{Nauti Boys 5} - Nauti Deceptions (34 page)

She was doing a damned good job of making him crazy, too. Because he knew he wouldn’t let her go after tonight. She was his, and now she was going to have to deal with the man she had tempted from the darkness.

She could handle him, of that Zeke was certain. The problem was would she want to handle him once she learned the ground rules?

Checking to make certain she was sleeping deeply after their shower, he cleaned the vibrator he had placed in the drawer of his bedside table after she had been at the house the last time and returned it and the tube of lubricating gel into the drawer.

He had known it would come to this. He had known that when he got her in his bed, where that loss of control would lead to.

After kissing her brow gently, he dressed and left the house. It was still dark, though dawn wasn’t far away. Which meant he didn’t have much time to do what he needed to do.

He was in control now, but he hadn’t maintained his control earlier. He had known the moment he bared her pretty ass to his gaze that he was severely out of control. Thank God that she hadn’t realized the line he had been riding. But he had known. He had known and he hadn’t been able to pull himself back from the brink.

It had been all he could do not to spank her as he wanted to, and that was only because he had been so desperate to test her sexual submission to him.

She was innocent, as of days ago, a virgin. She wouldn’t have known the implications of what he was doing to her, and she shouldn’t have accepted it so easily. There should have been a measure of fear, of wariness from her. He had expected to have to ease her, gentle her. Instead, she had lifted that pert little butt right up to him and invited him to do his worst.

He wiped his hand over his face as he started the truck’s engine and reversed out of the driveway. She had taken a part of him that night that he didn’t think he would ever be able to give a woman. She had stolen his heart when he had believed he didn’t have a heart to steal.

It wasn’t just the sex or her submission to it. It wasn’t any one thing, Zeke realized. It was the realization at the moment he had taken her that she didn’t just belong to him, but he belonged to her. Because in all the years that he had known of the dark sexual core he possessed, he had never known a woman like Rogue.

She was adventurous, wild as the wind, but steady, honorable. She was a woman that would love a man with every ounce of her heart, and he knew she loved him. It had been in her eyes, in her sighs, in every response she had given to every touch he had bestowed.

She was his, and protecting her was his right, ensuring that she was never, ever harmed was his privilege. Making certain he never lost her because of the job that meant so much to him was imperative.

That part would be harder than what he was setting out to do tonight. Tonight, he would make certain one particular man understood that he was never to lay his hands on her again.

Keeping control when he had driven up on the scene had nearly been impossible. Giving in to her demands that he release Jonesy had been even harder. But he had realized something about Rogue a long time ago. She would lay down her own life for a friend; she had proved that when she had defended Shane and lost her own reputation. He wasn’t going to risk such a confrontation, especially in public, over Jonesy.

No, he would take care of Jonesy privately, just between the two of them while Rogue slept.

It didn’t take more than a half hour to arrive at the Bar. It was close to four in the morning now, but Jonesy’s truck was still in the parking lot, as Zeke knew it would be.

The bartender was usually in the bar until daylight, leaving just as the sun peeked over the horizon and didn’t return until just before the evening shift. His assistant bartenders along with Rogue opened the bar at five every evening except Sunday.

He pulled his truck into the front lot and shut off the engine before leaving the vehicle. The front door was locked until Zeke strode up to it and pounded on the heavy panel.

He didn’t have to wait long before it was pushed open and Jonesy stepped outside, his expression wary. Bald and heavily muscled, Jonesy was a bull of a man that most men were uncertain of antagonizing.

Zeke intended to do more than antagonize him.

“Change your mind about arrestin’ me?” Jonesy’s broad face twisted into a sneer as he faced Zeke, his heavy fists clenching. “Ain’t you scared Rogue might cry a little bit if you do?”

A hard laugh left the bartender’s throat at the statement. As though the thought of Rogue crying amused him. It sent a spurt of pure undiluted rage building inside him.

“Whether or not Rogue sheds tears over you isn’t what concerns me, Jonesy,” Zeke drawled. “The bruises you left on her arm tonight does.”

For a moment there was a flicker of regret in the bartender’s eyes. It was gone just as quickly and replaced with a hateful sneer.

“She don’t ever listen to reason,” he bit out furiously. “That girl waded right into that fight as though it was her business who was slingin’ fists. Better a bruise on the arm from me than a snapped neck from someone else.”

Like hell.

Zeke didn’t intend to stand around arguing with the other man; he had come here for a reason.

“This makes the second time you’ve laid your hand on what belongs to me,” Zeke state softly. “You don’t touch what’s mine, Jonesy, not for any reason. No way, no how.”

“Last I heard no man had papers on that girl,” Jonesy grunted. “I been watching out for her for four years now. Where the hell were you when she needed someone at her back? You were whorin’, Sheriff. Sleeping with tramps and trash while I was watching after Rogue. Now you think you can waltz right in here and treat her like you treat your flybys? Not while I can still talk some sense into her.”

“Like one of my flybys?” Zeke’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, your fly-by-night little whores that you keep hanging on a string. You know, Sheriff, the ones you hide in the day and fuck at night? Or was I wrong about Rogue? Maybe hangin’ with that Walker trash has rubbed off on her after all.”

That was it. Zeke saw the haze of red that descended over his eyes. Before he could hold back the impulse, adrenaline surged through his veins. His fist flew, collided with Jonesy’s rock- hard jaw, and sent the other man careening into the side of the building.

Jonesy was a bull of a man. The hit that took him by surprise wasn’t the only one it would take to make him realize who was the top dog in Rogue’s life. Zeke would rather kill him, hell, he’d rather lock him up and see him suffer, but he knew Rogue would never stand for it.

That meant going at it man to man.

The fight that ensued was one of the hardest fistfights Zeke had been in, possibly in his life. Jonesy’s fists were like hams and slammed into flesh like bricks. Zeke’s kidneys took a bruising and if Zeke wasn’t mistaken, Jonesy may have lost a tooth.

“You bastard!” Jonesy cursed when his fist missed Zeke’s jaw.

A second later a strangled, “Fuck you!” tore from Jonesy’s lips as Zeke kicked him back against the cement wall of the bar.

Jonesy’s nose was bleeding, his lips were split, there was a cut beneath his eye, and he was holding his stomach where Zeke had landed a hard kick only moments before.

Jonesy surged away from the wall. This time, his broad fist connected with Zeke’s jaw, throwing him back as stars exploded before his eyes for precious seconds. It gave Jonesy the opening he needed to slam another fist into his kidneys and another hard right to his jaw.

Zeke buried his fist in Jonesy’s gut, threw him back, slammed his fist into his stomach again, his jaw, and another to his kidneys.

The bartender went to his knees, coughing, wheezing as he held his stomach.

“Touch her again, and next time, you’ll spend time behind bars,” Zeke warned him, his own breathing rough, tearing in his chest as he dragged Jonesy up by the torn collar of his shirt and threw him back up against the wall. “Do you understand me, Jonesy?”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Jonesy coughed roughly. “I wouldn’t hurt Rogue.”

“Do you understand me?” He slammed Jonesy’s head against the wall. “Answer me, damn you.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I said you don’t touch her again. Ever,” Zeke snarled.

“I don’t know about you, Zeke, but I think he understands now.”

Zeke froze at the sound of Rogue’s voice behind him. He could feel his stomach tighten now with a sense of dread. Hell, she was supposed to be at home asleep.

“We’re fucked,” Jonesy wheezed out a whisper, his eyes widening as he stared back at Zeke. “Shit. Damn. She’s gonna de-ball us.”

“Let him go, Zeke.” Her voice was soft, the enunciation of each word carefully precise.

Zeke eased his grip on Jonesy’s shirt, grimaced, and once again met Jonesy’s gaze.

“Stay out of this,” he warned the bartender softly.

“Way out.” Jonesy nodded quickly. “So far out I’m just a memory.”

This was bad and Zeke knew it. He clenched his teeth, exhaled, then turned to face the wrath of Rogue.

A cab was pulling out of the parking lot behind her. She stood there, dressed in the leather skirt she had worn the night before and his white shirt. The shirt hung below the skirt and made the black platform heels look even more wicked than they had before.

“You’re supposed to be at the house,” he said, keeping his voice firm, even. “I left you there for a reason.”

She looked around him where the entrance door to the bar slammed closed behind Jonesy. Jonesy was running like a rat off a sinking ship.

“So you could beat up my friend?” Anger glittered in her eyes and flushed her face as she moved slowly toward him, each step slow and careful.

Wild, waist-length red gold curls swirled around her in the early dawn light. Violet eyes glittered with fury in her pale face.

She looked like an enraged fairy intent on murder and mayhem. And it was his ass she was intent on murdering.

“So I could come to an understanding with your friend,” he told her, wiping his mouth with his arm as he moved, striding toward her and gripping her arm in a firm hold.

“Let me go!” She jerked at his hold, her expression twisting with fury. “Don’t even try to touch me.”

“Upstairs.” Zeke hardened his voice as he pulled her to the door Jonesy had gone through earlier. “Now. I’m not going to fight with you in the parking lot.”

“Why not, you fought Jonesy in the parking lot,” she screamed back at him, trying to kick out at him as he pulled her to the entrance. “You can damned well fight me here.”

“Jonesy is a whole other matter, Rogue.” Zeke tamped down the frustration rising inside him. He kept his control firmly in place. The situation with Jonesy was resolved as far as he was concerned. Man to man. He had a feeling Jonesy wouldn’t forget the consequences of manhandling Rogue again.

Zeke would have preferred to see the bastard fired, but until Rogue was fed up with the other man’s attitude, the only thing Zeke could do was keep a close eye on the situation. And an even closer eye on Rogue. If she didn’t end up killing him before the day was over.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Zeke,” she cried out as he kept his fingers locked around her wrist and all but dragged her through the bar. “This was none of your business.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. When another man dares to lay a hand on my woman, it’s very much my damned business,” he growled.

He wouldn’t have it. Possessive tendencies aside, Zeke wouldn’t have stood for any man to handle a woman as Jonesy had Rogue, at any time. Jonesy wasn’t behind bars simply because of Rogue’s interference. Any other man would have been cooling his heels in the detention center.

“And who says I’m your woman?” she snarled back at him as they moved through the private door and took the turn to the stairs and her apartment above. “I don’t remember giving you permission to go Neanderthal on me.”

“Sure you did,” he drawled as they reached the landing and he tested the doorknob.

Son of a bitch, she’d left the door unlocked again. He turned and stared down at her. “What did I tell you about locking your door up here?”

“Excuse me, Zeke, but I was unaware I’d be spending the night elsewhere,” she snapped.

He shook his head at the apparent lack of judgment she had used.

Rogue wanted to smack the condescension from his face. She would have to get her wrist back first. She tugged at it again as he pushed the door open slowly and checked out the living area of the large apartment.

Hell, he should have brought his weapon with him.

“You are being so overprotective, Zeke. Have I mentioned how much I hate being protected?”

Rogue watched as Zeke moved away from her. She crossed her arms over her breasts as she glared at him hatefully.

How dare he start a fight with her bartender, over her? It was her fight; she didn’t need his big male fists taking care of her business for her.

“I don’t care how much you hate it,” he stated as he moved through the living and kitchen area and entered her bedroom.

“You don’t care how much I hate it?” She gaped at his back as it disappeared through the doorway before she moved quickly to catch up with him. “What the hell are you doing searching my apartment, and what do you mean, you don’t care how much I hate it?”