Causing Havoc

by Lori Foster

  “That can’t be true.” She shook her head in denial. “I took care of everything. Everything. There’s no way. Tell me you’re making it up.”

  “I didn’t want to distress you.” Cam reached for her, but again, Lorna fended her off.

  “You’re lying.” She blinked hard at Dean. “He told you, didn’t he?”

  “Dean didn’t have to tell me.” Despite Lorna’s rejection, Cam took her hands. “It doesn’t matter about our parents, Aunt Lorna. Jacki and I had you, and we appreciate all you did for us.”

  “Yes.” Lorna breathed a little easier. “Yes, you had me. You’ll always have me.” She tried a smile that barely shifted the distraught lines of her face. “You won’t let Dean ruin everything.”

  Good God, Dean thought. What the hell did Lorna expect him to do anyway?

  “You’re wrong about Dean,” Cam insisted. “He’s a good man. I know you did what you thought was best, but you should never have sent him away.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have,” Lorna murmured in agreement, her gaze unseeing. “That was a mistake. Now he’s back, and he wants revenge.”

  “Revenge?” Cam frowned with worry. “Nonsense.”

  “He hates me. How could he not? He’ll throw me out, I tell you.”

  From the doorway, Eve announced, “Of course Dean won’t kick anyone out. He loves his sisters. Given half a chance, he’d probably even grow fond of you, Lorna.”

  With Lorna’s every word, Dean had grown more uneasy. He did despise Lorna, and worse, he pitied her. Combined, they made a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Now at the sight of Eve, he relaxed. “Hey.”

  She smiled brightly at him. “Hey yourself.”

  Something seemed different about her. Or maybe that was celibacy making him feel that way. Dean hadn’t even come close to getting his fill of Eve, and then she’d gotten her period, and—

  Eve walked to Cam. “You okay?” she asked softly.

  Dean looked at his sister and belatedly noted her pallor. “Cam?”

  What had he missed? One moment Cam had been reassuring Lorna, well in charge of the situation, and now she looked far too vulnerable.

  Big tears welled in her eyes. She dashed them away with an impatient hand and met his gaze. “Is Eve right?”

  Confusion swamped Dean. “About what?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, girl.” Lorna patted Cam’s hand. “Don’t fall apart now. Roger will have you back. He’ll help all of us with this mess if you just allow him to.”

  Cam shook her head at that. “Dean? Do you love us? Jacki and me, I mean?”

  That’s what had her all tearful?

  Before Dean could find his voice, Gregor said, “Great timin’ on my part, don’t ya think, Havoc?”

  Annoyed at the intrusion, Dean turned his attention to Gregor—and found Simon standing in the doorway. Next to him, Jacki gawked.

  Eve glanced at Simon, looked away, and immediately jerked her gaze back to him again. “Oh my God.”

  Blinking away her tears, Cam asked of no one in particular, “Who is that?”

  Amused, Dean shook his head. Simon always got that reaction from the fairer sex. At thirty-one and with a mixed martial arts record of thirty-five wins, one draw, and only one loss, he still looked as pretty as ever. No cauliflower ears, scars, or outrageous tattoos for Simon.

  He stood six feet, two inches tall and weighed 205 pounds, all of it ripped muscle. Naturally swarthy, with dark brows and dark chest hair, an imposing manner, and a clean-shaven head, Simon grabbed attention wherever he went.

  The baldness was not an accident of nature; long ago Simon had removed all the hair from his head, and now it had become his trademark look. For some reason, his lack of hair only made women comment more often on his dark brown eyes.

  Thanks to the ladies, Simon didn’t get a kick-ass nickname like “Havoc” or “The Maniac.” Early in his fighting career, the female fans dubbed him “The Sublime.”

  And it stuck like glue.

  “Ladies,” Dean said, noticing that even Lorna had gone speechless and slack jawed, “the man you’re all drooling over is Simon Evans, my trainer, manager, producer, and any other job that comes up.”

  Ignoring Dean’s reference to the attention he drew, Simon looked around the room. “Who’s related to Havoc?”

  Both bug-eyed and twittering, Cam and Jacki snuck their hands tentatively into the air.

  “Aha.” Propping his fists on his hips, Simon nodded. “I get it now.”

  “Get what?” Gregor wanted to know.

  “Havoc’s tattoo.”

  Alarmed at the direction of Simon’s thoughts, Dean warned, “Don’t,” but he was too late.

  “Three vines,” Simon explained, tipping his head toward Dean’s biceps. “Two of them real dainty with rosebuds, one all covered in thorns.”

  Gregor said, “So?”

  For years the other fighters had heckled Dean about his tattoo, curious as to what meaning, if any, inspired the design. Not once had he ever laid claim to any muse beyond the ignorance of youth.

  And now Simon planned to expose him.

  Hoping to miss this little unveiling of truths, Dean began gathering up his tools.

  “It’s Dean and his sisters,” Simon announced.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  As he felt the burn of curious gazes, Dean’s heart landed in his stomach.

  “And now that I’ve seen his sisters,” Simon clarified, “I know exactly which vine represents Dean.”

  At that point, Dean would have walked out, but Eve, Cam, and Jacki blocked his way. They had that ooooh look that women sometimes got when they thought a man did something that they all found endearing.

  “It’s nothing,” Dean ground out. “Don’t make it into something, because it’s not.”

  “Nothing at all,” Cam whispered, still smiling in that sentimental, touched way.

  For her part, Jacki grinned wide enough that he could see her damn molars. “I’m glad you got the tat before you met me, otherwise I might have been the thorny vine.”

  Grinding his teeth together, Dean saw Eve watching his sisters like a proud mother, and that, more than anything else, left him livid.

  Shoving the half-empty bucket of compound mud at Eve, Dean shouldered past his sisters.

  He paused by Simon only long enough to ask, “You heard anything yet on that business I asked you to check into?”

  “I’m expecting a call soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Anytime now.”

  Dean nodded. If Roger had anything to hide, he’d find it. “Let’s go, Gregor.”

  “Go where?”

  Stepping into the hall, Dean said, “To a gym. I already scoped one out.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. And now that loud-mouthed Simon is here, we can get that promised sparring out of the way.” He didn’t wait to see if anyone followed him or not.

  He was too embarrassed.

  He even had the awful suspicion that his face might be red.

  As Dean strode away, he heard Gregor say, “Well, hell, Simon. I don’t want to spar with him now, when he’s in this crappy mood. He’ll kill me.”

  “Idiot, he’s going to kill you anyway.” Simon started after Dean. “But that’s the best way for you to learn.”

  “How,” Eve demanded from close behind, “can Gregor learn anything if he’s dead?”

  Wanting to put distance between them all, Dean bounded down the stairs, reached the kitchen, and…wondered where he should go next. He didn’t want to just walk out on Eve. The backyard looked private, but he’d have to wait for her to lead her there. He looked at the laundry-room door, the family room…well, hell. He stopped in the middle of the floor.

  He didn’t run from anyone.

  Okay, he’d never run from a man. But sisters were no different, at least not in that respect. Running was chickenshit, no matter who chased you off.

  He had no reason to
be embarrassed. He’d been fourteen when he got the idiotic tattoo, and in the fifteen years that followed, he’d never gotten another.

  Everyone made melodramatic, foolhardy mistakes in their youth.

  While waiting for the others to catch up, Dean leaned against the counter, crossed his ankles, and pondered his new circumstances.

  Did Eve love him? He hoped so, because Cam was right—he loved her. He more than loved her. He needed her.

  Somehow his life had turned upside down on him.

  Like the Pied Piper, everyone followed where Dean went. Within seconds, the kitchen overflowed with bodies, and the din of various conversations filled the air.

  Lorna continued to mutter, more to herself than to anyone else. Cam and Jacki, while still sneaking rapturous glances at Simon, discussed the idea of Dean moving in. Gregor warned Simon that Jacki was off limits so he might as well not get any lurid thoughts, and Simon told him to go screw himself.

  Only Eve came close and that was to say, “You have to tell your sister about Roger. It’s been three days, and he’s not back yet.”

  “Nag, nag, nag.” God, he adored her.

  She frowned at him. “Are you really going to fight Gregor?”

  “Sparring is not fighting, but yeah, I am. I need to let off steam and there’s no better way than pounding on Gregor’s hard head.”

  Eve touched her fingers to his chest. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a better way.”

  Dean froze. “What does that mean, Eve?” He caught her teasing fingers and held them still. “And don’t toy with me woman.”

  Eve laughed in delight and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “It means I’m once again available for intimate activities.”

  Darkness closed in. The voices in the room receded. His awareness of others faded away.

  Still holding her hand, Dean pushed away from the counter and started toward the sliding doors.

  “Dean,” she whispered, frantically trying to pull her hand free.

  “I only need a minute.” Less, maybe.

  Half in embarrassment and half in laughter, Eve hissed, “You’re just going to have to wait.”

  “Can’t.” Dean got the sliding doors open and—

  “Where do you two think you’re going?” Lorna demanded.

  Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He swallowed. Hell, he had a jones, so no way could he turn and face two sisters, a trainer, Gregor, and Lorna.

  Eve laughed. “We aren’t leaving. I just have a few things I need to say to Dean. We’ll be back in one minute, I promise.”

  In a stage whisper, Gregor said, “More like half an hour, I think.”

  “I think you’re right,” Simon said. “Havoc lacks subtlety. I’ll have to work on that with him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lorna demanded to know.

  Eve groaned and propelled Dean beyond the door, over the deck, and across the yard toward the woods. She kept going until the voices could no longer be heard.

  They reached a large tree and Dean spun her around so her back was against it, then he caged her in. “Thank you.”

  She fended him off with both hands flat against his chest. “Don’t even think it.”

  Her puny resistance was like nothing to him. “I’m thinking it, Eve. Sorry.”

  That made her laugh again. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’m so hard, I’m dying here.”

  “Poor baby.” Eve went on tiptoe to kiss him. She looked so pretty that Dean wanted to steal her away. “I can cancel some afternoon appointments if you’d like to meet me back at my house in a few hours.”

  His groan rumbled out as a deep complaint. “Hours?”

  “Sorry, but I have a few things this morning that can’t wait.”

  She really did look sorry—for herself and him. That helped Dean get it together. He glanced back toward the house and saw several people standing at the patio doors, watching them.

  “I suppose I can’t even cop a quick feel with that nosy audience there.”

  Eve peeked around him, saw the same thing, and shook her head. “Nope. Besides you have to tell Cam about Roger and—”

  “Eve…”

  “—and you need to decide what to do about Lorna. I hate the thought of her making Cam more miserable just because Cam doesn’t hate you.”

  “How about I just kick Lorna to the curb, as she expects me to?”

  “No. And that’s not funny.” Eve again glanced at the house. “Dean, why didn’t you tell me that your trainer was drop-dead gorgeous?”

  “Because men don’t talk that way.”

  She tilted her head at him. “You don’t mind that I think he’s gorgeous?”

  Dean grunted. “You and every other woman.” He gave her a quick kiss. “No, I don’t mind. You’re not blind, after all. But you’re also not the type to get involved with two men at one time.”

  “So I’m a sure bet, huh? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Dean laughed at her show of mock insult. “You’re honorable.”

  “That sounds better.” She sighed with regret. “I do have to go. Promise me you’ll talk to Cam.”

  “You weren’t here to know, but Lorna has given her a hard time all day. I think she’s had enough thrown at her for now.”

  “Excuses, excuses.” Eve knotted her hand in the front of his shirt. “She has a right to know what you’re thinking, so promise me.”

  Reminding himself that Eve knew his sisters better than he did, Dean nodded. “All right, if it’s that important to you.”

  “Thank you.” She lingered, looked at his hand on hers, then up into his eyes. “About your tattoo—”

  Dean released her. “Not up for discussion.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it, Eve.”

  “I know.” Her eyes twinkled as she fought a smile. “But is Simon right?”

  Shoving his hands on his hips, Dean turned and walked off three steps, then stalked back. Of course she didn’t let it drop. When Eve had something on her mind, he couldn’t dissuade her. “Yeah, he’s right. And that’s enough on the subject.”

  “But it’s so—”

  “Do not say sweet.” There was only so much he could tolerate.

  The teasing left her eyes, and instead he saw something much deeper there as she said, “How about noble?”

  Noble? Dean cocked a brow in surprise. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  Eve slowly shook her head. “Any fourteen-year-old boy who cares so much for his sisters, even after not seeing them for five years, that he’d want a permanent reminder of them on his body where it could never be lost or stolen is very, very noble.”

  Damn. Dean stared at Eve in wonder. Would she always see the best in him?

  He hoped so.

  Knowing he had to lighten the moment or he’d start to declare himself, Dean started toward her. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  He’d almost reached her. “I think you just want to get laid, so you’re showering me with compliments.”

  Laughing, Eve started backing away toward the house. “You’re right. I do.” Forestalling any comment he might make about that, she glanced at her watch. “Two o’clock, okay?”

  Resigned to waiting, Dean nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  “And I’ll be waiting.” She turned and hurried away.

  CAM stood at the front door and watched that gorgeous hunk of manhood leave with Gregor and Jacki. Even from the back, he could steal her breath away. From the top of his perfectly sculpted head down to his large feet, Simon Evans was a man guaranteed to delight the female senses.

  Someone should have warned her. One moment she’d had her head lost in the heavy discussion between Lorna and Dean, and then suddenly he was there, shocking her speechless.

  She’d never seen anyone like him. He was simply…beautiful. But in a very masculine way. When he looked at her, she could barely breathe, much less speak. And when h
e moved…

  Shivering, Cam took one last lingering look and then forced herself to shut the door. She pitied any woman who got involved with that one. She certainly wasn’t brave enough, but then, Roger—even with his imperfections—already had her heart.

  If only he’d come back to her.

  Refusing to leave her alone with Dean for some ridiculous reason, Lorna paced the floor behind Cam. Her aunt acted as though Dean were a malicious villain.

  The way Lorna had turned up the insults, doing her best to blame Dean for past and present problems, infuriated Cam. At the same time, her aunt seemed especially fragile during any mention of the past, which kept Cam from speaking her mind. Aunt Lorna had given up much to raise them. At the time of her parents’ deaths, her aunt had been a much younger, single woman with no ties or commitments.

  Cam couldn’t forget that, any more than she could give up a brother she’d just reclaimed.

  Thank God Roger had already told her the stories circulating around town about her parents. It had been an unpleasant shock to discover that her parents were far from ideal caregivers. But Roger, always having her best interests at heart, had known that being forewarned would make it easier to deal with the resurgence of old truths.

  It made sense now, why Lorna had removed all photos and memories of her parents, why she detested drink so much, why she’d always been so rigid. Her parents had caused a very ugly scandal and then left Lorna to raise two children among the rumors, speculation, and gossip.

  No, Cam corrected herself, they’d left her three children.

  But Lorna had ruthlessly cast Dean aside.

  Appearances meant everything to Aunt Lorna, so it must have been excruciating for her to face down the neighbors, to answer the nosy questions and ignore the rude stares. Yet she’d stayed and done her best by them. Not a great job, but not an awful job, either.

  Normally Lorna took immaculate care with her hair and dress. But lately she looked almost haggard. It worried Cam and made her heart ache. Her aunt was even more insecure about her position in the family than Cam had ever guessed.

  Dean poked his head into the room. “If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.” He glanced at Lorna. “In the kitchen. I made some sandwiches. We can talk over lunch.”