Nauti Dreams (38 page)

“When I get you back here, you’re not getting out of the bed for a week.”

“At least a week,” she promised, standing still as he moved back and stared down at her.

“I don’t like this,” she finally told him. “You shouldn’t be alone with him.”

His smile was tinged with bitterness, but no regret. “I won’t be. Remember? You’re my

shield.”

And she had to be content with that.

“Go shower. I’ll get your things together.”

And then she would leave him alone. Alone to think, alone to remember, and Chaya

knew it. Just as she knew there was no other way to convince the monster that Natches

was alone.

Leaving him this time was breaking her heart.

TWENTY-ONE

Natches gave Chaya time to get started up the boardwalk before he stepped onto the deck

of his houseboat to watch her leave.

Instantly he felt the rifle scope between his eyes, which meant, hopefully, he was drawing

it away from Chaya. He smirked at the would-be assassin, daring him to take the shot,

knowing none would be taken. But he was smart enough, instinctive enough to feel it.

Then he turned his gaze back to Chaya, keeping his expression carefully mocking, as

though watching her walk away meant nothing to him.

It wasn’t forever, he reminded himself. Hell no. After this, he was never going to watch

Chaya walk away from him again, he would make damned sure of it.

Shaking his head as though amused at something, he turned and walked back into the

living room and closed the door behind him.

Chaya’s cell phone was tucked at his belt; it was turned on. According to her, even

disabling the battery wouldn’t disable the wire.

All he had to do now was wait for Dayle Mackay to learn Chaya had left and to call. And

he would call. Cranston was betting against it, as was Alex. Three against two, because

Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches all knew Dayle would call.

He didn’t have to wait long. Two hours that he spent pacing the living room, going over

the plan, trying to make certain he’d considered every angle, and the cell phone rang.

He unclipped it unhurriedly and flipped it open before bringing it to his ear.

“Yeah?” As though he didn’t know who the hell it was.

“We need to talk, son.” Grating, smug, Dayle’s voice came over the line clearly.

Natches stayed still, his fists clenching. He took the phone from his ear and flipped it

closed, disconnecting the call. He didn’t want to appear too eager, did he? He had to

swallow back the urge to throw up at the sheer confidence in Dayle’s voice.

How could anyone deceive himself to the extent that Dayle had, believing he would ever

carry the right to call Natches “son”? Even with the slight evidence Dayle had been

given, how could he ever imagine Natches would have a desire to speak to him? To kill,

yeah, killing him might assuage a hell of a lot of anger, but in the long run, it would only

end up pissing Natches off more.

Natches liked to think he wasn’t a man who fooled himself easily. He’d thought Dayle

wasn’t. It seemed he was wrong, because a half hour later, the phone range again.

“What the hell do you want?” was his answer.

“We need to talk,” Dayle repeated, his voice throttled, anger evident in it.

“About what? Your treasonous activities? They’ve already caused me enough problems if

you don’t mind,” he sneered. “If you’re going to save the world, try to do it without

involving me. Okay?”

Save the world his ass. He almost choked on that one. Damn, he’d thought he was a

better actor than this.

Dayle said nothing for long moments. “Some information is dangerous to have, Natches,”

he finally replied.

“Yeah, so pull the damned trigger next time I step outside, why don’t you? That would

just solve all our problems.”

Dayle chuckled. “That sixth sense of yours has always been good. Come to your aunt

Nadine’s house, Natches. One hour. Just give me a few minutes to talk to you; that’s all

I’m asking for. Believe it or not, we might have a few things in common.”

Uh-huh. They sure did. His blood and the fact that Natches really wanted to spill it.

But he stayed silent.

“I can’t imagine we have anything in common,” he finally stated. “And I doubt Nadine

would let me in the door.”

“One hour, Natches.” Dayle’s voice gentled, and it sounded sickening. “I’ll be there

waiting for you.”

This time Dayle disconnected.

Natches flipped the phone closed and returned it to the clip on his belt. He checked the

clock. It was barely nine and he needed a beer. Hell, whiskey. The bastard was driving

him to drink.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and walked upstairs. He buckled the black leather

chaps he used for riding the Harley in winter over his jeans and pulled on the heavy boots

he wore when riding the powerful machine.

The leather jacket, scuffed and beaten, was pulled from the closet and thrown to the bed

as he moved to the dresser. He tucked a knife in the side of his boot. Picking up the

jacket, he walked downstairs and pulled a beer from the refrigerator.

Hell, he wished Chaya was here. He’d lie on the couch with her again, hold her, and

reinforce the shield. His lips quirked at the thought of that. It had taken him long enough

to get beneath her shields, but once he had, the woman he found beneath there was more

than a match for him. And he liked that; he liked that fine.

He finished the beer, tossed it in the trash, and moved to the couch to wait. He’d wait that

hour before he left the houseboat. There was no sense in arriving early, or even on time.

He may as well make an entrance when he arrived. He and Dayle Mackay had never

pretended to stand on ceremony with each other.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and thought of the team moving into place. They

knew where Dayle’s spotters were; that would make it easier. Natches knew Alex and his

team—they didn’t make mistakes. And Dawg and Rowdy were black death when they

wanted to be.

He waited. He didn’t pace; instead, he sat on the couch and stared around the living

room. He thought of the house Dawg had nearly completed farther in the mountains.

There was land close to him, and it wasn’t but a few miles from the house Rowdy and

Kelly were building. He could buy that land, build him and Chaya a home. A place to

love and to raise their babies.

Lots of bedrooms, he thought. He wanted to fill her life with babies and with laughter.

Both their lives. He wanted to be the husband he’d dreamed of being with her, the father

he’d never had.

When the clock showed five minutes past the hour, he stood and left the houseboat. He

paused on the deck as though considering turning back, then shook his head and moved

to the docks, striding quickly to the small metal building Ray had allowed them to set up

to park the Harleys in. He took his time getting it out and checking it over.

Half an hour and he was on the road. He didn’t rush, there was no need to. Dark glasses

protected his eyes from the cold wind, but it ruffled through his hair, clearing his head.

He pushed thoughts of Chaya and babies as far back in his mind as he could, though he

admitted, that wasn’t far. Hatred, a child’s rage and pain, and the fear of the dark that kid

had known. He erased it from his mind. It was just another mission he told himself.

Except this time, he wasn’t going to kill.

He pulled onto the side of the street before Nadine’s driveway forty-five minutes past the

deadline and parked the Harley before cutting the motor and stepping off. Far enough

away that he’d be surprising them.

He’d passed the dark panel van parked on the street, blending in with the SUVs and

pickups it shared space with. Wasn’t Nadine nice? Why, she had bought her a nice little

place in the middle of town. Made things so much easier. But it didn’t make this any

easier.

Stepping up to the door, he didn’t bother to knock. He pushed open and stepped into the

living room before coming to a rocking stop.

“You’re determined to make me puke this morning,” he stated as he watched his aunt

jump from Dayle’s lap and Dayle pull his hand slowly from beneath the silk dress she

was wearing.

Nadine didn’t even bother to flush. Actually, she let a nervous little smile touch her lips;

it was almost welcoming.

What dimension of the twilight zone did he step into? Natches wondered as he lifted his

brow and closed the door.

“We thought you weren’t arriving.” Dayle rose to his feet, adjusting the polo shirt he

wore and the creased slacks.

He looked as powerful as he ever had. Six feet plus, wider than Natches, broader. Older,

Natches reminded himself as he hooked his thumbs in the top of the chaps he wore and

stared at the man who dared call him son.

“I didn’t think I was either.” He shrugged and stared at Nadine as she twisted her hands

together nervously and glanced between Dayle and Natches. “What’s her problem?”

Dayle smiled. “She wants to welcome you home.”

“Really?” Natches arched his brows. “How interesting. Last I heard, she wanted to gut

me for popping Johnny’s head off for him. Changed her mind rather fast, didn’t she?”

She paled, swaying as Dayle put his arm around her and whispered something in her ear

before nodding toward the back of the house. Giving him a grateful look, she accepted

his kiss on the lips before moving through the house.

Natches shook his head. “You know, that relationship you have going on there never did

make sense to me. She had her brother’s kid, and you’re not the brother. No wonder

Johnny was so screwed up. Now she just wants to welcome me right into the family as

though she never hated my guts? You two been doing hard drugs or something?”

“You always were a smart-mouthed little bastard,” Dayle snapped irritably.

“Yeah, I do good at that.” Natches grinned in pride. “So, what the hell do you want and

how do I return things to where you ignore me rather than harass me?”

Dayle grimaced, his lined face tightening into displeasure as he pushed his hair, still thick

and barely graying, back from his forehead.

“Little whelp,” he muttered. “You don’t even look like me. If it wasn’t for those eyes of

yours I’d swear you weren’t even mine.”

“Maybe Chandler was my daddy as well as Johnny’s,” Natches mocked. “From what I

remember, it could be possible.”

“I thought of that,” Dayle snapped. “Even had the paternity test done. No such luck,

you’re mine. And now it’s time we both come to terms with that.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“You know what I am, what I’m a part of.” Dayle sighed. “I always knew you’d

remember it.”

“Is that why you hired Linkins to try to kill me in Iraq?”

Dayle shrugged again. “It wasn’t an easy order to give. And I have to admit, I wasn’t

disappointed when it failed.”

Natches forced himself to keep from curling his fingers into fists.

“The strike order on the hotel where Chaya’s husband and child were?” he asked.

“Another attempt?”

Dayle’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That had nothing to do with you or the girl. I

didn’t find out about your relationship with her until later. And I didn’t give that order,

that came from one of our founding members based there at the time. Craig Cornwell was

working for us. We had no idea he was working for the enemy,too, until then. We

couldn’t risk his capture. He would have talked.”

“I want to know how the hell you managed it. A strike order, authenticated and radioed to

the planes. That seems pretty much impossible.”

“Orders get messed up sometimes.” Dayle shrugged. “The commander only knew the

orders he received. We just had to get them through the proper channels. As I said, Iraq

wasn’t my call. I’m a recruiter, that’s all.”

“You’re not a very good recruiter,” Natches informed him. “I’ve been checking up on

you a bit. Dishonorably discharged, malcontents, some of your boys aren’t even in the

military. Those that are still there are just a breath from being tossed into Leavenworth.”

“Because they know where our leaders are taking us,” Dayle snarled. “Someone has to

pave the way. The revolution is building, Natches. You can be a part of it. You can be at

my side as a general and a leader now that you’ve disassociated yourself from Ray’s little

bastards.”

And here it was. Natches grinned in full-throttled smug triumph. “What makes you think

I’ve done that?”

Dayle tensed. “My reports are that you’re arguing over information you’re refusing to

turn over to DHS. That you’re protecting me.” Pride flared in his eyes.

Natches let himself chuckle at that one. “Nah, not really. They’re just a little ticked off at me right now because I wouldn’t let them in on the fun. No, sorry, Dayle, I’m here to

bust your ass.”

Dayle froze, his eyes narrowed. “You’re not serious.”

“Yeah, I am.” Natches grinned. “Real serious. See, those guys you had targeting me in

their gunsights? Dawg and Rowdy have them already. Go ahead. Try to call one of

them.”

Dayle pulled his cell phone from his belt and punched a number in. Listened. Tried

another. Another. Yeah, Dawg and Rowdy were black death when they wanted to be.

“I’d say there’s some blood fertilizing a few areas.” Natches nodded. “It was a good try

though. Too bad you didn’t pay attention to the fact that I don’t even fucking hate you. I