Nauti Nights (20 page)

She looked at him in confusion, seeing the glitter of an inner flame in his eyes that had the blood suddenly rushing through her body with dizzying force. She swallowed tightly before forcing her gaze back to Zeke.

“Mark wouldn’t hurt me. He has no reason to want to hurt me.”

“So your relationship with him ended amicably?” Zeke asked curiously. “That’s a little unusual.

Relationships don’t just end with no anger on either side.”

“Nothing ended.” She shrugged. “I came home. Mark agreed it was time. End of story.”

Zeke glanced at Dawg. “You believe that?”

“What kind of game are you playing, Zeke?” Dawg asked then.

Zeke blinked with a look of studied male mockery. “Just trying to figure out the rules of the game you’re playing, Dawg. Leave me in the dark, and that’s what I tend to do.”

“He’s not playing any games.” Crista clenched her fists in her lap as she fought to control the shaking of 84 of 183

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her limbs. “Nothing has been going on. Mark wouldn’t hurt me, and neither would anyone else I know. I

don’t know what happened out there or why anyone would want to hurt me.”

And she was a lousy liar.

Zeke breathed out wearily as he leaned back in his chair and regarded them all cynically. “When you think you can tell me the truth, Crista, you know how to get hold of me,” he finally said, then stared back at Dawg. “You know what Alex will do if she gets hurt, right? He’ll come down on the three of you like a

wrecking ball. It won’t be pretty.”

“Come on, Zeke, threats don’t work.” Dawg rose from his seat before gripping Crista’s arm and drawing

her up with him. “If you have any more questions, she’ll be on the boat with me or working in my office.”

Zeke’s gaze flicked to the hold Dawg had on her before his eyes lifted back to hers.

“If she’s not in trouble, then why isn’t she staying at her place?”

“Because she moved in with me yesterday,” Dawg answered coolly. “We were heading to her house to

pack her stuff when this happened.”

Crista was suddenly aware of the other diners packed into the restaurant, their curious gazes following

them, even though the table had been moved far enough away to give the sheriff the privacy he needed to

question them.

And those curious diners couldn’t have helped but overhear Dawg’s little announcement.

“Well, I know where to find her then, that’s all that matters.” Zeke moved smoothly to his feet, his leanly muscled body flexing in frustration as he glanced around the table again. “Natches, Rowdy, next time I

have proof you’re pulling ops behind my back, I’m going to arrest every damned one of you. I’m giving

you fair warning now.”

Ops. Operations. Crista knew that word, she had heard Alex use it often enough.

“Save it, Zeke.” Natches followed Rowdy and Kelly as they rose from their seats as well. “We’re not

running ops on you. And if we were, we would know how to cover our asses.”

Zeke breathed out in exasperation. “Unfortunately, that’s too true.” He stood as well, his gaze coming

back to Crista. “Have you talked to Alex yet?”

She shook her head. “He’s out of the country.”

Zeke nodded. “I put out a call to his CO, and he told me the same thing. Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“When he gets back.”

Zeke’s questions were beginning to grate on her nerves, especially when it was more than obvious that he knew the answers before he did the asking.

Zeke nodded again, his gaze going over the five of them before it landed on Kelly once more. “You’re

letting them get you in trouble again, Kel. Not a good idea?”

At that, Kelly’s laughter whispered around the table. “Zeke, they are trouble, remember? But in this case, I promise you, I’m innocent as a babe.”

His lips twitched at that, and an edge of amusement filled his gaze. “Course you are, Kel.” He chuckled.

“And it’s more than obvious that fiancé of yours is a damned bad influence. Not that I expected anything less. You, my girl, are a little too easily taken in by that rogue’s smile of his.”

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“Ease up, Zeke.” Though his voice was amused, there was an edge of steel in Rowdy’s voice. “We need to

get Crista back to the marina and let Dawg get her settled. Her nerves are raw, and so are ours. Like you said, you know where to find her if you have any more questions.”

Crista let Dawg lead her from the diner then, aware that the sheriff watched them leave, suspicion

shadowing his gaze. Not that he didn’t have a damned good reason to be suspicious. She knew Zeke, and

knew, from the conversations she had with her brother in the past, how seriously he took his job and the protection of the county. And suspicion meant a challenge to Zeke. He wasn’t going to just let this go.

“Just hang on.” Dawg’s voice was a whisper of sound as he led her from the diner. “We’re almost clear.”

He turned to Rowdy. “Did you bring the pickup?”

“Dad drove yours in,” Rowdy answered softly as they moved toward the parking lot. “He’s waiting to take

your Harley back to the marina. We sure as hell didn’t want to leave it here.”

Crista wrapped her arms across herself as Dawg led her to the big black pickup truck that she had ridden in the day before.

Her life had definitely gone beyond Mercury in retrograde. Car bombs were major catastrophes, not fate

fucking with you.

“We’ll meet you back at your place,” Rowdy told him as they neared the pickup, and Ray Mackay opened

the door and stepped from it.

Rowdy’s tan pickup sat beside it, and Dawg’s and Natches’s cycles on the other side. Ray lifted the rifle he carried from the seat, unloaded it, and calmly reached in to hang it on the gun rack that stretched across the back window.

“Few curiosity seekers and that rabid little twit Johnny,” he grunted as they neared him. “Little bastard.

His daddy would roll over in his grave if he knew how that boy turned out.”

Crista stared at Ray in surprise. “Johnny Grace?”

“Grace my ass,” he muttered. “That bitch that spawned him had to have gotten the sperm donor from

someone other than Ralph. Ralph was a fine man. Ain’t none of him in that boy.”

“Easy, Dad.” Rowdy’s voice was clearly warning. “Johnny probably just wanted to check on Crista.

They’re neighbors. Kind of.”

Ray’s eyes speared into her then. “Don’t tell me you befriended that little shit?”

“Johnny’s always been kind to me, Mr. Mackay,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so weak, so tired.

“He wouldn’t have meant any harm.”

She was aware of the gazes now trained on her in disbelief. Her chin lifted. She didn’t base her opinions or her friendships on others’ opinions, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Fine. For some reason you

don’t like Johnny, and from what he said earlier, there’s not a lot of love lost. That’s none of my business, and it has nothing to do with me.” And she was too tired right now to make sense of any of it.

She respected Ray Mackay, trusted him. The fact that he so intensely disliked his own nephew was telling.

But until Crista understood why, she wasn’t going to automatically dislike him herself. She would

definitely be wary, but she would reserve judgment.

Ray turned his gaze from her to Dawg as he rubbed his hand over is face in agitation before he and Dawg

seemed to share some private communication. Crista hated private communications between men. She

wasn’t a male mind reader, so she didn’t consider it fair in her presence.

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“I’ll take care of her, Ray,” Dawg finally murmured.

“You know, you could get on my nerves fairly quickly,” she told them with no small amount of her own

irritation. “If you want to take care of me so damned bad, take me to get my clothes, and then leave me

alone to shower and sleep.”

“We’ll stop on the way to the marina and buy you a few more things,” Dawg told her firmly, causing her

to freeze and stare back at him in disbelief.

“You said we could pick up my stuff from the house. Damn it, Dawg, I can’t just go out and buy more

clothes.”

“And that was before someone decided to turn you into a piece of charcoal,” he snapped back. “I’m not

even attempting that house with you along. I’ll go check it out myself in the morning and get your stuff.

Until then, we can stop on the way home and buy you a few extra things.”

She was aware of the interested gazes on them. The men were watching with expressions varying between

amusement and wariness, and Kelly shook her head back at Crista warningly from Dawg’s side.

The men she could have ignored, but there was something in Kelly’s eyes that warned Crista that now

wasn’t the time to push Dawg. And that sucked. Because she wanted her own clothes; she didn’t want to

have to spend the small amount of savings she had on clothes she didn’t need.

“I’ll just use your damned washer tonight,” she finally retorted. She wasn’t about to end up more in debt to him than it already appeared she was going to be.

“Just get in the truck.” He didn’t wait for her to follow the harshly worded order. Dawg gripped her waist and lifted her in before crowding in beside her and forcing her to climb over the console to the passenger seat.

As she faced forward and stared through the windshield, she was faced with her poor little burned Rodeo.

She had loved that little SUV.

The engine flared to life. As it did, Crista glanced over to see Dawg’s hands wrapped around the steering wheel with a white-knuckled, furious grip.

“Is Lessing who you left here with?” His voice was cold, furious.

“Yes.” She kept her voice soft, kept it calm.

Mark and Ty had come from Virginia that week eight years ago to inform Alex, their former Special

Forces commander, why they were discharged from the Army. She had left with them when they returned

home. It was supposed to have been a temporary thing. Instead, they had all become friends, family in a

strange kind of way, and she hadn’t moved out until returning home the year before.

“You left me for another man?”

She stayed silent, despite the shaking in the pit of her stomach. She could lie to the sheriff but not to Dawg, not about this. The words would choke her to death.

“Crista, so help me God, you better answer me now.” His voice was a graveled, curt sound that had her

flinching imperceptibly.

“I didn’t leave you for another man,” she finally answered evenly.

She had left him because of two other men, the men he had been intent on sharing her with. Then she had

left town because she couldn’t bear the hollow pain that burned inside her months later.

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“But you went with another man?” His voice was harsher, if possible.

“I left Somerset with Mark. I moved in with Mark. I lived with him for seven years. Is that what you want to know?

He turned his head toward her, his eyes glittering back at her with burning male lust and anger.

“No. What I want to know is, did you sleep with the son of a bitch?”

She drew in a slow, deep breath. “I slept with him often.”

Three hours later, Dawg pulled Crista inside the dimly lit houseboat where Natches waited silently, jerked the door closed, and locked it, before tossing the handful of plastic shopping bags filled with clothes to the couch.

His fingers were latched around her wrist, where he had learned fast to keep them as he forced her through the store and chose the clothing himself.

There were some panties in there that had his dick throbbing at the thought of pulling them from her body.

Lacy little push-up bras, skimpy little pj’s, some low-rise jeans and high-rise shirts that were guaranteed to make his blood boil if he caught another man staring at her.

As he released her, Natches uncurled his body from the deep shadows in the corner of the room, rising

from the recliner and watching them expectantly.

“What is he doing here?” She flicked Natches an irritated glare.

She was irritated, and he was still so damned mad he was wearing his back teeth down.

“He,” Natches drawled, “is being a Good Samaritan. I brought the rest of your thirsty plants.” He

indicated the freshly watered greenery sitting on the dining table. “And your personal stuff.” He grinned as though proud of himself. “I knew Dawg was buying you new clothes, so I didn’t bother with those.”

Dawg watched Crista carefully. He could see the mad washing over her expression, the light flush that

stained her cheeks, and the glitter of it in her eyes.

“Of course you didn’t bother,” she muttered through her teeth. At least Dawg wasn’t the only one gritting his molars. “Wouldn’t it just suck to spoil Dawg’s fun?”

“Hell yeah.” Natches breathed as though relieved that she understood some complicated dilemma. “We’re

real careful not to spoil Dawg’s fun. That could get bloody.”

As Crista swung around, Dawg ducked his head, hiding a grin that tugged involuntarily at his lips.

Natches could play the fool better than anyone Dawg knew. He could be playful, teasing, almost innocent.

As long as one didn’t make the mistake of staring into the cold depths of his frozen green eyes.

As Dawg glanced down, he got a generous view of her well-rounded breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt

and her fists clenching at her side.

“You have your clothes.” He jerked his head to the bags. “You can take a shower now and change. I’ll