Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  Mim's mother was there with her latest boyfriend. Mrs. Campbell was out of town and couldn't make it but Mac's brother, Walker, made an appearance. Whitney's folks came as well as Torrie's Mom and Dad. Several of the girls' friends showed up including Sam's friend Syd and Camie's bestie Leo (who was wearing a fabulous jacket made of antique tapestry). There were a few more college friends and a handful of neighbors.

  Our guests filled their plates as the rest of the pack joined them. But I was still on duty, making sure the chafers were full and the fairy lights were turned on at the exact right moment. While I was overseeing everything, I watched Sophie and hoped she was taking in all the nice-guy stuff I was churning out…and hoped it was making an impact.

  At the same time, I was still baking!

  I dashed back into the kitchen to see how my latest batch of butter tarts was coming along. As I opened the oven and checked them out, Torrie huffed through the back door.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, glancing up at her while keeping an eye on the tarts, which were just beginning to bubble.

  "My father," she growled.

  Everyone knew that Torrie's dad was a bit of monster. He'd never really accepted Chaos…or Torrie for that matter. It made it worse that her sister, Samantha, could do no wrong in his eyes…well, until she met Victor. It was a shame her father had made it to the party, really. "Just ignore him," I advised.

  "He just makes me so mad," she muttered. "He's always ripping Chaos apart. He doesn't think Chaos is ambitious because he didn't go to college."

  "Are those tears?" I asked, leaving my tarts to fend for themselves as I folded the little blond into my arms. "I'm sure Chaos would be happy to go to college."

  Her tears dampened the front of my shirt. "I know, right?"

  Never far from the lass he loved, Chaos appeared out of thin air. "I'd love to go to college," he said. "As long as I could attend all of your classes with you. But—"

  "There's just one little thing missing," I supplied, and gave Torrie up to my cousin.

  He wrapped his arms around her and nodded. "ID," he said grimly.

  That lack of identification was affecting all of our lives—our ability to attend university, get drivers' licenses, travel and marry. It sucked, but there wasn't much we could do about it.

  "I didn't know you were interested in Creative Writing," Torrie sniffed, rallying to tease her boyfriend. She went up on her toes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, her fingers sliding through the white ends of his hair.

  "I'm not," he answered, his gaze tender as he smiled down at her. "I'm interested in you. So, I'd go to Creative Writing with you then dash off to my other classes."

  "Other classes?" she questioned him.

  "Aye. Stuff like…mechanical engineering or…industrial design."

  Torrie looked impressed as she leaned away and studied his face.

  "I've…been checking into it," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, like he was afraid one of us might think he was overreaching himself.

  But Torrie and I both knew that nothing was further from the truth. Chaos was the best mathematician in the pack. He could do complicated sums in his head!

  "We'll figure it out one day," I told him.

  "Aye. But in the meantime, I'm twenty-one," he said gloomily. "Not getting any younger."

  I figured the best cure for Chaos's moping was something to do. "You're still young enough to give a hand," I said as I put a tray of tarts in his hands and sent him out to the tent. Torrie tagged along with him and I followed them a few minutes later with another pan of spanakopita.

  Finally, the evening set in. The sky darkened at twilight and the parents left soon after the dancing started. I caught up with MacKenzie's brother, Walker, who I hadn't seen since I'd gone stone. And after he said his goodbyes, I talked to Agent Simpson for a while, sitting at a table with the young agent while privately eyeing Sophie who was seated a few tables down.

  The music was loud and I leaned close so we could talk without shouting.

  "You guys really know how to throw a party," he said with a grin.

  "Thanks," I said, taking full credit for the event and thinking back to the marking ceremonies we used to hold eight hundred years earlier. They hadn't been much different. Long tables loaded with good food and drink, the benches filled with friends and family. No fairy lights, of course. But hundreds of candles to chase off the night.

  "Victor tells me you've been reassigned," I said.

  Simpson lifted his chin. "I leave for Puerto Rico tonight."

  "We'll miss you," I said, honestly.

  "That's nice to know," he said. "I'll miss you guys too."

  I glanced at Sophie. My gaze snagged on the glossy shoes she wore on her dainty feet. They matched the ivory clutch purse in her lap.

  "My replacement is an okay guy," Simpson continued. "But he's thorough. He'll probably want to familiarize himself with my old cases. I think I've managed to bury your file but I can't guarantee it will stay buried."

  "What's the new agent's name?" I asked.

  "Ed Moreno."

  "We'll keep our eye out for him."

  "You won't have to look too far to find him," he chuckled.

  "Oh? Why's that?"

  "He'll be dropping by here tomorrow."

  "Oh?" I repeated, a little more anxiously this time. If Agent Moreno had some sort of interest in us, it couldn't be a good thing.

  "He's making a delivery for me," Simpson explained.

  Okay, so that was a relief. But I gave Simpson a questioning look, wondering what was in the delivery.

  He leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice. "He'll be bringing a large, brown paper envelope."

  I frowned back at the agent and waited for him to go on.

  "It's an envelope…with citizenship paperwork…for all of you."

  For several seconds, I just stared at him. "Are you serious?" I asked in a hoarse whisper.

  Simpson just grinned. "I'd hoped to have it ready to bring with me tonight, but…the FBI is a bureaucracy after all. It got hung up a few times along the way. But you guys did us a great service when you put that harpy in our hands."

  I shot a quick look across the patio at Dare and Mim. "Are you serious?" I repeated. "That would be…huge. For Dare. For all of us! But especially for my brother. He's gonna be so amped when he finds out."

  Simpson leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face. "Then why don't you let him answer the door when Moreno comes calling," he suggested.

  "I will," I exclaimed in a low voice. "Does anyone else know…?"

  He shook his head. "It will be a surprise for your family unless you want to tell them."

  "I'm going with the surprise," I decided quickly, looking forward to my family's reaction the next day. In the meantime, I asked Simpson about Rafe Olander. We'd kept the FBI agent informed of our past "adventures" with the Olanders and he'd promised to keep his ear to the ground for any news of Olivia's brother.

  Simpson shook his head again and scrubbed a hand back through his short black hair. "I haven't heard or seen a thing in four years. Olivia left all of her assets to him—the money, the business, the houses. But her brother has never shown up to claim any of it. There's been no activity in his personal bank accounts, either—at least the ones we know about. He's probably dead but there's no way to be certain."

  "What happened to the family labs?"

  "With no one to run the business or authorize payroll, the labs closed. There was a provision for an employee buy-out in the case of Rafe and Olivia's death but without proof of Rafe's death, nothing could be done."

  "What's the next step?"

  "Eventually, Rafe will be assumed to be dead and the properties will revert to the state since there were no other heirs in line to inherit."

  I mulled this over for a while. "So, you think he's dead?"

  The agent gave a casual shrug but something in his eyes told me he had doubts about the dead-Rafe theory. "He
doesn't seem to be in this country."

  "But?"

  "A guy with a lot of cash could probably come and go as he pleased."

  "I thought the FBI could monitor airline travel pretty effectively."

  "We can. But Rafe could have traveled by car, or private plane, or even by boat."

  And if you factored Rafe's wings into the equation, I thought privately, that gave him even more freedom of movement.

  "He could have slipped ashore in Europe without having to show anyone a passport," Simpson mused.

  I nodded—absently—because my mind was elsewhere.

  "Who is she?" Simpson asked suddenly, his shoulder bumping against mine.

  I jerked my attention from the beautiful girl on the other side of the patio.

  "Who?" I asked, acting all innocent.

  "The girl in the orange dress. You haven't taken your eyes off her all night."

  "The dress is peach," I corrected him quietly. "Peach silk. She's MacKenzie's step-sister and…kind of an old friend."

  "Old friend?" he questioned me, lifting the glass in his hand and tilting it toward her. "You're not looking at her like she's an old friend."

  "I do have a bit of a thing for her," I admitted.

  "Maybe you should tell her," he advised me with a friendly smile, his brown eyes shining with amusement. "It might save you a lot of time."

  "Perhaps I will," I answered in a murmur, standing and grasping the agent's arm in gargoyle fashion, then shaking his hand the modern way.

  While Simpson started making the rounds and saying goodbye to the rest of the pack, I headed toward the table two doors down where Sophie had been sitting alone for the last several minutes. (The pack lasses had deserted her for some dancing.) I took my time as I wandered over in her direction, wanting to look cool and casual, not wanting to look like I was targeting her or anything. I didn't want to scare her off.

  What I really needed, I thought philosophically, was a rescue opportunity. Because there isn't a girl alive who doesn't like to be rescued. (Not even tomboys.) I needed something to happen that would get Sophie into my arms.

  I considered the possibilities.

  There was the failing chair scenario where I scooped her out of midair when her chair broke beneath her. Unfortunately, that would have required some pre-planning on my part…not to mention sawing the leg of a chair half-through then making sure she sat in it.

  Another possibility was the collapsing marquee ploy where I dug frantically through the fallen tent to pull her from the wreckage. That would work very nicely, I mused. And I could easily cut through the ropes that stretched from the tent to the pegs sunk in the lawn, causing the canvas to fall in. Only one little problem with that idea; Sophie wasn't currently sitting inside the tent.

  Then there was always the spilled drink ruse, which required me to help her out of her sopping wet dress and wrap her in a sheet while I took care of the laundry. I think that was my favorite.

  Probably because of the helping-her-out-of-her-dress part.

  Don't get me wrong. If there was a real emergency, I'd be there like sticky on glue. I'd work with the rest of the pack to make sure everyone got out alive and safe. But in the meantime, there was no harm in a little light rescue that would work in my favor. After all, I never claimed to be a Sir Galahad.

  I'm definitely more of a Sir Gadabout.

  Chapter Nine

  As Agent Simpson made his exit, I found myself next to Sophie's chair, my eyes peeled for a rescue opportunity. I glanced around. By that time Leo, Syd and the rest of the guests had slipped away. We were down to the core members of the pack…and Sophie. If I didn't make some sort of move soon, she'd be leaving for the night.

  I took a deep breath to collect myself. "Are you having a nice time?" I asked.

  She looked up at me and smiled. "The party's wonderful," she answered, her eyes shining.

  Clearly, she was happy to see me. Of course, I knew all along that she would be. But still, it was a bit of a relief to know she'd forgiven me for our little prom night misunderstanding…even if she was clutching her purse a smidge tightly.

  "You did a great job with all the food," she added.

  "Thank you," I told her, my throat suddenly tight as all ideas of sabotage and rescue fled my head…along with most other intelligent thought. Basically, Sophie's presence rendered me brainless.

  "Did you come alone?" I asked, just to make conversation (and to make sure Mr. P.F.C. wasn't going to show up unexpectedly).

  "Ian wasn't invited," she answered, her smile faltering.

  I assumed she was only pretending to be sad.

  "That's a shame," I murmured, taking the chair beside her and planning to work my way back into her good graces with a little friendly conversation. I turned in my seat and propped my arm on the back of the chair.

  "Mom said I could spend the night here, with MacKenzie."

  "I…didn't know that," I murmured, immediately warming to the idea.

  "After we clean up tomorrow, we're going to do some shopping and have dinner in Boulder."

  So, I basically had her for the rest of the night…and some of the next day if I played my cards right. And as my eyes connected with hers, I realized I was hungry not only to hear her voice but to learn more about her. We had—after all—been separated for four long years. "Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing the last four years?"

  "What do you want to know?" she asked with a tiny shrug of her shoulders.

  Anything, I thought. Well, anything that didn't involve Ian. "Just general stuff," I answered. "Keep it lighthearted."

  "Lighthearted?" she questioned me on a soft burst of laughter that reached right to the core of my chest and tugged on my heartstrings.

  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. "You know. J-Just don't say anything that will break my heart."

  "Break your heart?" she echoed on another low ring of laughter that told me she wasn't taking me seriously. "I would have thought you had a cast-iron heart." k'12

  "That would be my stomach," I said airily. "But it's an honest mistake. The heart and the stomach are often confused."

  For the next several seconds she grinned at me.

  I spent the same time studying her face before I gave myself a mental shake and got back with the program. "MacKenzie tells me you got your driver's license recently."

  "That's right," she said a little mournfully.

  I lowered my head to catch her eye. "Why don't you sound happier about that?"

  "Oh, I am," she explained with a small grimace. "But my mother wouldn't let me drive here tonight. She said I didn't have enough experience. So she dropped me off."

  My heart went cha-ching. "Maybe I could give you a lift home tomorrow," I offered right away. I didn't have a driver's license but MacKenzie had taught me to drive four years earlier and the idea of spending an hour alone in a car with Sophie was very appealing.

  She lowered her gaze to the purse in her hands. "I've already made other arrangements," she said in a small voice of regret.

  "Oh," I answered in a flat tone. I didn't ask what kind of arrangements she had made because I didn't want to know. It was a party. We were supposed to be having fun. And it wouldn't be much fun if I got my heart broken when she told me Ian was picking her up.

  "How are your brothers?" I finally managed, steering the conversation toward a safe topic. "And your parents? MacKenzie tells me they're still together. I hope they don't argue as much as they used to."

  "Things are better," she said softly.

  "And your brothers?"

  Her gaze locked on mine, her eyes reflecting the light cast by the strings of tiny glittering bulbs draped along the handrails. I caught my breath, feeling like I was falling, tumbling through space, and gripped the back of my chair to anchor myself. At that moment in time, I would have been quite content to spend the rest of my life doing nothing more than staring into the warm depths of her eyes.

  She opened her mouth
to answer my question and my eyes tracked the movement of her lips with a sense of addiction. But before she could get started, MacKenzie wobbled into the picture and pulled Sophie out of her chair toward the dancing girls on the patio.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling like someone had just pulled the entire planet out from under my feet. Somehow I'd ended up in a distant state and I was plunging over Niagara Falls. That's when I realized Sophie was the center of my world. I needed her there beside me. Her sudden absence was a severe shock to my system. I sent Mac a dirty look while Sophie was kicking off her pumps, but I think it went right over her head.

  Sulking, I slouched in my chair. Sophie's shoes had landed right in front of me, and when I stretched out my legs they were in the way. So, I picked them up by the straps and dangled them in my fingers as I leaned forward, rubbing the glossy heels and watching Sophie dance with the rest of the pack lasses.

  "C'mon and dance!" MacKenzie shouted out to me.

  "I don't want to show up the rest of the crowd," I called back.

  But actually, I was thinking about the shoes in my hands. The shoes with the tall heels…one of which could be easily broken with a quick twist of my wrist. And when Sophie slipped back into her shoes, I could be right there beside her, ready to help and even…catch her in my arms if necessary.

  You see where I'm going with this?

  It was only a very small rescue I had in mind. It wasn't going to leave a scar like some of my bigger stunts. Surreptitiously, I looked around to make sure nobody would catch me in the act.

  Most of the girls were out there, dancing on the patio.

  Reason and Elaina were busy managing the music.

  Victor and Sam were collecting dishes from the tent and moving them into the kitchen, while Courage and Lorissa were standing at the edge of the patio, probably talking about cows.

  The coast was clear.

  With a deft turn of my wrist, I snapped off one of the heels then returned the shoes to the ground in front of Sophie's chair, balancing the broken shoe on its heel like there was nothing wrong with it. My plan was set in action. There was nothing left to do but wait for Sophie to come back to her chair.