{Nauti Boys 5} - Nauti Deceptions (45 page)

A shudder worked over her as the dew began to seep into her thin T-shirt. The cool moisture became freezing after a while, and she didn’t like the cold.

She wanted to be in Zeke’s arms. She wanted him to hold her, wanted to be warm again against his naked flesh. She wanted a chance to kick him for using her.

She couldn’t believe he had played her so easily. Rogue wasn’t easy to play. At least, she hadn’t thought she was.

She bit her lip as she heard a shuffle of sound. Was it wind or was it death coming closer? She was dead if Jonesy found her, and she knew it.

Another shift, it could be the breeze or the sound of a footfall against the grass.

She fought the need to run, to scream.

“Bitch! There you are!”

She screamed as cruel fingers gripped her hair and jerked her up, then over the railing. She slammed to the ground, her hands jerking to her head, nails digging into his flesh as he cursed.

“You sorry whore!”

Agony screeched through her nervous system as he jerked her up by her hair. A hard fist glanced the side of her head, momentarily rattling her before she could kick back with the heels of her boots.

Wiggling, scratching, she fought to be free as he jerked her around by the hair, his other hand moving.

The gun. He had a gun.

Her screams pierced the night as she released his arm to grip the one she knew held the gun. He shook her as her hands reached for him, causing her to fall against him. The feel of the gun at his waist had her reaching desperately for it.

His hands knocked hers aside as she felt it, as it was almost in her grasp. The blow numbed her wrists as she felt the weapon knock to the ground.

“You fucking bitch!” he yelled into the night, his fist cracking against her cheek as she struggled in his grip.

Stars exploded in front of her eyes as an edge of darkness began to seep through her mind. Rogue felt herself wavering, knees weakening as she began to fall.

He shook her and she barely felt the pain in her head until her knees collapsed and the force of her weight threatened to tear her hair from the roots.

“Where’s the fucking gun, bitch?” he screamed in her ear. “I’m going to beat the fucking hell out of you before I put a bullet between your eyes.”

It was dark, so dark. Rogue felt herself falling, felt the strength leaving her limbs.

Suddenly she was free. She went to the ground with enough force to bruise her knees. The moment of freedom seemed to pump the strength back into her. Not a lot, just enough to scramble away before turning on her back and kicking out.

She caught him in the knees with the sharp tips of her heels, slamming them into his kneecaps and feeling a surge of triumph at his squall of pain as he stumbled backward.

Turning, she fought to crawl quickly from him. Her nails tore against the hard-packed dirt. Her hair fell over her face, blinding her further.

It was already so dark she didn’t worry about the hair. The curls tangled around her arms, her face; rocks dug into her knees and palms.

She had to be close to escape. Close enough to get to her feet and run. She paused only long enough to try to jump to her feet. As her toes dug into the ground, harsh hands wrapped around her ankles and jerked her back.

The rending of fabric where her jeans ripped at the knees infuriated her. Why that would piss her off she didn’t know, but a growl clawed from her throat as she tried to kick out at him again.

“I wanted to be nice about this.” His voice was demented, monstrous. “I would have been nice.”

The gun was in her face.

Rogue stilled. She felt the barrel pressing into her cheek, looked up, and through the fog saw the demon wielding it.

“There’s a nice way to murder someone?” she cried out. “Is that what you told Joe and Jaime, that you’d be nice? Is that what you told their grandmother?”

“No,” he sneered. “I told them to burn in hell. And that’s where you’ll burn, too.”

His finger tightened on the trigger.

*****

Rogue’s scream pierced the night, spurring Zeke through the night as he raced to find her. The night-vision device he wore painted the world in a hazy green, but it was a clear picture of where he was going.

The house was just ahead of them. Gene was at his back, Alex off to his left, while Dawg took the right.

He couldn’t seem to run fast enough, he couldn’t get enough speed to his legs; adrenaline wasn’t coursing fast enough through his body.

Desperation filled his mind as pain seemed to sear his soul. He was too late. He was going to be too late to save her. He was going to lose her. The only woman who had ever touched his heart, and he was going to lose her if he didn’t hurry.

Her screams were digging into his head now. Piercing, filled with fury and pain. As he reached the house he jerked his gun from its holster, gripped it with both hands, and tore around the side of the house.

God, he had to run faster.

It seemed to take forever to reach the corner of the house and move around to the back deck. The fog was so damned thick he didn’t know how Jonesy had navigated through it. But Zeke could see. He could see everything in slow motion. The gun in her face; Jonesy’s finger tightening on the trigger.

“No!” he screamed out in fury as he lifted his gun, then watched as Jonesy jerked at the same moment and the back of his head exploded out into the night.

Zeke didn’t pause to think, he didn’t give himself time to worry about shooters that might not be friendly. As Jonesy toppled over Rogue’s fallen form, he jerked the other man off, threw him back to the ground, and lifted Rogue into his arms.

Keeping his body hunched he raced up the deck steps, threw his shoulder into the door of the house, felt the locks give, and fell inside the house with her. His body covered hers as he rolled her across the floor, forced to ignore her cries until he could get her safely on the other side of the room, behind the couch.

“Rogue. Baby.” Propping her against the couch he let his hands race over, his gaze searching her body for wounds or broken bones. “Rogue, talk to me.”

“Son of a bitch,” she gasped, her bruised face swelling, her violet eyes filled with rage.

Zeke watched her in shock until her hand cracked against his face. The stinging slap wasn’t gentle. It slammed into his cheek with enough force that he knew he’d be carrying the imprint of her hand for hours. In the next second, his ever-strong, impossibly stubborn Rogue collapsed into his arms in tears.

“I have you, baby.” He buried his head in her hair, a shudder working through his body at how close she had come to dying. “It’s okay, baby. I have you.”

Rogue never cried. She wasn’t a whiner. She didn’t complain. She was sobbing in his arms, holding on to him with desperate hands and trying to burrow into his chest.

And God help him, he didn’t blame her. Tightening his arms around her, he held her to him, rocked her, and closed his eyes as he fought the overload of fear and remorse that struck his system.

He shouldn’t have left her. He should have never left her, believing she would be safe. He should have considered Jonesy, but instead he had relied on the loyalty the other man had always appeared to show her. Zeke knew he should have known better. It was his mistake, and it was one Rogue had nearly paid for.

“Damn, he’s in trouble,” Rowdy’s low voice whispered across the room in a tone of amazement and male concern. “I’ve never heard of her crying. I bet she cuts his dick off for him.”

“Shut up, Rowdy,” Dawg growled.

“Yeah, shut up, Rowdy.” From Cranston, his voice low and filled with regret.

Zeke lifted his head and stared back at the agent.

“I have to take you in, Zeke.” He sighed. “This has to be wrapped up.”

His arms contracted around Rogue. God, he’d known it was coming. He’d known all along that the sins of the past could never be buried or even forgotten by the DHS agent that knew the truth.

“God, Cranston, give him a day or two at least,” Rowdy protested. “You mean-hearted, slimy bastard. Someone’s going to end up killing you.”

Zeke heard sirens wailing in the distance then. Reinforcements that would have been too late if Natches hadn’t managed to get in place with that sniper rifle. Zeke knew it had to have been Natches, because he was the only one missing at the moment.

“Zeke knew our deal,” Cranston stated. “We need the information, those pictures, and his testimony. This wraps it up, boys. The pictures he sent earlier had faces of men we don’t have in custody, and he remembers them. This fucking group is gone. It’s damned history and I’ll do whatever it takes to wrap it up for good.” Because this group had destroyed his family, had killed his wife, his daughter, and his grandchild. Because destroying them was all Cranston knew and he would stop at nothing to see it finished.

It finished here, just as he said.

“No matter who you have to destroy?” Rowdy asked.

“No matter who’s destroyed,” Cranston affirmed. “No matter what it takes.”

Zeke held Rogue closer, already feeling the chill inside his soul because he knew he would have to let her go, walk away again, and walking away would destroy him more than the truth of his past ever could.

Pressing his lips to her ear he whispered. “You fill me. Remember that, Rogue. For the first time in my life, I knew what love was supposed to be.”

Her head shook against his chest as another sob tore from her throat. Her arms were like silken bands of steel around his neck, and God knew he didn’t know if he had the strength to force her to release him.

“I didn’t use you.” He kissed the top of her head, her forehead. “I was helpless against you. Know that, Caitlyn Rogue. I couldn’t have walked away for anything. Even my own life.”

But he did walk away.

A week later Rogue stood in the parking lot of what had once been the Bar and stared at the debris with a sense of . . . relief.

She’d lost everything she owned except the Harley, but she was thankful she had a reason to walk away from it now. An era had come to an end. The Bar was gone, the dangerous Dayle Mackay and his rabid revolutionists were gone. Jonesy was gone.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants and let her gaze wander over the blackened remains of lumber where the walls had toppled in.

“So what now?” Her father’s arm went around her shoulders as his tall, sturdy body gave her a place to lean.

She shrugged at his question. “I bought out Natches Mackay. I guess I’m part owner in a restaurant now.”

Her father gave a heavy sigh as she looked up into the strong features of his still-handsome face.

“I want you to come home,” he told her as her mother, Brianna Walker, moved to her other side. “Damned house is too quiet. With your sister married and gone, and damned John won’t even stay the night. The nest is too empty.”

She grinned at that. “Sorry, Dad. This is home.”

Somerset was home. Lake Cumberland was home.

All she had left to do was to get over one arrogant, too-sexy sheriff and her life would even out. One day she might even sleep through the night without crying.

“What about Zeke?” her mother asked as though reading her thoughts. “He called again last night.”

He had called every night for the past three nights. She refused to answer the phone; she refused to talk to him. He was back on the job now, the crime that had been committed when he was a child had never been mentioned, and for that, she was glad. His father had betrayed him, tried to destroy him and his future. No man should have to pay for that.

“I don’t want to talk about Zeke.” She didn’t want to cry again. The pain was like a festering wound inside her soul that refused to heal.

He had used her. He may not have suspected Jonesy of being the killer he was seeking, but he hadn’t been honest with her, either. He hadn’t told her he was fucking her so the killer would believe he was distracted by her and not giving his attention to tracking him. He hadn’t told her that the only reason he had come to her bed was to further the goal of capturing that killer.

I was helpless against you. Know that, Caitlyn Rogue. I couldn’t have walked away for anything. Even my own life.

He had whispered those words before he had left with Cranston. But he had still left. He had walked away from her without a backward glance to help Cranston round up the final straggling members of the organization he had fought to bring down.

James Maynard had been arrested, though he was now free on bond due to his cooperation with the Department of Homeland Security and the Justice Department. Gene Maynard, she had learned, had been helping DHS all along.

There had been other arrests in Louisville as well as Frankfort, and according to Alex Jansen, the Freedom League was now nothing more than a very bad memory.

“Just come home for a while,” her father tried again. “A month.”