The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

“I’m sure, Johnny.” She stepped back from the counter before turning and glancing at Dawg. “I’m ready to go now.”

  She didn’t wait for him. She turned on her heel and moved purposely for the door, feeling Dawg moving protectively behind her. It was the oddest feeling, knowing he was there without even looking, feeling his warmth surrounding her even when he wasn’t touching her.

  He reached around her as she neared the door and opened it quickly. Standing back to let her through the exit, Dawg glanced back at Johnny. He should have smirked. He could have antagonized the little bastard further, he thought.

  But as he stared at Johnny, all he felt was pity. He was too much like his mother, too easily influenced by his need for petty power and his drive to have more than he worked for.

  Dawg saw the hatred in Johnny’s eyes. He saw the resentment and years of pent-up aggression caused by the fact that only once in his life had he ever gained the upper hand on Dawg. That once being the court battle Dawg had nearly lost.

  Rather than saying anything more, he merely shook his head, sighed at the weariness of the fight that had waged between him and Johnny since childhood, and left the small store Johnny had purchased from the ill-gotten gains of betraying blood.

  Leaving the building, Dawg followed Crista to the truck, feeling the heaviness in his chest and regrets that he knew were better left forgotten.

  He knew, to the bottom of his soul, that his own father would have preferred to have left his estate to Johnny and his mother. But it was Dawg’s mother who had foiled those plans.

  For all her paranoia and suspicious tendencies and cold, emotionless demeanor, Brenda Mackay had understood family loyalty. She might not have been able to keep her husband from beating the hell out of her son when he was younger, but she had counseled Dawg on the best ways to avoid Chandler’s temper, and she had made certain that in the event of their deaths that Dawg’s inheritance would be preserved. Had it not been for her careful wording of their wills and her wishes clearly stated, then Dawg would have lost everything.

  He helped Crista into the truck, seeing the anger building in her eyes and the flush on her face as he closed the passenger side door and moved to the driver’s side.

  As he pulled himself into the truck and started the vehicle, he glanced over at Crista again and found himself uncertain what to say.

  He had accepted the animosity between Johnny and him years ago. He found himself rarely surprised by his cousin until he learned he had actually killed. He had also refused to explain or make excuses for his own behavior where the other man was concerned.

  Now he found himself wishing he could find the words to explain it to Crista. She was hurt and angry. Johnny had been her friend.

  For the first time in his life, he was involved in a situation that couldn’t be won, no matter what he did. He couldn’t influence Crista’s decision. This wasn’t a war that he could win with a gun, his fists, or his money.

  When he was younger, his fists had protected him. Once he joined the Marines and entered the shadowed world of an assassin, he had learned his gun could handle the monsters of the world. Monsters that killed and maimed. But the job had taken a toll on his conscience. In ways, Dawg often thought the bullet he had taken to the knee had been a blessing.

  When he returned home, he returned to enough money to ensure that lawyers could fight his battles and the things he needed would be taken care of.

  Fists, guns, or lawyers weren’t going to change what Crista was feeling now: the betrayal, the anger, the knowledge that she had trusted someone who had been using her.

  He drove to the lumber store, silent, glancing at her, wishing now that he hadn’t made the decision to confront Johnny in such a way. He didn’t want Crista as hard or as cynical as he had become.

  It would be over soon. Cranston would pick Johnny up by evening on terrorism and selling military weapons charges. After that, maybe he could breathe easy. She wouldn’t be safe until then. Johnny knew she hadn’t left town, knew he was trapped; Dawg had seen it in his eyes. The agents watching him would follow him, but until he was behind bars, Dawg wouldn’t, couldn’t breathe easy.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally breathed out roughly as he pulled into the side parking lot of the store. “I shouldn’t have made you do that.”

  She surprised him with an unladylike snort and a flash of defiance in her eyes.

  “If that mousy little bastard thought a loaf of bread was going to make up for impersonating me, then he has another thing coming. Just as you do if you think I need you apologizing for your cousin’s stupidity.”

  His brows lifted in surprise as he pushed his glasses down his nose and stared over the lenses at her.

  Her lips tightened as she glanced away, then back to him.

  “I always thought maybe the problems between Johnny and you, Rowdy, and Natches were because of his sexual preferences. I felt sorry for him. He was so much smaller than the rest of you and always seemed so upset because he wasn’t a part of the fun.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I knew about the court battle, how he and his mother tried to steal your inheritance, but I thought it was an attempt to get attention more than anything else.”

  Regret flickered behind the anger in her gaze.

  “It may have started that way,” Dawg allowed. “When we were much younger. The problem with letting Johnny in on the fun was that he tended to carry tales. Rowdy was pretty safe from it; Uncle Ray didn’t have a heavy hand. Natches and I paid enough times for Johnny’s inability to keep those secrets, though. So we kept our distance from him.”

  She grimaced painfully. “Fathers should be understanding,” she whispered. “A heavy hand only breeds resentment.”

  “Or hatred,” Dawg pointed out cynically before shaking his head and staring through the windshield to the metal side of the lumber store. “It’s not worth discussing at this point. I’m just sorry you were dragged into it, Crista.”

  “He did it to hurt you,” she said, drawing his gaze back to her. “He impersonated me, drew me to the warehouse, and then walked into that detention center dressed as me to ensure my arrest. He did it just to hurt you.”

  Dawg had already figured that one out, but he found himself hurting because she had realized it. His chest tightened, and his heart actually ached.

  Reaching out, he let the backs of his fingers caress her jawline, feeling the warmth of her flesh, seeing the acceptance in her gaze.

  “I wouldn’t have had you arrested,” he finally said softly. “If you had walked out the night I blackmailed you, I would have let you leave, Crista. I had the note you left in your car. I knew you were innocent.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” She caught his hand and held it to her cheek. “I always knew that, Dawg. Maybe I just needed the excuse to step out of the past and reach for what I wanted.”

  He pulled the glasses from his nose and laid them on the dash, all the while staring at her, memorizing her features and the emotions that filled her gaze.

  It was love. He could see the love. It was the same look Kelly gave Rowdy, the way Maria stared at her husband Ray. Inviting, dark, filled with acceptance and with some emotion that defied description.

  Love was such a tame word for what he felt and for what he saw in her eyes.

  Dawg swallowed convulsively, suddenly uncertain, thrown off balance by her. Hell, she had always managed to do that to him, even eight years before. Made him feel like an inexperienced kid who didn’t know how to get a girl.

  “I want to give you another baby.” He grimaced as the words tore past his lips, and her eyes widened in surprise. “No, listen.” His fingers covered her lips as they parted. “I know you’re not ready right now. I want to marry you, Crista. I want my ring on your finger. I want you by my side. But I want to give you another baby, too. I––” He broke off, his lips tightening at his own inability to put his feelings into words.

  Hell, he wanted to bind her to him; it was that damned simple. He want
ed to make certain she could never walk away from him again, that she never wanted to walk away from him again.

  “Dawg,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to him, lying along his cheek at he stared back at her, desperate for all the things he had lost after she left town. “I won’t leave you again. Ever.”

  Something inside him loosened at her words. As though a coil of dread had been tightening in his chest, her words released it, lifting a part of his soul that he had never known was restrained inside him. Heat rushed through him. Not just arousal and lust, but emotions that swamped him, that dazed him.

  He was harder than he had ever been in his life, and yet inside, the hard core of anger, cynicism, and regret was melting.

  There was nothing he could say. There was only one way to combat the unfamiliar morass of emotions tearing through him now.

  He reached for her. His arms surrounded her, pulling her across the console until her rear rested in his lap, her head at his shoulder, and his lips were covering hers.

  An inferno of hunger exploded in his veins. His flesh prickled with heat, and his kiss grew ravenous. He couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t taste her or touch her enough.

  Her lips parted for him, took him, as his fingers threaded through her hair and cupped the back of her head to hold her in place. Not that she was fighting the kiss. Hell no. Her hands were in his hair, tugging and pulling, as her tongue met his, licked and stroked and drove him crazy with the fierce, passionate battle they were waging.

  She was summer lightning, striking hot and swift to the center of his soul. She was a hot summer day and a cool, easing breeze all at once.

  “God, you make me crazy for you,” he groaned, his lips moving over her jaw to her neck. “I forget where the hell I’m at and don’t give a damn who’s watching.”

  And he didn’t. The employees’ parking lot was fairly sheltered, but it was in no possible way private. Dawg was a desperate man, though. The emotions welled inside him, the hunger for Crista that he knew would never be sated, and his hands couldn’t touch her enough.

  His head lifted, his gaze lowering as he pushed his hand beneath the hem of yet another of those damned snug tank top things she wore. The ones that smoothed over her breasts and skimmed over her belly just a little too snug to make grown men comfortable.

  He watched as the rough, dark flesh of his hand touched her smooth, creamy belly above the low-rise jeans she wore. Crista wasn’t bone skinny, rather nicely rounded, and those curves made him crazy.

  His hand moved up her belly, pushing her shirt farther up until he could cup one lace-covered mound of her breast.

  “Cameras,” she suddenly moaned, shuddering as his fingers gripped a hard nipple and tugged at it slowly.

  “Huh?” His attention was riveted on that hard little nipple, his mouth watering to taste it.

  “Dawg!” Laughter and arousal filled her voice. “You parked under the security camera.”

  His eyes jerked up, moved to the window, and up to the camera’s eye pointing down on the truck.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Laughter bubbled from her lips as she pulled her shirt down, hiding the succulent, tempting little berries he was dying for.

  “You’re a bad boy,” she accused, scrambling from his lap and trying to straighten her clothes and her hair. Laughter gleamed in her eyes and curved her luscious lips.

  “Hell, you sound surprised.” Dawg sighed as he shifted in his seat and tried to relieve the pressure of his jeans against his cock. That portion of his body was so engorged now it was painful.

  “Never surprised.” She shook her head with a soft laugh as she flipped down the visor, smoothed her makeup beneath her eyes, and fluffed the silk of her hair before checking her shirt.

  After adjusting the neckline, she flashed him a teasing glance, then pushed her door open and jumped from the truck. Damn her. She knew what she was doing to him, Dawg thought, and he couldn’t help but grin as he forced himself from the vehicle and hit the automatic lock on his key chain. The truck lights flashed as the small beep assured him it had locked.

  “Come on, you little tease.” Moving around the truck, his arm slid around her waist as they headed for the employees’ entrance. “I’ll lock us in the office and have my wicked way with you there.

  “I don’t think so. You have orders to finish, and you still haven’t made up the list for the winter inventory yet. You need to get a jump on the larger stores and plan your displays.”

  He scowled down at her as they moved for the office steps.

  “I don’t do winter displays. They cost too much, and they’re not effective.”

  “Only because you’re the one doing them,” she stated. “I’ve been watching your displays, Dawg. They aren’t effective because you have no idea what women are looking for.”

  “I know what women want.” He frowned down at her, wondering then if somehow he had been ineffective with those explosive orgasms he’d been giving her.

  “What women want in a bed and what they’re willing to buy in public are two different things.” The laughter in her voice warmed him, made him grin. “Trust me. I’ve got you covered on this. We’re going to have incredible winter displays. Just wait until you see the Santa Claus I’m thinking of bringing in. And I found some incredible wrought-iron arches at a steal. Very classy, and for the most part unavailable in this area. I want to buy the distributor’s stock in whole, to make certain the larger stores don’t get one up on us.”

  As he listened to her, he was tempted to shake his head. She had plans, and he’d be damned if he disagreed with her. At the rate she was going, she would end up making his father roll in his grave at the success of it.

  “I need you to check with Jim Bedsford and see what happened to the Connelly order, now that I think about it.” She frowned as they entered the office and she moved to the desk. “I nearly forgot, with everything that’s been going on. Layla had to reimburse him for a fourth of his order when it didn’t arrive on the site. He’s pretty upset over it.”

  Dawg took the inventory order and frowned down at it. He had worked damned hard to get Connelly to let Mackay’s handle the supplies for the apartment complex he was building.

  “Damn,” he growled. “I’m going to have to work today.”

  Soft laughter and feminine warmth whispered around him then.

  “You and me both. Now go take care of Bedsford. And if I were you, I’d seriously consider replacing him.”

  “With who?” Dawg grunted.

  His gaze met hers. She was confident, certain.

  “Layla’s husband, Jamie. He has experience, and he spends half his time here with Layla anyway. Might as well put him to work.”

  And she was right, damn her.

  He grunted noncommittally, knowing damned good and well he’d end up doing it.

  “Stay out of trouble,” he warned her before pressing a hard kiss to her lips and heading for the door. “And don’t leave the store with anyone but me. You’re not safe until Cranston has Johnny picked up. Promise me, Crista.”

  “Yes sir,” she snapped teasingly. “Any other orders, sir?”

  He turned at the door and lifted his brows. “Be naked when I return?”

  “Only in your dreams.” She rolled her eyes and waved one hand back at him. “Bye-bye, Dawg. Catch you at lunch.”

  He chuckled as he left the office, amazed now at the feelings running through him. He was still so damned hard his jeans were uncomfortable, but that knot of discontent, which had followed him all his life, was easing. Because of her.

  Shaking his head, he moved quickly down the stairs, threw Layla a wave, and made a mental note to talk to her about her husband before heading to the back of the store. Bedsford was obviously going to have to go; Dawg just wanted to find out first why he was sabotaging the supplies Mackay’s Lumber was in charge of.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Summer displays were as important as winter and Christmas displays, bu
t a hell of a lot harder without the time it took for preparation.

  Crista spent the first several hours staring out the tinted windows that overlooked the floor of the store, her gaze narrowed as Layla worked at the desk behind her to get a count on the proper items they were going to need to create the design Crista wanted.

  The front of the store was important. At the moment, it was all parking lot. There were no fenced areas for the summer displays and landscaping. Nothing for shoppers to get curious about as they drove in front of Mackay’s to reach the large grocery store and outdoor strip mall housed farther up the road.

  “Do we have the gazebo plans at least?” Crista asked Layla.

  Dawg had ordered only a small amount of the gazebos, which were steady sellers through the past few years.

  “We have several plans.” Layla moved to the lateral files on the other side of the office. “I put them in here after the last gazebos shipped in. The supplier sends the plans or they’ll build them for you. It would be incredibly cheaper if Dawg would pay a few of the younger workers to put in some extra hours to put them together.”

  She pulled a file free and laid the first plan out on the coffee table. “These are the ones that are selling best at the moment.”

  The smaller gazebos had a two-seat swing with a bench on the other side. Crista stared down at the design, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “We have the swings?”

  “Plenty of those.” Layla nodded. “And we could get the flowers you were talking about within three days. There’s a local greenhouse owner I know who would make certain Mackay’s has only the freshest blooms. They’ll train the employees to care for them and check them every few days. What we don’t sell, we don’t pay for. Especially the perennials, flowering bushes, and trees, because they can be planted in the fall and sold to landscapers the next spring.”

  Crista made a few quick notes on the clipboard she carried, around the sketch she was making of the outdoor display she wanted.

  “Are your boys working this summer?” she asked Layla.

  Layla shook her head quickly. “They haven’t applied for anything yet. They have summer classes at the college, so it would be hard for them to work most places right now.”