Chaya almost took a step back at the banked anger in Natches’s eyes. She wanted to tell him yes more than anything. But if she gave in to him now, then she may as well turn the entire investigation over to him because she would completely lose control.
“And do you think I don’t know when I have gunsights leveled on me, Natches? Do I really look that f**king green? That I’m not aware of when I’m pushing too many damned buttons?”
“International f**king terrorists are not damned pissed-off rednecks,” he almost yelled. “No rules here, Chay. No warning. No instinct, unless you’re one of them.”
She held on to her own temper by a fingernail.
“My strength in these interviews is the fact that you aren’t with me, and though you’ve been shadowing me, you’re far enough away that most people are more amused than concerned. You’ll hamper my ability to get the answers I need, Natches, and that will only hinder the investigation.”
“And you think people aren’t going to know you’re living with me?” He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered back at her.
“Where I sleep isn’t as big an issue as you sitting there terrifying everyone I question or having you chauffeur me from place to place. If we change the process at this point, we hamper it.”
“And what the bloody hell does that have to do with me returning to the hotel with you this morning?” His voice rose slightly, just enough to assure her that his patience was reaching its limit.
“Because I need a few minutes to think if you don’t f**king mind,” she yelled back at him. “Excuse me, Natches, but you have my brain in so many damned pieces it resembles a puzzle right now.”
“He does have that habit.” Dawg stepped in as he slid the sliding glass door open and stared at Chaya, who fought to pull her anger back and adopt the cool, unaffected appearance she gave everyone but Natches.
And evidently, she was failing, because he was staring at her as though he didn’t know her. His eyes narrowed, his celadon green eyes, so light they were almost colorless, watching her curiously.
“What the hell do you want?” Natches growled at his cousin. “You know, Dawg, this nosy attitude of yours is really starting to piss me off.”
“When hasn’t it?” Dawg finally shrugged. “I just thought I should let you know that I have a call coming in about a half hour on that project we were working on. I need you there.”
Natches glared at his cousin. The project was this damned assignmentChaya was on, and it was obvious Dawg was hesitant about including her in on it.
“Yeah, I’m sure he has information now regarding your little project,” she snorted knowingly as she stomped across the room and pushed her laptop back into the case before collecting the keys to her sedan, which the sheriff had had delivered to the marina the evening before.
As if she didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. She wasn’t a moron, and she didn’t enjoy being treated like one.
From the look on Natches’s face, he was still intent on following her though.
“Don’t turn this into a battle, Natches,” she told him fiercely. “Not yet. Not now. Being your lover is a far cry from being your lapdog. I don’t heel worth crap, and you should know that right up front.”
“Like I didn’t figure that shit out in Iraq.” Throttled male irritation spiked his voice and almost had her grinning.
Dawg didn’t bother to hide his smile.
“Damn, son,” he drawled at Natches. “I think you’re losing this battle. Do you need any pointers? Advice?”
“So says the man who blackmailed his lover.” Chaya rolled her eyes. “Really, Dawg, I don’t think Natches needs any advice from you. It could end up getting him arrested.”
Dawg scowled as he turned to Natches. “Not like you to tell tales, cousin.”
“He didn’t tell the tale. I believe it’s become something of a local legend. I’ve heard about it from several sources, Dawg. Small-town secrets and all that.” She smiled grimly.
“Go home, Dawg.” Natches hadn’t taken his eyes off her nor had his face lost the edge of irritation burning into anger.
Dawg grinned. “But this is more fun. Crista’s sick again this morning. That virus is kicking her ass for some reason, and she ran me off.”
“Then go to work.” Natches and Chaya snapped the order back at him simultaneously, causing him to chuckle.
“Sorry, kids, but this project is kind of important right now and I’ve been working long and hard on it.” He turned to Natches. “You know where I’m at when you two get this ironed out. Try not to take all day though, because Crista’s getting put out over my absence from the store. Like she can’t run it better than I do anyway—when she isn’t sick.” He shook his shaggy head as he turned to the door, slid it back open and stepped outside.
When it snapped closed again, Chaya pushed her fingers through her hair and stared back at Natches, aware that if she gave in to him now then she may as well turn every ounce of independence she possessed over to him.
It wasn’t that he was controlling, there was a difference between protective and controlling, she was finding. Her first husband, Craig, had been controlling. Natches was protective.
“I’ll follow you back to the hotel.” He grimaced, adding, “Then head back here. I’ll meet up with you at the diner.”
“No, Natches. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“What’s wrong with having a damned partner? Hell, Chaya, I’m not asking for anything you can’t give me here.”
She had never had a partner though. She had worked independently within a team, but she had never had a partner.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and breathed out roughly. “You can follow me back to the hotel if you need to, but not to the room. I need to take care of checking out, and I have an early meeting scheduled in one of the other rooms with the other agents working the case. I’ll be lucky to make it to the diner on time this morning.”
She rubbed at her neck as she stared back at him, watching his expression settle a bit, though not by much. He still wasn’t comfortable with this.
“I’m not used to a partner either, Natches. I’m used to working alone—you know that. But I’m trying. I really am.”