The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

  Again. That about summed it the hell up.

  Dawg rubbed his hand over his stubbled cheeks before making a mental note to shave before rubbing on Crista again. She had razor burn on her neck that morning after her shower.

  “Someone knows something, Dawg,” Natches said softly. “They know enough to throw Crista at you to distract you. Give you someone to suspect.”

  Dawg shook his head. “I know better than to be distracted that easily. Besides, we have everything but the money and the woman. How am I a threat to either, as things stand now?”

  “This is someone who doesn’t know you heed your common sense when it’s important,” Natches pointed out. “This is someone who only knows the fact that Dawg distrusts everyone but the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Which could be just about everyone you’ve met in this country and a dozen others. And it could be someone who is afraid one of the men we captured will talk. If he talks, who says they won’t name Crista?”

  Dawg wasn’t known for his trusting nature.

  “We’ll let them think they’ve succeeded then.” He smiled slowly, watching as Natches grimaced. “And Crista has an alibi. You were using her Rodeo; she was at home.”

  “Man, I hate that smile.” Natches sighed, resignation glittering in his gaze. “What are you going to do?”

  Dawg leaned forward, rested his forearms on the handlebars of the motorcycle, and let his grin widen.

  “I’m going to let Crista distract me, of course. Why fight it? And while she’s distracting, I’m going to see who’s watching and what happens later. If she was thrown into my path to catch me off guard, then they threw her in for a reason. Let’s see what they intend to do with it now that they have her there. And why it’s so damned important that she be there. They couldn’t have expected the raid. So their plans are going to be off balance.”

  “They expected her to be arrested, shipped off, and you running at her heels,” Natches bit out. “Be careful they don’t catch you in that little net, and you and Crista get shipped off together.”

  Yeah, that one had occurred to him around midnight.

  “I guess I’ll just have to take my chances. Hell, I’ve already broken more laws than I want to think about just getting her out of there. They told us to use initiative, but I don’t think that’s exactly what they were talking about.”

  “Sure it was,” Natches drawled. “We knew she wasn’t involved, so we evened the playing field with no fuss and no muss. Its redneck code. That’s what we’ll tell ’em.” The laid-back country-boy drawl wouldn’t fool anyone who happened to know Natches. There was pure bloodthirsty redneck bloodletting in that tone, and it was something Dawg knew he could count on. Natches would watch his back.

  His and Crista’s.

  And that thought opened a whole other can of worms. One he wasn’t ready to empty right now. He knew Natches hadn’t taken Rowdy’s defection from the ménages very well. He had waited, anticipated Rowdy’s return and the slow seduction of his fiancée, Kelly. When Rowdy had put the skids on that idea, Natches had been downright pissed.

  Hell, the sharing had been a part of their lives since their first sexual encounter as teenagers.

  The widow Barnes. She had been soft and sweet, older, more experienced, and lonely enough to take three young boys to her bed.

  At the time, no one knew she was also hiding from her psychotic husband, a man who had been watching the teenage Mackay cousins slip into her house, and through the window he had watched the sexual antics they had gotten up to.

  That first foray into the dark sexuality of a ménage had come back to haunt them last year when the lady’s son, warped beyond belief by his father’s molestation of him and the beatings he had endured, had begun raping the girls he claimed as his own.

  Then he had targeted Rowdy’s stepsister and the woman that held Rowdy’s heart, Kelly Salyers. The bastard had nearly killed them all before they stopped him.

  And now, Natches was in the cold again, and Dawg knew that was how he had to be feeling. And he was withdrawing. Dawg had been feeling it for a while now. Natches was drifting away from them; the connection that had held him with his cousins all these years was gone now. The ménages, the emotional bond they created, Natches didn’t have that anymore.

  “Come on, Dawg, stop wrestling over it,” Natches advised somberly. “Let’s play this out and see what the hell happens. I have an SOS out to her brother, Alex. The minute his head pops out of whatever hole the government sent him to, then he’ll come running with backup.”

  “We’ll play it out.” Dawg breathed out roughly before pushing his sunglasses back up his nose.

  There wasn’t much more they could do. Someone else, someone who knew too much, had dealt Crista into a very deadly game. To save her now, Dawg was going to have to risk everything and pray to God they caught the thieves before the Swede pulled in friends or the task force learned she was at the warehouse. If that happened, all shit was going to hit the fan.

  “Look, man, we’re backup mostly. The majority of the investigation is being handled by those HS tightwads. They won’t call us until something gets ready to go down anyway. We just lie back and keep watch on Miss Crista’s tight little rear, and we’ll do fine.”

  Dawg’s gaze sharpened on his cousin. “I’ll watch her rear.”

  It came out harsher than he had meant, a snapping reply he would have never intended.

  Natches’s lips quirked mockingly, but Dawg saw the knowledge in his eyes. He also saw a vague edge of distance settle over the other man’s face as he nodded slowly.

  “You watch her ass. I’ll just watch. Whatever.” He turned the switch and kicked the Harley’s motor in gear before pulling out without saying anything more and leaving Dawg to follow.

  Damn it to hell. Dawg hit the ignition and gunned the motor, feeling an edge of anger beginning to burn inside him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it? He, Rowdy, and Natches had been closer than brothers all their lives. They had fucked the same women, loved the same women, until Kelly, and now Crista.

  Dawg wasn’t a fool. He might not love Crista, but that edge of possessiveness had been there, even eight years before. Growing up was hell. Maturing was even worse. Three men who had been as close as ticks to a hound dog eight years ago were fading apart and, Dawg admitted, sometimes it sucked. And sometimes, like now, there was an edge of relief.

  But a part of him knew that Natches was being affected worst by the maturity of his two older cousins. For Natches, the sharing had never been a game; it had just taken Rowdy and Dawg longer to see it. For Natches, it was a part of who he was, and losing that connection was starting to affect the other man in ways Dawg hadn’t anticipated.

  Damn, he would have ripped his own arm out to have kept this from happening. He and Rowdy had always gone out of their way to protect Natches, even as a kid. And maybe as an adult, too.

  Somewhere along the way, they had all grown up, though. Even Natches. To the point that the other man had become even harder, darker, than Dawg or Rowdy. Which explained how Natches had stepped into the role of an assassin that last year he had been in the Marines. An assassin the military had been loath to lose when Natches had taken a bullet in the shoulder during a skirmish in Iraq on his off time.

  Natches had stepped out of the Marines darker, harder, and more dangerous than he had been when he, Dawg, and Rowdy had stepped into basic training.

  Yeah, they had all grown up. But sometimes Dawg wondered if they had grown up for the better.

  TEN

  She was making headway. Crista stared at the top of the surprisingly nice desk. Walnut, if she wasn’t mistaken, and rather old with deep drawers on each side. The middle drawer had been removed; in its place was a keyboard shelf where the computer keyboard rested.

  She hadn’t powered up the computer; she had to clean it first. There was so much dust gathered around the tower that she had been half afraid to turn it on.

  It didn’t make sen
se. The houseboat was spotless. She hadn’t seen so much as a dish or an article of clothing out of place. But the office was a war zone. Scattered files and papers, miscellaneous receipts—receipts for God’s sake; how the hell did he pay his taxes?—and a variety of other papers, files, and memos that she knew had to be important.

  Those scattered on the desk were now neatly filed. Of course, that was after she had spent hours straightening out his filing system. Not that she was finished with that chore. Last year’s files were mixed with this year’s files, and the aging metal file cabinet was was about to give its last groan of effort and collapse into the floor.

  She glanced to the glass door, looking onto the floor from the view the office commanded. She had sent two of the stock boys for the nice wooden file cabinets she knew sat in the office supply section of the lumber store.

  Dawg was smart. He had taken ideas from several smaller chains and incorporated them into Mackay’s Lumber, Building and Supplies, the business his father had left him.

  There was every manner of appliance, office needs, paints, and hobby supplies as well as a mix of seasonal items that added to the sales from the lumberyard.

  It was a thriving business if the customers below were anything to go by. Yet, from what she had seen in this office, Dawg rarely made the effort it took to keep everything together.

  She knew a manager had overseen the business while he was in the Marines. A man Dawg had promptly fired when he returned home to learn the manager had been systematically embezzling from him.

  According to the floor manager, Dawg had nearly gone bankrupt that first year after his return, despite the steady business that came through the large double doors.

  There was no danger of bankruptcy now. An audit, maybe. Terminal mismanagement of his office for certain. But not bankruptcy, because despite the “hellhole,” as she had called it, there had been a very weird sort of system that Dawg had going on. Just not a system that anyone else could have worked with.

  Shaking her head, she moved from the now-cleaned desk to the stack of files, folders, papers, books, and every manner of receipt awaiting her stacked on the other side of the room in front of the large, overstuffed couch.

  Evidently Dawg also liked his creature comforts. The couch was long enough and most likely wide enough for him to sleep on. There was a plasma television off to the side, a microwave, and mini refrigerator stocked with beer. Just beer.

  It was too bad he didn’t like a neat office to go with his creature comforts. But, to be on the fair side, the seating area was ridiculously neat until Crista began stacking the slush inside the area.

  She wiped her palms down her jeans and glanced at her watch before breathing out a weary sigh. Dawg was supposed to have picked her up thirty minutes ago to collect her car and her clothes.

  He had stashed her in his office with a firm warning to stay put, then headed out with no more information than the approximate time he would be back.

  And while he had been gone, she had been thinking.

  What happened at the warehouse made absolutely no sense whatsoever to her. The fact that the note from the delivery company was missing from her car made even less sense. About as much sense as the other items that had come up missing over the last few months, just to turn back up days later. She had meant to look for the note. It must have slipped onto the floor or between the seats, but Dawg hadn’t given her a change to search for it.

  She propped her elbow on her knee and cupped her fingers in her hand, a frown tightening her brow as she tapped her lips with her fingers.

  Why would she be deliberately drawn to the warehouse?

  Unless someone wanted to mess up something Dawg was doing. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he had been chasing her ever since he had learned of her return to Somerset.

  And in doing it, they had given him the perfect opportunity to blackmail her.

  Would he really turn her over to the authorities? Damn, he had looked serious, sounded serious. And he warned her in no uncertain terms not to discuss the other night with anyone.

  She jerked to her feet and paced to the wide door with its tinted window to stare at the busy floor below. She was in trouble, and she knew it. She had known it even before she bumbled into the warehouse; she just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Even Alex had had enough sense to know something was wrong. He would have never told her to call Dawg otherwise. Because he must have known that Dawg was some kind of agent. Alex would have known that Dawg would have the means to find out what was going on.

  But Alex couldn’t have known the fee Dawg would require: her body.

  She shivered at the memory.

  He had caught her off guard, she assured herself; otherwise, she would have never given in to him. He had been inside her before she could assimilate the change from anger to passion, even within her own body.

  And her body had betrayed her. She had been so slick, so wet, that even now her face flamed in mortification. Even as she grew wetter.

  She was going to have to buy more panties at this rate.

  She glanced at her watch again. Nearly an hour late. If she didn’t pick up her car, it was going to be towed.

  What would it have hurt to let her go ahead and pick up the rest of her stuff and then meet him here? It was broad daylight. She didn’t exactly live in the boondocks, and she had neighbors.

  Besides, other than Dawg, Natches, and that insane person who tried to shoot her, no one knew she was at the warehouse. Except whoever sent her to the warehouse to begin with.

  She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and continued to stare into the sales floor. She would give him a few more minutes. If he wasn’t back in a few minutes, then she would catch a ride from here to the diner where her Rodeo was still parked. It was no more than a half dozen blocks. Broad daylight. She could have her car back and her meager belongings packed and waiting in the front of the store before he returned.

  It wasn’t like there was much to pack.

  As the thought zipped through her mind, her gaze landed on the short, leanly built man moving through the register counter below.

  A smile lit her face.

  Johnny Grace owned the little bakery store on the land next to her and Alex’s house. The scent of the delicacies wafting through the air nearly drove her crazy on her off days.

  He was obviously ringing up his purchases, flashing a smile to the checkout boy and flirting easily. Johnny wasn’t deterred when it came to his sexual lifestyle. He enjoyed men more than he did women, and he saw no reason to hide it.

  She glanced at her watch. She could be back before Dawg ever knew she was gone.

  She grabbed her purse from the table next to her, opened the door, and hurried out before locking it as Johnny headed for the automatic doors.

  “Crista.” He stopped and blinked quickly as she moved around the registers and called out his name. “What are you doing here?”

  She flicked her fingers to the upstairs office. “New job.” Or something. “Look, I left my car at the diner. Could you give me a ride?”

  He was maybe a quarter inch taller than she was, but she wasn’t betting on it. He glanced to the door, then smiled again. “Are you sure you want me to give you a ride? Dawg and I aren’t on the best of terms. If you two have something going here, then he’s liable to be a tad upset if you go anywhere with me.”

  She flicked a glance to the doors. Nope, no Dawg in sight.

  “Dawg is always upset over something.” She swallowed back her own trepidation at the thought. “And I promise, I won’t tell him who offered me a lift.”

  She smiled back at him with an edge of desperation.

  Johnny chuckled in amusement, shaking his head at her, his dark blond curls tumbling about his face. He really should have been born a woman, she thought. He had a soft, feminine air about him, an almost gentle demeanor. And he was nice. He shared his baked delights with her on her off days when the store below was closed and he was
alone putting together the next week’s confections. And it wasn’t as though Dawg could be jealous.

  “Come on then.” He nodded toward the doors. “I’ll give you a lift. Are you coming back here or heading home?”

  “I’m going home.” She neglected to mention why she was going home. That was a subject she didn’t want to get into just now.

  Following Johnny through the doors, she glanced around quickly, expecting any minute to see Dawg bearing down on her like some avenging angel.

  Yes, he had told her to stay put, but he was late, and the precautions made no sense. By his own report, the man who saw her was dead, and the other suspects had been arrested or were dead. No one else but Dawg and Natches could know she was there. No one was going to step out from behind a vehicle or a building and start shooting anyway.

  Were they?

  “When did you start working for Dawg?” Johnny drew her attention away from her morbid paranoia as he glanced behind his shoulder to show her a warm smile.

  “Just today.” She drew level with him, gazing around in front of her. “How far away did you park?”

  Johnny laughed. “The far end. This is how I work off all those calories I add into my body on baking days.”

  The other side of the parking lot was no joke.

  The early June heat was bearing down on them, causing a fine film of perspiration to break out on Crista’s face as they reached the late-model Taurus Johnny drove.

  He unlocked her door with a florish. “Roll down the window,” he advised. “The air conditioner went out last week, and I haven’t had a chance to get it fixed yet.”

  She rolled down the window before closing the door and snapped her seat belt in place.

  Still no Dawg.

  She was tired of waiting for Dawg. The danger he kept harping on couldn’t be too high, or he wouldn’t have left her alone for hours at the lumber store.

  She was really rethinking this whole danger and blackmailing business. She was starting to wonder if the danger wasn’t more in Dawg’s mind than in her life, and was just a ready means of getting her into his bed. After all, they had arrested those guys at the warehouse. And whoever got away with the money was probably spending it right now in the Bahamas or something.