Roz Fox - Too Many Brothers

“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.

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.