up
against guys known for doing real damage." Warming to his subject, Mark eased closer to him.
"Does it ever scare you?"
With no hesitation. Dean shook his head. "No."
"Never?"
Not since he was a kid kicked out of his own home, sent to live with an uncle whom he didn't know,
had Dean experienced real fear. In those early days, he'd learned that fear was a waste of energy.
"Being afraid doesn't change the circumstances. It only affects how wel you deal with them."
"Wel .. . yeah. But stil —"
"It's counterproductive," Dean continued. "You get scared, and you make mistakes. You take your eyes off your opponent to flinch, and you can't see where the next punch or kick is coming from. You
lose the offense and turn defensive, and any good fighter wil take immediate advantage of it."
"The way you took advantage of Dima."
Dean nodded. "They dubbed me Havoc because when I first started everyone thought I didn't have
a plan. It didn't take them long to realize that they were wrong. My plan is to win. One step at a time,
whatever I have to do, however I have to do it. When the fight changes, I adjust. I couldn't do that if I
let fear take over."
To Dean, it seemed a simple philosophy. Being afraid could never be part of his plan.
Yet. .. seeing his sisters had shaken up some strange sensations that felt too close to fear. He
didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but it did unnerve him that, despite everything, it would be so easy to get sucked into the family dynamics.
He didn't know jack about being a big brother or caring for siblings. He didn't know how to fit into an
existing family atmosphere. He didn't know how to offer security or how to say the right things at the
right time.
For Cam and Jacki's sake, as wel as his own, he'd have to remember that he was an outsider, here
for a visit.
Nothing less—and definitely nothing more.
Chapter 6
HOW big are your biceps?" hat question threw Dean, but one look at Mark, and he knew he was
serious. "Hel , I don't know."
"You're kidding? You have guns like that and you've never measured them?"
Because Mark looked ready to hunt up a measuring tape, Dean added, "No, and I never wil ."
Where the hel was Eve? He looked toward the arched doorway where she'd disappeared, but she
didn't return.
Ted and Mark had an endless store of oddbal questions, but at least they weren't prying into how
much he made. More often than not, that question was the first. Most people considered the fighters
celebrities, and while he couldn't complain about the pay, he worked damn hard for what he made.
People didn't realize the amount of commitment and the hours of hard work that went into training. He
more than earned every cent he made.
"You're a credit to the sport."
Again surprised, Dean looked at Ted. "Yeah? How's that?"
"You don't talk trash. You don't boast. You're respectful of the other fighters. You've got a quiet
dignity instead of al that showmanship."
Dignity? Ted had to be kidding.
Rubbing his chin, Dean tried to figure out how to set Eve's father and brother straight. "Look, I don't sound off because I know there's always the chance I can lose. I say I'l do my best, and that's what I
do."
Ted smiled. "There, you see? A class act al the way."
Oh God. The man was delusional. If Eve didn't show herself soon, he'd—
As if on cue, Eve strol ed back into the room. "Here." She handed Dean a beer. "If we're going to have a social gathering, you might as wel have a drink."
Dean noted that her family didn't harbor the same hangups about alcohol as his own. He accepted
the long-neck bottle. "Thanks."
She plopped down next to him, curled her bare legs up beneath the skirt of her dress, and leaned
into him. To the casual observer, it would seem they'd known each other a lot longer than a few
hours. Eve showed no reservations at al in front of her family, which meant she felt very comfortable
with them. He liked that.
Ted sat forward with his elbows on
against guys known for doing real damage." Warming to his subject, Mark eased closer to him.
"Does it ever scare you?"
With no hesitation. Dean shook his head. "No."
"Never?"
Not since he was a kid kicked out of his own home, sent to live with an uncle whom he didn't know,
had Dean experienced real fear. In those early days, he'd learned that fear was a waste of energy.
"Being afraid doesn't change the circumstances. It only affects how wel you deal with them."
"Wel .. . yeah. But stil —"
"It's counterproductive," Dean continued. "You get scared, and you make mistakes. You take your eyes off your opponent to flinch, and you can't see where the next punch or kick is coming from. You
lose the offense and turn defensive, and any good fighter wil take immediate advantage of it."
"The way you took advantage of Dima."
Dean nodded. "They dubbed me Havoc because when I first started everyone thought I didn't have
a plan. It didn't take them long to realize that they were wrong. My plan is to win. One step at a time,
whatever I have to do, however I have to do it. When the fight changes, I adjust. I couldn't do that if I
let fear take over."
To Dean, it seemed a simple philosophy. Being afraid could never be part of his plan.
Yet. .. seeing his sisters had shaken up some strange sensations that felt too close to fear. He
didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but it did unnerve him that, despite everything, it would be so easy to get sucked into the family dynamics.
He didn't know jack about being a big brother or caring for siblings. He didn't know how to fit into an
existing family atmosphere. He didn't know how to offer security or how to say the right things at the
right time.
For Cam and Jacki's sake, as wel as his own, he'd have to remember that he was an outsider, here
for a visit.
Nothing less—and definitely nothing more.
Chapter 6
HOW big are your biceps?" hat question threw Dean, but one look at Mark, and he knew he was
serious. "Hel , I don't know."
"You're kidding? You have guns like that and you've never measured them?"
Because Mark looked ready to hunt up a measuring tape, Dean added, "No, and I never wil ."
Where the hel was Eve? He looked toward the arched doorway where she'd disappeared, but she
didn't return.
Ted and Mark had an endless store of oddbal questions, but at least they weren't prying into how
much he made. More often than not, that question was the first. Most people considered the fighters
celebrities, and while he couldn't complain about the pay, he worked damn hard for what he made.
People didn't realize the amount of commitment and the hours of hard work that went into training. He
more than earned every cent he made.
"You're a credit to the sport."
Again surprised, Dean looked at Ted. "Yeah? How's that?"
"You don't talk trash. You don't boast. You're respectful of the other fighters. You've got a quiet
dignity instead of al that showmanship."
Dignity? Ted had to be kidding.
Rubbing his chin, Dean tried to figure out how to set Eve's father and brother straight. "Look, I don't sound off because I know there's always the chance I can lose. I say I'l do my best, and that's what I
do."
Ted smiled. "There, you see? A class act al the way."
Oh God. The man was delusional. If Eve didn't show herself soon, he'd—
As if on cue, Eve strol ed back into the room. "Here." She handed Dean a beer. "If we're going to have a social gathering, you might as wel have a drink."
Dean noted that her family didn't harbor the same hangups about alcohol as his own. He accepted
the long-neck bottle. "Thanks."
She plopped down next to him, curled her bare legs up beneath the skirt of her dress, and leaned
into him. To the casual observer, it would seem they'd known each other a lot longer than a few
hours. Eve showed no reservations at al in front of her family, which meant she felt very comfortable
with them. He liked that.
Ted sat forward with his elbows on
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