Текст книги "Nauti Enchantress"
Автор книги: Lora Leigh
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
Natches chuckled. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Because if you don’t stay the hell away from her then you’re going to get the chance to try for it.”
The other man turned and strolled casually back to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the hall before closing the door behind him and leaving Graham in the dark. Leaving him with the memory of that brief moment when her taste had burned through his senses like nothing he’d known before.
Maybe he just needed to get laid, he thought as the music from the party below intruded on his thoughts. But not here, not tonight. Not until he could escape the memory of her kiss, of her touch, and the hunger for more that was only burning brighter than ever.
Reaching up, he probed at the rapidly swelling flesh of the left side of his face. Fucker! Natches couldn’t just hit the eye or just pop him in the mouth. Hell no, the bastard had to take out the whole side of his face. He’d remember that if the chance ever came around to return the favor.
He couldn’t blame the other man, though. If it were Kye that some bastard resembling Graham was sniffing after, then he knew he’d do the same.
Or worse.
Maybe, if he was lucky, the blow had knocked some sense into his head.
Hell, he just wasn’t that lucky.
Son of a bitch. He just hadn’t needed this.
TEN
The next morning, Lyrica pulled into the parking lot of Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn, incensed.
She was furious. She couldn’t believe the gall of her cousin Natches. It wasn’t bad enough that she had to listen to the gossip for two hours straight at the spa. Hell no—when she called Kye to confirm the rumors, her best friend wouldn’t even speak to her. In fact, she’d informed Lyrica that she wouldn’t speak to her again until Graham’s face had healed from Natches’s blow.
“Really, Lyrica.” Kye sniffed tearfully. “Graham wouldn’t even tell me who hit him. I had to find out myself from some little twit who was actually at the party.”
“You act as though I can control Graham or Natches,” Lyrica protested. “For god’s sake, Kye, you know better than that.”
“I know I can’t stand to see how horrible his face has been bruised.” Kye had been furious. “I refuse to even speak to a Mackay until it’s healed, and that includes you.”
“Kye . . .”
“Not until it’s healed,” Kye snapped angrily. “Every time I see his face I just get more furious.”
She hung up the phone. Lyrica was still staring at the device a moment later when a text with an incriminating photo popped up: Graham, glaring at his sister as she snapped the picture. And the left side of his face was bruised so horribly she gasped.
The second she left the spa she headed straight to her mother’s inn. God knew she loved her cousins and her brother, but this was going too far.
Stomping up the steps, she pushed into the foyer, eyes narrowed, searching for Tim. There were very few people who could even attempt to talk any sense into a Mackay. The only one she knew of was Tim.
The sound of voices in the common living room, a shared space for the guests and family, had her turning and stepping into the large room.
Her mother, Mercedes, sat at the round café table next to an open window and sipped coffee as her guest and new friend Carmina spoke in soft, sweet tones.
Mercedes’s head turned as Lyrica came into the room, her eyes widening as she hurriedly set down the coffee.
“Excuse me,” she told Carmina distractedly. “I’ll be right back.”
Anger was churning so hard, so hot inside Lyrica that it was all she could do to hold it back as her mother gripped her arm and steered her quickly from the common room and across the foyer to the dining room, then into the kitchen.
“What in the world is wrong?” Mercedes demanded, her voice low as her gaze swept over her daughter. “Are you okay? Is Zoey well?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she bit out roughly. “But Natches Mackay is another story, Momma, because I’m going to brain him.”
Mercedes stepped back, staring at her daughter in shock. One hand propped on a still-shapely hip, she lifted the other to her face, her fingers covering her lips and chin thoughtfully for a few long seconds.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “What has Natches done now?”
“What has he done?” Lyrica all but snarled. “Not only can I not attend any party that goes on in this stupid county without being carded, having my brother called, or being asked politely to leave, but I guess whenever one of their know-it-all friends decides to pull me out of one, instead of waiting on permission, Natches thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to plow his fist into the man’s face. My best friend’s brother’s face, actually, and now Kyleene isn’t speaking to me at all.” Fists clenched, she lifted her hands and pressed them to her temples as a vicious groan rasped from her throat. “He’s insane.”
Mercedes was still staring at her in shock. Her mother evidently couldn’t believe Natches would stoop so low, either.
“Oh, dear.” She breathed out softly. “So Kye is angry with you?”
Lyrica breathed out roughly, shaking her head at the futility of what she seemed to be facing before answering. “Kye’s furious. And I can’t even blame her.”
“How can she blame you for what transpired between her brother and your cousin?” Her mother sounded confused now. “Dear, it wasn’t your fault. It seems a misunderstanding, nothing more. You know how they get when they believe the wrong sort of man is paying attention to you and your sisters. He likely simply misconstrued the situation . . .”
Lyrica flushed heatedly. She couldn’t help it.
The moment her mother even hinted that Graham was attempting to seduce her, she flushed so brilliantly there was no hiding the truth from her too-perceptive mother.
“Oh.” Her mother drew out the word slowly. “So, exactly what did Natches see, Lyrica, that made him so irate that his fist and Graham’s face became so well acquainted?”
Oh, didn’t her mother have a way with words? And tones. She was speaking to Lyrica as though her daughter was five and had been caught attempting to distract attention from her own actions.
“Momma, whatever Natches may have seen, he saw because he invaded the privacy of a room that was off limits. I am over twenty-one. I am not mentally deficient, and neither am I in any way unable to decide for myself who to take for a lover,” Lyrica stated, calmer now, but no less furious. “And I won’t lose my friendship with Kye because Natches got a little pissy over the fact that I kissed Graham. Not the other way around.”
Mercedes breathed in deeply, a frown forming at her brow as she slowly straightened the hem of her blouse over her jeans. “Lyrica, you know how very protective he and the others can be. Perhaps Natches didn’t see you initiate the kiss . . .”
Lyrica gave her head a hard shake as she turned from her mother and paced to the window looking out on the backyard. “He knew. He knew and it didn’t matter to him, Momma.”
Of course, there had been the way Graham had been holding her, his hips so obviously wedged between her thighs. The scene her cousin walked in on had been incredibly intimate. Incriminating.
“It’s not as though either of us is married or breaking any sort of rule.” She turned back and glared at her mother. “I’m a grown woman, not a teenager with no understanding of the word ‘sex.’”
Her mother winced. She couldn’t imagine any of her daughters having sex yet, Lyrica knew. As far as her mother was concerned, they were all still virgins.
“Lyrica, you know how the Mackay men can be. If Kye is truly your friend, then she will forgive you. She will understand the ways of men such as these.”
“Momma, that is not good enough.” Lyrica dismissed the idea that this could be fixed by simply understanding how her brother and cousins worked. “I won’t live like this. I warned Dawg I won’t. I want Natches to stop this now.”
“Lyrica, you cannot control Natches . . .”
“Where’s Tim?” She was tired of discussing it.
“How is Tim supposed to fix this?” Mercedes asked, surprised.
How the hell was Lyrica supposed to know?
“He can threaten him,” she snapped, incensed, “say man things the moron understands—I don’t care, but he better fix it before I fix it myself.” She glared at her mother. “They won’t like how I fix it, Momma. None of them will.”
“I’ll speak to him, I promise,” Mercedes swore. “You know how the boys are, though, with such men, Lyrica. At the moment, Tim and Rowdy are trying to—”
“Rowdy’s here?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Wonderful, because I have something to say to him as well.”
“Lyrica, wait.” Her mother followed after her in concern. “This is not Rowdy’s fault any more than it is Tim’s.”
“Really?” Gripping the stair rail as she took the first step, she turned and threw her mother a glare. “He was there, too. Who do you think made sure I went to my car while Natches threw that punch? Surely you didn’t think he was alone. They’re never alone. When it comes to me and Zoey now, they’re like coyotes. They harass us in pairs.”
Turning back, she climbed quickly up the stairs before moving along the main hall until she came to her mother’s private suite of rooms and Tim’s office.
The door was open, and when she stepped inside the roomy office, she found Tim sitting behind his desk while Rowdy stood at the far side of the room, watching her expectantly.
She focused on Rowdy first. “That rabid cousin of ours hit Graham,” she told him furiously. “He had no right, Rowdy.”
“He had every right, Lyrica.” Rowdy was patient, his voice bringing her to a hard stop as she stared at him in shock. “Graham knows the score here—don’t think he doesn’t. And Natches warned you the other day he wasn’t going to back off.”
“Knows the score?” she ground out in disbelief, moving behind the nearest chair to give her hands something to grip besides his neck. “Are you crazy? What score is there to know? If one of Dawg’s sisters kisses you, then you’re going to get punched? Natches didn’t punch Charlie Miller when he caught me kissing him last year.”
“Charlie Miller hasn’t left a string of mistresses behind him, the last eleven of which were given bimbo numbers by the gossips in this town.” Rowdy argued patiently as his arms went across his chest in a classic Mackay stubborn pose. “His opinion of marriage is extremely low and his sexual exploits extremely high. Natches was just letting him know that he’s risking more than losing a damned good woman if he breaks your heart. If he—or any other man—thinks he can just play with your heart and get away with it, then we’re going to break body parts. The message was delivered and understood.”
Lyrica stared at him in disbelief for a long, silent moment before turning to Tim.
“Is he serious?” she asked, astounded.
A heavy sigh as Tim’s hand passed over his face was her answer. When he stared back at her, she could see it in his eyes.
Lips parted, she could only stare between the two men in outrage.
“The thought of being called bimbo number twelve is almost overshadowed by the fear that the brother and cousins I love so dearly will swallow me whole into some black, blank void where nothing or no one can touch me,” she finally whispered, painfully. “Realizing the lengths the three of you will go to in ensuring everyone abides by your rules and by your arrogant determination of the life I will or will not live hurts more than realizing exactly how little I meant to the father who should have loved me.”
“Lyrica, that’s uncalled for.” Tim rose abruptly from his chair as Rowdy’s arms fell slowly from his chest, his gaze becoming heavy as he stared at her.
“Is it uncalled for, Tim?” she whispered. “The Mackay cousins entertained this whole county, probably the entire state, with their sexual exploits when they were younger, but Dawg Mackay’s sisters have to hide their lovers or deny them to ensure they’re not attacked.” She shook her head, her chest tight with the knowledge that was staring her in the face. “Do you think it would matter, Rowdy, that I already know Graham’s past, and I’ve stayed as far away from him as long as possible despite the fact that I can’t bear the thought of another man touching me? Did it even count that the second he knew I was in trouble, he was there? No questions. He just found me and made sure I was safe until the decision was made that he wasn’t good enough to keep me safe.”
“Lyrica, it’s not like that.” Rowdy grimaced with a heavy breath. “Trust me. I know it’s hard to understand. I know you don’t like it. None of you have liked it or understood it. But there are certain rules men obey only when their brains get rattled a bit. I’ve been there. Dawg and Natches were there. Graham is cut from the same cloth.”
A pain-filled facsimile of a laugh left her lips as she slid her hands slowly from the back of the chair and turned to Tim. “I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she forced herself to say. “I’ll leave now.”
“Lyrica, dammit, wait,” Timothy called, moving out from behind the desk as she turned to the door.
Lyrica shook her head and kept going. There was nothing left to say. Natches, Rowdy, and Dawg weren’t going to relent, and they weren’t going to let this go.
She had laughed at Eve when she’d learned how she’d fought against Brogan. Everyone had known Brogan was crazy for her. The same with Piper and Jed. The two men weren’t even liked by the Mackay cousins at the time. They were distrusted and watched with suspicion. Lyrica had thought it so amusing at the time. Both of her sisters had refused to talk to Dawg, refused to try to make him understand what they needed.
If Rowdy and Tim knew what Natches had done, then there was no reason to go to Dawg—he would know as well. And, like Tim, he no doubt agreed with his actions. Dawg was usually more determined to protect his sisters than even his cousins were.
They were always in agreement in these matters.
Moving quickly down the stairs, she pushed through the front doors and hurried down the front steps to the Jeep. She didn’t even stop to say good-bye to her mother. She couldn’t.
It hurt too bad, and tears weren’t something she did well.
Tears were something she’d sworn years before she would never shed again.
–
“Better call Dawg.” Rowdy breathed heavily as he stood next to Timothy and watched the Jeep accelerate away from the house. “He’s not going to be happy.”
Timothy breathed out roughly before rubbing at the side of his nose and grimacing heavily. “That damned deal he made with her,” he snorted as he dropped his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his slacks. “I warned him he was making a mistake.”
Rowdy stared down at the shorter man again, still amazed by the transformation Mercedes Mackay had wrought in him. He was no longer the dark, miserable special agent on a fast track to a stroke. He was actually pleasant most of the time now. And he smiled.
Rowdy still found that really weird, too.
“Stop staring at me, Mackay,” Timothy growled. “It’s unsettling. Now, which of us gets to call Dawg?”
“I should let you,” Rowdy said in disgust. “But no doubt you’d blame it all on Natches.”
Timothy looked up at him, highly offended. “Seems to me it was his fault. If he hadn’t hit so hard then Lyrica wouldn’t be so hurt. Hell, I saw Graham’s face this morning, Rowdy. Natches damned near broke it.”
“He didn’t even knock the bastard off his feet,” Rowdy snapped in disgust. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
“His sister was still crying. She almost didn’t let me in the house until Graham stepped out from the kitchen and sent her upstairs.”
Rowdy stared outside thoughtfully as Timothy moved back to his chair and sat down.
“How’s Graham taking it?” Rowdy asked, turning in time to catch Timothy’s quick grin.
“He’s damned disgusted by Kye’s reaction and the fact that anyone even learned the identity of who hit him to begin with.” Timothy chuckled in amusement. “He’s a good man, Rowdy. And as much as I don’t like what Natches walked in on myself, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t believe Graham would play with her. I think he cares about her.”
Rowdy was prone to believe it as well, but if Graham didn’t start using his head instead of his dick, then he’d break Lyrica’s heart anyway.
“Graham likes his bimbos, Timothy.” He breathed out heavily. “Lyrica’s no man’s toy or his bimbo. He needs to establish that, not just to Lyrica, but to everyone who might believe otherwise before they realize there’s anything between them. Otherwise, Lyrica’s going to be hurt whether he cares for her or not.”
Timothy just stared back at him silently.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked as Timothy sat back in the chair, his arms resting comfortably on the armrests.
“I actually think he deserved to have his face busted if he really was all but fucking her against the window of that lake house,” Timothy stated. “But, gauging by Lyrica’s fury, I’m going to assume Natches might have overreacted to whatever he saw. I know him and I know Lyrica, and I know she’s Natches’s favorite. Just as I know he and Graham have had a disagreement for years over something. Something deep, Rowdy. And that resentment just may end up being what breaks her heart.”
Rowdy frowned in confusion. “Natches doesn’t have anything against Graham.”
“Yeah, he does, Rowdy,” Timothy stated somberly. “He’s kept it to himself and that was a good thing. I had hoped it wouldn’t end up affecting Lyrica, though. I could have been wrong.”
If Natches was pissed at Graham over something, especially something he’d carried alone for a number of years, then the chances of him overreacting rose considerably. Natches wasn’t a man who dealt well with resentment.
The very fact that he’d kept whatever it was hidden concerned Rowdy.
“Get the details we need from the surveillance cameras across from that apartment, and let’s see if we’ve missed anything,” Rowdy told the former special agent. “I want this threat against Lyrica erased immediately. I’ll talk to Natches. Better yet, call everyone together, we’ll just meet at his place.”
If Lyrica ended up hurt because of his cousin’s stupidity, then Dawg just might end up breaking Natches’s face next.
ELEVEN
Natches’s home sat on the banks of Lake Cumberland, a few miles from Dawg’s farm. Whereas Dawg’s two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch and old-time charm surrounded by flowering bushes and myriad blooms soothed the senses, Natches’s place had a feeling of hidden beauty.
The sprawling single-story home with its dark wood siding was nestled among a variety of evergreen trees and brush—mostly holly and laurel that grew naturally in the area. One would have to look closely if one didn’t know the house sat there.
It wasn’t hidden so much as it was very cleverly disguised, and Natches and his wife, Chaya, preferred it that way.
Lyrica pulled into the driveway beneath a canopy of dense growth and shook her head. She would have smiled, not for the first time, over her cousin’s idiosyncrasies if she wasn’t so upset. Over the years the family had been certain Natches would grow out of his penchant for plants and landscape design that made his home seem to be more a part of the land itself than the building it actually was. He hadn’t grown out of it yet, though.
Stepping from the car and moving along a moss-covered stone path to the backyard, she noticed the blooms that now grew around the wood supports of the back porch.
“Lyrie!” Bliss, Natches and Chaya’s twelve-year-old daughter, bounced out through the kitchen door, her long, ribbon-straight black hair and emerald eyes a perfect match for Natches’s.
Bliss had the dark Mackay looks but the softer turn of her cheek, her eye shape, and the arch of her brows were her mother’s. Still, the girl looked enough like Lyrica that she was often mistaken for her daughter by strangers.
“Hey there.” Bliss threw her arms around Lyrica and gave her a firm hug before the girl jumped back with a wide smile. “Where’s your dad?”
“He’s in the house making Mom give him that look that means he’s about to go hide in his work shed and say bad words again.” Bliss laughed. “He’s so funny.”
“What’s he doing to your mom?” Lyrica smiled as the girl tugged at her hand and drew her inside.
Chaya chose that moment to step into the kitchen, her brown eyes sparkling menacingly as she stalked into the room.
“He’s being himself of course,” Chaya bit out before turning to her daughter. “Your aunts are on their way to pick you up for a while. They’re taking you shopping with them.”
“Uh-oh.” Bliss’s gaze flicked to the doorway her mother had just stepped from. “Dad’s about to get in trouble, huh?”
“Oh, baby, your daddy already crossed that little line.” Her mother smiled tightly as Bliss giggled at the mocking threat in her mother’s voice.
She turned back to Lyrica. “They’ll kiss and make up before I get home. Bet me.”
Lyrica shook her head. “Do I look that easy, kid?”
Bliss shrugged innocently. “Well, since he’s in trouble because he hit some guy over you, I thought I’d give it a try.”
Bliss laughed in delight at the surprise on Lyrica’s face before rushing from the room and calling out to her father in glee.
“Lord, she’s just like her father,” Chaya moaned. “She scares me.”
“When’s she going to go boy crazy so Natches will stop stressing over his cousins’ love lives and stress over his daughter’s upcoming one instead?” Lyrica asked.
Chaya grimaced at the thought of that. “Come on, Lyrica,” she protested. “Let’s not rush the divorce I can feel coming when he completely loses touch with reality. Let him focus on you a while longer.”
“Divorce?” Natches strode into the room, a smile of genuine warmth and playful charm filling his expression as he caught his wife in strong arms and pulled her to him. “Never. I was thinking a deserted island instead. There would be no boys there for Bliss to get crazy over.”
Dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, Natches was a mature man. That maturity had placed a few lines and creases along his eyes, a hint of gray at his temples, but other than that, he was still a powerful force.
Chaya grimaced and shook her head as her husband placed a loving kiss at her neck. “Natches, sweetheart, are you still trying to fool yourself?”
Wearing loose cotton pants and a white T-shirt, her shoulder-length golden brown hair pulled to the crown of her head in a clip, with wisps falling around her face, Chaya appeared far younger than her husband though Lyrica knew the difference in their ages wasn’t that vast.
Chaya had once confided to Lyrica that Natches had been there the day her first child had died in a fiery blast that terrorists had instigated in the Middle East. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have died that day, too, she had admitted.
In the six years since Lyrica had been a part of their lives, the love and sense of bonding between this couple had never ceased to amaze her. Just as with Dawg and Christa, and Rowdy and Kelly, their commitment to each other had only increased over the years.
They were both nearing fifty, but they hadn’t seemed to age much at all since Lyrica and her sisters had arrived in the county. It was as though their love kept them young, kept them seeing the innocence and beauty in the world.
“Talk to your cousin.” Chaya moved from his arms after giving him a quick, forgiving kiss. “Kelly and Janey are coming to take Bliss shopping with the other girls. Then you and I will talk.”
Natches’s brows lifted and cunning sensuality filled his eyes as he watched his wife leave the room. It was a look he probably had no idea others could see. The look of a man who knew joy, never-ending surprise, and pleasure in the woman he loved.
“For a man who loves his wife so dearly, you have an amazing ability to believe other men have no capacity for the same feelings, Natches.” Crossing her arms over her breasts, Lyrica watched her cousin suspiciously as that cunning sensuality morphed and she caught the slightest glint of calculation before it was quickly hidden.
“I have never said I don’t believe in it,” he retorted as he adopted an expression of such innocence it was almost believable.
Lyrica knew him better than that.
“That look might fool your daughter, but it doesn’t fool me, cuz,” she informed him.
Still, it remained.
“Lyrica, you’re so suspicious.” He sighed.
“Natches,” she drawled with tight mockery, “you’re so full of bullshit.”
He merely grunted at the accusation.
“Why were you and Chaya arguing over me to the point that Chaya’s sending Bliss shopping with Janey and Kelly?” she tried again.
The look he shot her was classic Natches. Playful, charming, with a barely there glint of cunning that locked onto any weakness and used it instinctively. He was a master manipulator, a man with instinctive perception, and a sharp-eyed, merciless sniper. A man who in the past had taken aim between a cousin’s eyes and pulled the trigger.
“Sometimes Bliss only hears part of a conversation . . .”
“Stay away from Graham, Natches.” She didn’t beat around the bush.
She could do that with Rowdy and Dawg, laugh and playfully tease and still get her point across. She knew better than to even attempt it with Natches.
“Then you stay away from him.” Natches dropped the pretense instantly, his emerald green eyes narrowing on her as he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.
Lyrica stared at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not kidding you.” At least he wasn’t lying to her. He’d been known to do that.
“Why are you doing this, Natches? Why take a stand like this over something that’s none of your business?” she asked him, confused now.
“Who says it’s none of my business?” A dark frown flitted at his brow. “You’re my business, Lyrica. And Graham Brock’s bad news for you.”
She would have laughed at him if the disbelief hadn’t run so deep.
Her lips thinned. There were very few ways to convince Natches to let something go. He was worse than Dawg. Her threat to move away and let him deal with Dawg’s anger had obviously not worked.
“Natches, stay out of this,” she warned him softly.
“Why should I?” He seemed to be laughing at her, albeit silently.
“Because if you don’t, then I’ll be too concerned you’ll hurt him, and I’ll give up on the one man I can’t seem to stay away from.” It was the truth. Stark. Simple.
“So why would I bother to back off if it’s working?”
He wasn’t a stupid man, though. Tension filled his shoulders, his expression veiled as he watched her carefully.
“Because then I’ll have given up not because the man isn’t in my best interests or because it’s my choice; I’ll have done it because it’s your choice. I’ll never stop resenting you for it and once I’ve accepted that’s how it will end, then I have to accept that it doesn’t matter who I love, because you’ll always stand between us. Why should I bother to love then? Why should I bother to care that whoever I sleep with cares for me in turn?”
“Stop trying to snow me, Lyrie. You might say that, you might mean it right now, but you’re too damned stubborn to actually do it.”
“Natches, at this point, I’m struggling to decide for myself if Graham Brock is something I want or merely something I’ve been fascinated with for years. Don’t turn the question into a quest to prove to myself and to you that you have no control over me, or a lesson in the fact that you can control me by hurting someone I care about. You wouldn’t like either outcome, and neither would I.”
Unlike her sisters, she believed in facing Dawg, Natches, and Rowdy in ways they understood rather than from a stance of pure stubbornness. She loved them, very much respected them, but she knew that if given the chance, they would wrap her and her sisters in cotton batting and do whatever they thought necessary to avoid ever seeing them hurt. And they’d never realize how the total sterility of such a life would destroy them.
“How much do you expect me to let him destroy you?” he growled, anger beating just beneath the surface. “I know things about him that you don’t, Lyrica. Things that would hurt you if you ever learned the truth of it.”
“You’ll tell me that, but I know you—you will never tell me what those things are, will you, Natches?”
His expression was the only answer she needed.
“Until you can tell me, then let’s drop all the dark hints as to the man he is, was, or could be.” She sighed wearily. “He saved my life. And I know he tries to be a good man. No matter what kind of man he may be, he’s a good man.”
“He’s a dangerous man!” he snapped. “He may have saved your life, but he could also end up getting you killed.”
“And how many times was Kelly warned of that where the Mackays were concerned?” she argued bitterly. “Or Christa? You forget, Natches, I know your pasts, I know the men you were before you fell in love, and I know how dangerous the three of you were. What if Chaya had walked away from you because of Johnny?”
He’d killed Johnny Grace. The cousin he’d been raised with, the one who had attempted to kill Christa and would have killed Dawg. Natches had put his rifle sights between the man’s eyes and he’d felt no remorse pulling the trigger.
“Look at your past, at Dawg’s and Rowdy’s, and tell me that you didn’t deserve to be loved.”
“Hell no, we didn’t deserve it. Not then we didn’t,” he growled back at her. “And what we have wasn’t handed to us, either, Lyrica. We had to change to be able to have the hearts we share, and if Graham Brock thinks he can have you without facing one of us, then he can think again.” He moved to her quickly, gripped her shoulders, and stared down at her with the merciless lack of remorse she imagined was in his eyes when he killed his cousin. “I love you, girl. I see you and I see the child that owns every beat of my heart. The one I’d go into hell fighting for, and I’ll be damned if I’ll betray my instincts on this. If I do, I may as well tell every man who ever meets her that would hurt her to go ahead and do just that. Graham knows the score, and I have no doubt if I beat the hell out of him, you’ll hate me. For a while. But at least you’ll by god hate me with a whole, beating heart rather than half a one or, god forbid, from a casket. Remember that one.”
