Street Game (GhostWalkers 8)

"Doorbell? That's some kind of fog horn. Are you kidding, Jaimie?" Kane and Mack exchanged one long disgusted look. The noise was louder the second time, more insistent.

"Joe?" Mack shook his head. "Lean out the window, Kane. See if you can't get a clear shot at him."

Alarmed, Jaimie sat up, pulling the blankets to her chin. "You can't shoot him."

"Why not?" Kane asked.

He looked wild enough to really do it, his hair spilling all over the place, his clothes disheveled, his eyes fierce.

"Because I forbid it, that's why." Jaimie tried to be stern, but the two looked as if they might have been drinking all night, disheveled and heavy-lidded, making her want to smile. Sleeping on the couch hadn't been as much fun as Kane thought it might be. There was some satisfaction in that since they'd taken over her house. She'd forgotten how crazy they could get, feeding off each other, until she never knew exactly how far either of them would really go.

The doorbell let out another long blast. "That's it." Mack scowled fiercely. "Shoot him, Kane. I'll take the blame and let her yell at me. It's worth it."

"You got it." Kane, looking like a panther, stalked along the bank of windows to one of the long, tall windows overlooking the street where the front door was.

Jaimie nearly flew across the room, laughing, grabbing at Kane's arm. "Don't you dare. It's ten o'clock, we overslept. It isn't his fault."

Mack found the intercom. "Drop dead, buddy," he snarled into the speaker.

Jaimie whirled around, horrified. "Mack, I can't believe you just did that. Get away from there." She turned hastily back to Kane, who was unlocking the window. "Get away from the window." She pushed her hands through her own hair, now as disheveled as Kane's. "You're both completely out of control."

"What's he look like?" Mack demanded. "A skinny little runt, I hope."

"I don't think so," Kane muttered, leaning halfway out the window. "He's a big son of a bitch, Mack. Really big."

Jaimie tugged on his arm. "This is embarrassing me, Kane. Get your head back inside this minute."

"Big? How big?" Mack lifted Jaimie right out of the way, craning his neck to peer out the window, fending Jaimie off with one hand. "Hell, Kane, he's over six foot. Shoot the bastard."

Jaimie bit her lip, laughing, pushing at both of them, trying to pull Kane's arm down. "You're both so insane. Get away from the window. You're going to embarrass me. And if he sees that gun, he's going to call the police and then what are we going to do, smart ones?"

The doorbell boomed a deep, dramatic, and very insistent intrusion. Mack headed toward the speaker. Jaimie put on a burst of speed and beat him to it, although one of Mack's talents was something close to teleportation so he'd obviously let her. She coughed twice, trying to control her voice, trying not to laugh.

"Joe, sorry, my family arrived very late last night and I overslept."

Mack reached around her trying to get to the intercom. She pushed at the solid wall of his chest as she spoke, so she sounded out of breath.

"You need help, Jaimie?" Joe's voice floated out from the speaker a little distorted. Jaimie's brain immediately sought out the reason and made a mental note to correct the problem.

"No, she doesn't need any help, you baboon," Mack answered rudely, stabbing at the talk button around Jaimie.

Fortunately, she cut off his last few words. "All right, that's enough. If you keep playing around, he's going to call the cops. How do you expect to explain the arsenal you brought up here? Go make yourself useful. Make coffee!" Jaimie turned back to the speaker. "Why don't we take today off, Joe? I'll make it up to you later."

"You're sure, Jaimie?" Joe sounded suspicious.

"Absolutely. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm sorry, we stayed up all night talking. I'm a little tired. You understand, don't you? I should have called you."

"If you're certain." Joe didn't sound certain. He sounded worried.

"Make it up to him? Exactly how do you plan to do that?" Mack's snort of disgust was loud. "Did you hear her voice, Kane? Pure syrup. She was dripping with it."

Kane closed the window with unnecessary force. "I heard her." His vivid green eyes pinned her. "We don't know the first thing about this character. He could be a mass murderer. Did you do a background check on him?"

Jaimie threw her hands into the air. "You should take your act onto the road. He's a carpenter helping me, not a serial killer. Stop being crazy and get yourselves coffee. It might make you civilized."

Kane's glinting green gaze met Mack's fathomless black one. Simultaneously they both shrugged powerful shoulders. "I'll call and get someone on it," Kane decided, making a move toward the phone.

"Don't you dare, Kane." Jaimie caught the receiver, slammed it back in its cradle. "I told you, I know Joe."

"How could you know him, Jaimie, really know him?" Kane demanded. "It's our job to look out for you."

"She serves him beer in her bedroom," Mack muttered helpfully.

"Go make coffee, Mack, and stop harping on the beer in the bedroom." Jaimie flung herself into one of her deep, comfortable armchairs. "You two have given me a rip-roaring headache."

Mack was immediately repentant. "We're only teasing, honey. We aren't really going to shoot him." Semi-teasing. They were going to investigate Joe Spagnola so thoroughly they'd know what kind of toothpaste he used in the morning.

The phone rang. Before Jaimie could move, Kane snagged it. "Dr. Fielding's residence." He sounded curt and inhospitable.

Jaimie rolled her eyes, and slid farther down in the chair. Why did she think she had missed them? They were totally impossible. She raked a hand through her thick mass of tangled curls. Even her hair had gone wild and primitive with them around. They thought they were a combination comedy and protection team.

"Your friend Joe," Kane announced, handing her the receiver, his eyes eagle sharp and slightly condemning.

The smile fading from Kane's eyes left Jaimie with a knot in the pit of her stomach. She had remembered all the good things about having Kane and Mack watching out for her and forgotten about this part. She never knew exactly how they were going to react to any given situation, and when it involved a man, they never reacted very well.

She glanced at Mack, who stood by the coffeepot. His hands stilled in midair, his head coming up alertly. His black eyes went ice-cold, a graveyard reflected there. His rugged features went completely expressionless, perfectly still, as if carved from stone.

Great. She'd seen that expression before. Mack wasn't taking this well. She forced a smile into her voice and greeted Joe.

Kane winced at the sweetness in Jaimie's voice and glanced at Mack. The last remnants of his humor drained away. He had known Mack McKinley every year of his life. They had done it all together, watching each other's backs along the way. Mack was the coolest, most easygoing, ice-cold bastard Kane had ever met. Unless Jaimie Fielding was involved. From the first moment Mack had laid eyes on the forlorn little girl, he had been crazy about her. She'd been so intelligent and courageous and Mack had always admired her. Mack was also the most dangerous, lethal human being Kane knew. And no one brought out that side of Mack like Jaimie did.

Jaimie seemed oblivious, laughing into the phone, reassuring Joe she was just fine, that her family joked around a lot. Kane watched Mack, wishing he could read that implacable mask. Mack never once took his eyes from Jaimie's face, obviously assessing her tone, her expression and body language. There was no mistaking that Jaimie had affection for Joe. There was even a flirty note in her voice.

Kane sighed. He had known Mack was in love with Jaimie long before Mack had even realized where his feelings for the girl were heading. They had both loved her for years, but Mack with a fierce, unswerving possessiveness he didn't seem to realize was unnatural. In those days, when they were kids, Mack thought he just wanted to protect her. As she'd gotten older, Mack refused to acknowledge what he felt for her, calling it "need," not "love." Kane suspected Whitney had made that n

eed for her much stronger. Mack didn't look at other women, yet he was stubborn when it came to Jaimie. He was used to her unswerving devotion and when she'd left, he'd been blindsided. Kane had tried to warn him, but even Kane hadn't expected her to really leave.

Mack had always made their decisions, dictated their moves. Falling in love with her hadn't helped matters, especially when he couldn't acknowledge the emotion to himself, let alone to Jaimie. His feelings for her were too intense, too uncontrollable. He didn't handle her very well. Right now his face was as dark as thunder and his eyes had become a turbulent storm.

Kane let out his breath. Hang up the phone, Jaimie, Kane entreated silently, giving her a little push. Whitney had made the men more aggressive and certainly more dangerous when it came to their women. He had wanted to ensure there was a strong pairing, but as Kane had found out, he didn't always give the woman a choice in the matter.

Jaimie had always loved Mack, but Kane didn't know if she still did, or if the chemistry between them was genuine or manipulated. And how long could something like that last?

Jaimie's gaze met his and she hung up the phone and flashed a heart-stopping grin. "He thought maybe you two were desperate criminals holding me hostage. See, I told you he was sweet."

Mack dumped the coffee into the filter, a controlled violence in his movements. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Yeah. Real sweet," he muttered.