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“Honestly, didn’t you tell her you’re FBI, Logan? Daphne, meet my crazy brother, Special Agent Logan Grant.”
He didn’t look altogether happy about the introduction. “April, you can’t go blabbing what I do for a living to everyone under the sun. The element of surprise is our best defense. Sometimes our only defense.”
Feeling sheepish, Daphne quickly sidled away from the door. “Ohmigosh! Kieran said I was going to screw up big-time one of these days.” Her regard changed—became rapt as that of April Ross, who smiled with pride at her brother.
The agent actually got red in the face. “You need to forget my name—Daphne, is it?—and both of you forget I was ever here.” He stepped to the window again and made another furtive survey of the street. “Look, here’s the deal, April. I’ve got some real bastards wanting to get their hands on me. Bad enough that they’re in no hurry to give up the hunt. They probably have the area blanketed with sharpshooters. I don’t think changing into Mike’s shirt will make a lot of difference. So I’ll wait until the more obvious searchers move up the street. Then I’ll slip out through the back and take my chances. At least I can try to lead them away from this house.”
“No, Logan!” Worry creased April’s forehead. “Nat’s party is in full swing in the backyard. Surely you won’t risk getting my friends or the kids hurt if those men do spot you.”
“You’re right. Well, damn! What now?” He paced the length of the room and back.
Daphne had been studying him, trying to figure out how, disguised or not, he’d fooled her so completely. She wasn’t easily duped, since disguise was her business. Or rather, it would be her business when some studio hired her. She’d just completed a two-year makeup artistry course at City College. Special-effects makeup was an art. And she was good at it. She’d graduated at the top of her class. In another setting, she could make Logan Grant over. Except she didn’t have the proper equipment with her. She’d only tossed in rudimentary face paints for a kids’ party. But…
Clearing her throat, Daphne went to the bed where she’d dumped the contents of her beach bag. “May I offer a temporary solution? I wasn’t sure what type of clown Natalie liked, so I came prepared with several costumes. I can mix and match false ears, noses, wigs and such. One of them might fit you, Agent Grant.”
Logan sputtered, “I’ve gone out disguised as many things. But never as a woman, and certainly not as a clown. A guy has his limits.”
Daphne raked him up and down with disfavor. “Suit yourself. Dying’s a whole lot nobler, I’m sure.”
April joined Daphne at the bed. She pawed through the costumes. “Logan, stop being such a…such a man. I think Daphne’s hit on the perfect solution. The people chasing you have no idea I didn’t book two party clowns. Look, she has these big slipper feet in a couple of different styles. I can see this working,” she said excitedly. “And…the kids are yelling now to bring on the clowns.”
Daphne found herself agreeing less enthusiastically. What had she been thinking? “You’d have to shave. But I have greasepaint in my kit.”
“No. Then I’d be back to putting you all in danger. Besides, they’ll see through any attempt.”
That did it! He’d cast aspersions on her ability. “I promise you, Agent Grant, when I finish with you, not even your own mother will recognize you.”
“Quit calling me Agent Grant. That’s a dead giveaway,” he snarled.
Daphne clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I’ll think of something else to call you. How does Pancake sound? Or Custard?” Her sarcasm was unmistakable.
“I’d rather meet the guys outside with one hand tied behind me,” Logan retorted disdainfully.
April, who’d slipped briefly out of the room, returned with a razor and some clean underwear. She passed the items to her brother none too gently.
“I’ll need a shirt and pants,” he said as he headed for the guest bathroom.
Both April and Daphne shook their heads, but it was April who spoke. “They’d stick out like a sore thumb under this flimsy costume. I’m disposing of those clothes you have on,” she said stoutly. “They’re disgusting, Logan.”
He capitulated, though not gracefully. “Give me the damn clown suit. I doubt it’ll fit, but we’ll try it your way. If my boss or coworkers ever got a load of me in this, I’d never hear the end of it,” he muttered as he tore the clown suit out of Daphne’s hand, dived into the bathroom and slammed the door.
The women grinned at each other. In spite of the fact that they’d only just met, it was as if they’d bonded through this mutual accomplishment.
“April, go on out to the party and buy us some time. Tell the kids we’ll start the show in fifteen minutes. I’m sure you can come up with another short game.”
Nodding, the hostess left, and Daphne spread out her supplies. She set a chair in front of the mirror and began to apply her makeup.
When Logan shuffled out hesitantly in a silly one-piece clown outfit with a wide ruffled collar and baseball-size green puffballs that ran from his neck to his crotch, the outer room was vacant except for his new partner. “When I was a kid,” he said, eyeing her, “my dad gave me a talking Bozo the Clown. You look exactly like him.”
“I know,” she said smugly. “But if I’d known you shared a kinship with Bozo, I might’ve made myself up to look like his sidekick, Blossom.”
He squinted into the bright light she turned on over the mirror. “Wow, I’ve gotta say I’m impressed. If I hadn’t met you without makeup, I wouldn’t have a clue what you looked like in real life. Can you really do the same to me?”
“I’m going to try. Sit.” She pointed to the chair. “Otherwise I’ll trip over my feet.”
Logan cast a glance downward at her big, floppy slippers. An automatic laugh bubbled up.
“See, it works every time. The makeup. It’s why people see clowns and laugh.”
“Not all clowns are funny. Some are downright scary. For instance, our team once arrested a ring of clowns who walked right into houses in broad daylight. They preyed on latchkey kids. Of course, the kids let them in without a peep, and one clown entertained while his pals pulled a disappearing act that entailed backing a moving van up to the house. They burgled freezers, TVs, jewelry. You name it, they heisted it.”
Daphne frowned. “That’s awful. Especially when you think they might’ve done worse than clean out a house. They could’ve murdered the kids.”
Logan reared back, appraising her again. “My boss and I said exactly the same thing. Hmm, there are other kinds of clowns, too. At my buddy’s bachelor party, somebody hired one who did a rip-snorting lap dance. I don’t suppose you—”
“Absolutely not,” she said. But Daphne’s fingers, slick with the greasepaint she was applying to Logan’s newly shaved face, slipped off just imagining it. After he’d washed and scraped off his beard, Logan Grant looked too darn good. He stirred a heat in her that was better doused. If she had terrible luck with jobs, relationships were even worse. She was hopeless at choosing men—beginning with Kevin McBride, who’d come to pick her up for the prom on his muddy Harley. The jerk had taken a bet cooked up by Daphne’s brothers. Those guys always seemed to mess up her love life.
Logan Grant set off all kinds of warning bells in her head. Without whiskers and with his sun-streaked, longish blond hair tied back, there was no doubt he had a rakish kind of sex appeal. Just touching his smooth cheeks, no matter how impersonally, made Daphne’s fingers tremble.
It didn’t help that his killer blue eyes never left her face. She cringed at the thought of how she must look under his scrutiny. White face. Arched and exaggerated black eyebrows. A wig of red yarn, which was bald on top. Sheesh!
In reality, though, Logan sat there recalling how Daphne Malone had looked before suiting up as Bozo. Once he’d felt halfway safe from Billy Holt’s long grasp, Logan had taken time for a cursory once-over of the half-dressed woman he’d grabbed. All her body parts were strung together fine. Very fine, in fact. At first he’d seen her as cute. Later he’d altered that to hot—although she wasn’t his type.
After the demise of his short-lived marriage to another agent, a marriage that was probably the biggest mistake of his life, Logan tended to date women who weren’t only real lookers but had high-powered careers. Careers well out of his field. And they had to be women whose minds weren’t on the M word. One disastrous attempt at domestic bliss had been enough to last Logan a lifetime.
He watched Daphne step back, tilt her head to one side and examine him critically, and he still couldn’t shake the other image—the one in which she was barely dressed.
Well, hell! “Are we done?” he muttered.
“Almost.” She leaned around him to scoop something off the bed. A bright red felt hat that had bushy white hair attached to all sides. As she straightened, Logan got a whiff of a perfume that nearly had him following her with his tongue hanging out. Damn, but he was a sucker for certain scents. This one did something to his libido. Cranked it up full bore.
Daphne set the silly top hat squarely on Logan’s head. She made sure every bit of his own hair was hidden from view. “The flower on your hat has a vial of water attached by this camouflaged button on the brim. You can act like you’re tipping your hat to a lady. Instead, you squirt her with a fine spray of water. I don’t recommend using it on kids—they often have short fuses and no sense of humor when it comes to practical jokes. But the moms generally laugh.”
He stood then, and walked over to the mirror as Daphne pulled on white gloves to cover his big hands. “I can’t believe I’m really going out in public looking like this,” Logan lamented, lifting first one foot and then the other so she could install his oversize slippers. They felt awkward as hell.
“I can paint on tears so you can be a sad clown,” Daphne said tartly, climbing to her feet to peruse him from head to toe. “Otherwise, quit frowning. You’ll mess up the paint. The way I see it, I’ve just saved your scrawny butt.”
Logan scowled harder, or tried to. The thick face paint discouraged facial expressions, he discovered.
“Listen up, Special Agent. Here’s the plan. I have a few simple tricks I show the kids. I do a few riddles and give little prizes for correct answers. You’ll be my assistant. I’ll tell everyone you’re a clown in training. Natalie asked me to paint everyone’s face. If you’ve had any experience, we can split up the kids. If not, you’ll have to hang out and hand me paints and brushes as I need them.”
“I think you like humiliating me far too much for someone who doesn’t even know me. You say your brother’s a cop? Maybe you’re getting back at him through me. Or maybe a cop boyfriend dumped you, so making a fool of me gives you a kick.”
“I love my brothers. I’m proud of all three. Kieran wears the blue. Dane risks his life fighting fires. Perry transports freight cross-country for a living. And I never dated a cop. I have better sense. I think you’re acting pretty ungrateful for a guy in your position. Not to mention that you’ve endangered lives by coming here.”
Logan flinched at Daphne Malone’s verbal slap. “You’re absolutely right on all counts,” he said stiffly. “From here on out, or at least until the party ends, your slightest wish is my command…Bozo,” he added under his breath as Daphne thrust a bag in his hands and headed for the door. Logan revised his opinion of her. She wasn’t hot. She was a pain in the ass. But he’d associated with worse people to save his hide. So associate with Daphne Malone he would. Temporarily. Logan just hoped this party turned out to be the shortest birthday celebration in history.
He thought that even more as he watched Daphne’s sashaying tush disappear out the sliding glass door. Something must be wrong with his love life if he was attracted to a woman dressed like a clown. Her smart mouth alone should deter him. Not only that, Logan was a take-charge kind of guy who didn’t particularly like taking orders. Thankfully, his dealings with the dictatorial Daphne Malone would end at the close of this event.
But what if Holt’s buddies had already moved on, thinking Logan had given them the slip? Maybe going out there, making a spectacle of himself, would be for nothing. Hanging back, Logan slid across the floor to peer out front again.
He should’ve known Holt’s well-trained goons wouldn’t give up so easily. They were out there all right.
CHAPTER TWO
LOGAN STARTED working out a plan to borrow April’s car. With a little luck, he’d figured he could sneak past Billy’s lookouts. That hope died quickly. A glance through a crack in the blind showed one man from the organization strolling down the street, peering under bushes and over fences into side yards. He stopped to talk to a cop in an LAPD car; Logan wished he could see the cop’s face. A second goon followed a trail into the woods adjacent to April’s house. Dropping the blind, Logan realized he’d have to play along for a while.
He’d strapped the Luger to his leg with two rubber bands he found in his sister’s bathroom cabinet. He’d be walking oddly, anyway, in the big slippered feet. Walking at all was a challenge, he soon discovered, wondering whatever possessed grown-ups to do this for a living.
By placing all his weight on his heels, he managed to make it past the slider onto the patio without falling on his face. Daphne already had the kids sitting in a semicircle, gazing up at her with adoring eyes. A surprising stab of nostalgia rendered him immobile for a heartbeat. An early argument Logan had with his ex had come about because he wanted kids and she flatly refused to discuss it. He envied his sister and her friends, who sat around the pool in deck chairs smiling at their cherubs. Logan again cursed himself for potentially bringing disaster down on them.
Noticing one of Billy Holt’s men walking out of the woods on the unfenced side of April’s yard, he tensed all over. Logan had gotten into the house undetected by knowing the area. If he ever got out of this, he’d try to convince Mike to move his family to a better location. At the very least, Logan knew he’d come back and help fence their yard.
Feeling protective of everyone here, he waddled up and insinuated his body between Daphne and the deadly onlooker—a man sure to be packing the latest automatic handgun. The availability of high-tech weapons to criminals was something else that made Logan’s job more difficult by the day.
Daphne, seemingly oblivious that they were being observed, produced five plastic bowling pins from a flowered bag she’d brought out. She began juggling three pins. Then added two more. When she finally did see the stranger watching from the trees, she faltered and pins flew in five different directions.
Logan scooped them up. Even with gloves covering his hands, he tossed the pins in the air and kept them aloft far longer than Daphne had.
The kids clapped loudly.
“Hey, quit upstaging me,” Daphne said, planting her hands on her hips.
The kids and their moms assumed the banter was part of the routine. They all laughed and urged Daphne to take the pins away from her partner.
“That’s okay,” Daphne told the children. “My magic tricks are way cooler than his.”
“What’s your name?” called out one boy.
“I’m Bozo. This is Buzzy. He doesn’t talk much,” Daphne said seriously. “But he’d like another round of applause for how well he juggles. How about if we all show him our appreciation?”
The group of kids and adults clapped harder. Logan knew why Daphne had said he didn’t speak. If their intruder stayed at the edge of the party—and he showed no indication of leaving—the guy might well recognize Logan’s voice. Logan’s estimation of Daphne Malone’s ability to think on her feet went up several degrees.
But he thought it was too bad her magic tricks were so pathetic. Bumping her aside, Logan grabbed the coin and deck of cards out of her hands. As a boy, he’d spent hours with a box of magic tricks he’d received for Christmas one year. This was an arena where he felt confident he could hold the kids’ interest.
Daphne crossed her arms and tapped one oversize foot, appearing outwardly annoyed at her partner. Truthfully, she was annoyed. What did he think he was doing, horning in on her gig.
Again, everyone present assumed it was part of the act. And Daphne had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Logan Grant was a whiz at magic. He held the kids enthralled for a good fifteen minutes. Five minutes, tops, was all she’d ever managed. But then again, this clown business was a sideline for her. Her real talent lay in makeup.
At the first sign that the kids were growing bored with Logan’s sleight of hand, she clapped sharply and offered a new diversion.
“Time for face painting. Who wants their faces done?”
The kids jumped up and crowded around her. “Me first, me first,” all ten shouted as they danced up and down.
“Whoa! The birthday girl is always first. I’ll give Natalie a list of faces I came prepared to paint. She’ll choose for everyone. It’ll be a grand secret until each of you finally gets to look in the mirror.” Daphne flipped open a canvas camp stool hauled from the depths of the voluminous beach bag. Next, she produced a tray filled with small jars of paint.
Logan saw that their watcher had left the tree and appeared to be searching the back half of the vacant lot. Logan judged he could safely leave in ten minutes or so. Except that the kids not being painted started milling about. Those with moms on hand whined. The boys roughhoused, and April suddenly wore a panicked expression. She didn’t know they were being watched or she would’ve been downright terrified.
Logan thought he owed it to his sister, to his niece and to Daphne to stay and help out a little longer.
He whistled to regain the children’s attention. Elaborately, he pantomimed that they should again gather around. He began slowly pulling out a row of scarves he’d discovered hidden in the false sleeve of his costume. He tied them together and made the lot disappear.
Even Daphne gave him a rolling “Ooooh,” followed by applause. Emboldened, Logan marched up to his sister. He made a big show of patting April’s burgeoning belly. He pretended to listen to her baby with a fat clown ear, and made cradling motions with his arms. Then, big as you please, Logan leaned down and shot April in the face with the water-filled flower.
She sputtered, wiped her cheeks, and to everyone’s glee she swung at his arm.
Daphne tried to keep a straight face, but she had to smother a laugh. Through talking to Natalie, she’d learned that most of the children at the party had attended fairs where they’d had butterflies or lightning bolts painted on their cheeks. No one was prepared for the display Daphne had planned. Natalie had agreed that Daphne would turn each child into a specific animal. Daphne was relieved the girl had liked her idea. Especially since animal props were the only ones she’d brought, and she figured the kids would enjoy taking them home.
First, she covered Nat’s face with white paint, then added pink blush to her cheeks. Using a brush, she framed the little girl’s face in black, and added a black nose, jet-black arched eyebrows and whiskers. She painted on big ruby-red lips. Rummaging in her bag, she hauled out two red-and-white polka-dot bows. One was attached to round black ears, which she affixed to the back of Nat’s head. The second bow she pinned at the girl’s throat. “Voilà, meet our pretty house mouse,” she announced, presenting the birthday girl to her family and friends. They both curtsied, Nat gracefully, Daphne a bit more awkward given the size of her false feet.
As the children exclaimed over how great Natalie looked, Daphne started on the next child. Whiskers the Cat was followed by a mop-haired boy as El Perro the Dog. He sported a black ring around his left eye when Daphne put on the finishing touch.
Logan was most impressed by the zebra makeup. The boy wore a black-and-white striped T-shirt that made the costume more realistic. The band with pointy ears that Daphne clipped around his head enhanced the total effect of his black-and-white face paint. The kids liked the Bengal tiger best, though.
“Hey, you’re really good,” Logan muttered when he thought the kids wouldn’t be able to hear him talk normally.
Daphne merely smiled in response, but Logan could tell she was pleased. Did she get so few compliments then? He took a minute to really watch her sure and steady strokes.
A boy with a pronounced lisp became another dog. Daphne quickly cut big paws out of a discarded grocery sack she’d asked Natalie to hand her. Dog-boy ended up with floppy, grocery-bag ears, too.
A two-toothed rabbit caused everyone to laugh uproariously. The girl wasn’t shy. She hammed it up, which only increased Daphne’s popularity.
Logan watched the moms ooh and aah among themselves. He had little doubt that his partner had just scored more parties for herself. Strangely, he felt a stab of pride at Daphne’s accomplishments. It was similar to the way he’d feel about another agent’s success.
She finished the final kid, transforming a cherubic girl with naturally apple-red cheeks and a mop of wildly curling black hair rather like Daphne’s own, into a hissing, snarling wildcat. Then she screwed a lid on the paint jar and casually nudged Logan. “Don’t look now, but our watchdog’s back.”
At first Logan thought Daphne was referring to one of the kid animals. But with an elaborate roll of her eyes, she turned his attention to the wooded lot.
Sure enough, the worst of Holt’s henchmen stood at the edge of April’s grass, boldly observing the proceedings.
“Listen up, kids. Buzzy is going to help Mrs. Ross bring out Natalie’s cake. While they’re gone, I want everyone to practice helping her blow out the candles. I’ll dish up ice cream to go with the cake in a minute. Oh—I see an interested neighbor. Maybe he has a child he’d like to book a party for. I’ll go tell him how to contact us.”
Was she nuts? Logan couldn’t believe his eyes. Daphne marched straight up to Billy’s right-hand man, a cold-blooded killer if ever there was one. Logan recognized the man nicknamed Razor for the way he carved up his enemies. Jeez. Did Daphne Malone have a death wish? Logan tried to pull loose from April, but his sister had his clown suit in a grip that he feared would tear the material if he resisted too strenuously. Twisting his head to keep an eye on Daphne didn’t work, either. April opened the kitchen door and shoved him inside, totally cutting off his view.
AFTER YEARS OF LIVING with an excess of authoritative older brothers, Daphne had learned that the best way to divert a problem was to face it head-on. Even though her knees knocked inside her baggy polka-dot clown suit, she walked right up to a man she knew to be on the wrong side of the law. “Hi, I’m Bozo the Clown,” she said. “My partner, Buzzy, and I perform at children’s parties all over the valley. I couldn’t help noticing the interest you’ve shown in our act. Unfortunately, I don’t have a business card with me.” She made a show of holding out her costume so the man could see she had no pockets. “I can give you a phone number, though, if you have a child with a birthday coming up.”
“No kid,” the man growled. He practically stumbled over his feet in an attempt to back away from Daphne.
“Oh.” She actually managed to sound saddened by his revelation. “Well, I’ll let you go then. Buzzy and I always help the hostess serve refreshments. This many kids can make a real mess of cake and ice cream. So, if you’re just out for your daily walk, Mr….” She let her words trail off.
Daphne knew, of course, that he wouldn’t supply a name. As she’d expected, he turned abruptly and all but melted into the woods.
She wanted to grin and pat herself on the back. However, her knees were too spongy. It was all she could do to make it to the patio before collapsing on the camp stool she’d set up to paint faces.
Logan exited the house carrying a sheet cake with seven lit candles.
Daphne saw from the disapproving flash in his blue eyes that she was in for a tongue-lashing. It was only a matter of time. Well, Logan Grant ought to thank her. That was what he ought to do. It was plain to her that the man watching them was suspicious of their act.
