Nauti Nights

She grabbed her purse from the table next to her, opened the door, and hurried out before locking it as Johnny headed for the automatic doors.



“Crista.” He stopped and blinked quickly as she moved around the registers and called out his name. “What are you doing here?”



She flicked her fingers to the upstairs office. “New job.” Or something. “Look, I left my car at the diner. Could you give me a ride?”



He was maybe a quarter inch taller than she was, but she wasn’t betting on it. He glanced to the door, then smiled again. “Are you sure you want me to give you a ride? Dawg and I aren’t on the best of terms. If you two have something going here, then he’s liable to be a tad upset if you go anywhere with me.”



She flicked a glance to the doors. Nope, no Dawg in sight.



“Dawg is always upset over something.” She swallowed back her own trepidation at the thought.



“And I promise, I won’t tell him who offered me a lift.”



She smiled back at him with an edge of desperation.



Johnny chuckled in amusement, shaking his head at her, his dark blond curls tumbling about his face. He really should have been born a woman, she thought. He had a soft, feminine air about him, an almost gentle demeanor. And he was nice. He shared his baked delights with her on her off days when the store below was closed and he was alone putting together the next week’s confections. And it wasn’t as though Dawg could be jealous.



“Come on then.” He nodded toward the doors. “I’ll give you a lift. Are you coming back here or heading home?”



“I’m going home.” She neglected to mention why she was going home. That was a subject she didn’t want to get into just now.



Following Johnny through the doors, she glanced around quickly, expecting any minute to see Dawg bearing down on her like some avenging angel.



Yes, he had told her to stay put, but he was late, and the precautions made no sense. By his own report, the man who saw her was dead, and the other suspects had been arrested or were dead. No one else but Dawg and Natches could know she was there. No one was going to step out from behind a vehicle or a building and start shooting anyway.



Were they?



“When did you start working for Dawg?” Johnny drew her attention away from her morbid paranoia as he glanced behind his shoulder to show her a warm smile.



“Just today.” She drew level with him, gazing around in front of her. “How far away did you park?”



Johnny laughed. “The far end. This is how I work off all those calories I add into my body on baking days.”



The other side of the parking lot was no joke.



The early June heat was bearing down on them, causing a fine film of perspiration to break out on Crista’s face as they reached the late-model Taurus Johnny drove.



He unlocked her door with a florish. “Roll down the window,” he advised. “The air conditioner went out last week, and I haven’t had a chance to get it fixed yet.”



She rolled down the window before closing the door and snapped her seat belt in place.



Still no Dawg.



She was tired of waiting for Dawg. The danger he kept harping on couldn’t be too high, or he wouldn’t have left her alone for hours at the lumber store.



She was really rethinking this whole danger and blackmailing business. She was starting to wonder if the danger wasn’t more in Dawg’s mind than in her life, and was just a ready means of getting her into his bed. After all, they had arrested those guys at the warehouse. And whoever got away with the money was probably spending it right now in the Bahamas or something.



And why hadn’t she thought of that one before now? she asked herself as Johnny moved into the driver’s seat and started his car.



“Where were you the other night?” he asked, startling her out of her thoughts. “I was at the store until late, and you still weren’t home.”



She glanced at him, surprised he had noticed. “I was, uhh, with Dawg.”



And Dawg was making her paranoid, because suddenly she felt nervous, uncertain. Why would Johnny care where she was? Why would he check to see that she wasn’t home?



Johnny faced forward as he started the car and brushed back a curl from his cheek.



“With Dawg, huh?” he asked curiously.



Technically. For a little while. “Yes,” she answered carefully.



His lips turned up into a grin as he glanced over her and put the car in gear. Driving from the parking lot, he turned onto the interstate that led back to the main street of Somerset before flicking her another look.



“Be careful, Crista.” He finally sighed. “You know, we call him Dawg for a reason, right?”



The gentleness in his voice had her hackles rising. She could feel the judgment in his tone and she didn’t like it. She wasn’t a child anymore, and she had endured enough lectures eight years before. She didn’t need any more.



“Because he’s stubborn?” she batted at him sweetly. “Come on, Johnny, I’m a big girl here. I can handle Dawg.”



She heard lightning struck in cases of whopper lies like that one. She looked up at the clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight, thank God.



Johnny only chuckled. “So, did he bring along the rest of the team, or was he solo?”



She nearly gaped back at him. “That’s a rude question, Johnny.” And it made her more nervous, more uncertain, and even more aware of the enmity that existed between Johnny and Dawg. Leaving with Johnny hadn’t been a good idea.



“And entirely qualified.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Darling, despite Kelly’s determination to hold out, its more than obvious those three have been working her for years. They saved her for Rowdy, and he will share her eventually. It’s a delicate little seduction technique they use. How delicate the seduction determines how serious they are about the prey.”



“Oh Lord, you make them sound like wolves.”



“Very well-bred wolves, I’m certain.” Johnny laughed. “And you didn’t answer my question.”



“Dawg was traveling alone that night,” she assured him. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been with him.” Was that a cloud overhead? A rumble of thunder maybe?



Okay, no thunder. But there were two Harleys behind them, the smooth rumble of their motors reminding her of Alex.



“Interesting,” Johnny murmured as he flicked on the turn signal and pulled into the turn lane to head into the smaller road that led into the old center of the city.



“Just interesting?” She smothered a yawn, wishing he would hurry.



“Dawg never seemed the possessive sort to me.” Johnny shrugged. “But as I said, it’s usually a seduction technique. He has any number of interesting games he’s played over the years. He does give the family plenty to gossip over.”



Suddenly, being here just didn’t feel right. It was obvious that despite their familial connection that Johnny liked Dawg even less than he claimed Dawg liked him. Not that she figured the whole family feud thing was any of her business, but right now, it paid to be just a little wary of Dawg.



“And we’re definitely in trouble,” Johnny suddenly claimed morosely, his lips pursing into a pout as he glanced at the rearview mirror.



Crista twisted around in the seat, her eyes widened, then she flopped forward again and crossed her arms over her breasts.



Dawg and Natches were riding behind the car like denim-clad motorized warriors. Their expressions were stony, and the smile Dawg had flashed her was anything but friendly. It reminded her of a shark.



“Just drop me off in front of the diner, Johnny.” She sighed. “I’ll be okay there.”



“Are you sure?” A delicate frown formed between his brows. “I feel a little funny just leaving you with him like this. Dawg isn’t always predictable.”



She snorted. That was an understatement if she ever heard one.



“I can handle Dawg.” She hoped.



She waited as Johnny pulled to the curb several minutes later and stopped the car. She didn’t give him time to say anything. She stepped quickly from the car, slammed the door, and then turned her back on all of them and moved for the narrow alley that led to the back lot.



Dawg was right behind her, and so was Natches. Opening her purse, she pulled her keys free, refusing to glance around. He had no right to intimidate her. And if she let him keep doing it, then it would never stop.



As she reached her car and unlocked it, she turned back then, lifting her brows at the two men watching her with equally fierce expressions from the motorcycles that pulled in behind her little red Rodeo.



Déjà vu. She wondered if she would end up leaving with her car this time.



The engines were cut, leaving the parking lot strangely silent, as though even the breeze itself were wondering what they would do now.



“I see you’ve been out having fun.” She flicked a glance to the motorcycles.



“Get on.” Dawg jerked his head to the side, indicating the back of the motorcycle.



“I don’t think so,” she said brightly. “I’m going to go home, pack the rest of my stuff, and I’ll meet you back at the boat later. Why don’t you and Natches there go take the edge off your tempers somewhere? I’m not in the mood to deal with it.”



He swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle as he rose, clad in faded jeans and a white, short-sleeved, buttoned shirt, he looked like the ultimate bad boy. A ravisher, a modern-day warrior.



The sight of his black hair blowing in the breeze and his light green eyes glittering in his dark face had a rush of damp warmth spilling from her vagina.



As though she hadn’t been wet enough to begin with.



“Dawg.” She sighed. “Don’t start trying to intimidate me, okay? We both know damned good and well no one but you and whoever left that notice knew I was there last night. You’re trying to control me, and a good blackmailer sticks to the main object; he doesn’t blackmail for the air a person breathes.



Okay?”



His eyes narrowed. “You have it all worked out, don’t you, fancy-face?”



“Stop calling me that.” She hated the nickname he had given her as a teenager. It had caused her no end of teasing for years. “Now, you can follow me to the house and help me finish packing, or you can go back where you came from. Your choice.”



She lifted herself into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and shoved the key into the ignition. She gave it a quick turn, and nothing happened. The starter clicked hollowly, but the motor didn’t turn over.



Frowning, she released it, then moved to turn it again.



Before she could complete the motion, the door jerked open, and she barely had time to gasp before Dawg was pulling her free of the vehicle, his expression fierce as he all but lifted her off her feet and rushed away from the vehicle.



“What the hell are you doing?” She tugged at the arm latched around her waist and stared back at her Rodeo. It was sitting there, door open, deserted, as Dawg pushed her to the motorcycle and turned back to the vehicle.



“Dawg. I’m tired. I’m dusty. And I need the rest of my clothes. If you don’t have a really, really good reason—”



A loud, wrenching pop jerked her gaze back to the Rodeo. A Rodeo whose little red hood was tossed into the air like a Frisbee. The front of the vehicle suddenly shot up in flames.



Lots of flames. So fast and so hot that within a second the interior was a red, furious blaze as she stood in shock, trying to comprehend exactly what had happened.



The hood landed on the other side of the parking lot, the crash of metal to asphalt barely registering as she watched Dawg and Natches tearing toward the vehicle, the fire extinguishers they carried in the saddle packs of their motorcycles gripped in their hands.



Diners came running from the back door. The cook lugged out a larger extinguisher, and someone yelled that the fire department was on their way. And all Crista could do was stare at the driver’s seat, engulfed in flames, and feel the ice moving through her body.