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And when she started dealing with that rattler Nadine, then he sure as hell expected those answers to be forthcoming.
“I don’t like being dragged around like a child, Natches,” she told him as he pulled her onto the deck of the boat and unlocked the door.
He pulled her into the houseboat, slammed the sliding door closed behind him, then stalked to the kitchen for a beer.
All shit aside, he’d seen a new side of Chaya today. For the first time, this morning, he’d seen the agent. Steel eyed, her demeanor cold, she refused to back down. And rather than turning him off as it should have, it had made him hard. Because he knew the woman underneath, liquid hot and burning for him alone. Dawg called her plain, and he’d wanted to smash his cousin’s face in for the comment despite the fact that he knew, had seen, the metamorphosis she somehow managed to undergo.
The agent, with her hair slicked back into a ponytail, her eyes cold and hard, her expression emotionless, blended into the background for most people. Not plain, but easily passed by for some reason. Natches had always seen the woman beneath that look though, because he knew her, in all her expressions, in many of her moods, and he knew there was nothing plain about her.
She was complex, complicated, and sometimes too damned sharp to suit him. And she was good at hiding. Hiding herself as well as her secrets.
He turned back to her after downing half the bottle of beer he’d pulled from the refrigerator, remaining silent as he watched her.
Dressed in jeans because she knew they made folks more comfortable and a light sweater beneath a dark blazer. And those boots. Those boots made her legs look longer, made them sexier. The gray sweater brought the soft golden highlights in her eyes free, and softened her delicate face.
And when she crossed her arms over her breasts and glared back at him, his cock throbbed in anticipation.
“The Mackays are going to have to keep their noses out of this,” she snapped. “You and Dawg following me around town all day, then showing up here. What the hell did you think I was going to do anyway? For God’s sake, Natches, you know how an investigation works. There are questions afterward, loose ends to tie up and, considering there’s a million dollars missing and possible co-conspirators, facts to find. You don’t just drop a case like this. ”
He didn’t say anything. He finished the beer, tossed it in the trash and narrowed his eyes on her once again.
And it infuriated her. He could see the mad rising in her eyes. The distant expression he referred to as her “agent face” began to peel away. A light flush worked over her cheeks, her lips lost that thin, cool little line and the lower curve became almost lush, definitely sensual.
Here came his Chaya, the woman.
“Timothy’s playing a very neat little game,” he said then. “I can see it in every move you’re making and I know you can, too. He gave you orders I’m not to accompany you on these interviews? Have you asked yourself why?”
“Probably because you’re too damned nosy and you don’t know how to stand down,” she muttered.
He almost grinned at the accusation.
“Because he knows he’s going to be poking in my business,” he informed her. “Whatever the hell he has going on here is going to piss me off and he doesn’t want me to know about it until he has no other choice. ”
“This does not concern Ray Mackay, Natches,” she told him again, and he saw the truth in her, felt it. “Are you going to go off the deep end when I question Dawg? Rowdy? What about Crista Mackay? Are the Mackay cousins going to close rank against me then?”
He paused and stared back at her. Is that what she really expected? That he would side with his cousins, with anyone, against her? Hell, he had risked his damned hide for her in Iraq, not just once but twice. Did she think he would do any less for her here?
“I have a job to do, Natches. I don’t have the option you chose last year of telling Timothy Cranston to get fucked. And to be honest, this time, I don’t want that option. I want to know who the hell thought they could get away with murdering that kid that drove the transport vehicle. I want to know how Johnny Grace got away with nearly killing Dawg’s woman. And I want to know why the hell this little town is suddenly a beehive of terrorist activity. ”
His brows almost arched at that statement. The last year, he and Dawg had admittedly been concentrating on their own lives. Had they somehow managed to miss something going on that they should have seen?
“I haven’t seen many terrorists this week, Chay,” he finally stated, tilting his head and watching her curiously. “Is there something here that I should know?”
She inhaled slowly. “Last year you had nearly a dozen terrorists near or around Somerset. The Swede that laid that down payment on those missiles wasn’t a happy little camper after his arrest, and he has friends. Friends who most likely are sitting right here just waiting to see who they should target to get that money back. A million dollars is a hell of a lot of money, Natches, even in today’s economy. ”
His brow arched. “That was one of your flimsier excuses,” he told her. “Try again. ”
Chaya stared back at him, recognizing the slow, lazy drawl as it passed his lips. It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it. It was the dangerous throb of suspicion just beneath the careless tone, the warning that he wasn’t buying whatever she was selling. And she had warned Timothy he wouldn’t. No matter the truth of it, Natches knew there was more going on. Somehow, the list of names she had interviewed today, in that little group, she had managed to tip Natches off, and it wasn’t just her questioning of Ray Mackay.
“Someone in Somerset was helping Johnny,” she told him. “Someone who had more contacts than Jim Bedsford could have managed. Bedsford was a front, Natches, nothing more. Someone else was pulling the strings. ”
He leaned against the low counter, crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at her with those frighteningly observant eyes of his. Sometimes, she swore he could see clear down to her soul with those dark green eyes.
“What’s your proof?”
“Bedsford’s contacts couldn’t have gotten him and the Swede together last year for that missile deal. That group doesn’t deal with penny-ante thieves. They’re too slick for that no matter how impressive the merchandise. Someone else brokered that deal, someone from Somerset. Someone Timothy’s been chasing for years. That’s all I know. ”
“The deal in Iraq?” he asked her then. “The one Craig was involved in? Does it tie in?” The illegal transfer of arms and information to terrorists, and the unsanctioned attack on the hotel, the explosion that killed her daughter.
