Nauti Dreams (25 page)

Chaya felt her face go numb with grief and shock. She had just spoken to Kyle. He had

told her about his engagement, to his third wife. He was barely forty. He had laughed

about her showing up late and the news that she was moving into the boat with Natches.

Accusing her of going above and beyond the call of duty.

He had a daughter in high school. She had worked with him for years. He was going to

retire after this assignment. Go into private security, he had told her once. Plenty of

money and none of the hassles. A man made it to forty, and he wanted a chance to enjoy

just a few years danger free.

And he was gone.

“There is a bomb under your car that was not there this morning,” he told her then.

“Dawg and Rowdy checked that car before we went out to it. I checked it before you got

into it; do you remember that, Chay?”

She nodded slowly staring back at him as she tried to think, to figure out where and how

and why.

“Someone planted that bomb after you arrived here. Are you still safe, Chay? Did you

check that motherfucking car before you got in it?”

She licked her lips slowly. “I ran the transmitter over it. I always do that. I did it this

morning. I used the mirror in my bag to look beneath it.”

“But it was hidden,” he snarled. “Do you realize that? A pro put that bomb in there,

sweetheart. Tell me, Chay; do you realize that?”

His voice was rising, his hands tightening on her shoulders until she was afraid he might

start shaking her.

“Natches, I am neither a moron nor a candidate for suicide,” she informed him coolly. “I

didn’t find the bomb, which means it was well hidden and expertly placed. And someone

has already taken out one of the other agents, so this assignment is severely in danger.”

She pulled her cell phone from her bag, flipped it open, pressed the secured speed dial

and waited while he glared at her.

“Cranston,” Timothy barked into the phone.

“We just lost Denton to a car bomb. We’re compromised.”

“Are you with Mackay?”

“Natches, yes.” She stared back at Natches.

“Keep your ass there. I already have calls out to the other agents to park their vehicles

immediately and contact the sheriff for pickup. I just received word myself. I’m on my

way.”

He disconnected and Chaya slowly flipped the phone closed.

“Who is he after?” Natches snarled again.

“Military intelligence and DHS have tracked the persons responsible for the hijacking

and theft of military weapons, including those missiles, across the nation to a paramilitary

group. Freedom’s League. Five years ago, Freedom’s League was hijacking and stealing

weapons in Iraq as well. Their members are military and ex-military. They steal the

weapons by hijacking them one at a time here and there, or in large shipments. Some they

sell, evidently to fund other missions they undertake.

“It was Freedom’s League members I was investigating when I was captured by Nassar

in Iraq. It was those same members that executed a false order for those missiles to be

launched on the hotel Craig and Beth were staying in when he was trying to escape.

They’ve managed to infiltrate the military to a degree that DHS is now desperate, and

Timothy is rabid to capture one of their generals.

“The League is located in the eastern, southern, and western states, and their leaders are

well trained and well organized.”

“I didn’t ask you what. I asked you who,” he snarled back, so furious she flinched.

“I don’t know who,” she screamed back at him, her fists striking his chest to get away

from him, to escape the ragged pain she could see in his eyes, that she could feel in her

heart. “If I knew who, I would have killed him myself, and Cranston knows it.”

She jerked around, staring out the windshield, watching as the other Mackays, the sheriff,

and several deputies worked to tape off the area and roll other vehicles away from her

rental car.

“All I know is that one of the head members of the League has been tracked here, through

the operation with the missiles. The Swede attempting to buy the missiles finally made a

deal with the government. In exchange for a lighter sentence, he gave them the

information he had on this one buy. The League was involved and he was contacted by

someone he trusted and had dealt with in the past. He wasn’t originally contacted by

Johnny Grace. He didn’t know his name, didn’t have a description, all he had was the fact

that his contact had been in the military, and he was based here in Somerset, working

within the League to gather the funds and the arms to launch a future revolution in

America.”

She watched as Dawg and Rowdy rolled another car out of the way. The agents who were

still at the hotel were now marking their vehicles, but it looked like four were out.

“You’re in danger, Chay,” he told her, his voice throbbing with his anger. “They

obviously know why you’re here and who you’re after.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. I don’t know who. I don’t think Timothy

knows. He makes his list night by night, his questions as well, based on the answers I pull

in from each interview. You know how this works,” she repeated. “It’s not an easy

process, and this link is the only one Timothy has managed to find in five years. If we can

manage to identify one of the head members and take him alive, then we can bust the

organization.”

“Until they re-form?”

“But even that takes time.” She turned back to him, staring into his tormented eyes,

seeing the same fears that plagued her. The fear of loss. “Sometimes, even a lifetime,

Natches. We fight one battle at a time, as long as we can fight, then we turn the rest to the

new generation and pray they’re as diligent. What more can we do?”

THIRTEEN

Four of the six agents’ vehicles had been wired, Chaya’s among them. Three of the four,

including Denton, were assigned to watch the subjects after interview. It was obvious

someone was getting spooked, and Chaya couldn’t figure out how.

“The only questions we asked that could have possibly tripped anyone’s radar were the

ones involving the Mackay family,” Chaya told the sheriff and Natches that afternoon as

she sat in the back of the cruiser, headed for the last name on that morning’s list.

Timothy Cranston had called and ordered the interviews for that day be completed.

Natches hadn’t been pleased, and Chaya knew he was only biding his time. She could

feel the temper rising inside him as they drove toward one of the more popular

nightclubs—or bars, as Natches called them—in town.

The sheriff pulled into the parking lot, and from the corner of her eye, she caught his

grimace as he glanced toward the Harleys parked close to the building.

“Biker bar?” she asked him.

“We could only get so lucky.” He shook his head as Natches moved from the front of the

car and opened the back door for her.

“Ever been in a honky-tonk, sweetheart?” Natches asked her then.

Chaya stared around the parking lot and shook her head. “What’s wrong with honky-

tonks?”

“The question is: What’s not wrong with them?” The sheriff sighed as he jammed his hat

down on his head, his expression intimidating. “Who’s on the damned list for this place

anyway?”

She pulled the small notebook from her pocket and glanced at the name. It was cute.

“Rogue Walker.”

She nearly bounced into Natches’s back as he came to a hard stop, turned, and stared over

her head at the sheriff. Swinging around, Chaya got a glimpse of complete male horror a

second before it was gone.

“It’s a cute name,” she announced.

“Lord have mercy on us,” Sheriff Mayes muttered before Natches gripped her arm and

led her to the door.

“Try not to piss her off,” he suggested.

Chaya would have grinned at the suggestion if her nerves weren’t still rattled over

Denton’s death and the bombs they had found in the vehicles the agents drove. Someone

was definitely trying to send a message. That person didn’t like the questions and was

going to put a stop to them.

“The file Cranston sent stated that Ms. Walker—”

“Don’t call her miz nothin’,” Natches interrupted. “Call her Rogue. Period. Don’t

comment on her clothes, her hair, or her motorcycle, and no matter what you do, don’t

even hint at mentioning her past employment.”

Chaya stopped and stared up at him with a frown. “She was a schoolteacher; what’s so

bad about that?”

“Lord help us if you ask about it,” he muttered. “Let’s get this the hell over with. If fists

start flying, get back to the cruiser. We’ll be right behind you.”

Oh yeah, she just bet he would be. He was probably praying for a fight to get rid of some

of that testosterone.

Shaking her head, she followed him into the bar and picked out the subject immediately.

Dressed in black pants, boots, and a snug vest, Ms. Rogue Walker was tipping a beer to

her lips and glancing to the door in boredom.

Long golden red hair cascaded down her back in thick ringlets; pale creamy flesh was

accentuated by the black attire and gave her an almost feyish appearance. She was

slender but curvy. Full breasts pressed against the front of the vest, and deep, pretty violet eyes widened before a sharp, disinterested mask descended over her face and she turned

away.

Interesting. Chaya looked back at Natches. “A former conquest?”

“Even I wasn’t that damned brave,” he growled. “Now get this over with so we can

leave.”

“Fine, get a beer, park your butt at the bar with the sheriff, and leave me alone.”

He grabbed hold of her arm, keeping her from turning away as his head lowered, his eyes

darkening in irritation. “Not gonna happen.”

“Better happen.” She smiled tightly. “Or else? I can do ‘or else’ really well, Natches, and

I can make it stick. This is the wrong place to decide to take over, and it’s definitely the

wrong place for a public quarrel.” She jerked her arm out of his hold and tried to tamp

down the adrenaline still racing through her. It made her cranky and it made it more

difficult for her to hold on to the patience she knew she needed right now. “I’ll just be a

few minutes. You can see me perfectly fine while having a beer.”

“And when I get you home we’re going to have a talk about this ‘do it your way’ crap,”

he said, scowling. “First thing.”

“Fine.” She nodded. “First thing. I’ll be ready for you. Are we doing it naked or

clothed?”

Before he could do more than narrow his eyes on her, she turned and moved down the bar

to where Rogue Walker was watching the confrontation with interest now.

“I wondered when you would get to me,” she said as Chaya stepped to her.

Her voice was beautiful. Chaya cocked her head to the side and stared at the petite

woman. She was a few inches shorter than Chaya’s five feet seven inches, and much

smaller boned.

“Do you sing?” Chaya asked her as she lifted herself onto one of the barstools and turned

to face the other girl.

“In the shower,” she said suggestively, running her eyes over Chaya. “Want to hear me?”

Strange, Rogue Walker’s file hadn’t said anything about an alternate lifestyle. Or a lover

of any type.

“Natches gets jealous.” She sighed mockingly.

Rogue rolled her eyes. “As many games as that man played before he left for the

Marines, he has no right to jealousy.”

“Does any man?” Chaya countered.

Rogue laughed, a soft, amused sound. “No, they don’t, Agent Dane. But I’m sure that’s

not why you came here to talk to me. I assume this has something to do with that little

bastard Johnny Grace?”

Chaya pulled the digital recorder from her jacket pocket and laid it on the bar. “I need to

record this,” she told the other woman.

Rogue shrugged. “I sound like crap on it, but whatever.” She lifted the beer to her lips

and sipped as Chaya set the recorder and stated the date, time, and subject.

“For the record, your name is . . .”

Rogue stopped her by laying her hand over the recorder and staring at her hard. “I

imagine you know my full name?”

“I do.”

“State it and we’re going to fight. My name is Rogue Walker, period. Understood?”

Chaya inclined her head. “Understood.”

“And don’t state my age, please.” Her smile was all teeth. “If you don’t mind.”

Chaya didn’t know the game this girl was playing, and she didn’t care. When Rogue

lifted her hand, Chaya continued, as requested, and received Rogue’s affirmation that she

was aware she was being recorded.

“For the record,” Rogue drawled mockingly. “I thought Johnny Grace was a teeny-tiny

little maggot that needed to be blown away, so you’re looking to the wrong person if you

think I was helping him.”Il

“Who would have helped him?” Chaya kept her voice low enough to keep those around

from listening.

Rogue shrugged. “His uncle Dayle. He’s a son of a bitch, but I’m sure Natches told you

that. He wouldn’t have helped kill soldiers or steal weapons though. Dayle Mackay likes

to knock the women around, and he likes to run his mouth about politics, but he wouldn’t

sell missiles to terrorists unless he had them rigged to blow them to hell and back.”

“What about Johnny’s mother?”

Rogue sneered maliciously. “The only thing that bitch knows how to do is fuck her