Too Many Brothers. Roz Fox Denny

more lethal weapon than the handgun he usually carried, a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson. All things considered, the party clown was holding up well. He figured that most women in her position would either be dissolved in tears by now, or they’d have fainted long ago.

      “So, we’re finally making progress,” he said. “Dammit, I forgot Nat’s birthday. I’ll have to make it up to her later. Listen, can I trust you to open the door and call April back here without screaming down the house? I need to talk to her, but I’d rather Natalie didn’t see me looking like this.”

      “I don’t think so,” Daphne sniffed. “You have one hostage already. I won’t be party to helping you get another. Especially not one who’s pregnant. What kind of degenerate are you?”

      “Hostage?” He grinned then, showing two rows of very white, very even teeth. “I think you’ve been watching too many cop shows on TV. Just attract April’s attention, please. Then sometime, when I’m not so rushed, maybe you and I can sit down over a cold beer and talk about how I’d have done things differently if I really was making you my hostage.”

      Daphne processed only about half of what he said. His killer smile had, in spite of his stubbly beard, devastated her equilibrium. That smile turned him into the most appealing bad boy she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Big surprise. She’d always been a sucker for the wrong men.

      No wonder her family thought she needed a keeper! She was actually standing in this room contemplating a date with a man who was obviously on the wrong side of the law. Kieran would have a fit, she thought as she let the intruder hustle her toward the door.

      “Get April,” he said again. “And be quick about it.”

      Daphne cracked the door open, praying the hall would be empty. No—April Ross was just exiting the adjacent room. From the way she adjusted her smock, she must have been in the bathroom.

      “Psst!” Daphne couldn’t think of any other way to get the woman’s attention.

      April turned, curiosity on her face. Daphne looked quickly at the window, ready to shout a warning, but a ray of sunlight winked through the drapes covering the sliding glass door and glinted off the gun in her captor’s hand. That completely stilled her tongue. She merely beckoned frantically, not caring if her hostess thought she was a nutcase.

      April walked slowly toward the woman she’d engaged to be her party clown. “Yes? Is there something you need, Daphne? A friend of mine took the children outside to play a game. You’ll make your entrance after that winds down, okay? If you don’t mind, later on I’ll have you help me serve refreshments. Cake and ice cream. I figured the kids would like an opportunity to talk with a real clown.”

      Still unable to work any comprehensible sound through her lips, Daphne simply reached out, latched onto April’s wrist and yanked her inside the room. The door slammed on its own, and Daphne clasped her hands to her breasts. “I’m honestly so sorry to do this to you, April,” she croaked.

      The woman glanced up at the man who hovered close behind Daphne. Her annoyed expression turned to one of recognition. “Logan! I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were out of town. Nat will be ecstatic.”

      Daphne gaped from her hostess to the gunman and back again, while he reached around both and locked that door, too.

      “April, this isn’t a social call. We can’t let Nat see me. I’m in trouble. I shouldn’t have taken refuge here—I forgot it was her birthday. Suffice it to say, I need a little assistance, and then I’ll be off.”

      Daphne, exhibiting more bravery than she had up to now, insinuated herself between the man and the pregnant woman he appeared to know. “April, don’t listen. Even if he’s a friend of yours, that’s aiding and abetting,” she whispered to her hostess. “On the way in, I passed a ton of cops. Something big. Something bad went on. Between us, we can stop him.” She waved a hand toward where she’d seen the ruckus.

      The man studied her with a half-amused expression. “Aren’t you forgetting I have a weapon?”

      April snorted inelegantly. “Honestly, Logan. Quit scaring the poor woman to death. Just tell me what’s going on. Why do you look like a skid-row bum?”

      “Sorry, you know I can’t tell you. Just get me a shirt of Mike’s and his razor. I’ve got to alter how I look enough to avoid the men who chased me here.”

      As if Daphne wasn’t attempting to block her, April unlocked the door, opened it and peered down the hall. “The coast is clear. Go into our room. You can take anything in Mike’s closet. He’s out at sea with his naval unit for two weeks.”

      Daphne threw her body against the door and slammed it shut. “Friend or not, he’s obviously involved in whatever just happened. He’s running from the law.”

      April stared at the woman plastered against her guest room door. “Oh, Daphne, you don’t understand. Logan is the law. Logan, this is Daphne Malone. I hired her to perform for Nat’s party.”

      His rough laugh rolled up from his belly. “I love it. I’ve gotten so jaded, I didn’t believe there were still people around who had the guts to stick their necks out for the good guys.”

      “You’re a cop?” Daphne asked, suspicion in every tense line of her body. “What force? My brother’s LAPD. I know cops in a lot of the local precincts. I’m sure I’d remember if we’d ever met.”

      “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.