“Now see, I was hoping you would have the answers to those questions.” He wiped his hand over his jaw before shaking his head in obvious confusion. “He was actin’ stranger than hell with her last year. Every time he got around her he was pokin’ at her or watching her. Don’t you think she’s a little plain for him?”
Rowdy moved to one of the comfortable leather chairs across from the desk and lowered himself into it as he considered Dawg’s question.
“She has pretty hair.” He finally shrugged, his expression creasing into male contemplation.
“She’s homely,” Dawg grunted.
Rowdy snorted at that. “We’ve been saying that about every woman we’ve come across since Kelly and Crista got their hooks in us. Admit it, Dawg; we’re prejudiced.”
Dawg glared. “I know a pretty woman when I see one. Just because you’re blind as a bat doesn’t mean I am.”
Rowdy shook his head. “She looks okay, I guess. Can’t tell much with those loose clothes and the way she scrapes her hair back from her face.”
“She smokes.” Dawg tapped the desk with his fingers, his expression worried.
“You’re nitpicking. What’s the real problem, Dawg?” Rowdy leaned forward, watching his cousin carefully. “It’s not like you to nitpick.”
Dawg’s lips tightened, then pursed thoughtfully.
“Natches brought a woman out of the Iraqi desert with him on that last six-week mission he took. You know he was always goin’ off on a hit and taking his good ole easy time loping back to extraction so he could spy a little on the enemy?”
Rowdy nodded.
“Word got around. Natches managed to hook up with an Army Intelligence agent. Female. Beaten, tortured. He pulled her out and the extraction team picked them both up. After that, no one’s talkin’. Something happened after that, Rowdy. Something that made Natches darker than ever.”
“Female agent, beaten and tortured.” Rowdy frowned. “She didn’t have time to break his heart, Dawg. A lot of shit happened to all of us in the Marines. That wasn’t a pleasant place to be.”
Dawg shook his head. “No. Something bad happened out there that Natches doesn’t talk about, and I think she was there. Natches knew her the minute we met the team Cranston brought in last year. That night he went on a drunk like I ain’t seen since he busted up his daddy’s restaurant for him.”
Rowdy leaned back in his chair and grimaced at that information. He hadn’t been a part of that mission. His damned cousins seemed to think he needed a vacation after dealing with the serial killer who had tried to kill his wife.
But Dawg was right, something had changed in Natches last year, something that had bothered both of them for a year now.
“Is he in love with her?” Rowdy mused.
It was damned hard to imagine Natches in love with any one woman. He seemed to like them all equally. But there had been something different about how he acted last year outside the spa in town.
Dawg and Rowdy had met with Natches there, while Kelly and Crista went in for their woman stuff. They hadn’t felt secure enough to leave the women unguarded. And Greta Dane—no, Chaya, Natches had told them her name was really Chaya—had been there following Dawg and Crista.
Natches hadn’t been able to stay away from her and neither of them acted just normal around each other.
“She’s on an op,” Dawg muttered. “I can feel it. Something’s getting ready to go down and she’s going to pull him into it.”
“Hell.” They didn’t need that. Rowdy knew Natches. His cousin could be as impulsive as hell, and he rarely thought to cover his own damned ass until it was too late.
Rowdy pushed himself to his feet and paced the interior of the office. He knew the operation that had played out the year before and it still kept him awake at night.
“What was left untied?” He turned to Dawg. “The operation last year, the money Johnny got as a down payment on the missiles, was it found?”
“Not hardly,” Dawg grunted. “Cranston was pulling his hair out by the roots when it didn’t show up.”
Timothy Cranston, that rabid little bastard of an agent in charge. He should be shot with his own gun. Rowdy had had the extreme displeasure of meeting him several times. He still didn’t like him.
“Who else would have helped Johnny, Dawg?” Rowdy asked then, his voice heavy, his chest still tightening, even after all this time.
Johnny had been their cousin, and he had used them all. He would have killed them all if he could have. He had definitely planned to kill Dawg’s wife, Crista. Him and his lover, Jim Bedsford.
“They picked up the team Johnny used to steal the missiles,” Dawg said. “Johnny and Bedsford are dead, and only they knew where the million in down payment was hidden. Hell, what’s left to find?”
“We’ve missed something,” Rowdy suggested then.
“What the hell could we have missed?” Dawg cursed. “His agent is back and Natches gets an anonymous call informing him of that fact? Doesn’t make sense, Rowdy. If the girl came back to get hot and sweaty with Natches, why the call?”
Rowdy frowned at that. If it hadn’t been for the phone call, he’d have assumed that getting hot and sweaty was exactly what was on Miss Dane’s mind. But why would someone call and warn him?
Rowdy felt the hairs at the back of his neck lift in warning, and he rubbed at them in irritation.
“Yeah, that’s my answer, too,” Dawg admitted. “My neck is tingling like hell. Something’s getting ready to go down.”
“And Agent Dane is putting Natches right square in the middle of it,” Rowdy realized. “So we cover him?”
“And cause him to shoot us?” Dawg snarled in disbelieving amazement. “You know how much he likes shadows, Rowdy. We try to cover him and he’ll try to kick our asses.”
That left one last option. “I have some contacts I can call on.” Rowdy was pulling the names up in his head as he spoke. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
Dawg nodded. “I’ll do the same on my end. Call some of the old agents from last year’s op and see what they have to say.”
“Someone has to watch out for Natches,” Rowdy insisted. “At least check up on him.”