Nauti Temptress (13 page)

The layout of the house put the kitchen directly across from her and Brogan, on the other side of the house. There were two halls leading from the kitchen to each wing. The shortest distance to the kitchen was the narrow hall just outside Brogan’s room that opened directly into the kitchen.

Before the scream was silenced, she and Brogan both were running.

He made damned sure she didn’t get ahead of him as they turned into the hall, knowing there would be no room for her to do so once they reached the narrow passageway, she noticed.

They had no more turned into the hall than another scream shattered the silence of the night, and the sounds of her sisters yelling through the house could be heard.

Terror pierced Eve’s mind as they shot into the kitchen and raced for the open back door. She was terrified of what they would find, knowing her mother was not a woman who frightened easily.

As they pushed out the door to the back porch, Eve came to a hard, sudden stop.

Her eyes widened, horror filling her as she felt her stomach pitch at the sight.

The back part of the wooden porch that surrounded the house was covered in blood, entrails, and body parts of the dozen or more fat rabbits her mother bred and used for the dinner table.

As with the chickens in the chicken house that provided eggs and meat, the turkeys and occasional duck her mother raised, and the deer she convinced Dawg to take her hunting for each year, Mercedes Mackay was known for her fresh meats, like venison during holidays and special occasions.

The rabbits represented five years’ work with only a few of the plump animals actually making it to the dinner table.

Mercedes and Eve had raised the four babies she’d bought, and from there began breeding them. Now they were gone in the most horrific manner that Eve could have imagined.

She didn’t always agree with her mother’s entirely pragmatic approach to food. Mercedes had learned to appreciate more than store-bought meats as a child. And growing up, Eve and her sisters had often been more than grateful for her mother’s ability to prepare wild game. Though Eve herself found she much preferred buying her meat from the grocer rather than raising it herself.

Now, staring at the porch, seeing the blood and mutilated carcasses of the animals that had been penned close to the house to ensure that no predators attacked them, Eve well understood why her mother was screaming.

Mercedes had been screaming for Timothy and her daughters, terrified that if someone had been brazen enough to come onto her porch and do something so horrific, then her family could be in danger as well.

Timothy and, surprisingly, Dawg had made it to the back porch ahead of Brogan and Eve. Behind her, she could hear her sisters’ gasps, then the silence that filled the room.

“Why would anyone do this?” Her mother was furious.

Turning on Timothy as he held her to him, his gaze hard, cold as he stared at the carnage, Mercedes demanded an answer. “Timothy, why would they do this?”

Timothy could only shake his head before his gaze turned to Dawg, then Brogan.

Brogan had separated himself from the other two men. Enough distance was left between them that Eve had the feeling that he was ensuring that no one could ever mistake him and the other two men for friends.

Who would care?

“Are they pets?” Brogan asked her, his voice low.

Eve shook her head. “We get a lot of hunters as guests. She breeds them for when they stay.”

The hunters often swore they came more for Mercedes’s preparation of the wild meat than they did for the hunting.

The look in Brogan’s eyes was so hard, so frigid, Eve actually shivered.

Casually, Brogan leaned against the side of the house, pulled a pack of the slim cigars he smoked from his shirt pocket, and lit one up.

“I guess you don’t know anything about this, right, Brogan?” Dawg snarled as his head swung around.

Several other guests had moved out to the porch, following Mercedes’s screams.

It was almost dawn, and most people were asleep, but the guests on Eve’s side of the house had obviously been awake.

The two single men, Jed Booker and Eli Grant, stood at the other end of the porch, their eyes on the bloody destruction spread out before them.

“I want everyone to stay as far back as possible,” Timothy ordered as he led Mercedes into the house.

Eve slid to the other side of the door as he did so, turning to go in.

Her mother was immediately surrounded by Piper, Lyrica, and Zoey as they led her to the other side of the kitchen and began preparing coffee. Their move allowed her to ensure that she heard whatever the men decided to discuss.

Eve could feel the tension in the air.

Unless they were standing exactly where Eve was, no one could have seen the looks that passed between Timothy, Dawg, and Brogan. But Eve saw them.

Brogan might be giving the impression of distance, but the look they shared assured Eve that they were all three on the same wavelength at the moment.

“Campbell, you and the other guests should return to your rooms,” Timothy ordered.

“Looks like a fox ignored the henhouse and went for the rabbits instead,” Jed commented as he scratched at his chest through the jersey jacket he wore.

Jeans and a jersey jacket wasn’t exactly summer attire, she thought.

He’d pushed the sleeves to his elbows and put his hands in the pockets as he leaned against the corner of the house and stifled a yawn.

Eli didn’t say a word, just continued to watch out of hazel eyes that seemed darker in the low light. Finally he gave a slow nod toward the three men before turning and heading back down the hall.

A moment later, Jed yawned again. “I’m going to get ready for work,” he finally stated. “By the time I get back to bed it’s going to be time for breakfast.” He paused, his sharp gaze turning on Eve. “We still having breakfast?”

She almost grinned. She would have, if her imagination and her fear weren’t in overdrive.

“Knowing Mom, I’ll say yes.” She nodded.

“See you then.” He turned and disappeared, leaving Eve alone with Timothy, Dawg, and Brogan.

“This wasn’t a fox,” Eve stated, keeping her voice low as she stared at each man in turn before pausing as she caught Brogan’s eye. “Was it?”

Brogan shrugged, but she could see a warning in his eyes, in his expression, as he watched her.

“Whatever it was, it won’t be back tonight,” Dawg growled. “I’ll get Natches later today and get some security cameras up out here. That way we catch the fox doing this and put it out of its misery.” His voice hardened.

“You’re not calling Alex?” Eve demanded, speaking of Somerset’s chief of police and one of Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches’s best friends.

“Killing a rabbit isn’t a crime, Eve.” Dawg sighed. “And if it was a fox—and they are prone to indiscriminately kill—then how is Alex going to help?”

This was no fox kill. Eve had seen a fox go after chickens and kill them, and she had never seen carnage like this. There was that warning in Brogan’s gaze, though, as well as Dawg’s. A warning to watch what she said.

“Go inside, Eve.” Brogan’s voice was so low, the tone so dark, that she found herself doing just that.

Casting them all a look filled with irritation, she stepped into the kitchen with her mother and sisters, gritting her teeth as she closed the door carefully behind her.

“Why are you still here?” Dawg demanded, not bothering to lower his tone or attempt to hide what he was saying as he looked up from where he was crouched on bent knees to study the porch.

“I’m nosy.” Brogan didn’t bother to lower his voice either. “It’s not every day I get to see a fox’s kill, you know.”

Dawg snorted at the comment.

“They’re watching you.” This time Dawg’s voice carried no farther than Brogan’s and Timothy’s ears.

Lifting the cigar to his lips to hide his reply from anyone watching now, Brogan stated, “Yeah, they are.”

“Retaliation?” Dawg questioned.

Would Donny and Sandi go to these lengths?

“I’ll find out,” Brogan promised.

And he would.

If Donny and Sandi were behind this—and he didn’t doubt in the least that they could be—then it wouldn’t happen again. He’d show the two and anyone else what would happen if Eve was struck at again.

They were testing him; he could feel it.

Doogan had warned him when Eve’s name had first come up that there could initially be problems. There were those who would do anything to keep her brother from getting involved in their business. That was one of the things that made Eve so important to the operation at this point. The second and even more important reason was the report that someone had information that could clear this case up, and only Eve could convince them to come out of hiding.

The minute the rumors had started that Brogan was interested in her, the report had hit Doogan’s desk. A confidential informant had contacted Doogan claiming that the thefts of military files were linked to something far bigger than DHS realized, and there was information that someone had answers besides the thieves. Someone that might be convinced to come forward if he thought Eve Mackay was in danger.

A year of investigation and still they hadn’t figured out which of Eve’s friends could possibly know about the thefts, let alone know why the files were being stolen.

“What are you going to do?” Dawg murmured, as he seemed to still be studying the death spread across the porch.

Timothy was still silent, but the calculating rage that burned in his eyes assured Brogan that his silence didn’t bode well for whoever was behind the bloody mess Mercedes had walked out to.

“Go hunting,” Brogan answered just as quietly. “For fox.”

SEVEN

Brogan and his partners, Jedediah and Eli, entered
the house Donny and Sandi shared in the mountains. There was no proof that the two were behind the destruction of the animals Mercedes and Eve had raised, but as they neared the bedroom, Brogan heard all the proof he needed.

Pausing outside the door, Brogan listened to them gloating about the blood the rabbits had shed and the mess they made. They had often seen Eve petting them and letting them out into the wire enclosure where she played with them.

That made their crime much worse, because they believed the rabbits were Eve’s pets.

“Did you see how horrified she was?” Sandi drawled. “I thought she was going to puke.” The obviously fake sympathy in her tone had his fists clenching in rage.

“Now, that would have been a real mess,” Donny drawled.

Brogan could feel fury boiling inside him, white-hot and destructive; Eve would have never struck out at Sandi in such a way, no matter what she had done.

But Sandi had killed what she believed were pets, because Eve had bested her in a fight.

Pulling his mask into place, Brogan looked at Jed and Eli where they had taken position across from him. Holding up three fingers to indicate three seconds before bursting into the room, he counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

Eli went in first.

With a hard kick from Eli’s size-twelve boot, the bedroom door flew off the hinges as he and Jed rushed into the room and grabbed a nearly naked, clearly shocked Sandi from the bed.

In a second flat Sandi was restrained, her hands secured to the wooden arms of a nearby chair, her eyes wide as she stared up at Eli in mortal fear while Jed took his position on the far wall, the short, lethal barrel of the automatic weapon trained on her.

Donny just played stupid.

The little bastard actually thought he was tough enough to take his attackers on, and threw a punch at Brogan’s jaw.

Brogan bitch-smacked him—an insulting backhanded slap across the face, as Sandi had used on Eve. He’d been enraged when he’d seen Sandi deliver that blow to Eve’s face. He wondered how well Donny enjoyed the same insult.

The other man fell against the wall from the slight force. Hell, this wasn’t going to be any fun—

Brogan smiled in delight as Donny straightened.

Maybe the little bastard had some fight in him after all. He damn sure had a wicked as hell bowie knife. Brogan had half suspected he’d gotten his nickname from Poppa Bear for just this reason.

“I know who you are,” Donny screeched, the high-pitched cry sounding a little girlish. “I’m gonna cut you, Brogan; I’m gonna cut you bad.”

Give me a break.

Chuckling, Brogan smiled back at the other man with confident mockery before lifting his hand and curling his fingers in an insulting “come on” wave.

“Fucking cunt,” Donny screamed as he took a swipe at Brogan’s midsection.

Brogan moved back easily, testing Donny’s abilities once or twice. The blade actually came a little too close for comfort as he got a feel for Donny’s actual experience.

Brogan had certainly fought much better opponents with a much higher level of experience. But Donny was piss-his-pants scared, and that made a hell of a difference.

Pressing forward only to step to the side, Brogan caught the other man in midswipe with the knife before striking out himself. With the flat of his hand he slapped Donny again, laughing as the other man’s nose started to bleed.

“Motherfucker!” Sandi screamed out as Donny growled like an enraged bull.

Dancing back from the blade, Brogan waited, feigning one way, then dancing back, staying on the move as Donny let rage and fear drive him.

Donny jabbed the knife toward his belly.

Brogan jabbed his fist into Donny’s face, busting both lips and laughing as Donny spit out pieces of his teeth.

He swiped at Brogan’s arm, and the blade actually managed to skim the material of the black shirt he wore. The long sleeve covered his arm to the wrist, the protective weave of the material holding out against the glancing brush of the blade.

Donny snarled, enraged.

Brogan grinned, waited, then boxed both Donny’s ears as the other man took his next swipe before Brogan spun away.

This was fun and all, but he was getting bored. Donny was actually shedding tears and snot, he was so pissed at being unable to shed blood.

Besides, Brogan wanted to get at least a few hours’ sleep tonight. If he kept fucking around with this little weasel, then there was no way he would have time for it.

Brogan waited.

When Donny moved to slice out at his midsection again, Brogan caught his fist and twisted it hard as he angled the hand back forcefully and collected the knife from Donny’s suddenly numb fingers.

Donny emitted a screech that would have done Sandi proud if she had made it herself.

Before he could struggle or attempt to get away, Brogan thrust his arm behind his back and laid the razor-sharp blade at Donny’s throat.

“I like the sight of blood, too,” Brogan rasped, his voice well disguised by the electronic box secured at his throat. “Tonight I want your blood.”

“Please don’t. Oh, God, please don’t hurt him!” Sandi cried out, real tears filling her voice and falling from her eyes.

Hell, she might really love the bastard, Brogan thought as she sobbed out Donny’s name and pleaded for his life.

“Muzzle that shit,” he ordered Eli as he stroked the knife against Donny’s throat warningly.

Glancing in the mirror across the room, he saw Donny as he watched Eli’s black-clad form tear a strip of duct tape from the roll he’d pulled out of the mission pack on his back.

Rage burned in Donny’s eyes as Eli taped his lover’s mouth, then patted her cheek with gentle mockery.

“Shall I have him slice her throat, or do I slice yours?” Brogan asked softly at Donny’s ear, still watching the other man’s face in the mirror.

Donny swallowed tightly, and Brogan was certain what his answer would be.

The regret, the seeming apology as he stared back at his lover was all a dead giveaway that Donny would save himself.

Sandi was shaking her head desperately, sobbing through the tape, no doubt certain she was going to die.

“Answer me, Donny,” he demanded, rubbing the blade against his throat in whispery strokes, “One of you is going to die. You or her?”

Tears fell from Donny’s eyes as Sandi became almost hysterical.

“Me,” he answered.

Sandi’s chair almost tipped over before Eli could catch it as hysteria overtook her.

“I don’t think I heard you, Donny.” He held the knife motionless against the man’s throat. “Say it again.”

Donny was staring at his lover in misery as she screamed through the tape again, still sobbing uncontrollably. He hadn’t even noticed that Brogan was watching him through the mirror.

“Me,” Donny answered, his voice louder, strangely devoid of fear. “Kill me; don’t hurt her.”

Sandi bent forward, sobbing, screaming through the tape, jerking hysterically against the ropes that held her as jagged cries tore from her chest.

Brogan looked at Eli, the other man’s eyes reflecting the same shock Brogan felt. Sandi was protesting so hysterically Eli actually had to hold the chair in place.

“You’re going to sacrifice yourself for her?” Brogan asked in mocking disbelief. “Why? She’s not faithful. She whores around on you—”

“Don’t call her that,” Donny protested raggedly as Brogan watched his expression thoughtfully while watching Sandi from the corner of his eye.

Hell, they loved each other.

“Tell me why,” Brogan demanded again.

“Because I’ll die anyway if you kill her,” he stated, confusing Brogan with his suddenly calm demeanor. “I couldn’t live without her.”

“So you risk her life thieving? You pimp her out and keep her in harm’s way here while committing treason?” he probed while he had the chance. “That’s not love, Donny.”

“I love her.” It wasn’t a protest or an argument. It was a statement. Then he frowned, confused. “I ain’t no traitor, man.”

“So you love the woman you let other men screw for money?” Brogan ignored the protest.

“I love her,” Donny snapped, meeting his gaze directly. “And she’s no whore. Sandi screws no man but me. I know what she does. She flirts and she teases a little. Then she gives them a few sleeping pills while I steal their money. She doesn’t screw them.”

“You endanger her in whatever moneymaking schemes you can come up with. That’s not love.”

“I love her.”

Brogan whispered the next accusation sneeringly. “You use her; you don’t want to die for her.”

“I love her.” Donny’s voice cracked in misery. “I love her.”

Son of a bitch, go figure.

“Donny?”

“What?” He sniffed, swallowing tightly.

“Do you want to live another day with the woman you love?”

Donny nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Then listen to me carefully.” Brogan hardened his voice. “If either of you, at any time—tomorrow, next week, next year, fucking next lifetime,” he snarled, “should verbally or physically or through someone else strike out at Eve Mackay again, I won’t give you a choice; I’ll just come after your woman.”

Donny’s eyes widened in shock.

“If you so much as breathe Eve’s air, brush against her, or even think to insult her, her family, her friends, hell, her fucking enemies, then I’ll come after your lover. When I do, I’ll make what happened to those rabbits seem humane. You read me, asshole?”

“I hear.” He snarled as Brogan nicked his neck with the blade.

“If Eve Mackay or Brogan Campbell learns anyone was here tonight, learns you were threatened in any way, coerced to act decent, then I’ll come for her,” he whispered insidiously. “And if I hear so much as a breath that you have information concerning thieves and traitors and didn’t tell me, then I’m coming after her. Read me.”

“I hear you.” Donny’s voice was barely a whisper now.

“If I find out you heard any of the above and you didn’t contact me, I’ll bathe in her blood. You got it?”

“How?” Donny swallowed tightly. “Contact you how?”

“You left your cell phone in the kitchen,” Brogan reminded him. “There’s a new number in it. Now I’ll ask you one more time: Do you know anything?”

Donny and Sandi stared at each other for long moments. Nodding to Eli, Brogan watched as he pulled the long, wickedly sharp knife from the sheath at his thigh and laid it against Sandi’s neck.

“Wait. Wait,” Donny whispered.

Eli lifted the knife marginally from Sandi’s throat—just enough that it wasn’t touching her skin.

“Come on, Donny,” Brogan urged him. “What do you know?”

“The thieves are part of the touring club,” he revealed. “Some say it’s Brogan Campbell.”

“Is it?” Brogan asked.

Fear flickered in Donny’s eyes. “I don’t think so. I think it’s someone else, but I don’t know who. Someone who used to be in that group with Chandler and Dayle Mackay.”

“The Freedom League?” Brogan asked, his gaze flickering to Eli. This was the first they had heard this.

“Yeah, that Freedom League.” Donny swallowed again, obviously terrified, but more terrified of losing his lover.

Luck was with him tonight, Brogan thought. He’d never imagined that coming here to beat the shit out of the little bastard over some rabbits would end up with information on the very investigation he’d been working for two and a half years now.

“You know something else, Donny,” Brogan stated smoothly, confidently.

He could see it in the other man’s eyes every time his gaze met his lover’s.

“Just talk, that’s all,” Donny wheezed. “There’s talk that the files Brogan Campbell stole are really important. They have coordinates in them for something. Something that the League wants.”

“And where did you hear this talk?”

“I was outside at the bar one night, snortin’ a little somethin’—somethin’,” he said nervously.

“I don’t care what you were doing,” Brogan stated softly. “What did you hear?”

“Some dude was takin’ a call.” Donny’s voice lowered as though he were afraid others might hear him. “I don’t know who it was. He was pissed; he said Brogan had to be behind it because they were searching for the same thing. He said he knew it was Brogan Campbell. That only Campbell had a reason to want those files or the information in them.”

Sandi was still crying, though not as hard.

“What’s Brogan Campbell searching for?” he asked as though he didn’t know.

Desperation filled Donny’s gaze now. “I don’t know,” he rasped. “I swear to God, I don’t know.”

“What have you heard, then?” Brogan asked.

Donny licked his lips nervously, his gaze seeking Sandi’s again. Sandi gave the barest nod.