Nauti Deceptions

Too damned much liquor. It was going off like mini-bombs as the fire began to race through the entire building.

“Thank God. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.” Dawg raced toward them, his green eyes demented in his haggard face. “Is he alive?”

Dawg jerked Rowdy from Zeke as Gene collapsed on the grass, far enough away from the bar for safety, and let Timothy Cranston’s weight slide to the ground.

“What the hell happened here?” Zeke jerked Dawg around, glaring down at him as sirens began to fill the air.

“We fucked up, that’s what the hell happened,” Dawg screamed. “You were watching the wrong man. Fucking Cranston, I’m killing the son of a bitch this time. He had us watch Gene when Gene was working with him all along. He wasn’t the man we were searching for.”

Dawg was out of control. Thick, heavy veins pulsed in his neck as his green eyes glowed with a rage that warned Zeke that the other man wouldn’t think before killing.

“What the hell are you talking about? You were watching the wrong man?”

“Because I’m not your goddamned killer, you fucking moron.” Gene stumbled to his feet, swaying before righting himself. “And Cranston knew it. The dirty bastard, I’ve been working with him since the day those two state police offers were killed. Yeah, the fucking pictures you found?” he sneered in Zeke’s face. “I didn’t kill those men, Zeke.”

“You were there!”

“I was there, and my whole fucking family was at risk if I made the first fucking wrong move!” Gene screamed. “My family, Zeke. My wife. My kids. I contacted someone I knew in DHS after the bodies were taken away. The morbid motherfucker had me watching you.”

Shock resounded through Zeke with a tidal wave force as he stared back at Gene.

Cranston was a manipulating bastard, there was no doubt of that. From the moment he had hit town with the supposed excuse of having been suspended, Zeke had known he was playing games. Hell, Zeke had been helping him play those games, and he’d never suspected he was being hung out to dry like every other agent that ever worked for Cranston was hung out.

“He had me watching you,” Zeke rasped.

“And the killer got away.” Dawg pushed between the two men. “Your killer is Jonesy, Zeke. He slipped out of the bar after taking a baseball bat to Natches and Walker. He’s gone.”

Zeke stared back at him, fighting to process the information bombarding him now.

He turned to Gene, the suspicions tearing through him now were destructive. Cranston had known all along. Like Zeke, he had no proof of his suspicions, unlike Zeke, he hadn’t been chasing shadows. Cranston had had them all chasing shadows as he focused on Jonesy.

“Did you know it was Jonesy?” Zeke rasped back at Gene.

Gene shook his head furiously. “Jonesy wasn’t part of the League, Zeke.”

“Are you sure?” Zeke grabbed him by his shirt collar and jerked him closer. “Think, Gene. Did he know about the house? My house?”

Did Jonesy know about the secret tunnel into the basement, or the entrance to it?

Gene’s eyes widened. “God. You hid her at the house. God, no, Zeke.”

“Did he know about the house?” Zeke shook him roughly. “Did he know about the tunnel into the basement?”

It was the only way to get to her without setting off the alarms that would have instantly rang Zeke’s phone. It was the only way anyone could get to Rogue.

“Zeke, it was his idea,” Gene rasped. “Dad told me about it. Jonesy helped plan the construction of that tunnel years before your father ever built the house.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Jonesy’s voice was saddened, filled with regret, but Rogue also saw the maniacal glimmer of determination in his eyes as he slowly closed the panel to the hidden tunnel.

He stared around the room, his expression resolved, but also heavy. As though two men resided inside him, but the one that held the gun was now dominant.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like what, Jonesy?” She stared at the gun incredulously. “Like a man betraying everyone who loves him?”

She knew the moment she saw the gun that Gene wasn’t the only man that had betrayed a friend. Of course it had been in the pictures as well. Those scattered across Zeke’s desk. The three men, Thad Mayes, James Maynard, and Jonesy. The friendship they had forged as young men hadn’t been broken. The friendship that had aided Dayle Mackay and Nadine Grace in their treasonous activities had never disintegrated. It had remained strong, regardless of what others thought. A bond such as the three had shared would have been nearly impossible to break completely.

“I’m not betraying a friend.” He locked gazes with her, anger shadowing his eyes. “A friend would have listened when I warned her to steer clear of trouble. Your daddy listened. He took his woman and he left town, like I told him to do. Unfortunately, he didn’t come back and collect his daughter as I’ve warned him to do in the past five years. For some reason, Cal thought the threat was gone because Thad, Dayle, and Nadine were gone.” He shook his head with a mocking little grunt. “He didn’t consider James a threat, and he thought Gene’s loyalty would stay with Zeke. He’s not as smart as he used to be, Rogue. Or maybe he really just doesn’t care what happens to his troublemaking daughter.”

That wasn’t the case. Her father had screamed, harassed, and threatened her for five years in an attempt to get her back to Boston. His last-ditch effort was sending in John.

Her breathing hitched harshly. Oh God, John.

“Where’s John?” she whispered, his claim that he had killed her brother ricocheting through her mind. “What have you done, Jonesy?”

“Same thing I did to Thad.” He sighed. “That baseball bat I keep at the bar has a lot of blood staining it, Rogue. Now it has your brother’s and Natches Mackay’s as well. Right now, they’re burning in the flames of hell. I set an explosion in the bar. It’s gone, little girl. Gone along with your brother, Timothy Cranston, and those bastard Mackay cousins.”

“No.” Her head shook in disbelief. “You wouldn’t hurt John. Jonesy, please. You didn’t hurt John.”

Where was the man her father had said he would trust his life to? The man Rogue had trusted her life to?

Jonesy shook his head, regret filling his eyes though the gun never wavered. “I told you to stay away from Zeke Mayes, Rogue. He’s been trying to identify the remaining members of the League for six months now. Hell, we knew all along that he was working for DHS to take us down. Gene kept us informed there. The League has to survive. Our plans will go through. The future is more important than friendship or blood, girl.” His voice rose as anger filled it. His expression creased in fury as his hand tightened around the gun.

Rogue could feel the deadly intent that washed through the room now. Jonesy was going to kill her. She could see it in his eyes, in his face. The man she had thought she had known didn’t exist. Nothing existed behind the eyes she had once thought she could read except anger and murderous determination.

Betrayal was a rancid taste in her mouth as she fought to swallow past the tightness in her throat. Rogue wanted to howl with the pain now. She could feel the sharp wounds burying inside her soul, digging into her with merciless agony.

Tears were locked in her throat and in her eyes as she stared back at Jonesy, from his powerful shoulders to the insanity glittering in his eyes. It could only be insanity. There could be nothing sane about what he was doing. He had killed John and Natches.

John lit up the world with his games and his laughter. He was cynical, sometimes he was bitter, but he had loved her, made her laugh.

And Natches, with his crooked grin and his complete devotion to his wife and unborn child. He liked to joke that his wife would be the one to kill him eventually. Instead, it had been Jonesy. A trusted friend.

She couldn’t believe either of them were dead. John and Natches both were tough; they were strong. Jonesy might have hurt them, but she refused to believe they weren’t alive any longer.

Especially John. The brother who had taught her how to fight, the one that hid frogs in her drawers when she was a child, yet had bloodied his friend’s nose when she was younger for frightening her. He had protected her. He loved her. She couldn’t lose him.

“Yeah, it’s a hard thing, realizing it’s your fault your brother’s dead. Your friends.” A flash of regret clouded his eyes for long seconds. “It wasn’t easy to dispose of John, I want you to know that. But it wasn’t near as hard as killing Thad Mayes was. We were like brothers. But he was a weakness to the League. All that picture taking him and James Maynard had done. He threatened us with those pictures, you know? He wanted out. Wanted to go to L.A. to be with that bastard son of his.” Jonesy snorted at that. “He grew weak in his old age. Then that stupid wife of his trying to blackmail us and his dumb kid asking the wrong questions. We took care of Thad’s wife, and Zeke’s, too.

And we took care of Thad. Thought Zeke got the message, loud and clear. When he came back here, I was gonna let it go. He was nice and quiet, wasn’t making any waves that I knew of.”

“And Joe and Jaime?” she whispered, her fingers tightening into fists as she stared back at him. “You killed them, too, didn’t you?”

He smiled at that. “They trusted me. Joe came to me, said he knew Gene was a part of the League. He wanted to use that information to make Gene back off where that girl of his was concerned. They were stupid, Rogue, and that grandmother of theirs wasn’t any smarter. The stupid bitch even called me, asking about Gene.” He shook his head at that. “So I killed her, too. And no one suspected. You know she cried when I picked her up out of that bed and told her what I was going to do. Cried tears and begged me not to.”

And he had enjoyed it. Rogue saw it in his face. Jonesy had enjoyed killing Callie Walker. The same way he would enjoy killing her, she realized.

“How do you think you’re going to get away with this, Jonesy?” Her voice was filled with tears, tears she refused to shed. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging or crying. She wouldn’t let him enjoy what he was getting ready to do to that extent.

“Zeke will know Gene didn’t do this. You’ve killed too many people.”

“And anyone who would have talked is dead by now.” He shrugged. “I rigged the main gas tank to explode at the bar. It would have taken out most of the building, especially the back section where Gene was meeting with the few members left in town. I got John and Natches, and Cranston along with the other two Mackay cousins aren’t a threat if they managed to survive it. The League will reform without the weak bastards that were cowering in their homes praying not to get arrested. I’ll rebuild the League here, and one day, it will be more glorious than ever before.”

That damned League. The Freedom League. The group of military and ex-military fanatics that thought they could wage a revolution and take control of the government.

Rogue would have laughed if the situation weren’t so desperate right now.

“Homeland Security broke the League, Jonesy,” she reminded him. “All but a few stragglers are in prison or dead. Your generals are gone. The money is gone. How can you rebuild after that?”

She had to think, she had to keep him talking, give herself a chance to get away from him. She couldn’t let him kill her; she couldn’t let him hurt anyone else that she loved.

“Rebuilding is never hard.” He shrugged his broad shoulders at her question. “You just need the right men in place. I have those connections. I know how to do it.”

“You’re a bartender,” she rasped. “In Kentucky, Jonesy. This isn’t a major metropolis. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">