Causing Havoc by Lori Foster Page A

other hand, it was nice to see Jacki relating so easily to Dean. Once, not that long ago, she
    and Jacki had been very close. But lately Jacki had changed so much, growing dreary and sarcastic.
    Her cheerful smiling baby sister was long gone, and Cam didn't know what to do to help her find her
    way back.
    "So," Jacki said. "How long have you had a tattoo?"
    Accepting the change of subject, Dean shrugged. "I think I was around fourteen when I got it."
    "Fourteen?" Cam couldn't believe that. "They let children do that?"
    "They do in Thailand."
    Her mouth fel open, and when Dean noticed, he paused from eating his dessert. "I told you that
    Grover and I worked al over the world."
    "But... how?" She knew so little about him. 'Thailand of al places. It's so exotic."
    "Not when you're in construction, it's not. Grover's boss took government jobs. Grover was
    foreman."
    Lorna sipped her coffee. "And he dragged you around with him? Lovely. But, then, I would have
    expected no less from him."
    "Don't."
    That single word, issued in a near whisper, cut through the air with razor sharpness. Dean stared at
    Lorna, furious and not about to hide it.
    Back snapping straight, Lorna set down her cup with a clatter. "I beg your pardon?"
    "Make slurs at me if you want, Lorna. Act snooty. Show your disdain. I don't give a shit and I figure you can't help yourself. You're just being you." His voice lowered even more. "But Grover is off-limits.
    If you speak of him, it'l be with respect."
    At either side of her saucer, Lorna's hands curled into fists. "How dare you dictate to me! He was
    my brother, and I'l speak of him any way—"
    Startling everyone, Dean launched out of his chair. His palms smacked flat on the tabletop, and he
    loomed over Lorna with burning aggression. "You disowned him just as you did me, and if you're
    smart you'l let it go."
    Doing her best to hide her intimidation, Lorna asked, "Or you'l do what?"
    Dean's smile made many promises, al of them ugly. "I'l tel them things you don't want them to know.
    Sooner rather than later."
    Them? Cam wondered. Them who?
    "Meaning you intend to tel them anyway?"
    "They have a right to know."
    Cam said, "Who are you talking about?"
    When Lorna clamped her lips together and flicked a guilty peek at her and Jacki, Cam knew exactly
    whom he meant.
    What could Dean possibly have to say to her that would stifle Aunt Lorna?
    Uncharacteristical y tactful, Jacki spoke into the silence. "So you got a tattoo in Thailand? Cool. It looked like vines to me."
    The seconds ticked by with the precision of a time bomb. Cam held her breath, her gaze bouncing
    from her brother to her aunt and back again.
    With icy control, Dean pul ed away and final y seated himself again. "It is. Just vines, that's al ." He dug in to his tiramisu.
    "Pul your sleeve up," Jacki ordered. "I want to see it better."
    He hesitated, so Cam joined in. "Me, too, please."
    After a heated glance at Lorna, Dean reached for his right sleeve and tugged it above a bulging,
    rock-hard shoulder. Three vines, two of them delicate with rosebuds, one thicker and with thorns,
    wrapped around his bulging biceps.
    Propping his elbow on the table made his muscles more pronounced stil . Cam had already
    acknowledged his size and strength, but it startled her to realize that her brother was an extreme
    male specimen. She couldn't recal ever seeing arms like his.
    Roger, whom she'd always considered physical y intimidating, seemed average in comparison.
    After a glance at the tattoo, Dean shook his head. "I was young and dumb when I got it."
    "I agree with the young part." Cam looked closer. "The colors are stil so vibrant."
    "Thai tattoo artists are usual y monks. Instead of the machines they use here in the states, they go
    old-school."
    "How's that?" Jacki asked.
    "They have this special tool they use, sort of like a long brass tube with a pointy rod that runs down the inside. The way the rod pierces your skin, the colors are more deeply imbedded, so