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“And you didn’t say anything?” Rowdy growled, furious. Natches could hear the anger in his tone.
Natches shrugged. “I know how to give back. I let him feel me for a while. ” And it had amused him. Just as he knew it had amused Dayle when Natches felt those sights between his eyes. Once a sniper always a sniper, but once an assassin, a man always knew when it was turning back on him. Dayle amused Natches for the most part with his games. He didn’t know how to target, didn’t know any more than an experienced hunter knew. The wind positioning was never exact. He was always too far off. But he liked to pretend he could kill his son. The mess cook turned gourmet cook who thought he was a general in a revolution. It was so fucking laughable Natches still had trouble believing it.
Dayle Mackay had the temperament for what he was doing though. He’d learned enough in the Marines to know how to be hard. He’d made connections, and he’d kept those connections. And Natches had known, as he’d read those reports, as he had begun to put the pieces together along with the mental snapshots of the past few events that had tied in. Natches had known.
“How long have you known who Agent Dane is chasing, Natches?” Dawg asked.
Natches could feel his anger, too. Protective, that was Dawg. And he knew Dawg would never forget the nig
ht Natches hadn’t been able to protect himself. The night he had nearly let his father beat him to death, to protect his sister. And he would have done it again. If Ray hadn’t found a way to make certain Dayle was too scared to leave so much as a bruise on Janey, Natches would have let his father kill him to protect her.
Because no one in the damned county had the balls to stop it. They were terrified of Dayle Mackay. Bullying, cold, mean to the fucking bone. And a fucking gourmet chef on top of it. It was almost enough to leave a man rolling in laughter at the thought of it. Dayle Mackay could make a meal that would leave a man crying in joy at the taste. And he could beat a man to a bloody pulp with the same cold precision.
“I knew before she arrived. ” Natches finally shrugged. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. He’d refused to even consider the suspicion. But he had known. The day Johnny had died Natches had stared into his father’s eyes across the town square and Dayle had known who had killed Johnny. And Natches had known, in that one instant, who had helped Johnny. Hell, helped him nothing. Johnny hadn’t masterminded that little deal, Dayle Mackay had. And now Natches had to deal with it.
“Cranston has Chaya playing a smoke game, and I know it. Not enough to cause Dayle to target her, but enough, he’s hoping, to make Dayle mess up just enough to rain down the wrath of Timothy Cranston on him. The wrong phone call. The wrong meeting with the wrong person. Just enough to pull him in on suspicion of terrorist activities. ”
Silence surrounded them. Natches didn’t feel the chill of the night on his skin, he felt the chill of betrayal in his gut. And of fear. Because the one thing he hadn’t considered until tonight, until that bomb had taken the other agent out, he hadn’t considered the risk to Chaya.
Dayle had no problem whatsoever targeting her. Killing her would kill Natches, and figuring that out wouldn’t take rocket science, especially not after the past few days.
“I’m moving the boat tomorrow,” he told them then. “I’m going to dock her behind the garage for a while. ”
“The hell you are. ” Rowdy faced him, cold, hard. “We stick together, Natches. He’ll expect you to separate yourself from us. We don’t separate. ”
Natches shook his head. “Kelly and Crista . . . ”
“Are just as fucking innocent in this as that woman you have in your bedroom now,” Dawg snarled. “I might not like the situation, damn it, but I’ll be damned if you’ll pull away from us like that. There’s safety in numbers, man. And right now, Dayle isn’t going to take that risk here. We’d all know who did it. We know his style and his signature, he can’t take that risk. You make yourself a target, and he can take you out easy. ”
Natches scratched at his cheek and gazed out into the night. That was the only insurance Natches had ever had against his father’s wrath. He’d rubbed Dayle’s nose in it, too. He couldn’t take Natches out without the whole damned town knowing it. And a part of Natches had never really believed his father would try to kill him, until recently.
Hell, he should just pack himself and Chaya up and leave. Making a life somewhere else wouldn’t be that damned hard. Except there was no way in hell she would go for it. She was an agent, and she didn’t break her word, she wouldn’t betray DHS that way. She would resign, and that was a given once this assignment was finished, if they survived it.
“Have you discussed any of this with Chaya yet?” Rowdy asked.
Natches shook his head. He had only let himself believe it tonight. “She’s sleeping. ”
She was curled in his bed, safe and warm for the moment, where he needed her to be always. Safe and warm, and sheltering his child under her heart.
“She’s pregnant. ” He let the words slip past his lips.
He knew she was pregnant. He could feel it clear to his soul. The moment she told him she wasn’t protected, that knowledge had slammed clear to his gut.
Silence again. Rowdy’s eyes widened and Dawg’s seemed to bug out.
“She’s what?” Dawg wheezed. “What the hell? She’s not been back here long enough, unless . . . ” He let it trail off.
“It’s mine. ” His child. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t matter. “She won’t admit it, but I know she is, Dawg. The first time, she wasn’t protected and I didn’t give a damn. ” But now, fear sliced inside him. His baby rested inside her, barely more than an instinct, and already that child was in danger. “I haven’t given a damn since. ”
“Damn,” Rowdy breathed out roughly. “Okay, another reason why you don’t go running off solo. Your ass is staying here. And so is hers. ”
“You’re risking your lives,” Natches told them both. “Kelly and Crista need you two. This is my fight. ”
“He wants me to kick his ass,” Dawg snapped.
“No, he wants a cold bath tonight, and I might oblige him by tipping his ass over that rail and into the lake,” Rowdy said with a healthy dose of disgust. “Get over yourself, Natches. Later today, we tackle Cranston. That little bastard has gone too far this time. He should have contacted us to start with. ”
“He did. ”
