Too Many Brothers

“You’re not too popular with me, either,” Logan snapped. “If you hadn’t waltzed up and consorted with Razor, he and his pals might’ve taken a powder by now.”

“Razor? No wonder he wasn’t eager to share his name.” Daphne didn’t so much as flinch when Logan swore. She just relieved him of the scoop and quickly filled the next set of bowls. “You cop types all need to clean up your language,” she said primly. “You may think swearing is manly, but it doesn’t impress the ladies.” She hurried back to the patio before Logan self-destructed with apoplexy. Frankly, the only way she could deal with him was to treat him as she’d treat her brothers. Otherwise, if she paused to think about what was really going on, she might fall apart.

At last the party wound down. One mother and daughter had already left, saying they had a family obligation. Daphne knew it wouldn’t be long before the others followed. Natalie still had some presents to open, but Daphne knew kids could make short work of ripping through wrapping paper. She’d pack up and leave then. But…what about Logan?

Maybe they could stall through cleaning up the patio, but that was the maximum time she could spend hanging around. Otherwise she’d lose credibility. She sure hoped Agent Grant had more than a few flimsy scarves up his sleeves—although why she cared was beyond her.

Irritated, Daphne pulled empty bowls from children’s hands as fast as she could and rushed back to the kitchen. “April, you’d better go on out with your guests. Leave Logan and me to put this stuff away. I think Nat’s ready to open her gifts. The kids who already finished eating are poking at her packages.”

“I’ll go, but will you talk some sense into this brother of mine? He’s planning to change into street clothes and take his chances with those thieves and murderers. I think it’d be smarter if you two left together dressed as you are. Those men hanging around out front won’t know that you don’t usually come and go in costume. Maybe you could swing past Logan’s office and dump him out. He’ll get your costume back to you somehow. Or else I will. I have your phone number.” Bestowing a last unhappy glance on her brother, April disappeared out the kitchen door.

Daphne wasn’t at all keen on the idea even though she saw its merit.

“Don’t you start giving me lip,” Logan told Daphne as she put the lid on the ice-cream carton. Logan, familiar with where to find the freezer, tripped over his feet as he went into the alcove to stow the ice cream. Coming back, he stalked circles around the center island. When Daphne said nothing, he threw up his hands. “If your brother’s a cop, you know full well I can’t…won’t let you help. I’d be in trouble for soliciting help from a civilian, especially a female civilian.”

Daphne threw the sponge into the sink after wiping chocolate ice cream off the counter. “I don’t know you at all, Logan. I guess your ego’s too fragile to ask for help from a mere woman.”

“That’s not it,” he exploded. “It’s against rules. Besides, my boss sees me dressed like this and worms the story out of me, I’ll be on report from now until I retire.”

“Yes,” she said sympathetically. “On the other hand, you might actually live to retire.” She’d edged over to a window that faced out on the front yard. “I have to agree with April that staying in costume makes the most sense. And believe me, I’m not looking forward to riding in a hot car wearing full greasepaint. It’ll run.”

“Is runny makeup all you’re worried about? If one of those yoyos even suspects I’m his man, your car will end up riddled with bullet holes.”

“I drive pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t any of this faze you? If—and I’m saying if—I go along with this half-baked scheme, I’m driving the getaway vehicle. I’ve had to dodge tails before, which I doubt you have.”

“I’ve had to shake a persistent friend who thought I was dating her boyfriend. But she didn’t have a gun,” Daphne said with a grin. “At least I don’t think she did.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

She sobered instantly. Daphne’s tawny eyes revealed that she wasn’t nearly as blasé about any of this as she tried to let on. “Let me collect my props and get my check. I owe a lot of people, so if I turn up dead, maybe what I earned today will go toward staving off my creditors.”

“Hey,” Logan called as Daphne sped around him. “We’re splitting today’s take fifty-fifty, aren’t we?” He winked when she stopped to gawk at him. “Well, I did do half the job,” he said, spreading his white-gloved hands. “I thought I was pretty good.”

“You did okay for a rookie. But in this line of work it’s common for an apprentice to pay a master clown to teach him the trade. If we manage to get out of this in one piece, though, I might buy you dinner one of these days.”

“Really? Dinner with a clown? That’s an offer a guy doesn’t get very often. Okay, Bozo, you’re on. Let me go ease April’s mind. I’ll bring anything you left on the patio to the bedroom. By the way, I’m not driving in these clodhoppers. I’m changing into my boots.”

“What kind of special agent are you?” Daphne tossed her head. “Any bad guy worth his salt will spot those run-down boots of yours. That’s why I’m driving. I have socks on under my clown shoes. I can slip these off once we’re in the car. Your buddies out there will be none the wiser.”

“You’re a hard woman, Daphne Malone. Okay. You win. Are you sure you’re not the cop in the Malone family moonlighting as a clown?”

“Don’t ever let my brother Kieran hear you say that. He’s convinced it takes a virtual deity to do what he does for a living. A deity with a penis, no less.”

“Hmm. Your brother and I would get along fine. Too bad we’ll never meet. The agency discourages fraternizing with local law enforcement. In case it’s necessary to put us out in the community undercover.”

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “You’re so good at working undercover.”

Logan grabbed another sponge off the counter and threw it at her. But she was too quick. It missed by a mile. He found himself grinning in spite of the situation. Daphne Malone was really something. He’d bet she didn’t take an ounce of guff from her brother. Brothers, he corrected, recalling that she’d mentioned three. All men in tough-guy fields. No wonder she’d learned to hold her own in a verbal scuffle.

Remembering how she’d looked in skimpy underwear, Logan grinned a moment longer. He pictured scuffling with her across a king-size bed. His smile faded. Ludicrous, he thought, stiff-arming his way out the back door.

April left one of her friends in charge of the children who’d stayed to play after Nat had opened her gifts. She’d received a croquet set and the kids wanted to try it out. One of the other moms promised to help set up while April paid her performers.

“I’m worried, Logan. Phone me as soon as Daphne drops you at your office. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Mike being at sea, without worrying about your safety, too.”

“We’ll be fine. In fact, I only see one carload of bad guys hanging around,” Logan said, brushing a kiss on April’s forehead. “Stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby. Oh, tell Nat I phoned or something, and that I’m mailing her a gift. What does she want that she didn’t get?”

“See if you can find the Barbie with all the camping gear. The stores in this area were all sold out. We’re using Mike’s leave to go camping before the baby arrives, which is why Nat wants the Barbie that comes with a tent and stuff. She was disappointed, I think, when she found out it wasn’t what her dad and I had given her.”

“Man, I hate going down Barbie aisles in toy stores. It’s more intimidating than Victoria’s Secret. Well, almost more intimidating,” he said, realizing what he’d admitted not only to his sister, but to Daphne Malone. She’d stowed her check in her bag and waited impatiently at the front door. Logan expected one of the women to ask who he bought skimpy lingerie for. Thankfully, neither remarked on it.

Before either of them could, he relieved Daphne of her bulging beach bag and reached around her to open the door.

“Go on out with Nat and enjoy the rest of her party, sis. I’ll call you when I can. Don’t worry if you don’t hear right away.”

April walked onto the front porch. Daphne waved before she and Logan climbed into her Volkswagen.

“You said you had a car,” Logan grumbled, trying to fold his long body enough to fit inside the cramped space.

“No disparaging comments, please. I happen to love my little car. She’s a classic. And Tootles gets me where I’m going economically. I find parking when bigger cars have to pass up a spot.” She patted the dash. “Oops, I see two cars with dark windows. Looks like maybe two occupants in each, and both show an inordinate amount of interest in us. You might want to lean into the back seat so they can’t get a good look at you.”

“I got a good look at me at April’s. I don’t think my boss would recognize me.”

Still, Daphne noticed he took her suggestion. Agent Grant didn’t do anything without bickering, but he listened and eventually took advice—from a woman, no less. Daphne stored that information for tossing up at Kieran one day.

“Hey,” she said, flexing her fingers around the wheel. “A dark blue car pulled in directly behind us.”

The word that left Logan’s mouth wasn’t pretty, but Daphne thought it described how she felt at the moment, too.

“See if you can shake him. Keep to the middle lane. At the next intersection, if the light’s green, whip into the right lane and make a hard right turn.”

Daphne followed his instructions to the letter. But the car tailing them crossed in front of a truck in a real squeaker of a move and ended up behind them again.

“Don’t act like you’re keeping tabs on him,” Logan said. “But glance in your sideview mirror occasionally.”

“He’s so close on my rear I can almost feel him breathing.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid he thinks we deliberately tried to ditch them.”

“We did.”

“I know, but I’d hoped they wouldn’t be expecting it of you. I thought maybe we could zigzag through a few streets and throw them off our scent.”

Daphne tried to relax. She leaned back against the seat and loosened her death grip on the wheel. “Where’s your office? Can we shake them in five o’clock traffic? The next block will fill up soon with workers leaving a packing plant.”

Logan named an address, and Daphne was surprised to learn his office wasn’t more than ten blocks from her apartment building. “I didn’t know there was a federal building on Jefferson Boulevard.”

“There’s not.” He scrunched down even lower in the seat and rested his hat against the headrest. “Our whole unit is operating on the q.t.”

“Phew, that’s good. I didn’t relish pulling up in front of a federal building to let you out in case I can’t lose that blue Mercedes afterward. But if your whole unit’s under wraps, those guys won’t know I’m leaving you with feds.”

“Don’t be too sure.” Logan crossed his arms and studied his driver. “They have unheard-of sources. Money talks, and that gang of thugs has gold to burn. Their last heroin shipment brought in half a billion dollars on the street.”

“That’s disgusting. Think of all those pathetic humans who lie, cheat and steal to pay for their drug habits.”

“Unfortunately, in California and elsewhere, plenty of folks with big bucks are dabbling in the hard stuff. They earn their money on Wall Street, or in occupations that are well thought of.”

“Like entertainment and sports, you mean?”

“To name two, yes.”

Daphne spared him a sidelong glance. “I’ve lived on the fringes of Hollywood my whole life. I know rich-and-famous kids who spent more than their school lunch money to stay stoned out of their minds.”

“Did you know any dealers? Do you now?”

“No. I always figured it was better not to know. I didn’t use, or run around with kids who did.” She shrugged. “I was never very popular.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.”

She sent him a dirty look. As dirty, at least, as a clown with a painted-on smile could deliver.

“Are they still on our bumper?” he asked, not wanting to turn around.

“Yes,” she said, making a right turn and then a left. “Dang, I thought that maneuver might confuse them. They seem acquainted with all our one-way streets. Shoot, I’m afraid I really tipped them off.”

Logan squinted into the sun to read the next street signs. “Go up Linda Vista and join the Foothill Freeway. From there, see if you can disappear in heavy traffic. Then swerve onto the Glendale Freeway. Follow it all the way down to the Golden State. If they’re unaware the feds have a branch office here, it may throw them off the track long enough to let me slip out and double back. I just don’t want to leave them following you. By the way, where do you live? And do you live alone or with family—or with a significant other?”

“Alone.” She gave him the coordinating cross streets for her apartment. “Why do you need to know where I live?”

“Because I may have to go home with you to make it look convincing to these jokers if they’re too persistent.”

“What? No way! I just told you I live alone.”

“How many people in your building know that?”

“A few. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It is if our tails get nosy and start asking questions around here. If they weren’t suspicious of us—of me—I think they’d already be peeling off to look elsewhere. They know where I live. I’m sure someone’s watching my condo.”

“I suppose you can come up for a little while. How do you plan to leave my apartment, though—and when?”

“I’ll think of something. I hate to ask a fellow agent to extract me, but if all else fails, I will. Those jerks behind us don’t know your name. You didn’t give it to Razor, did you?” Logan leveled a serious look at Daphne.

“I said we booked birthday parties as Bozo and Buzzy. I said I didn’t have any business cards with me. Your friend wasn’t interested. I pretended I thought he had a child and was checking the party because he might want to book us.”

“That was good thinking,” he said somewhat unwillingly.

“Thanks.” Her response was dry.

“No, I mean it. Have you considered going into police work yourself?”

“Are you kidding? With my work history?” She laughed hilariously as she navigated up the ramp onto the first of the three freeways.

“It couldn’t be too bad. You aren’t that old.”

“Part-time jobs have been my downfall,” she muttered with a grimace. “I figured anyone could be a waitress. I’ve certainly encountered some ditzy ones. But my first day on the job, I dumped Caesar salad in the lap of a really big movie star. I guess you could say I got blackballed from working at any local restaurants where there’re decent tips.”

“So, your mistake was in assuming that waitressing’s easy.”

“On my next job, I tried lifeguarding at Santa Monica Beach.”

“Can you swim?” Logan asked carefully.

“Yes, don’t be an idiot. I swim fine. I just couldn’t rescue a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound doofus who almost drowned himself and me. He was drunk out of his gourd, and his buddies thought the way he fought me was really cute.”

“Well, jeez, what do you expect if the guy outweighs you? Cripes, you can’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty.”

“A hundred and twelve to be exact. But the instructor who trained me insists its not a matter of weight but of leverage. So I still got fired.”

“That’s just two jobs. It’s obvious you didn’t give up.”

“No. I applied for and got a job as a dog walker. I screwed up at that, too.” She sighed.

“That job seems like a no-brainer if you don’t mind my saying so. What happened?”

“You won’t believe it,” she responded glumly. “My family still can’t. The agency I signed up with had some high-toned clients. I was assigned to meet dog owners at the valet parking for Rodeo Drive. In a way it was my own fault. My first time out, I was to walk three chows. You’ve seen chows? They’re big and fluffy and red. This particular threesome turned out to be pampered and undisciplined as well. The owner, a star who shall remain nameless, neglected to tell me they had a hankering for a certain French poodle. Her owner operated a ritzy accessory shop on the Drive, where I was told to walk the dogs. I tried my best to hold the chows back when we passed this place. Suffice it to say that before the walk ended, we’d wiped out the awnings of two elite establishments. My dad coughed up for the damages. I won’t even tell you what he had to lay out in cold cash. I am going to pay him back, though.”

“What made you decide to try being a party clown, of all things? That seems like a job with built-in drawbacks. Kids bite, kick and spit. Mothers never believe their rug rats are at fault.”

“Oh, I’m only doing this temporarily while I wait to hear on a job at one of the movie studios. My family talked me into giving college another stab after the last disaster. They weren’t overjoyed when I chose to become a makeup artist. But I’m good at it, and I think it’ll be exciting and rewarding work. No two movies are ever alike. Plus, I’ll meet a lot of interesting people—including single men. But don’t you dare ask about my history in that department. I’ve spilled all of my life story you’re going to hear, Agent Grant. It’s your turn.”

“We’ll have to find a different subject, then. Damn, I see we haven’t lost our shadow. If I’m not mistaken, the next off-ramp is the one you need to take.”

“So it is. Does this mean you’re really coming to my apartment?”

“I’m afraid so,” Logan said slowly. He checked and re-checked the car following them without giving the appearance that he was doing so.

“Then you can tell me all about Logan Grant. Must be a fascinating life you lead, what with criminals chasing you around, driving you into the back bedrooms of virtual strangers.”

“It was my sister’s bedroom. She’s hardly a stranger. And that doesn’t happen often. Agents aren’t supposed to talk about their private lives,” he muttered. “However, I will tell you that drugs aren’t all we suspect these men of trafficking. Don’t worry, though, I’m not planning to trouble you for long. Just until I call my office.”

Daphne exited the freeway and took the surface streets three blocks west to her apartment. Spotting a sports car pulling out of a parking place, she zipped into it, causing Logan to bump his head against the curve of the windshield when she braked fast.

“Sorry. This parking space is directly in front of my entrance. It means we only have to walk a few steps to get inside. I don’t see any other opening. Your friends back there will either have to double-park or wait until someone leaves. This time of the afternoon, when everyone’s coming home from work, chances of that are slim to none.”

“Good. Hey, I didn’t think to ask. Is your main door keyed or do you have a doorman on duty?”

“No doorman. This is a low-budget part of town. Almost anyone who wants to enter the building can get someone to buzz them in. I hate that the people here aren’t more careful, but it’s mostly college kids and artsy people. Either they have lots of company or they’re all in the habit of forgetting their keys.”

“It’s too late to worry about changing neighborhoods now,” he said. “I’ll bring your beach bag. You run ahead and unlock the door. Act like we’ve done this a million times. Pretend this is your Oscar-winning performance.”

She stuck out her tongue. “I’m not a struggling actress. Name me one person who’s ever won an Oscar for makeup. Well, they do, but no one can name them.”

“If we pull off this scam, babe, I’ll give you a gold statue myself.” Logan scrambled out of the cramped space, retrieved Daphne’s bag and actually whistled as he bounded up the steps. When she bent to insert the key, he casually placed a hand on her hip, as if it was habit.

The weight of his palm and the warmth of his long body standing so close sent heat to the pit of Daphne’s stomach. She fumbled her key and would’ve dropped the entire ring had Logan not been agile enough to catch it. Smiling, he kissed her knuckles and left red paint from his mouth smeared across her white glove. Then he opened the door without a hitch.

She refused to meet his eyes, certain she’d encounter a satisfied masculine smirk on his cocky face. Just continue to treat him the way you treat your brothers. She chanted that over and over, even as her brain turned to mush. Damn, she didn’t need the complication of a man in her life. But then, she clearly wasn’t Logan Grant’s type. She knew that instinctively. So at most, she’d have to play hostess for an hour or so. Just until someone from his office figured out how to get here and pick him up.

CHAPTER THREE

THE FRONT DOOR CLANGED shut behind them. Daphne ducked out from beneath Logan’s hand without saying a word and raced up the stairs. She’d come inside in stocking feet. Logan was not only grappling with the awkward beach bag, but he still wore the oversize clown slippers.

He stopped on the first landing and pulled off the foam booties that tripped him up on every step. After that he moved better. But the woman leading the charge kept going higher and higher. “Hey,” he finally called, wincing as his voice echoed in the stairwell. “Which floor do you live on?”

“Eighth. It’s the top floor in this building. I started out on third, but I hated having people tramping around overhead. So the minute an apartment opened up on eight, I switched.”

“I can’t believe there’s no elevator.”

“It’s an historic building is why. I think the circular stairs are part of the charm.”

“Great! Who needs historic?”

Daphne had finally reached the last landing. She turned and headed down the hall, where she stopped outside the last door on her left.

Logan paused to check out possible exits. His hostess appeared to have a corner apartment overlooking the front of the building. The minute she opened the door and he walked in behind her, Logan saw with some pleasure that she also had a big corner window. He made a beeline over there to scan the street below.

Glad he was otherwise occupied, Daphne zigzagged through her living room, picking up items she’d strewn haphazardly about. She wouldn’t call herself a slob, exactly, but picking up never seemed a top priority, unless she’d arranged for company. Or if family members phoned to say they’d be dropping by, she made certain the place looked more presentable than it did now.

She hooked an arm around the beach bag Logan had set just inside the door, then threw it and a dirty T-shirt scooped off the couch, plus yesterday’s nightgown, into her bedroom. Quickly slamming the door on a rumpled, unmade bed, she hurried out to make a similar survey of the kitchen.

Ugh! Her kitchen was even messier. Daphne enjoyed cooking if she had guests. Otherwise, she’d never been able to work up much enthusiasm for fixing three meals a day. And doing dishes—well, last night’s microwave teriyaki rice bowl and her toast plate from breakfast still sat on the counter, along with glasses and an empty orange-juice container. She really ought to develop better habits.

Lord help her if Logan Grant took a notion to open her refrigerator. There was no telling what kind of flora and fauna he might find growing in there. She cast a sidelong glance at him. He was probably hungry, but she needed to shop for groceries because she’d stayed at Dane’s house all last week.

“Damn,” he muttered. “The car that followed us found a parking place right across the street from your VW. The occupants don’t seem in any rush to get out. But it doesn’t seem as if they’re set to leave anytime soon, either.” He sidled away from the window and walked to the front door.

Frowning, he turned. “What did you do with the bag I carried up? I’ll think better after I shower and change into my own clothes. Well, not mine but that stuff of Mike’s I asked April to pack. Mike’s heavier and a few inches shorter than me, but I’m sure his shirt will fit. I’ll have to make do with my jeans, though, no matter how grungy they are.”