Nauti Dreams (8 page)

closer, hearing him as a chair scraped across the floor just behind her.

The sheriff’s lips twitched as he continued to study her.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you, little girl?”

She barely contained her flinch. She had heard those words before, and the hell she had

lived through afterward still haunted her nightmares.

“I live as I must.” She shrugged. “Another of those details that I’m not required to discuss

with you. Now, as you are the first on my list to be interviewed, shall we get started?”

There was a snort of a laugh behind her. The sound had her hackles rising and a curl of

anger prickling inside.

Before Mayes could answer, she turned slowly in her chair and looked back at Natches.

He was no more than four feet away from her, staring at her from behind those dark

glasses.

“Your presence really isn’t required at this time,” she told him quietly. “Your turn will

come.”

She refused to let him intimidate her. If he managed to throw her off balance now, then

she was lost. She would never be able to complete her assignment as needed.

He didn’t smile; he didn’t speak. He just stared at her until she turned her back on him

again and shuffled through the papers in her files for the information she had tagged

regarding the sheriff.

“You’ve been sheriff for how long now?”

“Almost six years.” Mayes was definitely amused now. “They voted me back in for some

reason. Personally, I think folks around here consider me a bit of an easy mark, don’t you

think?”

That was definitely a jibe at the man behind her. Chaya was well aware of the fact that

the sheriff and the Mackays had gone head-to-head several times last year over Dawg

Mackay’s activities.

“I wouldn’t know the reasons why.” She smiled tightly. “Johnny Grace was a popular

citizen in town though. You had known him for a while?”

Mayes nodded slowly. “I’d known him all his life, Agent Dane. I only spent eight years

away from home, not a lifetime. Johnny and his parents are well-known to most people in

Somerset and the surrounding towns.”

“Yet you had no suspicion he could have been involved in the hijacking of the missiles?”

“Those missiles were taken in another county, close to an Army base.” His voice was

clipped now. “I had my eyes open for them, but there were those who neglected to inform

me that they could be in my county.” And that was a jibe at Chaya and DHS.

He was professional enough that his animosity didn’t show, but she could feel it.

“Sheriff, I’m not your enemy, nor was I the head agent in that investigation. You’re

snapping at the wrong agent here,” she assured him. “I want to complete this and head

home as quickly as you want me out of your county.”

Mayes tilted his head to the side. “Now, what would make you think I want you out of

my county? Unlike most people, Agent Dane, I enjoy a good comedy every now and

then. And this situation appears to at least have an element of amusement within it.”

The bell tinkled at the door again. When Chaya lifted her head to glance at the mirror

placed next to the register behind Sheriff Mayes, she felt like cursing.

The Mackays were amassing. The tall, broad forms of Dawg and Rowdy Mackay were

reflected in the glass as they moved across the room. They all but swaggered. Dressed in

jeans and light T-shirts, Dawg wore a denim jacket, Rowdy wore a leather jacket. Both

were suspicious and more than a little intimidating as they joined Natches at his table.

When her eyes met Sheriff Mayes’s again, the amusement in them had thickened.

“What about known associates of Grace’s?” she asked him then, lowering her voice

further. “Did you have any reason to suspect them after the operation completed last

year?”

This was the wrong damned place for these questions. She knew it, and she could see the

knowledge of it in Mayes’s eyes. She had tried to warn Timothy, several times, this man

was no one’s fool. Timothy had arranged this meeting here specifically to allow Mackay

involvement.

The sheriff leaned closer. Bracing his arms on the table, he stared back at her warningly.

“Are you sure you want to finish this here, Agent Dane?” he asked her, his voice official,

cool.

“This is as good a place as any, Sheriff. If you could answer the question please.”

“I’d have reason to suspect half the county then,” he told her. “If you want to discuss

specific suspects though, we’re going to do it elsewhere.”

That was good enough. That was the best answer she would get right here and now—that

Mayes did suspect various parts of the Grace and/or Mackay family. She had spent most

of her life learning how to read people, and despite the chill in the sheriff’s face, she

could read that much in his eyes.

“At the time of the operation were you aware that Natches and James Mackay were

involved in the operation?”

Sheriff Mayes snorted at that question. “If there’s trouble to be found, then James Dawg

Mackay and his two cousins are always bound to be close by.” He flicked a mocking look

behind her shoulder. “They’re trouble like that. You’d do well to remember it.”

“But you didn’t answer the question,” she reminded him softly.

“I suspected they were in up to their necks in something, I just didn’t know what.” He

shrugged easily. “Remember? No one informed me anything was going on.”

“But you knew enough to begin your own investigation and to contact several members

of the FBI as well as a contact you made within DHS and the Department of Justice?”

She handed him the memos that had made it into Timothy’s hands. The sheriff’s phone

records clearly revealed the calls that were made, but not which agents took those calls.

His lips tipped knowingly. “I’m a suspicious bastard; what can I say?”

“And who did you speak to at that time?”

He smiled at that. “Names elude me, Miss Dane. I just asked to speak to an agent, and

they plugged me into someone.”

Chaya stared back at him suspiciously. He wasn’t even bothering to disguise the fact that

he was lying to her.

“And what did they tell you?”

“They told me to mind my own business in my own little corner of the world,” he

continued to lie. “What were they supposed to tell me?”

Chaya held back her own grin though she inclined her head in acknowledgment. Truth be

told, she didn’t want to know his contacts and she didn’t give a damn. Timothy was dying

to get his little hooks into them though.

Behind her, silence reigned.

“One last question, Sheriff. Can I trust you?” she asked, allowing her own suspicions to

enter her voice now. He was a friend of the Mackays; the people of Somerset were his

people. She needed to know, to watch his eyes, hear his voice, to determine how far she

was going to trust him.

His eyes narrowed on her again before he leaned forward carefully. “Agent Dane, I’m a

duly sworn officer of the law, and this is my home. You can trust me to cover your back.

You can trust me to make damned sure any suspicions you have are held in confidence. I

might not like what you are or what your team did here last year, but I don’t have to like

you to do my job. Are we clear on that?”

“And should friends of yours question you regarding the interviews we’re about to make?

Will your loyalties then be torn? Because I have to ask you to step aside if they will be. I

can bring in another agent to provide backup.”

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?

“I’m married.” She had whispered the words, and they had been filled with pain, with a

knowledge he couldn’t have guessed at, at the time.

And what had shocked him clear to the bottom of his soul was that it hadn’t mattered. As

he held her, he’d known that marriage wasn’t going to stand in his way. She was his, and

that feeling had seared his soul.

And he had found a core of possessiveness that he hadn’t imagined lived inside him. That

possessiveness had shocked him clear to the center of his being, and still had the power to

throw him off balance.

“Natches.” Rowdy’s voice was warning. “Don’t walk out that fucking door.”

Natches shook his head and followed the woman he couldn’t stay away from. He had to

follow her. He had to know what the hell she was doing and how much danger it was

going to place her in.

“It’s okay, I have you, baby.”

He held her as she sobbed. Broken, horrific cries that ripped at his guts and flayed his

soul as he carried her through hell. The smell of blood and death and broken dreams

surrounded them, and all he could do was hold her.

As he left the diner he didn’t feel the late autumn air, he felt the heat of an Iraqi summer,