The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

  “Could Mackay’s hire them for evening work and weekends?” she asked. “We’ll need someone to build the gazebos and to put the displays together. There’re a few of the girls working the floor right now that I have in mind for the gardening section, but I’d like to get this taken care of first.”

  “That would work perfectly for them, Crista.” Layla nodded.

  “Let me find Dawg.” Crista turned and looked out over the floor once again. “He was supposed to be talking to Bedsford about the Connelly order.”

  “I saw him in the lumberyard before you called me up here. They were loading the items missing on the inventory sheet. He called Connelly and got an agreement to hold off on buying the items elsewhere if Dawg would take care of the orders personally. I heard him arguing with Connelly on his cell phone,” Layla admitted with a shy grin. “Dawg can be persuasive. I’d guess he’ll go after Jim around closing instead. The lumberyard is pretty busy right now.”

  How many orders was Bedsford messing up in the meantime, Crista wondered, a frown working at her brow at the thought of the other man.

  She knew Jim Bedsford, not well, but she knew him.

  Her heart jumped in her chest then, an odd memory flashing in her head. She had seen Johnny and Jim one night. It had been late, after she got off at the diner. Jim had been getting into Johnny’s car, but she hadn’t seen Johnny. Oh Lord, she had seen a woman. A woman with long hair and shadowed features. It had been too dark to see much, but it had felt odd, out of place, because she knew Johnny was gay. She thought he had loaned his car to a friend; he did that sometimes. She had borrowed it herself once.

  It had been Johnny, dressed as her, and Bedsford had known it.

  Jim was a bit taller than Johnny, broad, with a barrel chest and a perpetual scowl on his pitted face. He had been discharged from the service for medical reasons, she had heard, though there had been no specifics.

  “I have to find Dawg,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.

  Layla looked back at her in surprise. “He should be finished in the lumberyard by now. He’s probably on the floor. Is something wrong?”

  “I need to talk to him about the outside display so we can get started on it,” she said. She also needed to talk to him about Bedsford and Johnny. “Could you stay up here and watch the phones while I’m gone?”

  Layla nodded. “I have Crystal watching the floor right now. That won’t be a problem.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Crista left the office quickly and moved down the metal steps. Her gaze scanned the rows and aisles as she headed across the floor toward the end of the building where the lumber and building displays were arranged. Some of the stock was kept inside for small purchases, while the majority of it was kept in a covered hangar behind the store.

  As she entered the lumber section, she paused, frowning when she didn’t see Dawg. Turning up one of the narrow aisles, she walked quickly toward the back of the store, then headed toward the other side when one of the stock boys mentioned seeing him in appliances.

  Damn it, they needed a few walkie-talkies. She didn’t have her cell phone on her, and right now she could have used a clue as to where the hell he was. She made a quick note on her clipboard to have him set up a system for the employees. It would also make helping customers much easier.

  “Bradley.” She stopped in appliances by one of the young stock boys loading a washing machine onto a metal roller cart. “Have you seen Mr. Mackay?”

  “He just went back outside.” Bradley nodded his shaggy head toward the employees’ door that led to the side parking lot.

  “Thanks, Bradley.” Nodding quickly, she moved for the door, pushing it open and stepping outside as she shaded her eyes to stare around.

  “Hello, Miss Jansen, can I help you?” Jim Bedsford stepped from between several delivery trucks, tossing a cigarette to the ground as he stared back at her with a heavy scowl.

  “I was looking for Dawg.” She gave him a cool smile, fear suddenly lashing inside her. “Perhaps he’s inside.”

  “He’s in the lumberyard.” Jim moved closer. “He fired me, you know.”

  Crista froze as he blocked the way around the side of the building.

  “I’ll discuss it with him.” She attempted to bluff her way back to the door.

  “Miss Jansen, open that door, and I’ll shoot you.”

  She turned back slowly, her eyes widening at the sight of the black barrel beneath the dark ball cap Bedsford was carrying in one hand.

  She glanced up at the camera. There was no way to tell that the man was carrying a weapon.

  “You’re going to come with me, nice and easy like.” He smiled coldly. “We need to talk.”

  “Dawg will know who I left with, Jim,” she warned him. “Dawg will know.”

  “Don’t try to run your mouth at me, bitch.” His voice didn’t raise or lower, it remained cold, vicious. “Just get in the fucking van and stop arguing with me before I have to kill you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not above it.”

  Crista stared around the parking lot desperately.

  “If I have to kill you, then I’m going to have kill Dawg, too,” he pointed out in what she assumed was a reasonable tone. “It won’t be hard. He’s not the only Somerset boy who went through stealth training. Or the only one who can play assassin. Now, are you going to cooperate, or do I have to get pissed off?”

  Dawg would miss her soon. Crista looked up at the camera desperately, her fists clenched by her sides as she moved out of the range of the blinking eye and realized that the monitor probably hadn’t even picked up Bedsford. But he would know, she told herself. Dawg would know, and he would come for her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” He opened the door to a small panel van and pushed her in before following her. “Get in the driver’s seat. We’ll drive out of here nice and easy.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Crista moved into the driver’s seat and took the keys with a shaking hand. “I’m sure you could find a job somewhere else, Jim.”

  A rough laugh met her words. “Hell, you think this job means shit to me?” He sat on the floor behind the passenger seat, the gun held firmly in his hand and leveled at her. “Lady, I couldn’t give a shit about this job except for the fact that it helped us keep an eye on Dawg. We needed to know what he was up to, so I worked here and kept up on things. Kept him busy where I could.”

  “We?” She pulled from the parking lot, praying someone had seen her, that someone would know who she had left with.

  “Come on, you’re not a stupid bitch,” he clucked in amusement. “Johnny knew this morning that he’d been set up by Natches. Someone figured it out. He did a damned good impersonation of you until Dawg hooked up with you and was able to track your movements. We just needed a little more time, and we would have had the money while those nasty little terrorists would have believed it was you. Even those yahoos who helped steal the missiles didn’t know who Johnny was. Or you, for that matter. Until the other day.”

  “He told them who I was?”

  Bedsford laughed again. “Walked right into the detention center and flashed your ID and signed your name. They all know who you are now. I don’t think Dawg’s going to be able to keep you safe. The men who helped Johnny steal the missiles think you have them. The men who paid half down on a shipment they’re never going to get think he’s you.” His smile was satisfied. “You’re dead, no matter what.”

  He wasn’t going to let her go. Of course, Crista had figured that one out already.

  “So why not just shoot me now and get it over with?” Her hands clenched the steering wheel hard as she turned down the road leading to the highway.

  She didn’t believe in going easy. She had one chance, and it would be risky. At the end of the lane was a traffic signal. It was green right now, but if she timed it just right, she might have a chance to escape.

  Her heart was racing, fear thundering in her head as she drew closer.r />
  “You know, I won’t mind blowing your head off if you try something crazy.” The gun shifted in his hand, the barrel pointing up as she brought the van to a stop as the light turned red. “Wouldn’t it hurt so much less to just go along with me and pray your boyfriend rescues you?”

  He couldn’t rescue her if he didn’t know where she was or who had taken her. And he couldn’t rescue her if she had a bullet in her head.

  She glanced at the gun again, then up at the scowl on Jim’s bulldog face.

  “Dawg will kill you,” she told him, knowing he would. But she would still be gone if she didn’t do something. Fast.

  Johnny’s warning look earlier in the day had assured her that she had taken the wrong side. He would show no more mercy toward her than he had the transport driver whose truck he had hijacked.

  “Dawg won’t kill me if all he has to do is clear your sweet little name and I’m nowhere to be found,” he grunted. “Look bitch, we just have to do one more thing. That’s all. If you’re missing when it goes down, and we fly out of here, then we’re in the clear, no matter what you say. Your word against ours, plain and simple. And it won’t matter anyway. Johnny’s going with me to Nicaragua. I have some friends there. Some contacts.”

  “Are you crazy, Jim?” she asked as she pulled onto the highway, amazed at the man’s gullibility. “Do you think Johnny did this just so he could escape to some damp jungle? He has no intentions of leaving Somerset with you or of letting me go.”

  “I don’t really care what he does with you.” There was a shrug in Jim’s voice. “And he promised. We’re going to take the money and set up in a nice little hacienda there. We have it all picked out.”

  Crista blinked in surprise, directed a look back at him, then jerked her eyes back to the road.

  Bedsford was in love with Johnny? She could hear it in his voice. It softened, and the scowl was no longer on his face. His expression radiated with emotion, and his dark brown eyes gleamed with purpose.

  “Johnny couldn’t live without being close enough to his cousins to throw their failure in their faces,” she whispered painfully, knowing she was driving herself to her own funeral.

  “Turn at the next light,” he ordered. “We’re going to head out of town. I’ll let you know when to turn again.”

  “We’re not going to Johnny’s?”

  “Why would I do that?” Jim asked her as though surprised. “That would be like hanging a sign on his door. We’re going to meet him somewhere else. That’s all.”

  “Where he’ll kill us both.” She was certain of it. “He killed the driver of the transport truck for no reason, Bedsford. He’s not going to let you live. Or me.”

  “Johnny loves me.” The belief in his voice terrified Crista.

  “Johnny loves the money his mother gives him, trying to steal more from his cousins, and convincing everyone how socially acceptable he is,” she said. “He won’t see that destroyed. And he won’t allow either of us to live.”

  Her eyes scanned the road frantically. At each stoplight she searched for someone she knew, anyone who could help her. And no one met her eyes. Time was running out, and she knew it.

  Jim chuckled at her assessment. “When I came back eight years ago, Johnny was a mess over his uncle’s death and what Dawg had stolen from him. Chandler Mackay tried to do right by Johnny. He knew Johnny was smarter, better than his son was. And Johnny knew how much Chandler wanted to make certain he was rewarded for being the son Dawg wouldn’t be. Dawg stole that inheritance, Miss Jansen. And I built Johnny back up. I helped him regain his confidence and his sense of place in the world. He loves me. And he will leave with me. What his mother or the Mackays have is nothing compared to what I can give him in Nicaragua.”

  “A country filled with war and death. With insurgents, rebellions, and terrorists?” Crista shook her head. “He will never leave Somerset for that, Jim. You know he won’t.”

  “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to blow your head off right here in the middle of town.” Once again, his voice only became harder, darker. Vicious. There was no conscience there, no regret, and no second thoughts.

  Crista inhaled roughly, then flinched at the sound of a cell phone. It wasn’t hers. No, she couldn’t be that lucky. Hers was back at the office.

  “Hey, baby,” Jim answered the call, his voice gentling. “I’m heading to the meeting point. Do you have everything ready?”

  Crista gripped the steering wheel harder, knowing she couldn’t go much farther. If she actually managed to let him get her out of town, then no one would ever know what happened to her.

  She stared at the traffic around her, in front of her. There was one more stoplight. If she timed that one right and ran it—

  A car pulled in front of her, and from the backseat, a hand waved. Crista focused, nearly whimpering in relief at the sight of Rowdy Mackay.

  She didn’t know who was driving, but Rowdy was in the backseat. He was holding up fingers. Six fingers. Pointed around her.

  Six. Six people following them. She didn’t dare nod, couldn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. She checked the rearview mirror but didn’t see Dawg. He would be there, though. If Rowdy was here, then Dawg was close.

  Rowdy held up a piece of paper then.

  “Do as he says!” The thick black wording glared back at her.

  She lifted one finger from the steering wheel to indicate she understood.

  “Don’t worry, Johnny. I’m watching her,” Jim assured him. “We’ll be there soon, and everything can proceed as planned. Just make certain you’re ready.”

  She glanced back at him. He kept his eyes trained on her, his scowl firmly in place.

  She turned back. Rowdy was holding up another note.

  “You’re covered!”

  She lifted her fingers to indicate that she understood. Then he turned around; the car changed lanes again and let the van pass them.

  She was covered. She inhaled slowly. Deeply. Dawg wouldn’t let anything happen to her now. She just had to stay calm.

  “I love you, baby. Just stay cool. Another fifteen minutes, and we’ll be there.” Jim’s rough voice softened, almost making Crista ill. And it had nothing to do with the obviously sexual relationship between him and Johnny. But how could a man love anyone that much and be a killer?

  Jim shifted then, moving between the seats and glancing out the front window. He looked around with quiet satisfaction, checked the rearview mirror, then moved to the back of the van to look through the dark, tinted windows.

  “Excellent,” he grunted. “See, we got away free and clear, Crista. Dawg didn’t even know when you left. I wonder if he’s even realized that you’re not at the store any longer.”

  “He’ll know.” He would have known within minutes.

  Jim laughed. “He doesn’t know shit. I made sure of it. He had such a mess to untangle in the lumberyard that he’s probably still trying to figure it out. I planned this very carefully, you know.”

  Not well enough. Crista stared straight ahead and tried to concentrate on just breathing. Dawg was close; she could feel him. Everything would be okay. She repeated it to herself over and over again and prayed she was right.

  Dawg kept the van in sight from the backseat of the bright red extended-cab pickup truck Cranston and Dane had been waiting in outside the front of the store.

  He was sweating. He could feel the moisture rolling from his forehead and dampening his back. He had promised to keep her safe. He remembered that. As they drove to Johnny’s, he had promised her that nothing would happen. They were just going to let him know they were onto him, make him mess up. Everything was going to be just fine.

  He should have known better. God help him, he should have figured out a year ago that he couldn’t tempt fate that damned far. He should have known Johnny had an accomplice. Someone close to Dawg. Someone who had somehow figured out he was working with the ATF.

  That someone was Jim Bedsford. Ex-militar
y with contacts that Dawg was certain extended into the law enforcement community. Jim had been involved with Special Forces and deep cover investigations during his time in the Army.

  “Someone messed up on this one,” he commented as though he weren’t imagining drawing someone’s blood for the mess-up. Particularly Cranston’s.

  “We have her covered, Dawg,” Cranston assured him, not for the first time. “We have a tracker on Alex’s vehicle as well as that purse we found in Grace’s house. His tail verified he left the house by the back door dressed as Crista, and he’s driving Alex’s car. We won’t lose him.”

  Surveillance video on the detention center had managed to identify the car Johnny had been using to visit his buddies. Alex’s car was supposed to be locked in the unattached garage behind the house he and Crista had grown up in. Johnny had her house keys and the keys to that garage and to the car.

  “Do you know how many different ways I’m going to kill you if you do, Cranston?” Dawg asked him softly.

  Cranston cleared his throat uneasily. “I don’t have a worry, Dawg. We have it covered.”

  “Grace just turned off the highway and headed up a hunters’ road to the lake,” Greta Dane reported. She pulled up a map on the laptop she held on her lap, the moving red dot indicating the car Johnny was driving.

  “Natches, are you getting this?” Dawg asked over the speaker line set on his cell phone.

  “I have it here, Dawg,” Natches said softly. “He’s heading toward the old Bridgeland hunting cabin. I’ll circle around and get in place. Don’t worry, Bro. I’ll cover her.”

  Dawg heard the complete unemotional determination in Natches’s voice and felt the tight knot of fear begin to uncoil in his belly. Natches’s loyalty was unquestioned, as was his ability with the rifle Dawg knew he kept close by.

  “I’m heading there,” Dawg told him. “Don’t take any chances, Natches. I don’t care if Bedsford and Johnny both lose gray matter. Keep Crista safe for me.”

  “No fears, Bro.”

  Dawg knew that tone of voice. There was every chance in the world that Bedsford and Johnny would end up with a bullet in the head anyway.