by Lora Leigh
“For this and several rules he broke in a certain arrest.” Chaya glared at him. “Timothy, you need to settle down and stop making everyone crazy.”
Timothy’s smile was all teeth. “Maybe I’ll move to Somerset. Fine little town. I could have a hell of a lot of fun here.”
Natches ignored the sniping as he stared at the papers.
“Faisal Mackay,” he said, looking up at the boy. “This works for you?”
Faisal’s smile was filled with excitement. “Mackay, it is a good name. Strong. And filled with family.” There was hunger in the boy’s eyes as he stared around the room. The hunger for family, for roots. “If it pleases you, Natchie, it pleases me.”
“Hell, I got a nephew.” Dawg grinned. “He can work at the lumber store.”
“The marina would be better,” Ray argued. “He’ll like the lake.”
“He can make up his own mind.” Natches clasped the boy’s arm and felt Faisal’s fingers curl around his, too, as he grinned down at him. “But he gets to work in a garage first.”
Natches turned to Chaya, pulled her to his side, and felt the warmth of family surround him. Even Timothy, the rabid little fucker, was grinning.
“I hid your presents in the back,” Chaya told Faisal. “Both of your presents.” She looked to Timothy. “Merry Christmas, Timothy.”
He scratched his cheek and frowned at her. “I didn’t get you anything.” Out of sorts, that was Timothy, clear to the bone.
“Yeah, you did.” She smiled softly and looked around the room at the family she had. “You gave me everything, Timothy.”
She surprised him with a kiss to his cheek, then moved from the room to the back of the boat, where she had hidden the other presents from Natches. The rest of the family’s were beneath the tree, and now it was time to add to that family.
She turned back when she reached the hall, a grin touching her lips as the cousins began to argue around Faisal again about where he could work. The young man looked ecstatic, excited, nervous, and filled with hope.
With hope. That was what they all had now, what Timothy had given to them.
As the agent turned to her helplessly, she winked at him and smiled before entering the room that held the presents.
Life was exceptionally good. Natches’s sister would be here within the hour to open presents, then they would move to Dawg’s and Rowdy’s boats, and eventually to Ray and Maria’s for a family dinner and more presents.
Janey was settling in slowly, finally finding a balance, and Faisal was now safe and where he belonged. With the family that would ensure his future. She and Natches had a life now. Warmth. Family.
Finally, Chaya had found home.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
Praise for the novels of Lora Leigh
“Leigh draws readers into her stories and takes them on a sensual roller coaster.”
—Love Romances
“Leigh writes wonderfully straightforward and emotional stories with characters that jump off the page.”
—The Road to Romance
“Fraught with tension from the first page to the last … a love story of the deepest kind with a very emotional and sensual base. Combine all these elements together and [you’re] guaranteed an intriguing story that will have you glued to the edge of your seat.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“Blistering sexuality and eroticism … bursting with passion and drama … enthralls and excites from beginning to end.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A scorcher with sex scenes that blister the pages.”
—A Romance Review
“Thrilling … explosive … a perfect blend of sexual tension and suspense.”
—Sensual Romance Reviews
“An emotional read.”
—The Best Reviews
“Hot sex, snappy dialogue, and kick-butt action add up to outstanding entertainment.”
—Romantic Times (top pick)
“Ms. Leigh is one of my favorite authors because she creates new worlds that I want to visit and would move to if only I could.”
—Erotic-Escapades
“The writing of Lora Leigh continues to amaze me … electrically charged, erotic, and just a sinfully good read!”
—JoyfullyReviewed.com
“Wow! … The lovemaking is scorching.”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Berkley titles by Lora Leigh
COYOTE’S MATE
MERCURY’S WAR
DAWN’S AWAKENING
TANNER’S SCHEME
HARMONY’S WAY
MEGAN’S MARK
NAUTI INTENTIONS
NAUTI DREAMS
NAUTI NIGHTS
NAUTI BOY
Anthologies
THE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Erin McCarthy, Nalini Singh, and Linda Winstead Jones)
SHIFTER
(with Angela Knight, Alyssa Day, and Virginia Kantra)
BEYOND THE DARK
(with Angela Knight, Emma Holly, and Diane Whiteside)
HOT SPELL
(with Emma Holly, Shiloh Walker, and Meljean Brook)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2009 by Christina Simmons.
All rights reserved.
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BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / April 2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-
Publication Data
Leigh, Lora.
Nauti intentions / Lora Leigh.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-03245-9
I. Title.
PS3612.E357N385 2009
813’.6—dc22 2008054339
http://us.penguingroup.com
A special thank-you to Natalie.
You help me keep my sanity,
and there’s not enough thanks for that.
You go above and beyond and make life easier.
And my appreciation
for that knows no bounds.
For everything you do, thank you!
PROLOGUE
Janey Mackay should have known something was wrong when Dayle Mackay, the man who’d donated the seed for her conception, left the message on her cell phone that her brother, Natches, was hurt and she needed to come home.
She should have called someone else, but who was there to call? After all, Dayle had made certain Janey was as isolated from the rest of her family as possible. Private girls’ schools until college, and even then, she knew she was being watched. She was always watched.
She should have been suspicious because Dayle hated Natches, his only son. Hated him so much, and feared him to such an extent that Janey knew it was the only reason she was in college rather than married to one of his fanatical friends. Or dead, because she would have killed herself first.
But she hadn’t been. Her only thought had been of Natches, the brother she had never been able to really get to know, but the one she knew protected her. She knew, because he’d always managed to get little notes to her through the years. He’d always found ways to contact her, to let her know he was there if she needed him.
She had needed him. But it wasn’t a life-or-death need, and she knew if she defied Dayle Mackay and publicly chose Natches over him, then it would end in blood. Possibly her brother’s blood.
Her father had her booked on a red-eye flight into Lexington from the college in California that he’d had no choice but to allow her to attend. She arrived after midnight, and Dayle and her aunt Nadine were waiting on her.
After that, things got a little hazy. But that could have had something to do with the nasty-smelling cloth Nadine had capped over her mouth and nose after they were on their way to Somerset. Or the pills Dayle had shoved down her throat before she could fight him, as her lashes fluttered open later.
Yeah, she had a pretty good idea that was the reason. And she couldn’t seem to clear her mind enough to think. She needed to think. Dayle was a monster, twisted and evil, and Nadine was his perfect match. His “soul mate,” Dayle called his sister.
Janey stared up at the ceiling above the bed her body felt weighted to. She wasn’t tied down, but they hadn’t had to tie her; whatever they had given her made her so sluggish, made her feel so heavy she couldn’t move. She could feel the tears that fell from her eyes, though she didn’t want to cry.
Shame twisted inside her, congealed into a sick ball in the pit of her stomach as her skin crawled with the horror of the past hours.
She hadn’t begged.
She’d always imagined what it would be like if her father did something this vile to her—and yes, there were times she had expected it—and she’d imagined she would beg. Call him “Daddy” and plead with him to make it stop.
But the words had choked in her throat. She had stared at the ceiling, hating him, hating her aunt. Hating that bitch’s hands as they touched her.
Her breath hitched on a silent sob. He’d let that old slut touch her. He’d laughed with amused indulgence as Nadine had pleaded like a little girl to have just a “little fun.”
As though Janey were a toy. A toy to be used.
Nadine hadn’t had time to do much, but even a little sickened Janey. She’d nearly thrown up on the bitch.
She turned her head into the pillow and tried to dry her tears. She didn’t want Nadine or Dayle to see her crying. To know they had hurt her. It would only make them worse. They thrived on pain. It amused them. Empowered them.
And she had to stop crying. She had to fight past the blanketing haze that fogged her brain. She needed to just get up. If she could just make herself get up, then she could get out of here. She could find help. If she could get out of here, Alex’s house wasn’t far away. Alex would help her. He would take her to Natches and Natches would make it all go away.
She sobbed at the thought. Alex would take care of her. Maybe he’d even put his arms around her. She would like that. Just for a minute. Just long enough to make her feel safe. There was something about him, something that warmed her in the dead of night when she was alone and cold.
Another sob broke from her. She swore she could hear Natches’s voice now. She was hallucinating. She had to be. Oh God, she had to get out of here before they gave her more of those damned drugs.
Making her limbs work, making her brain clear enough to force her legs, her arms, to move, had her breaking out in a cold sweat.
If she stayed here, something would happen to Natches. She’d heard them talking about it. She couldn’t remember what would happen to him, but she couldn’t let them hurt him. He had protected her. He was her older brother. And he loved her.
Breathing harshly, sweat pouring along her face, she managed to roll to the side of the bed. The floor looked as though it were miles below her.
Hell.
She swallowed tightly and blinked the sweat from her eyes. She could do this. She could. If she could roll to the side of the bed, then she could get up on her damned feet. She could do this.
She forced herself to believe she could do it. It felt as though it took years, but she managed to sit up, swaying, swallowing back the bile in her stomach as the room spun on her.
Hell yeah.
She could do this. She could feel her feet on the floor. She struggled to pull her T-shirt down, over her breasts, shuddering at the memory of why it was up there.
Oh man, she was so gonna puke if she had to think about that now.
Janey shook her head, slowly. The fog eased a little. Bracing herself, she forced herself to her feet and went to her knees.
Shit, that hurt.
She bit back a moan, panted, and dragged herself up the side of the bed. She stumbled; her ankle nearly collapsed. The door looked so far away. But she knew it wasn’t. She just had to get there.
Natches. She had to think about Natches. The night Dayle had beaten him, nearly senseless, until he was bloodied and almost unconscious, trying to protect her. He had protected her. She had to protect Natches.
She reached the dresser, hung on tight, and made herself move. She was gripping the corner when the door opened and Nadine stood there. Surprised. Surprised and amused.
“Well, hello there, baby girl.” The sound was a hiss of evil as she smoothed her hand over her dress.
Janey watched her, that bile rising again. Wouldn’t Nadine just hate it when Janey puked all over her perfect white carpet?
Nadine moved to the chest by the door and pulled out a drawer. Janey’s breath caught on a sob. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. If they were going to kill her, it wouldn’t do any good to cry.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Nadine approached her, and she couldn’t run.
She stumbled, trying to get away from the old hag. Nadine was surprisingly strong. Her arm hooked around Janey’s neck, choking her as she hauled her up against her.
“You feel good, Janey,” Nadine breathed at her ear. “Come on, let’s go see if Natches is going to be a good boy. If he is, then you’re nice and safe. Otherwise …” She laid the barrel of the gun against Janey’s neck as she forced her from the room. “Otherwise, I get to pop your little head just like that bastard popped Johnny’s. I have a feeling I’ll get to pop your little head, baby.”
Janey stumbled and received a vicious pinch in her side. By the time Nadine pulled her to a stop, the fog was so thick, mixed with sickness and vertigo.
S
he heard Natches, but she couldn’t find him. She blinked at the window across from her. Blinked and fought to focus. There was the tiniest crack in Nadine’s curtains. Just a little one in the sheer panels.
She focused there. She could hear Natches talking now. His voice sounded so heavy, so resigned. It was her fault. She blinked. All her fault. If she had just thought.
She blinked again when something moved. Focused on the curtains, she almost smiled at her flight of fancy. Those drugs her father had forced down her throat after they arrived last night were some damned good shit. Because now she was having hallucinations.
Alex.
Alex was on the roof of the house that she could see. And Alex didn’t climb roofs. He didn’t lie down on them. She watched, knew him. He was too far away for her to see his features, but this was her hallucination; she knew who he was.
He lowered his head and she imagined their eyes met as he rested it against his arm. Like she dreamed of sometimes. That he was lying beside her, staring at her with those dark gray eyes of his.
Pop!
She heard the sound, felt something splatter against her, and she was falling. Falling. Crumpling to the floor as an enraged scream seemed to echo around her.
Her nails dug into the carpet and she smelled blood. Was it her blood? God, she wouldn’t know if they cut her head off right now. Don’t do drugs. Now she knew why. This was some serious fucked-up shit. And she had to figure out what the hell was going on.
She tried to shake her head, but she couldn’t move it. She lay there, the feel of Nadine behind her like a sick weight. Bitch. Someone needed to pop her little head. She was like a rabid dog, always determined to bite something. Or someone.
A sob lodged in Janey’s throat, the memory of Nadine’s bites searing her mind again.
If she puked, she was going to kick that bitch when she had a chance. Janey hated throwing up. Hated it. She dug her nails into the carpet and tried to pull herself away.
Glass crashing, enraged yells, grunts, groans—they cascaded around her. She could hear sirens, see shadows. Maybe if she closed her eyes, just for a minute. Just for a minute …
Major Alexander Jansen stepped through the hallway to the two fallen women. Nadine Grace was dead. The back of her skull was splattered around the area. Her arm was still locked around Janey Mackay’s neck, the gun lying to her side.