AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As he stared through the rifle sights, he didn’t see the image Johnny was trying to impersonate, that of Dawg’s lover, Crista Jansen. No, he saw Johnny. Just Johnny. His beady little eyes narrowed as he leaned against Alex’s car, his arms crossed over his fake breasts as he watched the dirt road he expected Bedsford to use.
Natches knew he should have expected this. He should have known Cranston was hiding shit; it was what Cranston did best. And to be honest, he had suspected it; he just hadn’t put two and two together fast enough.
Because he had been too damned busy holding back a more personal fury.
It was bad enough that Rowdy had to be so damned possessive over Kelly, but now Dawg had to go and do the same thing with Crista. That lack of connection was affecting him. He was beginning to feel disassociated, cold. That tight knot of bitter ice inside his soul that he had fought all his life was hardening now.
Rowdy and Dawg had grown up, and they had grown away, though he was certain they didn’t see it that way. Since Rowdy had taken Kelly, Natches had tried to share time with Dawg and Rowdy rather than women. But hell, women took up time, and Kelly was as spoiled as any female ever had been by Rowdy.
Sometimes, Natches thought they lived in each other’s pockets, and now Dawg and Crista were taking the same route. And Natches was left standing on the outside, watching, wondering, and regretting.
He had thought the sharing would continue. He had let himself care for Kelly, let her into his heart, believing that when Rowdy came home that he would be a part of the intimacy, only to find out that Rowdy had found a core of possessiveness somewhere.
And Dawg. Dawg was doing the same thing. No other man would touch Crista without finding himself wishing he had held back. And Dawg was a mean bastard when he was riled.
And this was why Natches hadn’t connected Bedsford and Johnny. Because he was too busy adjusting to changes that he hadn’t expected, too busy trying to find a way to keep the ice around his soul melted.
He wasn’t succeeding. A testament to that fact had his finger aching to twitch just enough to put a bullet in the back of Johnny’s head.
Johnny had instigated every beating, every humiliation, every vicious attack Dayle Mackay had ever made against Natches. He had carried rumors to his father, and in many cases, proof of Natches’s supposed crimes.
Sharing his women. Drinking too young. The instances were too many to name and too dangerous to remember right now.
His shoulder ached like hell as he stood amid the thick branches of the pine tree, his rifle resting on one thickly needled tree branch as he bent to keep Johnny in sight.
The bullet that had taken him out of the Marines hadn’t completely taken him out of the game.
Once an assassin, always an assassin. Once a man deliberately set his sights on another man and pulled the trigger, then it was a part of him forever. He might walk away from it, but he could never escape it.
Natches hadn’t wanted to walk away or to escape. He just hadn’t had any other choice.
“Natches, we’re moving into position. ” Dawg’s voice came across the receiver in his ear.
“Bedsford should be driving into the cabin yard any second. ”
Natches lifted his gaze from the gun sights and stared down the road.
“In sight. ” The van was pulling up the dirt track, bouncing over the ruts as the driver obviously took her time.
Crista was driving. Natches’s gut clenched at the fear she must be feeling. She was depending on them to protect her, trusting Dawg and him to make certain nothing happened to her.
“Natches. ” Dawg said his name, nothing more, but he understood the message in it. The plea that Natches keep her safe, no matter the cost.
“I have her covered, Bro,” he said quietly. “No fears. ”
“Natches, we need those two alive,” Cranston repeated. “We need them all alive. Don’t you pull any shit on me. ”
The corners of Natches’s lips kicked up in amusement. It was a good thing he liked Cranston.
“Do your job; I’ll do mine,” he said softly. “Crista is priority. Period. ”
Cranston cursed, but Natches could have sworn he heard Dawg’s breath of relief.
He’d die for Dawg and Rowdy. Without them, he wouldn’t have survived past his teens. He was irked at the direction their lives had taken; at times, he was damned pissed off over it. But he understood it. Rowdy especially. Rowdy had never known the darkness that Natches and Dawg had lived through.
And even Dawg, who had known the pain but not the pure evil that Natches had experienced.
Kelly and Crista had healed Rowdy and Dawg. He couldn’t blame the two women for not seeing the loneliness it had caused in Natches.
