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he jacked off to the image of
    her in his head, the name sounded like a prayer as he spilled his release into his hand.
    “I’ve not heard anything from my contacts either,” Rowdy murmured. “Not even a
    whisper that a DHS agent was coming to town.”
    Which meant Cranston was keeping whatever he was up to very close to his chest. And
    that was a very bad thing. When that rabid little bastard kept his mouth shut, then things
    were about to get ugly.
    The thought of that had him glancing toward the hotel again. Chaya was a hell of an
    agent, but her heart wasn’t in it. Natches had seen that the year before. She hadn’t wanted
    to be in Somerset, and she hadn’t wanted to play Cranston’s games.
    “She was supposed to have resigned,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing against the
    bright autumn sunlight overhead. “Turned the papers in just after the op here was what I
    heard.”
    He was unaware of the curious looks his cousins gave him. Rowdy glanced at Dawg
    questioningly, but all his cousin had in reply was a brief shrug.
    Natches never cared enough about anyone except his cousins, their wives, his sister, and
    Rowdy’s father, Ray, to check up on them over anything. He often claimed when it came
    to people, he wouldn’t stop the train from wrecking, because it was too damned amusing
    to sit back and watch the cars piling up.
    He hadn’t been nearly so amused by the role Cranston had forced Miss Dane into though.
    He had placed her in danger, and that had pissed Natches off. Just as Cranston had placed
    all their asses in the fire.
    “What do you need from us?” Rowdy turned back to his younger cousin, his chest
    tightening as it always did whenever he stared at the other man too long.
    Natches was almost cold now. It had been coming for a while, but sometimes he feared
    that cold had taken full hold of him, and chilled him clear to his soul.
    Natches seemed to shrug at the question, as though he either didn’t care, or wasn’t certain
    what he needed.
    “Doesn’t little Lucy Moore work here?” Dawg asked then. “She works registration,
    doesn’t she?”
    Natches nodded at the question. Lucy was a third cousin on his mother’s side, a sweet
    little girl, but sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. She had put Chaya
    in the room he wanted her in, but she had been curious as to why he wanted her there.
    “Then just wait till she leaves and slip into her room. Check her shit out and see if she’s
    as anal as she used to be with her notes,” Dawg suggested.
    Natches glared at him. “She’s not stupid, Dawg. Those notes, if she has them, will be
    locked tight in that laptop and none of us are hackers.”
    “Slip in and seduce the information out of her.” Dawg grinned at that one. “You’re good
    at that shit. Get her to talk, then send her ass home.”
    It was an idea, except he knew something they didn’t know. Chaya didn’t have a home.
    “What the hell is up with this, Natches?” Rowdy questioned him then. “You knew her
    before she came here; don’t deny it. Now she’s back with no clear reason why. Maybe
    she’s back to see you.”
    Natches shook his head slowly. No, she wasn’t back to see him. He came with memories,
    and Natches knew exactly how that worked. Those memories were too painful, and they
    were rife with too much emotion for Natches or Chaya to willingly touch them with a
    ten-foot pole.
    “She’s not here for me,” he finally said, wondering at the regret that pricked at him. “This
    is an op, boys. Anonymous call, pretty agent, and no agency gossip. Cranston’s trying to
    pull something over on us and I want to know what the hell it is.”
    Chaya stared through the filmy curtains at the three men gathered in the parking lot.
    There weren’t a lot of cars parked out there, and it was as plain as the dark glasses on
    Natches’s face that they were there because of her.
    For a moment, just a moment, she could hear screams in her head. Desperate,