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His brow lifted and he watched Natches’s lips compress furiously and stepped back another step. He wasn’t letting that crazy bastard anywhere near him right now.
“Natches, you hit me again, and I’m hitting back,” he promised. “You know how Chaya gets when that pretty face of yours gets all bruised up.”
He made a mental note to make damned certain he locked the door from now on.
The look Natches shot him was one rife with outraged anger. Hell, it wasn’t like he was Angel’s father or anything.
“Listen to me, you little prick,” Natches growled with no small amount of anger. “That girl is my daughter now—the same as—and I won’t have you disrespecting her in her mother’s home. You got me?” He stabbed a finger at him.
“You’re insane, man.” Duke stared at him, damned confused now. “Why the hell did you put us in here together then?” He couldn’t help the amazed laugh that slipped past his lips. “I’m no monk and you should be smart enough to know it.”
Natches’s shoulders shifted beneath the light denim short-sleeved shirt he wore, his expression creasing with disapproval.
“That was Chaya’s decision, not mine,” he snapped. “I bet she’ll change her mind now.”
Duke couldn’t help but laugh despite the promise of violence that flashed in Natches’s gaze.
“I bet she won’t,” he disagreed. “Unlike you, your wife realizes Angel’s a woman, not a child. What are you going to do when Bliss grows up?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Natches snarled as he took a step closer. “I sure won’t let her around some deviant like you. No matter how old she is.”
Duke laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was simply that damned funny.
“Natches, do you forget the wild-assed shit you, Rowdy, and Dawg used to get up to?” He couldn’t believe it. Mr. Ménage was calling him a deviant. “And you think you can actually—”
“Say it and I’ll kill you.” The promise was entirely too serious.
Hell. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Natches was a little pale.
He laughed again, though this time, he did try to smother it.
“Fine, I’ll let Chaya tell you all about it in a few hours.” Amusement filled the promise. “Now what the hell do you want?”
Natches pushed his fingers through his hair and breathed out heavily.
“Chaya called Janey. She’s sending dinner over,” he growled. “It’ll be here in about an hour.” He shook his head again. “Son of a bitch, there’s just some things a man should never have to walk in on. . . .”
Swinging around he walked slowly from the sitting area, shaking his head and mumbling about convents.
Poor Natches.
He and Chaya should have had a boy. . . .
SEVEN
Breakfast wasn’t exactly what Angel expected when she and Duke stepped into the kitchen the next morning, but at least everything she remembered about Chaya hadn’t changed after all. The woman still couldn’t cook worth a damn.
The smell of burned bacon attested to that fact.
“Mom, Dad said he’d do it when he came back in,” Bliss reminded her mother patiently as Angel came to a stop and watched curiously.
She remembered a time when she had watched warily as Chaya attempted to cook. She was a hazard around the stove.
“Bliss, I’m begging you . . .” The frazzled, raw edge to Chaya’s tone wasn’t at all like her normal cool, calm tone. She actually sounded as though she were on the verge of tears.
“Mom, the bacon doesn’t matter.” Standing next to her mother, her eyes on the plate of well-blackened bacon, Bliss was confused and uncertain in the face of her mother’s emotional response. “Angel won’t care.”
“Well, I care.” Husky, torn, Chaya’s tone had a fist squeezing around Angel’s heart.
