Nauti Dreams (34 page)

His lips quirked at the sight of that anger.

“If anything ever happens to me, you’ll be taken care of,” he told her. “Just as Kelly or

Crista would be taken care of if anything happened to Rowdy or Dawg. But that wasn’t

my point.”

“Then get to your damned point so I can tell you how much of your time you’ve wasted.

I’m keeping track of it by the way.”

He had no doubt in his mind that she was.

“My point was, Chaya, until you, I never dreamed I’d find a woman strong enough to

make certain my child was protected. Even if it had to be protected against me.”

Her eyes widened then, and Natches forced himself to face the fear that had followed him

most of his adult life.

“They say blood will always tell,” he told her. “Dayle Mackay uses his fists at the

slightest provocation. He’s one of those men that should have been sterilized before he

had a chance to breed. To make certain that kind of mean wasn’t hereditary.”

“Are you crazy?” She jerked away from him then, her expression incredulous as she

rolled from the bed and stared back at him furiously. “You just wasted a half hour of my

time with that crap?” She was almost snarling now. “Get your ass out of the bed, get

dressed, and tell me what the hell you have planned before I have to shoot you.”

“You’re strong enough to stand up to me, Chay. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to

keep from murdering Dayle Mackay if you have to see the monster that sired me.”

There, it was out. He said it. That was the end of the subject as far as he was concerned.

He rolled from the bed himself and jerked his pants from the floor. When he straightened,

he stared back at her, feeling that inner rage flashing through him.

“Cranston needs that son of a bitch alive,” he told her. “I don’t want to take away from

your courage or your pride, Chaya, but this is my battle, and it’s my fight. I won’t have

the control to keep from blowing his head off if he strikes out at you. And he will. Just to

test me. Just to make sure he has what he wants, he would do it.”

“Like hell,” she bit out. “Natches, what could he want that would make him so stupid?

He’s worked with the League most of his life from what I understand. He’s been damned

good at what he’s done. What could he want so much that would make him mess up to

that extent?”

Chaya was furious. She stood her ground in front of him, glaring back at him, enraged

that he would try to protect her when he needed her.

“My soul,” he said bitterly. “What does any monster want, Chay, but your soul?”

“Natches . . .”

His hand went over her mouth, and when she stared into his eyes, she saw something that

almost terrified her. Something more frightening than the icy rage she had seen before,

something more destructive than mere fury. She saw a feral determination, animalistic,

almost uncontrolled as he stared into her eyes.

“If he so much as breathes violence in your direction, so much as curls a finger to touch

you, he will die.” Natches’s lips curled back from strong, clenched teeth. “If he breathes

the same air you’re breathing, so much as dares to step in your direction, I won’t bother

to think, I won’t bother to try to control my rage. Is that what you want?”

She swallowed tightly, the anger draining away to be replaced by a sorrow so strong it

nearly stole her breath as her hand lifted and she touched his face. “What did he do to

you?” she whispered.

“He created me,” he stated coldly. “Now, he’s going to have deal with me. But if DHS

wants him alive when we’re finished, then you’ll stay out of it. Otherwise, I’m not

making any promises.”

EIGHTEEN

With Cranston aware of what they were looking for, it didn’t take long to get the files of

the men in the photograph with Chandler and Dayle Mackay, or to find the connections

that brought them together.

They were in the same Marine Corps unit for nearly eight years. They had stayed in touch

afterward. Hunting trips. Fishing trips. Covers for their own dreams of glory as they drew

in more and more recruits after they left the service but stayed involved in various

military groups.

They had no true power backing them, individually, but they had gained it as a group.

Here and there. Drawing in like-minded soldiers, at first, discharged soldiers, and slowly

working their way up until their recruits were coming in from active service.

They had them tied in together. They connected the dots through the day until Cranston

was certain it was only a matter of time before they had those responsible for the strike

order in Iraq that had killed Chaya’s child. But to ensure their arrest and the complete

disclosure of all their members, they needed something more to bring Dayle Mackay in.

Natches would get them more. And Chaya was terrified how he would manage that, and

what it would do to his soul.

Letting go of the fight over his decision to meet with Dayle Mackay by himself wasn’t

easy for Chaya. But she’d seen that the more she argued with him over it, the more

determined he became.

Redneck pride and stubborn will. She’d heard about it; she’d just never seen it. Not that

he was a whole lot different from any other man of his kind. It just rankled more perhaps

because he was hers.

And that was the part that was driving her crazy. He had charmed her, seduced her, loved

his way right into her soul, and now he was shutting her out.

She looked over at him from where she sat at the table. Stretched out on the couch, one

arm behind his head as he supposedly watched television.

He wasn’t watching that droning news report any more than she was. He was wired,

tense, waiting. Whatever Dawg and Rowdy had done that day evidently wasn’t going to

have immediate results.

As she watched him, her cell phone beeped imperatively at her ear.

“Dane,” she answered the call, watching as Natches tensed further.

“You want to tell me what the hell your boyfriend’s cousins are up to?” Cranston snarled

in her ear. “They just had a rather heated, if amusing, argument in the parking lot of

Mackay Lumber. It seems they’ve had a bit of a falling out with their cousin over a

fucking picture he found.”

God, what were they doing?

She lifted her eyes as Natches sat up and turned to face her. His eyes narrowed as she

stared back at him.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered. “And he’s not talking.”

“Agent Dane, we don’t need fuckups here,” Cranston bit out. She could imagine him

scowling, his face wrinkling like an irate bulldog’s. “Find out what the hell is going on.”

“And you expect me to do that how?” she asked him, still watching Natches, fear

building inside her. “Do you have the details of the conversation?”

“Oh, something along the lines of wiping their hands of him forever because he destroyed

evidence against someone. A picture. One that implicated someone they didn’t name, but

anyone with a brain could put it together.”

She licked her lips nervously as Natches rose slowly to his feet and walked toward her.

Her teeth clenched as he slipped the wireless unit from her ear and brought it to his own.

“Chaya’s rather busy right now, Timothy,” he said quietly. “Try again later.”

He disconnected the call and tossed the unit to the table.

“Don’t answer it.” He pointed his finger to the ringing phone, then turned and walked

into the kitchen.

And Chaya had had enough. She stood to her feet, gathered the files she was working on,

and pushed them into her case. Shutting her laptop down, she pushed it into the case as

well and carried it to the door.

“Walk out that door and I’ll tie you to the bed.” His voice never rose.

“I’m sick of that threat now.” She sat down on the chair and pulled her socks on her feet

before pulling her boots to her.

He pulled a beer from the fridge, opened it, and moved back to the living room, where he

sat down on the couch and watched her, his green eyes intent, his expression carved from

stone.

“I’m not Crista or Kelly,” she told him. “I won’t be pushed behind you and protected, nor

play the helpless little woman. If that’s what you think, then you should sit down and

rethink your options. That one isn’t working.”

She pulled the first boot over her foot.

“He’ll be calling sometime tomorrow,” Natches stated. “Alex will be contacting Cranston

tonight. At present, this marina, as well as the lumber store, is under surveillance by three

of the men in that photo.” He pointed to the picture laid out on the table. “If you walk out

of here, you compromise me, is that what you want?”

She let the boot fall back to the floor.

“What have you done?” she whispered, staring back at him as she felt her chest clench

with dread. She remembered the year before, the operation that had very nearly ended

with Crista Jansen’s death because Dawg had played games with Johnny Grace. And

now, Natches was setting himself up as a target.

“Everyone knows the Nauti Boys always stick together. Nothing comes between them.

Now something has; there’s a division. Nadine glimpsed it that morning Dawg and I were

arguing at the diner over you. Remember?”

She nodded, remembering the morning she had threatened to tell Crista on Dawg.

“They’ve seen us arguing more than once here lately, over you and this investigation.

That worked in our favor. Now it appears that Dawg and Rowdy are arguing between

them because I destroyed a picture that implicates someone in the investigation. And

Dawg’s letting his opinion that ‘blood will tell’ be known.”

Chaya shook her head slowly. “What kind of blood? What does he mean, ‘blood will

tell’?”

“Meaning, Chaya, that evidently, when it comes right down to it, my loyalty is to the

bastard that sired me rather than the family that raised me.”

“And you’ve kept me in the dark about this for what reason?”

“Hoping I could keep you out of it?” He arched his brow mockingly. “I’m telling you,

because I’ve decided there’s no other choice. Have you considered how someone found

out who your agents were and managed to plant highly professional explosives on their

vehicles?”

“Cranston suspects a leak,” she whispered. “He’s been going over the files. So have I.”

Natches shook his head. “There’s no leak, sweetheart. You were all staying at the Suites.

You met there, in one particular room for a meeting most every morning.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because dishonorably discharged Private Michael Wheeler works there. And he’s very

good friends with Dayle Mackay. Look at the files on the men who have joined the ranks

of the League. Most are dishonorably discharged for abuse, ignoring the chain of

command, sex crimes. Those who weren’t in the military are malcontents with a bitch,

nothing more. Except maybe dreams of glory. Once I determined who at the hotel could

have gotten in a position to watch you, it was easy to figure out. That’s where Cranston

made his mistake. He was afraid blood would tell, so he sent you in so he could watch

me, see which way things would swing before he pulled me in.”

“He was afraid you would protect Dayle Mackay.”

“Just as his agents were. Just as his agents no doubt discussed in that room after you left

each morning. The room could have been bugged, individual rooms could have been

bugged. Who knows? But Dayle found out what was going on, and he knew Cranston

was onto him; otherwise they would have never struck out at the agents.”

She nodded slowly. She had argued this with Cranston, warning him to bring Natches and

his cousins in on this phase of the investigation, but he had refused. Now she knew why.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

“Letting blood tell.” He shrugged. “Dayle’s going to think about this. He’s going go think

about that picture, think about what I could know, then he’s going to call me. The break

he’s been waiting for. A sign of loyalty to him rather than to my cousins or my uncle.”

“Or your country.”

“Or my country,” he agreed. “We’ll set up the meet. Alex will cover me; he’s a hell of a

sniper. Dawg and Rowdy will back me up from a safe distance, and I’ll get the

information DHS needs.”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to work. Any defense lawyer in the nation will

blow you off the stand if you testify against him. With your family history, it will never

work.”

“It’s the only chance we have,” he told her.

“You go in wired . . .”

“Won’t work; he’ll check me for a wire, Chay. He’s not incompetent, he’s proved that

already.”

“A different sort of wire.” She leaned forward intently. “A cell phone, Natches, the

receiver inside it will stay activated whether the cell phone is turned on or off. It’s new.

Something he won’t suspect. You carry it right on your belt, in clear view. He’ll never

know.”

He stared back at her silently.

“It’s not even something our agents know about. Cranston had a friend of his working on

it. It works; we’ve tried it out several times. Reception is perfect. We could get the

meeting recorded, get our evidence, and fry him and Nadine and all his friends.”

“Do the agents working with you know about it?” That was the risk, Natches thought. If

this was something the other agents had known of, or discussed, then Dayle could already