The Nauti Boys Collection

by Lora Leigh

  Her knee swung up and connected between his heavy thighs as his fist landed at the side of her head. His eyes went wide, a high-pitched whine filling the air as silence suddenly echoed around her, and Billy Joe Wingate went to his knees, his hands now clapped between his thighs.

  Rogue’s head was ringing, she swore there were spots in front of her eyes, and she was thanking God that Billy Joe had pulled his punch at the last second.

  “Get them the fuck out of my bar!” she yelled at Jason as he gripped the younger man beneath the arms and began dragging him out the door.

  The other bouncer, Timmy, was pushing Luke out and Rogue followed with the bat. Adrenaline and anger were pumping inside her. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, and she was more furious with herself that she had allowed it to happen than she was at Billy Joe for throwing the first punch.

  She stalked into the cool air of the night, glaring at the two men as the bouncers tossed them to the blacktop pavement. And of course they came up fighting, fists flying.

  Hard hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her around, and she swore she saw Jonesy’s face blur for a precious second.

  “Have you lost your damned mind?” he screamed in her face, his expression twisted in fury, his eyes burning with it as he shook her roughly. “Look what the hell they did to your damned face. Damn you. You’ve fucking lost your mind.”

  He shook her until her head lobbed on her shoulders, back and forth, and she grew dizzy from the effort it took to retain consciousness. Just as she thought she was going to lose it, an enraged yell sounded behind her. She was jerked away from Jonesy, stumbled, and fell against another hard body.

  Helping hands supported her as curses rained around her. Shaking her head, Rogue blinked desperately and fought to make out what was going on around her. When she finally managed to clear her gaze she saw Jonesy laid out on his stomach, Zeke straddling as he locked cuffs around his wrists.

  Jonesy was still and silent, but he wasn’t unconscious. He was staring back at her, his gaze filled with resignation and hurt. The kind of hurt fed by betrayal and steeped in emotion.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She jerked away from the hands holding her, pushed back her hair, and stomped over to Zeke as he rose from Jonesy’s back. “Let him go. Now.”

  “The hell I will! Have you seen your damned face yet, Rogue? What the hell happened here?”

  “He didn’t hit me.” Her hand connected weakly with his chest. “It was those damned yahoos the bouncers are holding for you. Now let him the hell go.”

  “He was shaking you,” he yelled into her face, his hands gripping her arms, and she could feel the bruises Jonesy had already left there.

  “Yeah, well, what the hell are you getting ready to do?”

  Rogue stared up at him, seeing the rage in his brown eyes, the tension in his hard, lean body. Zeke was ready to kill. A muscle ticked along his jaw and his lips were a flat line of anger as he scowled back at her.

  “I warned you,” he growled. “The next time he laid his hands on you—”

  “Get over yourself!” she yelled back at him. “I can’t have public rights with you, then I’ll be damned if you can have protective ones with me. Now let him go.”

  She was in his face, almost nose to nose as his head lowered and he glared down at her. She could feel a heavy breeze whipping around them, feel the attention of the onlookers locked on them.

  “Let him go, Gene.” Zeke’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

  “Let him go?” Gene questioned in amazement. “He was about to break her damned neck, Sheriff.”

  “Now.” The order was an animalistic growl that sent a tremor racing up Rogue’s spine. “Get the two that started this shit in lockup and dry them out. Take statements.”

  “Uhh, sure, Sheriff,” Gene cleared his throat. “You’re off duty, it’s my call anyway.”

  “You’re damned right I’m off duty.” Zeke’s fingers slid into her hair, clenched, and pulled her head back as his arm went around her back, jerking her to him. “And by God, I know how to take advantage of it.”

  His lips landed on hers in a kiss so fiery, so filled with hunger that she was left gasping. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. His head lifted, eyes narrowed, he stared back at her intently.

  “In public,” he snarled. “Now let’s go, you’re going to the hospital.”

  He swung her up in his arms before she could protest and amid the surprised gazes of customers, Jonesy, and Rogue was certain she glimpsed a Mackay or two, he carried her to the pickup he had used the night before. His personal vehicle. The one he had taken her in.

  He swung the door open, then pushed her inside, one hand at her rear as he pressed her along the bench seat.

  “Buckle up,” he bit out angrily, his voice rough.

  “I’m not going to the damned hospital. You try to make me and I promise you’ll regret it.” She buckled up before turning to him and eating him with her eyes. “You damned tattletale. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Tattletale?” He twisted the key in the ignition and reversed out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. “Since when am I a damned tattletale?”

  “Since you called Daddy on me,” she sneered. “Oh really, Zeke, did you think that worrying my father would save your ass? Like hell. I’m going to kick your ass.”

  She was enraged, furious, and the object of every frustration she had ever had was sitting in the truck beside her.

  “And why the hell am I in your truck?” Her hand slapped the dashboard furiously as she turned and stared back at him.

  “Because evidently it’s where you damned well belong,” he yelled back at her, his voice rough. “For God’s sake, Rogue, why couldn’t you just go back to Boston?”

  That stopped her. Rogue narrowed her eyes on him, taking in the way his hands were clenched on the steering wheel, the hard set of his lips, the gleam of anger in his gaze when he glanced back at her. She could feel the blood thundering through her veins now, excitement and arousal pounding in her nerve endings.

  “Why is it so damned important to you that I go back to Boston?” she argued. “Come on, Zeke, I have nothing to do with Joe and Jaime’s death. Why the hell do you want me in Boston so bad unless it’s because you can’t keep that frozen heart of yours in cold storage as long as I’m here?”

  His jaw tensed and his foot became heavier on the gas as they sped, she assumed, to his farm.

  Zeke pressed his lips tightly together and reined in the anger pulsing through him. All he could see flashing through his mind was Rogue, shaking in Jonesy’s grip, her head bouncing on her shoulders as her bartender shook the shit out of her.

  There were bruises on her arms from the bastard’s fingers, there were bruises on her face, courtesy of a fist he had heard about while he was cuffing Jonesy. One of those bastards had hit her, not once, but twice. There was a dark area close to her temple; her cheek was beginning to swell.

  “It wasn’t my heart I was worried about protecting,” he ground out between his teeth. “Did it ever enter that stubborn little brain of yours that maybe I was trying to protect you?”

  Silence continued to fill the cab of the truck as Zeke took the turn that led back to his farm. Hell, he should have rushed her to the emergency room, not to his farm, despite her objections.

  “I don’t need your protection.” Her voice shook and he could hear the pain that resonated inside it. “I don’t need anything from you, Zeke. I’m sick of your hot and cold attitude, and I’m really damned sick of only seeing you whenever you need to fuck.”

  He shot her a furious glare. Only when he needed to fuck? He made more rounds of that damned bar and the Mackay restaurant a day than he did any other business. He waited for her, watched for her, and damn her, all he did was think about her, and she thought he was just there for the sex?

  “I didn’t need to fuck tonight,” he stated with an edge of disgust. “I was more concerned with getting you
away from that damned bar crowd before you ended up with your head bashed in. For God’s sake, Rogue, you waded into a bar fight between two men more than twice your size.”

  “For God’s sake, Zeke,” she drawled mockingly. “It just so happens it was my bar.” She screamed the last two words at him. “You had no right to pull me out of there, and you sure as hell had no right to handcuff Jonesy.”

  “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.” Rage nearly consumed him at the remembered sight of Jonesy shaking her like a rag doll. “That’s the second time that bastard thought he could manhandle you.”

  “And it’s the second time that you jumped to the wrong conclusion,” she accused him. “I think you do it deliberately.”

  Zeke wiped his hand down his face before clenching the steering wheel in a death grip. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. He’d be at the farm, when he should be taking her to the hospital, in the house, and then he could turn her over his knee and paddle her ass for daring to allow herself to be in such a situation.

  Damned stubborn woman. She refused medical care but wouldn’t care a damned bit to jump into the middle of another fucking bar-room brawl.

  “I don’t just jump to the wrong conclusions,” he said carefully, attempting to throttle his anger. “And Jonesy won’t get away with this, Rogue. I’ll have my own little talk with him.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. In real alarm, there was no mockery in her gaze as she stared back at him now. “You’re going to get into a fight with him because he shook me a little bit? Good God, Zeke, this is ridiculous.”

  “Not nearly as ridiculous as the knots you have me tied into.” Zeke knew she was breaking through barriers he hadn’t even realized were weakened by her. Hell, he’d just kissed her in front of a Wednesday night crowd at the bar and hauled her into his truck before reports had even been gathered. How many state and federal mandates had he broken with that one?

  “Oh yeah, Zeke, you’re really tied in knots over me,” she snorted sarcastically. “So tied up that I’m continually trying to figure out exactly where I stand with you. It’s like trying to catch the wind.”

  He heard the hurt in her voice and he didn’t blame her for it. He was trying too hard to make certain she didn’t end up in danger that her emotions were being sacrificed. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her safe, and until he identified the man the League sent in to do their dirty work, then she wouldn’t be safe until she was out of Pulaski County.

  “I’m not that damned hard to figure out,” he finally protested with an edge of disgust. “Hell, Rogue, wanting you out of the county until this investigation is over doesn’t mean I’m trying to deny anything that’s between us. It simply means I’m trying to protect you.”

  He made the turn onto the graveled road that led to his farm and prayed that Shane hadn’t come home for the night.

  “Oh yeah, that’s why you just left last night rather than coming upstairs with me,” she pointed out.

  “I didn’t come upstairs with you because we were too angry with each other for what we both know would have happened. I won’t fuck you while I’m angry with you, Rogue. We have things to settle between us. I wanted those things settled first.”

  “Things like me leaving town?” she argued. “You can forget that one, Zeke. It’s not going to happen.”

  Yeah, he’d already pretty much figured that one out. Blowing out a deep breath he tried to consider an alternative way to make certain she didn’t end up hurt, or worse, dead. Hell, he’d already lost his wife to an investigation; he didn’t want to lose Rogue to another one.

  “We’ll discuss other options,” he said as he pulled into the driveway and shut off the ignition before turning to face her. “I won’t let you risk yourself though, I want that made clear here and now. Until this is over, you can’t work the bar, you can’t travel alone. Not until I figure out what’s going on.”

  Rogue’s expression was stark as the outside lights reflected off her pale flesh.

  “You’ve learned something more,” she whispered.

  Zeke breathed out heavily. “Joe and Jaime were murdered, Rogue, and I suspect their grandmother was as well. If she was, that means you are in danger. Whoever started this isn’t finished, and I have a bad feeling about it. Whoever it is will end up coming after you.”

  Her lips parted, vulnerable, silken soft as her tongue licked over them, leaving a glistening sheen of dampness that could have tempted a saint.

  A hint of fear flashed in her eyes, and he hadn’t wanted to see that. He wanted her wild, angry, laughing, or mocking, but never hurt or frightened. And seeing it made Zeke want to kill.

  SEVENTEEN

  Rogue sat on the couch, an ice bag on the side of her face. The bruising really wasn’t that bad, but she could see why Zeke would have been a tad upset. It sure as hell didn’t look pretty.

  She had changed out of the leather pants and silky camisole top she had worn at the bar and into one of Zeke’s white shirts. The material enveloped her in his scent, in a sense of warmth.

  With her legs curled beneath her she watched as he made a small fire in the fireplace across from her. He had changed his uniform for jeans, though he wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes.

  He hadn’t said much after they entered the house, and Rogue didn’t know what to say at this point. She had called the bar while Zeke showered to learn that Jonesy had been released and was still running the bar. At least she didn’t have to worry about him.

  She was going to have to make a decision about the bar though. She knew Natches was looking to sell his share in the Mackay restaurant if she decided she wanted to buy him out. It was something to think about. Hell, it was something she had been thinking about for months.

  “How does your face feel?” Zeke straightened from the fireplace, turned, and moved toward her.

  He didn’t walk, he stalked. Dark, heavy muscle flexed in his arms, chest, and powerful abdomen. His jeans lay low on his hips and beneath them, she could tell he was still heavily aroused.

  “My face is fine.” She let the ice pack drop to the coffee table in front of her before leaning back against the couch cushions as he sat down beside her.

  His fingers curled along her jaw to turn her face to where he could get a better look.

  “You should have gone to the hospital,” he said, his voice dark, rough.

  “I’ve had worse.” She shrugged. “The absolute worst hit I ever had was given by a woman. She was with a small biker club a couple of years ago. She gave me a concussion with her fist. That wasn’t fun.” She smiled back at him and gave him a wicked little wink. “Come on, Zeke, stop glaring at me, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, you’re fine. For now.” He shook his head as he released her jaw. “What about the next time, Rogue?”

  “Well, I’ll deal with the next time when it comes around,” she told him quietly, then asked hesitantly, “Are you worried because of what happened to your wife?”

  Rogue watched as all emotion cleared from his face with her question.

  “What did you hear about my wife?” he finally asked.

  It was a good thing she wasn’t frightened of big men like her sister was, or cared who she pissed off.

  “I heard your wife died during an investigation you were conducting in L.A. You were posing as a SWAT member interested in the BDSM lifestyle to expose another member that was involved in drugs. It’s amazing the information you can get if you dig enough.” And evidently, she had dug just enough.

  Zeke felt his jaw clench. Hell, his entire body tightened with furious tension. He’d been able to cover up most of the talk his father had instigated when he first arrived home. The rumors his father had started had only one purpose in mind. To protect the League, because he had known damned good and well who had killed Zeke’s wife. And it wasn’t anything Zeke had done.

  “My wife died because of an investigation,” he agreed. “But it wasn’t the investigation I was involved with in L.A. It had
to do with something more personal.”

  He let her see his eyes and what was reflected in them. Shame welled inside him, and that same fury that had followed him for so many years.

  “Meaning?” She watched him intently for long seconds.

  “Meaning, what happened to Elaina had more to do with the reason my mother left with me for L.A.” Staring into the fire he fought to hold the full truth back from her. She deserved to know everything; unfortunately, Zeke couldn’t tell her everything.

  “That was a long time ago,” she whispered.

  Zeke nodded. “Long ago and far away, I’d hoped. It followed us though when Mom decided to threaten Dad with something she knew. She was killed first. When I began investigating things myself, Elaina was killed and I was warned off the investigation.” His jaw tightened with the memories. “I had Shane to think of. I backed off then. When I returned here, I started checking into it again. I’ve been tracking the same man ever since. A man that killed for the Freedom League. The same group Dayle and Nadine were a part of.”

  He heard her hard, indrawn breath and glanced back at her.

  “Dad was a part of the League,” he told her then. “And I think it goes without saying that this stays between the two of us.”

  Her violet eyes flashed with anger. “You can be an asshole, Zeke,” she accused him. “Of course it stays between us.”

  He almost grinned at her vehemence. “I figured it would.” He had known it would.

  “So you blame yourself for your mother and wife’s death?”

  Violet eyes darkened. Zeke could see the conflicting emotions that raged in her eyes and felt his heart clench. There was no recrimination in her gaze, only acceptance and trust. He shook his head at the sight of it.

  “Damn, you’re too trusting,” he said mockingly. “I was the reason for it, Rogue. I fucked up, it’s that simple. Somehow, I managed to ask the wrong question of the wrong person. They found out what I was doing and they struck back. The head of the League is behind bars now, but that killer is still out there. I don’t have proof yet, but I know in my gut that he killed Joe and Jaime, and I suspect he killed Callie Walker. There are too many similarities to their murders and the murders that man has committed over the years.”