of.
“Don’t push this, Rogue,” he warned her gently. “Don’t push me where you’re concerned. There are things you don’t know and don’t understand. Until I can fix that, then I don’t have a whole hell of a lot to offer.”
“Did you hear me asking for anything?” she asked sweetly. The sweet part was a dead giveaway. Rogue was pissed. And she was hurt.
“I’ll be back.” He strode to the door and stopped in front of her. “And the next time I catch you getting cozy with any other man, no matter who he is, Rogue, there’s going to be violence.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. His hand curved around her neck and his lips took hers in a quick, hard kiss before he released her and strode from the office. He was out the back door in seconds and loping to his truck as he fought himself and his desire to walk right back inside where she waited.
She was his weakness. A man in his position couldn’t afford a weakness. Especially now. Zeke could feel it beginning to come together. Whoever they were looking for was getting scared. The questions he’d been asking about Joe and Jaime’s death had gotten a response. This was the response. Someone was scared the two men had left something, anything, hidden that would reveal what they were doing or why they were killed.
Now, Zeke just had to figure out what it was, without the hope of finding more.
SIX
Zeke walked into his office the next morning, paused, and stared at his visitors before shaking his head with a bemused acceptance that was beginning to grow inside him.
The file in his hand was the coroner’s report on the Walker boys. The forensics report was due in any day. But it wasn’t looking good. And now, staring back at the four men waiting on him, he could feel his gut burning.
“What the hell do you and your sidekicks want, Cranston?”
Special Agent Timothy Cranston was supposed to be on suspended leave from the Department of Homeland Security. Zeke knew better. Timothy had never been suspended anywhere but on paper. The investigation running now was a time bomb waiting to explode with the same power that had been used on Joe and Jaime Walker’s mobile home. And Timothy Cranston was smack in the middle of the whole damned thing.
Short, round, his face more often than not wreathed in a smile that rarely reached his eyes, the agent had been Zeke’s nemesis for too many years. Anytime Cranston was around, trouble was sure to be there. And anywhere in Pulaski County that he found the Mackay cousins, he was damned sure to find trouble.
Douglas “Rowdy” Mackay, James “Dawg” Mackay, and their younger cousin, recently married to Homeland Security agent Chaya Dane, Natches Mackay.
Rowdy, Dawg, and Natches Mackay, and Timothy Cranston. Hell, he didn’t need this. His own investigation was beginning to come to a head after the years that Cranston had kept him pushed to the sidelines, unaware until too late that Homeland Security was working to take down the Freedom League without him. Cranston and the Mackay cousins had cut off the head, now Zeke was going for the backbone. Alone. He wouldn’t be pushed out of this one. Not after all these years, the nightmares, or the evidence Cranston had against him personally.
“When the four of you show up, there’s trouble. I don’t need trouble this week.” He strode across the office to take his seat behind the wide, wood desk that sat in front of the shuttered bank of windows.
Pulling his chair close to the desk, he slapped the file on it and stared back at the four men. The Mackays were tall, muscular, and dark. Rowdy, the middle cousin, was the most clean-cut, the thinker of the group. Dawg, the oldest, was more clean-cut than he had been before his marriage. He was no longer scruffy, but his wild days reflected in his light green eyes and his hard expression. Natches, the youngest, now, he was the wild one of the group. The ringleader of most of the trouble and
“Don’t push this, Rogue,” he warned her gently. “Don’t push me where you’re concerned. There are things you don’t know and don’t understand. Until I can fix that, then I don’t have a whole hell of a lot to offer.”
“Did you hear me asking for anything?” she asked sweetly. The sweet part was a dead giveaway. Rogue was pissed. And she was hurt.
“I’ll be back.” He strode to the door and stopped in front of her. “And the next time I catch you getting cozy with any other man, no matter who he is, Rogue, there’s going to be violence.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. His hand curved around her neck and his lips took hers in a quick, hard kiss before he released her and strode from the office. He was out the back door in seconds and loping to his truck as he fought himself and his desire to walk right back inside where she waited.
She was his weakness. A man in his position couldn’t afford a weakness. Especially now. Zeke could feel it beginning to come together. Whoever they were looking for was getting scared. The questions he’d been asking about Joe and Jaime’s death had gotten a response. This was the response. Someone was scared the two men had left something, anything, hidden that would reveal what they were doing or why they were killed.
Now, Zeke just had to figure out what it was, without the hope of finding more.
SIX
Zeke walked into his office the next morning, paused, and stared at his visitors before shaking his head with a bemused acceptance that was beginning to grow inside him.
The file in his hand was the coroner’s report on the Walker boys. The forensics report was due in any day. But it wasn’t looking good. And now, staring back at the four men waiting on him, he could feel his gut burning.
“What the hell do you and your sidekicks want, Cranston?”
Special Agent Timothy Cranston was supposed to be on suspended leave from the Department of Homeland Security. Zeke knew better. Timothy had never been suspended anywhere but on paper. The investigation running now was a time bomb waiting to explode with the same power that had been used on Joe and Jaime Walker’s mobile home. And Timothy Cranston was smack in the middle of the whole damned thing.
Short, round, his face more often than not wreathed in a smile that rarely reached his eyes, the agent had been Zeke’s nemesis for too many years. Anytime Cranston was around, trouble was sure to be there. And anywhere in Pulaski County that he found the Mackay cousins, he was damned sure to find trouble.
Douglas “Rowdy” Mackay, James “Dawg” Mackay, and their younger cousin, recently married to Homeland Security agent Chaya Dane, Natches Mackay.
Rowdy, Dawg, and Natches Mackay, and Timothy Cranston. Hell, he didn’t need this. His own investigation was beginning to come to a head after the years that Cranston had kept him pushed to the sidelines, unaware until too late that Homeland Security was working to take down the Freedom League without him. Cranston and the Mackay cousins had cut off the head, now Zeke was going for the backbone. Alone. He wouldn’t be pushed out of this one. Not after all these years, the nightmares, or the evidence Cranston had against him personally.
“When the four of you show up, there’s trouble. I don’t need trouble this week.” He strode across the office to take his seat behind the wide, wood desk that sat in front of the shuttered bank of windows.
Pulling his chair close to the desk, he slapped the file on it and stared back at the four men. The Mackays were tall, muscular, and dark. Rowdy, the middle cousin, was the most clean-cut, the thinker of the group. Dawg, the oldest, was more clean-cut than he had been before his marriage. He was no longer scruffy, but his wild days reflected in his light green eyes and his hard expression. Natches, the youngest, now, he was the wild one of the group. The ringleader of most of the trouble and
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