Or he did until the little bastards had shown up to decorate their police chief’s cruiser. That’s what Jack speculated had happened; whoever had been searching Megan’s house had been forced to beat a hasty retreat out her bedroom door that led onto the deck facing the lake. Unfortunately, he hadn’t closed the door behind himself, and the bedroom heating pipes had frozen, burst, and spewed water everywhere.
This break-in had definitely been a professional job; the guy hadn’t made a blatant mess, and he’d been methodical in his search before he’d been interrupted. Jack’s gut tightened at the memory of walking through her house with Greylen and Robbie MacBain yesterday afternoon. The three of them had agreed Mark Collins had likely hired someone to look for what Jack had explained were DNA samples Megan had taken in Canada. Which meant the man had been lurking in town all this time, waiting for an opening.
The three of them had also agreed that he would probably try again, since he hadn’t completed the job. They had not agreed, however, on how to deal with the threat he posed. Greylen wanted to use the samples for bait and Robbie wanted to send them to the Canadian lab but not announce that fact so the man would try again. Jack wanted to send the samples in, then call Mark Collins directly and tell him what was going on so the bastard would redirect his energy to saving his sorry ass.
The samples had been overnighted to Canada this morning, and tonight MacBain was sleeping in Megan’s cold house. Jack had finally agreed to wait until he got word back from the lab as to what had killed those animals before he decided how to handle Collins.
These Scots were hands-on people who were in the habit of dealing with trouble their way, rather than waiting for someone—even law enforcement—to deal with it for them. Wanting to show he could fit into their little clans, Jack had decided to let them play cops and robbers if it made them feel better. All he cared about was that Megan was safe—which she certainly was, now that everyone was up to speed and she was sleeping in a fortress. If her family wanted to deal with Collins, that freed Jack up to deal with the hoodlums and Puff the Magic Dragon.
Jack gathered up his yellow pads and locked them in the bottom drawer of his desk, then stood up. He stretched out the kinks in his muscles and shut off his desk lamp, plunging his office into darkness. He had no compunction about killing a creature that shouldn’t exist, because he sure as hell knew it couldn’t be the results of good magic or anything else that served mankind.
His only reservation had to do with his future clansmen, and why they were protecting it.
“Nice ride,” Paul Dempsey drawled, looking out his showroom window at Jack’s cruiser.
“It’s sort of growing on me,” Jack said. “In fact, it’s the reason I’m here.”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t work on trucks. You need to take it to the dealer in Greenville. They have the equipment to fix that noisy exhaust.”
“But you have the equipment to fix my snowmobile. Since you’re swamped with work, I just want to borrow your shop and your tools in the evening, when you’re not open.”
Paul look surprised. “You’re going to fix it yourself? I had to explain the difference between a four- and two-stroke to you, the first time you came in here.”
“I have my own mechanic.”
“Who?” Paul asked with eager interest. “Is he for hire? If he knows four-strokes, I’ll put him to work immediately and put your sled first in line.”
This was turning out even better than he’d hoped. “I’d have to speak with him first, but I can almost guarantee he’d go to work for you. The problem is, he can only work afternoons. But he could stay after you close and help get you caught up.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m not hiring a high school kid.” He pointed at Jack. “And if you’re smart, you won’t let one of them anywhere near your sled, especially with a wrench in his hand. We’re talking about cutting-edge technology here.”
“Which they’re teaching at the tech school in Greenville,” Jack countered. “Those kids are more knowledgeable about today’s engines than you probably are. It’s no longer simple high school shop, it’s vocational-technical schooling.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Who are we talking about? What’s the kid’s name?”
“Tommy Cleary.”
“No way! I’m not letting that brat anywhere near my shop!” His face reddened and he pointed at Jack again. “And you expect…you’re asking me to leave Tommy Cleary in my shop after-hours?” he sputtered. “Alone?” He shook his head. “I’d be robbed blind!”
“Or you’d find yourself with the best damn mechanic you’ve had in years,” Jack calmly returned. “From all accounts, Tommy’s a genius when it comes to anything mechanical.”
“Says who?”
“Say his tech teachers,” Jack told him, stepping closer and lowering his voice when a man and woman walked into the showroom. “He did a damn good job on my cruiser. And his teachers tell me Tommy can troubleshoot problems better than a mechanic with twenty years of experience. The boy’s got a gift, Dempsey, and it’s being wasted.”
“No,” Paul growled, his attention going to the young couple eyeing the sporty racing sled in the front window. The man was sitting on it while the woman was studying the price tag. Paul looked back at Jack. “No. No. No!”
“Do you have any idea what it would do to Joan Cleary to have her boys taken away from her?” Jack asked, moving to block Paul’s view of his customers.
“Goddammit, Stone, that’s not fair. Tommy’s been in trouble before, you know. All of the Cleary kids have. I know Joan Cleary’s had a rough go of it, but I will not hire that juvenile delinquent son of hers.”
“Why not?” Jack asked calmly, again moving to block Paul’s view.
Paul glared at him. “Why not? Dammit, because…because he’s just a kid!”
“He turned eighteen last week. He graduates in three months, and you’ll be able to have him full time after that. Can you imagine how much his paycheck would help out his mother?”
“No. No. No!”
“And when word gets out that you’ve got a gifted mechanic, you’ll be booked a month of Sundays ahead.”
“What I’ll be is bankrupt. Because the minute word gets out that Tommy Cleary is working here, everyone will start taking their repairs to my competition in Greenville.”
“That would depend,” Jack drawled, moving directly in front of Paul again, “on what sort of spin you put on it. If you make a huge deal over the fact that you stole Cleary right out from under your competition’s nose, your customers will think you’re a genius and that Tommy’s the only one they want working on their engines.”
Paul eyed Jack speculatively. “You’ve already spoken to my competition? Before talking to me?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m giving you first shot at Tommy. If you don’t snatch him up, I’m headed to Greenville from here.” He lowered his voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “I tell you what: I’ll give you until noon today to decide. Sell that guy over there a sled, then give the tech school a call and ask them what kind of mechanic Tommy is. But come noon, I’m offering him to your competition.”
Paul caught Jack’s sleeve when he turned to leave. “Joan Cleary used to be one hell of a fine-looking woman before Eric Cleary wore her down, may the bastard’s soul rot in hell. She really could use Tommy’s paycheck, couldn’t she?”
“About as much as you could use a good mechanic. And Tommy could use some direction and purpose in life, and his little brothers could use a better role model. It’s a win-win opportunity for everyone, Paul.”
Paul thought furiously for several seconds, then suddenly puffed up with importance. “Have him stop in after school today, and I’ll see if we can’t work out a deal about hours and wages until he graduates.”
“How about tomorrow afternoon instead?”