“Cranston’s always finding new lows.” Chaya shrugged. “What has he managed to do this time?”

“He sent a pretty little girl to do a man’s job.” He grunted in disgust. “The Mackays are none too happy with DHS right now, and neither is the local law enforcement around here. You don’t pull an op like you did last year and not inform the locals without stepping on some toes.”

“We weren’t required to inform anyone of our operation here. We were required to reacquire those missiles, Sheriff, not make nice with the local law enforcement. And my gender has nothing to do with my ability to conduct this end of the investigation.”

He grunted at that. “Yeah, two years in military intelligence and five with DHS. You have a hell of a record under your belt, don’t you?”

She did, and it was one she was proud of, sometimes, she assured herself. When she needed something to find a source of pride in, then it worked.

“I’m not a green agent, Sheriff.” She leaned back in her own chair and stared back at him. “Nor am I out of my element here. You have enough pull that you were able to make certain you were contacted and included in any further investigations. I’m fine with that. But you don’t have the power to give me orders or to direct these interviews. Are we clear?”

His gaze flared with anger for a moment, then the amusement was back. “Just your little lackey, huh?” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of the bell over the door tinkling merrily to announce another customer.

Chaya sighed. It was Natches. She could feel him now.

“Shall we get down to business?” She picked up the list of interviewees that she had chosen to visit that afternoon. “Here’s the short list of people I need to see today. I assume we can have this completed before too late tonight.”

Mayes took the list and studied it with a frown. “This isn’t the full list.”

“I’m not required to give you the full list,” she told him, feeling Natches moving in closer, hearing him as a chair scraped across the floor just behind her.

The sheriff’s lips twitched as he continued to study her.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you, little girl?”

She barely contained her flinch. She had heard those words before, and the hell she had lived through afterward still haunted her nightmares.

“I live as I must.” She shrugged. “Another of those details that I’m not required to discuss with you. Now, as you are the first on my list to be interviewed, shall we get started?”

There was a snort of a laugh behind her. The sound had her hackles rising and a curl of anger prickling inside.

Before Mayes could answer, she turned slowly in her chair and looked back at Natches. He was no more than four feet away from her, staring at her from behind those dark glasses.

“Your presence really isn’t required at this time,” she told him quietly. “Your turn will come.”

She refused to let him intimidate her. If he managed to throw her off balance now, then she was lost. She would never be able to complete her assignment as needed.

He didn’t smile; he didn’t speak. He just stared at her until she turned her back on him again and shuffled through the papers in her files for the information she had tagged regarding the sheriff.

“You’ve been sheriff for how long now?”

“Almost six years.” Mayes was definitely amused now. “They voted me back in for some reason. Personally, I think folks around here consider me a bit of an easy mark, don’t you think?”

That was definitely a jibe at the man behind her. Chaya was well aware of the fact that the sheriff and the Mackays had gone head-to-head several times last year over Dawg Mackay’s activities.

“I wouldn’t know the reasons why.” She smiled tightly. “Johnny Grace was a popular citizen in town though. You had known him for a while?”

Mayes nodded slowly. “I’d known him all his life, Agent Dane. I only spent eight years away from home, not a lifetime. Johnny and his parents are well-known to most people in Somerset and the surrounding towns.”

“Yet you had no suspicion he could have been involved in the hijacking of the missiles?”

“Those missiles were taken in another county, close to an Army base.” His voice was clipped now. “I had my eyes open for them, but there were those who neglected to inform me that they could be in my county.” And that was a jibe at Chaya and DHS.

He was professional enough that his animosity didn’t show, but she could feel it.

“Sheriff, I’m not your enemy, nor was I the head agent in that investigation. You’re snapping at the wrong agent here,” she assured him. “I want to complete this and head home as quickly as you want me out of your county.”

Mayes tilted his head to the side. “Now, what would make you think I want you out of my county? Unlike most people, Agent Dane, I enjoy a good comedy every now and then. And this situation appears to at least have an element of amusement within it.”

The bell tinkled at the door again. When Chaya lifted her head to glance at the mirror placed next to the register behind Sheriff Mayes, she felt like cursing.

The Mackays were amassing. The tall, broad forms of Dawg and Rowdy Mackay were reflected in the glass as they moved across the room. They all but swaggered. Dressed in jeans and light T-shirts, Dawg wore a denim jacket, Rowdy wore a leather jacket. Both were suspicious and more than a little intimidating as they joined Natches at his table.

When her eyes met Sheriff Mayes’s again, the amusement in them had thickened.

“What about known associates of Grace’s?” she asked him then, lowering her voice further. “Did you have any reason to suspect them after the operation completed last year?”

This was the wrong damned place for these questions. She knew it, and she could see the knowledge of it in Mayes’s eyes. She had tried to warn Timothy, several times, this man was no one’s fool. Timothy had arranged this meeting here specifically to allow Mackay involvement.

The sheriff leaned closer. Bracing his arms on the table, he stared back at her warningly.

“Are you sure you want to finish this here, Agent Dane?” he asked her, his voice official, cool.

“This is as good a place as any, Sheriff. If you could answer the question please.”

“I’d have reason to suspect half the county then,” he told her. “If you want to discuss specific suspects though, we’re going to do it elsewhere.”

That was good enough. That was the best answer she would get right here and now—that Mayes did suspect various parts of the Grace and/or Mackay family. She had spent most of her life learning how to read people, and despite the chill in the sheriff’s face, she could read that much in his eyes.

“At the time of the operation were you aware that Natches and James Mackay were involved in the operation?”

Sheriff Mayes snorted at that question. “If there’s trouble to be found, then James Dawg Mackay and his two cousins are always bound to be close by.” He flicked a mocking look behind her shoulder. “They’re trouble like that. You’d do well to remember it.”

“But you didn’t answer the question,” she reminded him softly.

“I suspected they were in up to their necks in something, I just didn’t know what.” He shrugged easily. “Remember? No one informed me anything was going on.”

“But you knew enough to begin your own investigation and to contact several members of the FBI as well as a contact you made within DHS and the Department of Justice?”

She handed him the memos that had made it into Timothy’s hands. The sheriff’s phone records clearly revealed the calls that were made, but not which agents took those calls.

His lips tipped knowingly. “I’m a suspicious bastard; what can I say?”

“And who did you speak to at that time?”

He smiled at that. “Names elude me, Miss Dane. I just asked to speak to an agent, and they plugged me into someone.”

Chaya stared back at him suspiciously. He wasn’t even bothering to disguise the fact that he was lying to her.

“And what did they tell you?”

“They told me to mind my own business in my own little corner of the world,” he continued to lie. “What were they supposed to tell me?”

Chaya held back her own grin though she inclined her head in acknowledgment. Truth be told, she didn’t want to know his contacts and she didn’t give a damn. Timothy was dying to get his little hooks into them though.

Behind her, silence reigned.

“One last question, Sheriff. Can I trust you?” she asked, allowing her own suspicions to enter her voice now. He was a friend of the Mackays; the people of Somerset were his people. She needed to know, to watch his eyes, hear his voice, to determine how far she was going to trust him.

His eyes narrowed on her again before he leaned forward carefully. “Agent Dane, I’m a duly sworn officer of the law, and this is my home. You can trust me to cover your back. You can trust me to make damned sure any suspicions you have are held in confidence. I might not like what you are or what your team did here last year, but I don’t have to like you to do my job. Are we clear on that?”

“And should friends of yours question you regarding the interviews we’re about to make? Will your loyalties then be torn? Because I have to ask you to step aside if they will be. I can bring in another agent to provide backup.”

He frowned, his jaw clenching. He knew the out she was offering him, and it was one Cranston hadn’t approved. There was no reason to drive a wedge between this man and the Mackays. It was his choice. And she would leave it up to him.

“You’re insulting me,” he bit out. “And pissing me off at the same time. I just told you my loyalty is to the law. Period.”

“Excellent.” She closed the file and flashed him a cool smile. “Shall we go then? I’d like to start with the first name below yours on that list if you don’t mind.”

His lips tightened, but he jerked his hat from the side of the table and slammed it on his head before rising to his feet.

Chaya gathered her file together, looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder then turned to face three sets of Mackay eyes on her.

Light green, emerald green, and behind dark glasses she knew were the deepest, darkest forest green eyes she had ever seen. They mesmerized, sank into the soul and left their impression forever after.

“It was good to see you boys again.” She smiled tightly. “Maybe next time we’ll have a chance to chat for a while.”

Dawg and Rowdy ducked their heads, but Natches’s expression never shifted, his eyes never left hers.

“Greta, you don’t want to be here,” Dawg finally muttered as his head lifted, his expression concerned. “Let this go. Make Cranston send someone else to do his dirty work.”

“But, Dawg, you know how convincing he can be,” she reminded him mockingly. “I think you and I both know I’m rather stuck here. And I do have a job to do. Good day.”

She nodded to them, then moved past the sheriff, who had stood back, watching the confrontation. Natches’s eyes still followed her, silent, aware.

Did the memories bring him awake at night in a cold sweat? she wondered. Did he even let himself remember?

She tried not to remember, but she did. Too often . . . Remembering was a weakness, because each time she allowed herself to remember hell, then she was also reminded of ecstasy. And she wondered if hell wasn’t safer.

“You want to tell us what’s doin’, bro?” Dawg stared across the table at Natches as he sipped at the coffee he’d finally ordered.

“Nothin’s doin’,” he replied, flicking his cousin a mocking look.