Simon Says (26 page)

Knowing that Simon had put him up to babysitting, she lost her patience. “Look, this is ridiculous.”

Startled, Dean narrowed his gaze on her. “What's that?”

“You don't want to be here. Hell, I don't even want to be here.” She pointed at the other side of the small boutique where Jacki and Eve gushed over a sequined top. “They're enjoying it, but you and I look like we're being tortured. I know why I'm here. But why the hell are you here?”

If anything, his eyes narrowed more. “I'm accompanying my wife.”

“Bull. You're playing bodyguard. Simon called, nagging at me about what to do and what not to do, and I'm willing to bet he did the same to you.”

“No one tells me what to do.” Dean rethought that and said, “No one other than my wife, that is.”

“Fine. He suggested, then. Strongly.” She shook her head. “The thing is, I don't like shopping anyway, but I especially don't like it with you moping behind me!”

Without changing expression or position, Dean managed to look more imposing. “I do not mope.”

Unfazed, Dakota snorted. “No? Then what would you call it?”

“Suffering silently.”

“Ah.” She couldn't help it, she snickered. “Well, let me tell you, your silent suffering is annoying as hell. Why don't you go get something to eat and we'll call you when we're done?”

Dean loomed closer so he could speak to her without his wife or sister overhearing. “You have a whack-job ex-husband stalking your stubborn ass. My wife and sister are with you. I'm not budging.”

That was pretty straightforward and to the point. Dakota could tell Dean expected more arguments from her, but in reality, his attitude made her want to sigh.

So much affection and devotion. She smiled. “You care for Eve a lot, huh?”

Dean didn't so much as flinch. “I love her.”

“That's nice, ya know?” When he looked suspicious of her attitude, she tried to explain. “I mean, it's great that you two found each other.”

A little confused, Dean glanced at his wife, then back to Dakota. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” It annoyed her to be so mistrusted. “What am I, an ogre? I'm just saying, it's not every day that two people meet, fall in love, and choose to spend their lives together.”

Dean studied her, then nodded. “It's better than nice.” Relaxing a little, he took the jeans she had and tossed them aside. “Those are butt-ugly. They look like men's jeans. Try these.”

Dakota stared at him, bemused. Then she looked at the jeans he'd just sort of snatched up off another table.

Huh. Not bad. “Those are nice.”

“Yeah, I know. Get two pair, one in washed denim and one in black. Between the two pairs, you ought to be able to find enough tops to mix it up and get you by, and then we can all get the hell out of here.”

Dakota grinned. “What about tops?”

He went stiff for only a second before indulging a quick cursory glance at her upper body. Dakota had the feeling he'd just taken her measurements in a heartbeat.

Stepping around her, Dean went from rack to rack and when he came back, he had five shirts in various materials, colors, and styles. They all looked warm and soft, and not at all revealing. Perfect for her.

Dean Conor was a rather amazing man.

“Here,” he said. “Do you need to try them on?”

Dakota checked the sizes and smiled in relief. “No way. If you think they'll work, we're done here. All I need is a different pair of shoes and those are in another store.”

“Come on.” He took her arm and led her toward the other women. “You two about done? Dakota is ready to pay but she needs shoes still and wants to hit a few other stores.”

The way Dean had worded his question made it sound like Dakota was the one anxious to go.

And she was.

Both women had an armload of items, and they each wanted to inspect Dakota's purchases before they'd go to the checkout with her. After enthusiastic approval, they finally paid and got their items bagged.

Once out of the boutique, Eve and Jacki just naturally drifted ahead again. They got along so well that Dakota envied their easy friendship. Nodding toward them, she said, “Eve is really, really nice.”

Loaded down with shopping bags, Dean hung back by Dakota. “She's incredible.”

Dakota hid her smile. “The thing is, I don't interact real well with ladies.”

“You don't try.”

“No, I do. That is, I think I do.” How to explain it? Eve and Jacki had both been so nice, trying to draw her in, to include her. But she never knew quite what to say to them. “See how they're laughing and chatting? They've been doing that since I got in your car.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Do you ever wonder what they're talking about?”

“Woman stuff.”

“Well, sure. But whatever that entails, I already know I'd be out of my element. I guess I'd rather talk about guy things, like fighting and training, than fashion or makeup or that sort of junk.”

Dean rolled a shoulder. “Me, too. So pick a subject.”

“If you're serious…”

He let out an exasperated breath and looked down at her. “Something on your mind, Dakota?”

She had so much on her mind, all of it centered around Simon, that it felt like her head would explode. “Do you think I'm interfering too much in Simon's training?”

“No.”

That quick answer didn't convince her. “Because I don't want to.”

“He wouldn't let you.”

How could everything be so cut-and-dry for men? “He told me once to get lost.”

Dean smiled. “I know.”

“But I didn't.”

“I know that, too.”

Dakota was so set on finding out what she needed to know, that she barely registered Dean's words. “At the time, I didn't mind bugging him. But now…he's got a lot to do to finish getting ready for the fight, and I don't want to get in his way.”

“Most of the guys have significant others. If they can't juggle a relationship, they won't be able to make it in this sport.”

“I suppose.” Gregor was in training, too, but Dakota doubted that Jacki ever felt like a nuisance. Of course, they were in love, like Dean and Eve. “But you know, Simon and I don't have a…normal relationship.”

An arrested look came over Dean. “Now you're treading into territory that I don't want to hear about.”

“But…”

“Sex talk is out.”

She gasped. “I wasn't talking about sex!” Without thinking, Dakota punched his shoulder hard enough to make him nearly drop the packages.

Cursing low, Dean juggled things until he had them balanced again.

Eve looked back at them, and though her hand tingled in pain, Dakota pasted on a smile. Dean just kept plodding forward down the mall toward the shoe store.

Feeling like a blockhead for overreacting, she muttered, “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Hitting you.”

Dean glanced at her. “You hit me?”

Did all SBC fighters have a warped sense of humor? “Very funny.” But she did want to set the record straight. “I was talking about how Simon and I met, not…anything else. And seriously, I am sorry for slugging you. I sometimes do that without thinking.”

“It's a guy thing, being physical.” Dean shrugged. “Simon told me you've had some training.”

“Yeah, but I need more.” What an understatement. “A lot more. Barber and I are coming by in the morning. I've worked with him before.”

He nodded. “I'll be there anyway, so I'll watch and see if I can give you any pointers.” He looked at her again, this time lingering on her many bruises. A touch of worry darkened his light brown eyes. “That is, if you're sure you're up for it.”

“They're just bruises, Dean, not breaks. No reason to sit on the sidelines.”

His mouth lifted in amusement before a laugh escaped. Shaking his head, he said, “Definitely a guy thing.”

She didn't understand him, but then, she didn't understand Simon either, and Barber had totally thrown her for a loop. “If you really don't mind, I'd appreciate the feedback. I know you're one of the best trainers out there.”

“Simon is better.”

“Simon is out of town, and when he gets back, he has to concentrate on his own training, not on fooling around with me.”

Dean choked, looked down at her, and laughed aloud. “Don't sweat it, Dakota. Somehow I think Simon will manage just fine doing both.”

She started to reply to that when Eve and Jacki disappeared into a shoe shop that looked very high end, making Dakota curl her lip. “They have to be kidding.”

“'Fraid not. Eve is a walking fashion statement.”

“Great. So how much are shoes going to cost me here?”

“More than they should, if you ask me. And if you're asking me, it's a waste of time and effort, too, because Simon doesn't give a”—he glanced at her, and modified his speech—“flip what kind of shoes you wear.”

“If that's so, then how come he told me he didn't like my boots?”

“You probably had him pissed about something.”

“Yeah, that's happened a lot between us.”

Smiling over that disclosure, Dean nudged her into the store. “Look. Eve has found the perfect pair for you already. If you bite the bullet and buy the things so we can call a halt to the shopping spree, I'll stop and get ice cream for everyone.”

“Ice cream, huh?” Dakota looked at the boots Eve held up for her inspection. They were narrower than her clunky lace-up boots, with two-inch heels, side zippers, and buckles that offered edgy appeal.

Unwilling to trust her own sense of fashion, Dakota asked Dean, “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, sure, but then with what you're wearing, anything will be an improvement.”

Grinning, Dakota said, “All right, then. If they have my size, I'll take them.”

M
ARVIN
stood just outside the glow of a light pole and watched Dakota across the parking lot of the mall. She'd been in there for a couple of hours, though he knew she wasn't much of a shopper. But now the big bruiser beside her was loaded down with packages. Ahead of them were two laughing women.

Her damned backup. What a joke.

Wind blew his hair across his face and cut through his jean jacket. When Dakota had shown up at the bar, as Marvin had known she would, he had his chance to follow her.

Only she didn't leave alone, and that added to his rage. Dakota could be so damned elusive, sneaking out of town, changing her phone number, switching hotels. He hated this damn town. He wanted to head back to Ohio.

But not before squaring things with Dakota.

His cell phone buzzed again, and for the fourth time, Marvin ignored it. He didn't want any distractions, not now.

As the small group reached the car and saw the deep scratch down the side, Marvin waited with anticipation. Even in a crowded parking lot, with the car parked beneath the lights, it was easy to make his mark. He'd pulled his cap down low over his face, pulled the collar up on his cheap flannel shirt, and kept his keys in his hand. One slow trip past the car, and Dakota knew he'd followed her.

From the shadows, Marvin watched as she turned this way and that, searching the lot. Looking for
him
. He could picture her expression, and it made him nearly giddy with excitement.

Though it was probably the big man's car, he barely paid attention to the damage. After stowing the packages in the trunk, he unlocked the doors, urged the women inside, and drove away.

No cops. No show of anger. No…anything.

His cell phone rang yet again.

Marvin gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists. Snatching the phone out of his pocket, he headed for his car and got inside. “What?”

Barnaby said, “Where have you been? I've been calling for hours.”

“I'm a busy man, you know that. In fact, I'm busy right now, so if you have something to say—”

“I need to know what you've done.”

“About what?” Marvin slammed his door and put the key in the ignition. He didn't want to follow too closely, but just in case they didn't go back to the bar, he didn't want to lose them, either.

“Dakota called me. She accused me of pushing her down a flight of stairs.”

Marvin laughed. “Like you'd have the guts to do it.”

“She could have been
killed
.”

“Yeah, we both know for a fact how deadly stairs can be, don't we?” Stupid Barnaby. He got so riled over things, even when they turned out for the best. “But she's fine. I just saw her shopping.”

“You're there? You're following her?”

“Yeah.” Dakota had left her truck at the bar. She'd go back there. And then he'd follow her again, to her motel.

“Marvin, listen to me. She threatened to call the cops. On
me.
But if they show up here, and realize I had nothing to do with it, they might—”

“What? Come looking for me?” Marvin curled his lip and added a dose of menace to his tone. “Now why would they do that?”

Defeated, almost whiny, Barnaby said, “I don't know.”

“Exactly. Unless you shoot off your big mouth, which you know you'd regret, the cops wouldn't even look at me. Besides, I have alibis, Barnaby, so don't sweat it.”

“There's no reason to hurt anyone else.”

“What makes you think I'd hurt Dakota?” He laughed as he said it. “Tell you what, Barnaby. You worry about getting Simon to cooperate before I run out of patience. Don't make me tell you again.” He hung up the cell phone and put it on the seat beside him. Dakota couldn't keep a bodyguard around all the time.

Sooner or later, he'd get to her.

She'd regret making him wait.

D
EAN
wouldn't let her out of his sight. He, Eve, and Jackie all went with her to her motel, waiting while she put her packages away, and then insisting she ride with them to the bar.

They walked her inside, too, and even hung around while Dean talked to Barber. The fact that Marvin had probably followed them to the mall had Dean more grim than the scratch to his car did. In fact, he'd looked annoyed when she offered to pay for the damage.

Barber wasn't happy, either. He wanted her to go on home with Dean and Eve, rather than wait for him to have a late dinner, as they'd planned. But no way would she continue to impose on Dean and his family. And no one liked the idea of her returning to her motel room, as she suggested.

As it turned out, both Michael Manchester and Mitch McGee and a half dozen other fighters were at the bar, so Dakota hung out with them. She had a good time, too. The men were so funny, challenging her in a dozen different ways. Billiards. Darts. Even the mechanical bull. Dakota fared well on the first two and refused to take part in the third. That didn't deter the men.

She laughed as hard as everyone else did to see big muscled hunks clinging to a mechanical bull. It proved a great distraction from her worries, and helped the time to pass so she didn't miss Simon so much.

When Michael got thrown from the bull, the others ribbed him about landing so hard. The way he merely dusted himself off showed why he got the nickname Mallet. He was hard as nails.

A few minutes later, the band announced the last song and Dakota dismissed herself. “It's been great, but I've got to go.” They cheerfully tried to convince her to stay, but she was ready for some quieter time.

Mallet joined her at the door. “You're not leaving alone, right?”

“Nope. Barber and I are at the same motel now. We're having a bite to eat, then we'll head back to our rooms.”

Mallet walked with her to the main floor. Because she knew he was one of the men Simon had asked to keep an eye out, she looped her arm with his. It felt strange to have so many new friends. Before coming to Harmony, Barber was it, and with their weird schedules, they didn't get to visit as often as she would have liked.

Now her whole life was different. Everywhere she turned, there was a friendly face. The thought of staying in Kentucky, near Simon and all the guys, with a job she liked, appealed to her a lot.

They stopped at the edge of the main floor so the band wouldn't drown out their conversation. “I heard about Dean's car.” Mallet looked at his feet, then at her. “I hate it that someone is bothering you.”

It always came back to that. Would Simon be so attentive if he didn't fear for her safety? Dakota just didn't know. “Sooner or later I'll catch him at it. Then it'll end.”

He lightly touched his knuckles to her chin. “Yeah, I'd put my money on you.” He dropped his hand. “But be careful, okay? Anyone that nutty can be unpredictable.”

Barber reached them, and Mallet said his farewells. As they headed out of the bar, Dakota considered what Mallet had said. Would she stand a chance against Marvin? His strength was in being a dirty street fighter, but she wasn't without her own skills.

Yes, she needed some fine-tuning for sure. But maybe Simon had the right idea: with enough practice, she could confront Marvin and then cut him out of her life, the same way she had cut out Barnaby.

After that, she'd have only the future to look forward to.

“S
IMON
asked me about Barnaby.”

Dakota had just taken a bite of the best chicken she'd ever tasted, and Barber's statement made her choke. He got out of his seat to thwack her on the back several times until she regained her breath.

The second she did, she wheezed out, “What? When?”

Sliding her drink toward her, he said, “Earlier tonight. He's chewing on a theory that maybe Barnaby and Marvin are somehow in cahoots against you.”

She shook her head. “No. I wondered about that, too, but I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

“Barnaby hardly knows Marvin, but what he does know of him he doesn't like. He was the one who encouraged my mom to take such a hard stand against Marvin.”

“I remember you saying so.”

Dakota rubbed at her forehead, thinking about how the mere mention of Marvin had affected Barnaby when last they spoke. “What did you tell Simon?”

“Nothing.” At his leisure, Barber chomped into another chicken plank. “I wasn't sure how much you'd told him, but it didn't sound like he knew everything.”

Relief took the rigidity out of Dakota's spine and she slumped into her seat. At least Simon hadn't heard the awful truth from someone else. “Barnaby is Simon's real father.”

“Because Barnaby said so?” Barber snorted. “Simon told me that theory, but I think you should check the facts on that one.”

“Short of asking his mother about it, how am I supposed to check anything?” Dakota did a fair job of helping to locate runaways, but she didn't have access to private, personal records. She wouldn't even know where to start. “And anyway, why would Barnaby lie about something like that?”

As if she were nuts, Barber gave her a “duh” look. “Because he's a grade-A fucking asshole, and assholes don't care about finding long-lost sons, that's why.”

“I can't disagree. But that doesn't tell me why he'd want to hook up with Simon.”

Barber pushed the food aside and reached for Dakota's hands. “Let's put that on hold for a second, okay? The real question here is why haven't you told Simon that Barnaby is your stepfather?”

Dakota knew she should have by now, but lame as they seemed, she did have her reasons. “At first I didn't tell him because I only wanted to convince him to go see Barnaby. I figured that if he knew of my relationship to Barnaby, he'd read more into it than a simple request from his long-lost biological father.”

Barber accepted that, but asked, “Why work for Barnaby anyway? And don't give me that bullshit about owing him.”

“I do. Or at least, I did. But not anymore. I'm done with Barnaby.” Never again would she let him hold her hostage with guilt.

“That's a start.” Barber squeezed her hands. “So tell me, how did Barnaby convince you to help him?”

Always, when there was no one else to turn to, Dakota could confide in Barber without fear of judgment. He always assumed the best of her—as he did now. She appreciated that special closeness more than ever. “He claims to have some letters that my mother wrote to me before her injury and coma.”

For only a moment, Barber went stock-still in surprise. Then, as his anger exploded, he crashed his fist down on the tabletop, rattling the dishes and nearly spilling their drinks. Through tight lips, he said, “That son of a bitch.”

Appreciating his reaction on her behalf, Dakota gave a small smile. “He said he found them behind a framed photo. He could be lying, I know. But Barber, that was a special hiding place for us. Mom had used it to tuck away emergency money for me. Maybe she thought—”

“That once you buried her, you'd rifle the place looking for loose cash?” Still fuming, Barber shook his head. “I don't buy it.”

Put that way, it did sound harsh, almost mercenary. “Maybe she figured Marvin would need money, and for him, I'd go looking. I don't have too many answers. But if she wrote letters that she didn't want anyone else to see, that'd be the best place to put them.”

“I suppose it's never occurred to Barnaby that he should give you the letters whether you do him any favors or not.”

“The only way I'd have gotten them is if I convinced Simon to meet with him face-to-face.” She looked up at Barber. “I've never told Simon about the letters. He only knows that Barnaby has something I wanted, but not what. And that was before we got…closer.”

“And since you are closer, he should have gone to see Barnaby.”

This time Dakota took Barber's hands. “You can't blame him, Barber, because I don't. He's in training for a big comeback in the SBC. His whole life is different now. And from what he's said, he's real close to his stepfather. The man raised him and to Simon, he's Dad. Simon doesn't want to do anything to damage that relationship.”

“If you tell him about the letters—”

“No.” Dakota shook her head. “Like you said, Barnaby isn't the fatherly sort. He's barely the human sort.”

“Agreed.”

“That's why I already told Simon to forget about the whole thing.”

“He mentioned that you had.”

“From the beginning, I figured Barnaby planned to use Simon somehow. And still I tried to manipulate Simon into agreeing. If I tell him everything now, he'll think I'm awful, worse than Bonnie.”

“No way. You're nothing like her and Simon knows it.” Barber tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “So what happens to the letters since Simon won't see Barnaby?”