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Dawg stared at Crista’s perky little butt as it disappeared up the stairs and sighed heavily.
“What the hell do you want, Natches?” he asked his cousin wearily, turning to him and watching as Natches grinned back.
The other man hadn’t watched the charming display of flesh; it was the only reason he still had all his teeth in his head.
Natches shook his head. “You and Rowdy. Man, you two are so possessive it’s enough to make a man’s stomach turn. And here I thought I could depend on you to hold out. ”
Dawg grunted at the comment. “You didn’t answer my question. ”
“I brought her Rodeo back. I thought I’d drop in and see how you two were doing before heading to bed. ” His grin was pure evil. “And I thought I’d give you this. It was in the passenger seat. ”
Dawg took the slip of paper. Express Movers. The letterhead and address were legit. The scrawled handwriting assured Miss Jansen she could now pick up her items in Store It Yourself, and enclosed in the envelope she would find the key to the indoor warehouse locker.
“I hacked the company computers before coming over here. They don’t have a record for the delivery. Someone set her up. ”
Dawg tucked the note carefully into the pocket of his sweats until he could lock it in the upstairs safe later.
“Looks like you were making progress, anyway,” Natches smirked.
“We were doing fine until you opened your mouth. But I think you were aware of that. ”
Natches glanced toward the stairs then. For a second, regret sliced across his features, then his ever-present mocking smile was back on his face.
“One-man woman, huh?” he asked, though from his look, it was more a statement.
Dawg stared back at him, seeing the flash of loneliness, of knowledge that filled his cousin’s dark, forest green eyes.
“She’s not as agreeable to being my woman as I would wish, though. ” Dawg raked his fingers heavily through his hair as he glanced at the stairs again. “I blackmailed her. ”
He glanced back at Natches in time to see his cousin shaking his head.
“I knew you were going to do something dumb like that. ” He chuckled, though the sound carried little amusement. “Good luck on that one. I just stopped by to drop these off. ” He dropped Crista’s keys on the counter. “And to tell you Cranston wants our final reports in his office by the end of the da
y. Oral and written. He’s still a little upset over losing the woman. But he seems certain the men he captured will talk. ”
“They probably will. ” But who would they identify?
If Crista had been led there, then it was for a reason. The thieves would spill their guts in a heartbeat, either way.
“I don’t know. ” Natches shrugged. “I followed them to the van when they were loading them up.
All Cranston got from them were vague looks when he was questioning them. They might not know. ”
Dawg stared at him in complete disbelief.
“Hey, we can hope,” Natches snickered, holding his hands up in surrender before straightening from the bar and heading for the door. “I came in the back, I’ll leave through the front. Give the gossips something to crow about. While you’re having fun, I’ll see what I can find out, see who’s too interested in the setup you have going on here. I don’t like this a damned bit, Dawg, I’ll tell you. She shouldn’t have been there tonight. It’s a setup. ”
Dawg couldn’t agree with him more. “Let me know what you find out. ”
As Natches left, Dawg relocked the doors behind him and reset the alarms. But he didn’t immediately follow Crista to the bedroom on the upper deck. He stared around the lower level instead, seeing more than the crisp, clean lines of the interior and the nice furnishings.
He’d been living on the Nauti Dawg for years. Only through the coldest months did he leave the marina and stay in the small apartment he had above the lumber store. He rarely stayed at the underground home his father had built before his death.
He sat down slowly on the couch, leaned back, and breathed out wearily. God, he was exhausted. Tired and horny and conflicted. It was a hell of a state to be in at three o’clock in the morning.
His silent laughter was bitter and mocking. Hell, he was turning into the bastard his father had always predicted he was. Maybe he was more like his grandfather, Nate August, than he wanted to admit. The son of a bitch had left three bastard sons and a daughter in Somerset before returning to his Texas home more than fifty years before. Of the four children, Dawg’s father and his uncles and aunt, only Ray Mackay, Rowdy’s father, had shown any sort of decency to his wife or his children. His aunt didn’t count. She worshipped the ground her son, Johnny, walked on, but many suspected she had driven her husband, Ralph, to his grave.
Dawg rubbed at the ache in his knee, feeling every steel pin that held the joint and kneecap together. The weather was getting ready to turn damp; he could predict it within days now. And he’d been on his leg too damned long. He was riding close to twenty-four hours without sleep, and Cranston wanted him in to give his final report.
