Nauti Dreams (15 page)

destructive release, and to an edge of fear. Just the tiniest spark of concern because she

knew there was something she should have remembered, something she should fear in

this pleasure. A pleasure that left her sated, filled, and somehow, she knew, irrevocably

bound to Natches in a way she never had been before.

SEVEN

Natches wasn’t certain what brought him awake just after daybreak. The sun wasn’t

shining through the windows yet, and there was a light chill to the air.

At the end of October, it could get cold on the water. His bed was warm though, and he

was drowsy and seeking the touch of Chaya’s body when it hit him.

She wasn’t in the bed.

He listened carefully and couldn’t hear her moving on the houseboat or in the shower.

Irritation washed through him instantly, as well as a healthy dose of anger.

He sat up in the bed, his eyes narrowed against the gloom that filled the large bedroom as

he glanced at the clock.

It was barely seven, too damned early to be up and moving around unless he had actually

intended to be at the garage that day. Which he hadn’t. He’d intended to spend the day

happily rolling around the bed with Chaya.

As he moved to flip the blanket back, he saw the paper on her pillow and picked it up

before reading it silently.

Am meeting Sheriff Mayes this morning. I have work to do. Will call you this evening.

She would call him this evening?

He crumpled the note slowly in his hand, and for just a second, only a second, a grim sort

of humor touched his mind. How many times had he either written or stated that

sentiment, never to return?

Oh, if she thought for a single damned minute she was getting away that easily, then he’d

just have to show her different. He’d let her go twice. Third time’s a charm, sweetheart,

he thought furiously. This time, she was stuck, and he’d make certain she understood

that. Clear to her soul. No matter what it took.

Stomping from the bed, he headed for the shower. If he knew Zeke Mayes, and he did,

then sweet little Chaya’s day wasn’t going to begin until after ten. Zeke had his rounds to

make, his paperwork to do, and then he headed to the diner for breakfast around nine

thirty or ten. Plenty of time for Natches to get ready and reach Chaya’s hotel. He’d drag

her back to the houseboat and show her exactly how this relationship was going to work

from here on out.

He paused as he stood beneath the shower spray. Relationship. Hell, he’d never had a

relationship. Until now. Until Chaya. He’d never kept a woman around long, never

wanted to, but he was starting to suspect he wanted to keep Chaya forever.

He finished his shower, dressed, and was downstairs in the living room pulling on his

boots when a fist landed in imperative demand against the door.

His head jerked up, then he lowered and shook it in resignation. He knew that knock.

Pushing to his feet, he stalked to the door, pulled the shade back, and glared at Dawg as

he slid the door open.

“Isn’t Crista draggin’ your ass to the lumber store?” he smirked. Dawg’s wife kept him

on a very short leash. Dry cleaned and pressed clothes that looked presentable rather than

day-old and holey. A decent haircut. But the scowl on his older cousin’s face hadn’t

changed by much.

“Crista’s not feeling well this morning.” Dawg shrugged as he stepped into the boat.

“Where are you headed off to this early? I thought you took Fridays off from the garage

now.”

Natches watched curiously as Dawg prowled the living room and the kitchen.

“When did you start checking up on me?” Natches leaned against the wall and crossed

his arms over his chest as he watched Dawg.

“When you came back from Iraq and started actin’ brick dumb.” Dawg grunted as he

turned to face him. “You know, I always wondered what the hell made you so much

harder while you were gone. What did she do to you? Screw around on you? And you’re

heading right back into trouble with her?”

Natches stood still. “You don’t want to go there, Dawg,” he told him carefully. “Chaya’s

not the reason for however the hell I was acting or whatever I may have done. I didn’t

poke my nose into your hijinks with Crista, so I’d suggest you stay out of my relationship

with Chaya.”

“Relationship?” Dawg narrowed his eyes on him. “You’ve never had a relationship in

your life, Natches. Are you sure you know what the hell you’re doing here?”

Natches uncrossed his arms enough to scratch at his jaw and remember the fact that he

had forgotten to shave. Again. But his cousin’s attitude was bothering him more than the

growth of beard on his cheek. Dawg had been acting strange ever since he had learned

Chaya was back in town.

“Did you know what the hell you were doing with Crista?” he finally asked. “Come on,

Dawg; you blackmailed her into sleeping with you. Did I give you grief over it?”

Dawg grimaced at that. He stood there in his jeans, shit-kicker boots, and that perfectly

pressed long-sleeved shirt of his and glared at Natches again.

“Why is Agent Dane back here anyway?”

Natches shrugged. “Tying up loose ends is what I hear. What do you hear?”

“I hear Cranston’s running another op,” he snapped. “And Agent Dane is smack in the

middle of it. Did she let you in on that little piece of information?”

“We didn’t exactly get around to discussing it,” Natches informed him. “First you and

Rowdy broke down the door to my nice warm apartment, and once I got back here, I

wasn’t exactly in the mood to fight with her. What the fuck is your problem anyway?

You’re acting like a worried father. I didn’t exactly stay out past curfew.” He smirked at

the thought. “Man, Crista is so domesticating you that it isn’t even funny.”

And damned if a flash of pride didn’t hit Dawg’s expression, rather than anger at what he

would have once termed an insult.

“Look,” Natches breathed out in irritation. “I know you and Rowdy have been following

me around like a spy after secrets. You can stop now, okay? I’m a big boy. I do real good

on my own.”

“Until Agent Dane hit your life?” Dawg snapped. “I’ve been doing some checking.

Before that bullet took out your shoulder, Natch, you were self-destructing like hell.

Taking every mean-assed suicide assignment you could find. Why? And why the hell did

it come around just months after you rescued some blond agent from a hellhole in the

Iraqi desert? Tell me that agent wasn’t the same one messing your head up now.”

Natches was quiet for long, silent seconds. He stared at his cousin, promising himself he

wasn’t going to lose his temper. If he lost his temper, then he’d miss Chaya. And on top

of that, he and Dawg would end up whipping on each other with enough force to leave

both of them bruised and limping for days. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Lock up when you leave.” He turned and walked out the door before stepping from the

small deck onto the floating walk.

He heard Dawg curse behind him, and he ignored it. His cousin was fishing, and Natches

wasn’t biting. It was Dawg’s favorite means of getting answers from Natches, and it used

to work. Piss him off and get him fighting. He didn’t give a damn what he said to Dawg

or Rowdy then. He would just spill his guts right there in the middle of a fight.

Natches grinned at the thought. Hell, those were the days. Before the Marines, when they

were young and wild and filled with too much damned ego. Long ago and far away. More

than eight damned years ago.

As he dug his keys out of his pocket and moved from the docks to the parking lot, he

glanced back down the marina, flashed Dawg a smile, and lifted his hand in farewell. His

cousin was standing there with his hands propped on his hips, and even from where he

stood, Natches could see the scowl on his face.

Dawg had never liked Chaya, and Natches knew why. His older cousin had spent too

many years trying to protect his younger cousins. Seeing Chaya again last year had

ripped Natches’s guts out. It had torn into him knowing she wasn’t ready to push past all

that pain inside her yet, knowing it wasn’t time to claim her. And unfortunately, Dawg

had witnessed Natches’s struggle; he just hadn’t been positive who the woman was.

Sometimes it concerned Natches, the way he knew things about Chaya. Knew when to

push her, when to just hold her. It was in her eyes, those needs she had, swirling in the

golden depths. And the harder she fought it, the more she needed.

Last night, she had been like a firecracker ready to explode before he had even touched

her. Those pretty golden brown eyes had been frosty, her expression closed, every line in

her body straining to hold distance between them. Because what she felt scared her,

scared her all the way to the bottom of her soul, and she knew it.

He unlocked his jeep and pushed the key in the ignition as he considered that, and the

implications of it. Maybe Dawg had reason to worry, because Natches had a feeling he

was only just beginning to realize how far over his head he was with Chaya. He was very

much afraid that he just might love her.

Dawg watched Natches drive away and shook his head before jumping the short distance

between Natches’s deck and his own. And Crista was waiting for him, standing in the

door, watching him curiously as he cast another scowl back at Natches.

“Well, you’re still in one piece anyway.” She looked up and down his body, her eyes

twinkling in her still-pale face.

“You should be lying back down.” He let his gaze sweep over her now, his heart

softening in his chest even as his cock hardened in his jeans. Damn what this woman

could do to him.

“I’m feeling a little bit better.” She shrugged, looking away from him before turning and

moving back into the houseboat.

“It’s too cool outside for you to be standing in the doorway like that.” He closed the door

before frowning.

Maybe it was time to move out to the house. It was almost finished. He could push the

contractors and get the carpet laid sooner than the spring date they had quoted him. A

little extra money and they’d come out sooner. It hadn’t been too cold last year, but still

cold enough that she had insisted on wearing too many clothes. And the walkway had

gotten icy a few times. He didn’t want to risk her falling into the water.

He made a mental note to call the contractors later that morning, deciding he didn’t want

to spend another winter on the water. Summer and fall would work if they decided the

house didn’t suit them to live in year-round.

“I’ll be fine, Dawg.”

He grunted at that as he moved to the refrigerator. “You ready for breakfast yet?”

She was silent; he turned back to her, and he swore she was more pale than she had been

moments before.

“I think I need to go lie back down.” She headed for the stairs.

“I think you need to see the doctor.” Something snapped inside him then. Fear. Dawg had

rarely known fear, but he had never seen Crista sick either. “Call him this morning,

Crista.”

“I’ll be fine.” She shook her head as she headed up the stairs, her voice strained.

“Like hell,” he muttered, moving behind her and catching up with her as she was pulling

the blankets over herself.

Sitting next to her, he touched her forehead. She felt clammy, but she wasn’t running a

fever. She was pale though, and that worried him.

“It’s just a bug.” She sighed. “Everyone’s sick at the store, Dawg. Just because you can’t

catch a virus doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.”

She sounded jealous, and he had to grin. “We’ll get you nice and healthy before no time,”

he promised her. “Just living with me will rub all those good healthy genes off on you.”

She snorted at that. “Go away and let me sleep. And you need to check the deliveries this

afternoon. Don’t forget that.”

He frowned. “I’ll have Layla’s husband check them. I’m staying here with you.”

“Hmm.” She looked up at him, her gaze sharpening for a moment. “Why are you so upset

over that woman staying the night with Natches?”

She didn’t sound jealous; she sounded concerned. The question had him rubbing at the

back of his neck in irritation.

“She’s up to something. That’s Timothy Cranston’s little pet, Agent Greta Dane. I don’t

like it.”

“Is that all?”

“She’s too damned plain,” he muttered, knowing she wouldn’t understand any more than

Rowdy did.

Her lips quirked in amusement. “You’re not the one sleeping with her; so why should you

care?”

He glared at the dark carpeting on the floor before lifting his gaze back to her. “I don’t

know. It bothers me.”

“She’s actually a very pretty girl,” Crista told him. “It’s not her looks that bother you.”

A frown snapped between his brows. “I know a pretty woman when I see one.”

And she smiled at that. A smile he didn’t quite understand. It was patient and amused and

made him grit his teeth.

“You know, it’s mothers who are supposed to protest the girl’s looks, not fatherly

cousins.”

Her comment had him staring at her in disbelief.

“You’re crazy.”

And she shook her head. “You have to let them go sometime, Dawg. Natches is all

grown-up now. Let him try his wings a little bit. It might not be as bad as you think.” She

was on the verge of laughing at him.