"Why does she have to wear such outrageous makeup? Hell, Sarah, that gown is slashed to her navel and they've painted glitter or something all over her front so every man in the place is definitely not going to be looking at the dress. I can't even describe the dress and I'm looking right at her."
"Please don't tell me you're gawking at my sister's breasts." Sarah massaged her throbbing temples.
"Everyone is looking at her breasts."
"Go home," Sarah said. "You're making me nervous pacing back and forth. And if you hit the counter one more time in the kitchen, it's going to break and I'm going to ban you from the house for a week."
He paused to glare at her. "You can't. I'm recovering from a gunshot wound and they won't let me work. I have nowhere else to go."
The large rambling house sat on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Earlier, Sarah had opened the blinds so that all the windows displayed the incredible view of the sea. She could hear the soothing waves and sit and sip tea while she watched the blue water shimmer, white caps teasing the surface. The anxiety she'd awakened with had eased until Jonas had arrived to watch the fashion show with her. He'd turned her into a bundle of nerves and her head was pounding. It was going to be a long evening if she didn't get rid of him.
Jonas was never a restful person, but in all the years she'd known him, he'd never quite given off the amount of tension that was pouring from him now. Sarah wasn't as sensitive as some of her other sisters, but the energy was still affecting her. She felt almost sick with apprehension.
She leaned her chin onto her hand and studied the way Jonas moved across the floor with quick, restless steps that made no sound. The man was light on his feet and even lighter on patience. "I have no sympathy for you. I can hardly believe you were ever an Army Ranger, Jonas. You're like a crazy person. I swear, you've got my stomach twisted up in knots."
And her stomach was in knots. There was so much pressure it was all she could do not to throw up. Sarah repressed the urge to yell at him. She wanted to watch Hannah's performance. She was proud of the fact that Hannah was one of the top models in the world. There were very few times any of the Drakes could support her by attending a show. Sarah wanted to at least be able to say she'd watched it on television.
"She wanted us all there," she murmured, her gaze glued to the screen. "It was so important to her. Libby's somewhere in the Amazon and no one knows where Elle is. She just disappears for weeks at a time," she added, referring to two of her younger sisters. "Joley's in Europe for her world tour, Kate's in England researching a book, and Abbey is in Australia doing something crazy with dolphins, leaving me to hold the fort."
"They all deserted me," Jonas said. "Every last one of them."
"You drove them away, you bonehead. Jonas, I think it's important for you to know your social skills are sadly lacking most of the time, and when you're injured, they're nonexistent."
He shrugged his wide shoulders, his gaze still on the television. He could see why Hannah's blond curls were famous. The natural spirals cascaded down her back, wild and untamed, adding to her allure. Her large blue eyes and flawless skin showed themselves to perfection on camera, which was why she was sought after by every cosmetic company. She had an enormous, exclusive contract with the leading corporation, but other businesses were always trying to steal her away.
The camera panned the audience and came back for a close-up of her face. Jonas's stomach muscles knotted, the tension in the room rising perceptibly.
"She's so beautiful," Sarah said. "Sometimes the camera can enhance a model's looks, but Hannah really looks like that."
"There's a lot more to Hannah than her looks," Jonas snapped.
Sarah pressed her fingers to the spot just above her eye that was beginning to throb. "I love you, Jonas, I really do, but go home. You hate these things and I don't know why you're bothering to watch."
"I'm torturing myself." Jonas began pacing again as Hannah walked off the runaway, her hips swaying and the gown nearly glowing. The knots loosened just a little and he let out his breath. "Why the hell does she have to do that?"
Sarah sighed. "Do what?"
"Expose herself like that. I don't like it."
"Jonas..." Sarah's brows came together as her temper began to rise.
"There's no way security can watch over her. You saw that crowd. How many people do you think are there? At least two thousand, probably a lot more," he answered himself, becoming agitated all over again. "Every damn time she goes out, I'm afraid for her. There are so many lunatics in the world, Sarah, and when a woman plasters herself all over every magazine in the world and is on television batting her eyelashes, you know damned well she's going to have trouble. She and Joley need to stay home, where I can keep my eye on them. I'm getting too old for this crap and Hannah's giving me gray hair."
Sarah frowned. Jonas was sweating. Jonas never sweat, not that she'd ever seen. He was definitely acting far more proprietary over Hannah than usual. She studied him a little suspiciously, trying to read the harsh lines in his face. "Has Hannah been getting more letters than normal and you haven't told me?"
"Do you even hear yourself? Is it normal to get letters from crackpots? No, there hasn't been an increase, but the letters she does get are creepy and there are way too many of them. And Joley gets worse. I swear, every nutcase in the world is fixated on that girl. I just want them where I can look out for them, not traveling halfway around the world."
Of course Jonas wanted to protect them all, it was in his nature. He'd started with his mother and now he couldn't help needing to see to their safety, Sarah assured herself. That's all it was.
She glanced out the bank of windows facing the ocean. The sea was growing a little wild, reflecting her frame of mind. She'd been out of sorts for hours now, and blaming Jonas's edgy mood. White caps foamed and droplets sprayed high into the air. The wind stirred up the sea, whirling small eddies like minicyclones across the surface. Below, on the rocks, the waves crashed hard. Already dark gray fog crept in from the ocean, slowly blanketing the area. Sarah leaned forward to get a better look.
"Jonas, were we expecting a storm? I thought it was supposed to be a clear day. The wind is picking up and the fog's coming in."
He turned to look at the churning sea, more because of her wary tone than interest. "I didn't pay attention to the weather."
His gaze jumped back to the television as Hannah once again appeared, this time in a different outfit. The jeans were pencil thin, rhinestones tracking down the sides of the legs and sparkling in twin arcs across her rear, calling attention to the shape and the way the material lovingly cradled her bottom. The tank was short, not meeting the jeans riding low on Hannah's hips, exposing a band of smooth skin, her intriguing belly button and a shimmering gold chain dotted with rhinestones.
Jonas felt the surge of heat spreading through his body. He couldn't look at the woman without his body reacting. He spent half his life walking around with a hard-on for her and the other half wanting to fight every man who looked at her. He could still taste her in his mouth, feel the way she was all silky heat, her body wrapped around his. "Damn her anyway, Sarah. Why does she have to do this?"
Sarah rose and walked to the window, staring transfixed out to sea. "She does it because it's her job and she makes a lot of money at it, Jonas." She murmured the words absently, her mind on the growing turbulence outside. The weather and the angry ocean seemed to match Jonas's dark, edgy mood.
Jonas glanced at her, but his gaze was drawn back to Hannah, his stomach back in knots, muscles tight. He actually felt sick. "I want her the hell out of there." He shoved his hand through his hair. "I mean it, Sarah. I'm putting my foot down with her. This is the last show she does. She can just retire."
That pulled Sarah's attention back to him. "How are you going to do that?"
"I'm just going to tell her. She can live with it. I've had to put up with this crap for years."
"You want her to retire when she's at the p
eak of her modeling career? You are aware she's the most-sought-after runway model in the world right now and that modeling careers don't last very long?"
"I don't give a damn, and if you ask me, this one's lasted far too long. She hasn't liked it for a while, but she's too stubborn to admit it--or maybe she's plain afraid to admit it--afraid of the reaction. It can't be the money, she has enough for ten people."
"What does that mean?" Sarah demanded.
"She detests exposing her body to everyone, she always has. Look what they've done to her." He gestured toward the screen. "She's made herself into a pleaser and they want bones so she's given them bones. I hate that she shows her body to everyone like that, but you know what, Sarah? Hannah detests it more than I do."
"You've made yourself believe that to justify your attitude."
Jonas shook his head. "You have. I feel it every time I see her on a runway or on the cover of a magazine, or worse, on a television commercial. She's successful, but she hates every second of it."
"You don't know the first thing about Hannah," Sarah objected.
"No, you don't know the first thing about Hannah," Jonas countered. "All of you think you help her, but you don't, because you don't understand her."
Sarah glared at him. "You're really making me angry, Jonas. Why do you have to be such a jerk about Hannah? She's a wonderful model, she always has been."
"She detests going out in public. She's a model because all of you have done something she thinks is spectacular with your lives and it was expected of her to be spectacular as well. And don't tell me that isn't the truth, Sarah. How many times did I hear all of you telling her she's beautiful and should be a model when she was in school? It came up in every single conversation about her future. That and how brilliant she is, how she has a gift for languages and can speak fluently in a half a dozen, so of course she needs to travel. That's such a must when you're brilliant. Heaven forbid a Drake do something as mundane as stay at home and be a wife."
Sarah glanced at him sharply. "She is beautiful. And she's perfect for modeling. She gets to travel and yet someone is looking out for her, which we both know she needs. She's too shy to go on her own."
"She never wanted to go in the first place, Sarah. You all pushed her into it." He threw his hands into the air, his dark anger matching hers. "You turned her into a Barbie doll afraid to think for herself."
"That's bull, Jonas. Hannah wanted to be a model and travel. Remember, we're able to read one another fairly easily. I think we'd know if she hated it."
Jonas swung around, for the first time she could ever remember looming over her in an intimidating manner--and he was intimidating. He actually took an aggressive step toward her and his fingers were curled into two tight fists, his knuckles white. "Would you, Sarah? Are you so certain of that? Hannah is powerful, maybe much more than you ever conceived. She would never want any of you to think she wasn't happy. Surely you're aware she has an eating disorder. How long have you known that? Or didn't you? Was she successful in hiding that as well?"
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it just as abruptly. Hannah did have an eating disorder. Libby had uncovered it only a few weeks earner, but all of them should have known. Hannah was capable of hiding her true feelings from her sisters--at least all but Elle--maybe even Elle. Sarah frowned. In truth, she didn't even know for certain whether or not Elle could always read Hannah. Unfortunately, Jonas was right about Hannah's abilities. She was powerful and she did love her sisters enough to hide her feelings if she thought they'd be uncomfortable.
"That can't be true," she murmured aloud, suddenly anxious. Hannah's panic attacks had started in school and continued throughout her modeling career. She seldom gave interviews because one of the other Drake sisters had to help her overcome her nerves. Could she really want to stay home and not travel the world? Was it possible she detested her glamorous job?
"Come on, Sarah, you don't want it to be true. You all are so certain you know what's best for Hannah and you make certain she knows it, too. The only time Hannah is really herself is when she's messing with me because I've made her angry."
"You mean you hurt her," Sarah accused, beginning to lose her own temper, but angrier with herself than with him, because she was beginning to suspect he might be right--and that would mean they had all pushed Hannah into doing something she didn't want to do. It would be like Hannah to stay quiet even if she was miserable.
He shoved a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "I don't mean to hurt her. I want her to stand up for herself, to be who she really is, not who she thinks we all want her to be. When I make her angry, believe me, the real Hannah comes out."
"She isn't like that."
"She's a pleaser. You know she is. She wants everyone around her to be happy. You all expect her to be successful, and not just moderately successful; the demand is for a high achiever. All of you are fantastic at what you do..."
"And so is she."
"But she detests it. She'd prefer to live quietly, to stay at home and just keep everyone happy."
Sarah shook her head.
"That idiot agent of hers tells her to lose weight and instead of telling him to go to hell because she's so afraid she won't be perfect enough for all of you to love, she starves herself. I kept thinking she'd finally be done with it and walk away, but she's killing herself, slowly maybe, but it amounts to the same thing. So I'm going to put a stop to it."
"I think you're wrong," Sarah said, but it was no longer the truth.
Jonas swore softly. "I should have stopped her from leaving."
"Nothing could have stopped her, Jonas, she made a commitment and Hannah always honors her commitments." Sarah turned her back on him, once more staring out the window at the sea. Far out, through the gray fog, she swore she saw twin columns of water, whirling cyclones, spinning across the surface. The water had gone dark and turbulent, much like she was feeling. "What happened to my calm, peaceful day, Jonas? I was going to curl up on the couch and watch my sister do her thing since I couldn't be there in person."
Jonas turned back to the television. "Did Hannah really ask you if you could go to the event?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence while three models came out together and walked the long runway, pausing to do a turn as they strutted, their attitude a performance in itself.
"She invited me as well."
Sarah stiffened, whirling to face him. "She did what?" A chill crept down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Jonas turned to face her and, for the first time, allowed her to see how ravaged and drawn he was. "She's never done that before. She knows I hate it. Why would she ask me, knowing I'd be sarcastic and mean if I went with her?" There were shadows in his eyes. "I haven't slept in days, Sarah."
"Why didn't you tell me right away? For God's sake, Jonas, you're like us. You know you have your own gifts. If you feel something is wrong, you have to say so."
"I'm not like you, not really," he denied, this time shoving both hands through his hair, leaving him more rumpled and distraught than before. "I just figure if anything is really wrong, you'll know. None of you have indicated there's a potential problem so I just ignored the feeling I had. I don't have any special powers, Sarah. I don't."
She flashed him a look of disbelief. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
He shrugged again, muscles rippling across his arms and back as he paced restlessly. The TV announcer began describing another gown by a famous European designer, once again drawing Jonas's attention so that he stopped and stared at the screen. Hannah moved into the bright lights to a thunderous applause, spiral curls in platinum and gold hanging to her waist, her famous blue eyes shadowed with glitter to match the gold threads gleaming through the dress.
"Sometimes when I look at her," he admitted, talking more to himself than to Sarah, "I can't breathe. I've felt that way since the first time I ever laid eyes on her." His fists dropped to his sides, but they were cle
nched tight, so tight his knuckles were white. A muscle jerked in his jaw and his mouth tightened as the camera once more panned the audience, the commentator gleefully announcing that everyone who was anyone was at Fashion Week in New York.
"She has a wicked sense of humor, if she ever lets it out," he added. "I sometimes stir her up just to see her retaliate."
The camera picked up glamorous stars and public figures, wealthy icons and hotel owners, as well as reporters and numerous identifiable people from the fashion industry. Movie stars and politicians, household names, people from the music industry were all represented and, along with them, their bodyguards. Sarah drew in her breath sharply, one hand going to her throat.
"Jonas," she whispered. "I think I saw Ilya Prakenskii in the crowd. Why would he be there? He's a Russian hit man, isn't he?"
Jonas's eyes gleamed like twin chips of ice. "That's his reputation, but no one has ever managed to pin anything on him. If he's there, he's guarding Sergei Nikitin."
"That man who was so fixated on Joley? I know he has a bad reputation as a mobster, but Nikitin seems so young to have risen to so much power so fast."
"He's definitely with the Russian mob." He glanced at her and then back to the screen. "You're afraid of Prakenskii. Has he contacted you since the incident with Aleksandr and Abbey?"
"You mean when he saved Aleksandr's life and we had to give him our word that we'd return a favor?" Sarah asked with a little shiver. "No. I'd hoped we'd never see him again. He's a very powerful man. Like Elle, he has tremendous gifts."
"What aren't you telling me?"
Sarah bit her lip. "He has a path to Joley's magic. He can touch her, talk to her, fight magic with magic--and he's powerful, Jonas. To save Aleksandr, we made a deal with the devil."
"I hope he's not the threat I feel."
"Why would he save Abbey's fiance and then harm Hannah?"
"I've never understood half of what people do to one another," Jonas said, pushing his hand through his hair once again. And he didn't either. Why people were so cruel to one another, why money and power drove them to kill and betray, he would never understand--not in a million years. And how he himself had gotten so good at killing and figuring things out, his mind cool and clinical in a crisis when he was so emotional deep inside where no one saw--no one but Hannah.
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