, private and quiet. Real…contained.”
Using her fingertip, Eve traced a small circle on Dean’s jean-covered thigh. “Cam’s always been that way.” She looked up at him, and he noted the darkness of her blue eyes, the thickness of her lashes. “I’m not sure why, but even back in high school, she always seemed more mature, more responsible and aware of things.”
Beautiful eyes, Dean thought, full of emotion and, when she looked at him, full of attraction. He couldn’t wait to see her lazy and sexually satisfied—thanks to him.
He cleared his throat, put his hand over hers to flatten her palm to his thigh, and said, “She’s a mother hen.” It hadn’t taken him long to see the signs in his sister’s behavior. Cam was maternal in ways Lorna could never be. “She probably feels responsible for Jacki.”
“True enough,” Eve agreed. She pulled her hand away from him, but rested her head back against his shoulder. “Cam was never young, ya know? I mean, for as long as I can remember, she’s worried about things. The house, bills, Jacki, and even Lorna.”
Dean didn’t like to think of Cam with the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. “Why Lorna?”
At first, no one answered. Then Eve shrugged. “She grew up with the realization that she and Jacki had been forced on Lorna, that her aunt had never planned to have children of her own.”
“That’s a tough pill for a young girl to swallow.” Ted sounded as disgusted as Dean felt. “It left her guarded. Probably because she never quite trusted that Lorna would be around for the long haul.”
Dean’s muscles tensed. Lorna had a lot to answer for—more than these people, or his sisters, realized.
“But Jacki’s just the opposite,” Mark said. “Not a care in the world, always the center of attention, no matter what’s going on. She teases and flirts, and wherever she goes, there’s a crowd around her. People gravitate to her.”
“And that’s scary?”
Mark shrugged. “No, not usually. Intimidating maybe, but…lately she’s been really outrageous.”
“Meaning?”
Mark started to speak, and Eve said, “Give it a rest, Mark.” She turned those big blue eyes on Dean again. “Jacki’s fine. Cam’s always made sure of it. Right now, she’s just going through growing pains or something.”
Dean frowned. “She’s twenty-one and nearly six feet tall.”
“She’s five-ten,” Eve corrected. “And it’s just a figure of speech.”
“Either way, she’s done growing. And that’s not what your brother was talking about anyway.”
When Eve started to speak, Dean hushed her. “No. I want to hear it from Mark.”
Everyone turned to look at Mark, and his face went red in discomfort. “Well, that is…” He cast a quick guilty look at his sister. “Eve’s right. I, uh, didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Now look what you did.” Eve turned on Dean, playfully punching him in the shoulder. “You’ve got him shaking in his boots.”
Dean’s brows shot up. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Ha!” Her expression challenged and teased him. “You used that tone.”
“What tone?”
“A tone that says you’re feeling protective.”
How many times did he have to tell people that he wasn’t that type of brother? Her assumption irritated him, so he leaned closer to say, “I was not being protective. That’s not it at all.”
Ted quickly interrupted. “Hey, no big deal. Eve, quit fussing at the man.”
“Yeah, Eve.” Mark looked back and forth between the two of them. “Knock it off.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Rolling her eyes, Eve deliberately popped Dean again before saying to her father, “He’s got shoulders like boulders, Dad. There’s no way I hurt him.”
Hurt him? Did she mean physically? Ready to laugh, Dean glanced up and saw that Ted actually looked concerned. “How the hell could you hurt me?”
Now she looked disgruntled. “By punching you. Heaven only knows what a big bad SBC fighter like you will do when riled.”
Of all the idiotic…Dean knew what he wanted to do to her, and it had nothing to do with anger.
“You punched me?” he teased, pretending he hadn’t noticed. “When was this?”
“Why you…” Feigning outrage, Eve swung again. But Dean automatically caught her wrist and pulled her off balance. She landed facedown over his lap and almost tipped off onto the floor.
Dean tried to catch her, but he held his beer in one hand and Eve was flailing, trying to find her balance. The skirt of her dress somehow ended up twisted to her hips.
For only a scant second, Dean got a glimpse of lacy, lavender panties.
With a yelp, Eve shoved herself away and tumbled onto the floor. Her face was beet red as she slapped down her skirt to cover herself.
Mark roared with hilarity. Ted snickered.
In walked Crystal. She took one look at her daughter and threw up her hands. “Eve, for crying out loud. What are you doing on the floor?”
Eve scampered back to her feet, threatened Dean with a shaking fist, and plopped back down next to him.
“Are you okay?”
She made a face at him. “With you smiling like that, your concern doesn’t seem at all sincere.”
“Sorry.” Dean smoothed her tousled hair. “Want me to teach you a few moves so that it doesn’t happen again?”
To his surprise, she nodded. “Yes, I do.” And then to her brother, “But you can wipe that look off your face right now, Mark. You’re obnoxious eno
ugh already. You don’t need special moves to make you more so.”
Knowing Mark would press the issue, Dean asked him, “So what has Jacki done?”
He drew back. “Nothing.” Face blank, Mark added, “Really.”
Dean turned to Eve. “Give it up.”
“Fine.” Still flushed, Eve said, “If you must know, the police were called on her last weekend.”
The police? “For what?”
“Unruly behavior, that’s all. Some…stuff had happened, and I guess it bothered Jacki. She went out with a group of college friends, had too much to drink, and ended up dancing on the tables.”
That didn’t sound so bad to Dean. “The police came over that?”
“There were people sitting at the tables, trying to finish their drinks.”
Oh. Dean did his best not to grin.
“The police only gave her a warning and called Cam to pick her up. Lorna swears the entire town is talking about it.”
“It’s mostly just the college set that knows,” Mark added in an effort to contribute. “And really, no one was all that shocked about it. Not with Jacki.”
Dean let that go. “So what upset her?”
Now Eve looked worried. “That’s really something you should discuss with Cam.”
His curiosity doubled in an instant. “I’m discussing it with you.”
Crystal made a sound of impatience. “It’s not like it’s a secret, Eve.” Then to Dean: “Jacki doesn’t want to sell the house. Especially since there’s no equity in it. They’re only getting rid of it because the upkeep is too much, which is absurd. If the three of them had jobs, instead of just Cam working, they could easily make ends meet.”
So Lorna didn’t work, either? Why, that manipulative…
“It’s the only home Jacki has ever known.” Crystal seemed intent on gaining Dean’s sympathy for Jacki. “Everyone knows that they’re taking a big step down, from one of the nicer houses in the community to an apartment. Of course Jacki’s unhappy about it.”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
“Why does Jacki care what the town thinks?”
Both women blinked at him, but it was Eve who spoke. “Well of course she cares what others think. Doesn’t everyone?”
