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He frowned, his jaw clenching. He knew the out she was offering him, and it was one Cranston hadn’t approved. There was no reason to drive a wedge between this man and the Mackays. It was his choice. And she would leave it up to him.
“You’re insulting me,” he bit out. “And pissing me off at the same time. I just told you my loyalty is to the law. Period. ”
“Excellent. ” She closed the file and flashed him a cool smile. “Shall we go then? I’d like to start with the first name below yours on that list if you don’t mind. ”
His lips tightened, but he jerked his hat from the side of the table and slammed it on his head before rising to his feet.
Chaya gathered her file together, looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder then turned to face three sets of Mackay eyes on her.
Light green, emerald green, and behind dark glasses she knew were the deepest, darkest forest green eyes she had ever seen. They mesmerized, sank into the soul and left their impression forever after.
“It was good to see you boys again. ” She smiled tightly. “Maybe next time we’ll have a chance to chat for a while. ”
Dawg and Rowdy ducked their heads, but Natches’s expression never shifted, his eyes never left hers.
“Greta, you don’t want to be here,” Dawg finally muttered as his head lifted, his expression concerned. “Let this go. Make Cranston send someone else to do his dirty work. ”
“But, Dawg, you know how convincing he can be,” she reminded him mockingly. “I think you and I both know I’m rather stuck here. And I do have a job to do. Good day. ”
She nodded to them, then moved past the sheriff, who had stood back, watching the confrontation. Natches’s eyes still followed her, silent, aware.
Did the memories bring him awake at night in a cold sweat? she wondered. Did he even let himself remember?
She tried not to remember, but she did. Too often . . . Remembering was a weakness, because each time she allowed herself to remember hell, then she was also reminded of ecstasy. And she wondered if hell wasn’t safer.
“You want to tell us what’s doin’, bro?” Dawg stared across the table at Natches as he sipped at the coffee he’d finally ordered.
“Nothin’s doin’,” he replied, flicking his cousin a mocking look.
“Take the glasses off, Natches,” Rowdy finally bit out.
And he didn’t dare. He’d been out of the game too long. His eyes showed what he knew his face didn’t, and when it came to Chaya, they showed even more.
There were secrets he kept, secrets he was determined to keep. And Chaya was one of them.
“I have you, Chay. Hold on, baby. Just hold on. I have you. ”
He almost flinched at the memory. The smell of gunfire, of violence and blood, filled his head, and the sounds of her screams. Screams so horrifying, so filled with rage and pain that he hadn’t known how to live with them in his head.
“I need to roll. ” He pushed the coffee cup back and dug into his jeans for a few dollars to pay the bill.
He didn’t have time to fuck around here. Chaya and Zeke were on the move, and Natches was very curious as to the names on that list she had shown the sheriff.
He was very damned curious as to why she was here to begin with. He had the official line. He had the rumors and he had the suppositions his contacts had come up with. None of those satisfied him. None of those reasons kept his hackles from rising every time he thought about it, or every time he saw Chaya.
He tossed the money on the table and started to rise.
“I don’t want to make a mess of this diner, cuz,” Dawg said then. “And if we fight, you know there’s gonna be a mess. Sit your ass down here and tell us what the hell is going on. Let us help you, Natches. ”
He stared back at Dawg, then Rowdy. He could see the concern in their eyes, the worry that he was riding that line again. He had ridden that line a lot in the past. The one that separated common sense from pure, bloody violence.
What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t make sense of it. He hadn’t made sense of it in seven years and it still didn’t make sense. When Chaya was anywhere near, he didn’t know himself. He didn’t know who he was and he didn’t understand the needs that tore through him, nor did he understand the extreme possessiveness.
In one hot afternoon in the Iraqi desert while he waited for the calvary to ride in and listened to the enemy get closer, he had found something he hadn’t expected to find.
There, buried in a hole, he had held a woman, and somehow that woman had slipped inside his soul.
How did that happen? In such a short time, how did one woman change everything a man knew about himself?
