by Debra Webb
As long as he had this he could survive the long nights spent alone.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
He turned sharply toward her, having almost forgotten she was there. The sparse moonbeams, captured the gold in her honey-colored hair, making it gleam like raw silk. Her full attention was riveted to the waves crashing against the sand, the sound as well as the sight mesmerizing.
She looked up at him then. “This is why you chose this place, isn’t it?”
For a time he stood there, his gaze connected with hers in a long, evocative stare, without responding to her question. Then he said, “Yes.”
Her gaze shifted back to the restless water. “I can see why.”
He wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel her lips beneath his. But that would be a mistake.
Instead, he strode toward the forest and the refuge it offered. He could lose himself in there. Watch for intruders while clearing his mind of notions that could not be seen to fruition.
She stayed right behind him for a time and then he did what he did best now, he disappeared into the darkness.
Blue searched for at least half an hour. Had she not gotten such a good lay of the land today, she would be unequivocally lost right now.
Noah Drake, however, was lost to her. He disappeared into the night like a shadow…like a part of it. She heard not one sound, saw not the first hint of movement. He made her madder than hell.
How was she supposed to keep him safe if he vanished on her? Not only did it prevent her from doing her job, his little disappearing acts made her look totally inept. Then again, she imagined that was part of the reason he did it. He wanted her to feel inadequate…to prove he didn’t need her.
Well, he was making his point.
A little too well.
She considered that the yahoos with the target-practice fetish could be out here in the dark somewhere and that made her uneasy. But then again, if she couldn’t find Drake, chances were those guys couldn’t either.
The idea that he might be lurking about watching her made her want to kick his…
Movement to her right.
Blue turned slowly, careful not to make a sound and squinted into the darkness. A shaft of moonlight penetrated the canopy of trees about five yards away. She unholstered her weapon and took a bead in the direction of the next sound. A figure stepped into the light.
“Strange things happening round here,” a female voice said, the sound coarse with age.
An old woman, short and stocky, stood in that minuscule cone of light, her mahogany skin weathered, making her look even older than Blue first estimated. She wore her hair back in some kind of bandanna. She dressed plainly except for the layers of odd-looking jewelry, and was clearly unarmed, though she appeared completely unafraid in spite of the bead Blue had on her. But the most prominent feature about her was the scar that slashed from the edge of her right eye to the corner of her mouth. The whiteness of it stood out in stark relief against her dark skin.
Lowering her weapon only slightly, Blue moved closer. “Who are you?” Goose bumps skittered across her skin. She tried to shake off a ridiculous feeling. She wasn’t afraid of any old woman…but some instinct warned her to beware.
“Makes no nevermind who I am,” the woman returned pointedly. “But you, now there’s a horse of a different color. You’re in way over your head. There’s something bad coming. If you’re not mighty careful the darkness will get you. You’re right to be afraid.”
Against her own better judgment, Blue lowered her weapon the rest of the way. Something about the woman rattled Blue, made her uneasy. “Who are you?” she repeated. And how the hell did she know Blue was afraid of the dark?
“You mind my words, Maggie Callahan,” the old woman said. “Things are not always what they seem.”
“How do you know my name?” Blue’s heart pounded against her sternum. “Tell me who—”
It was too late. She was gone.
The old woman simply melted into the darkness the same way Drake seemed to do.
Blue scrubbed a hand over her face and reached for calm. She was shaking. She cursed herself under her breath. It was a small island. Probably all the residents knew about her by now. Chester’s doing, she would just bet. She was overreacting, that’s all. The old woman was only trying to spook her.
Blue’s eyes narrowed. The idea that Drake may have put the old woman up to this sent anger whipping along every raw nerve ending. When she found him again, she was going to let him have it, with both barrels, so to speak.
She shoved her weapon back into its holster and decided to make her way to the old chapel. She had a sneaking suspicion that it might be one of Drake’s favorite hangouts. Things are not always what they seem kept echoing in her ears. Was the old woman referring to Drake or simply babbling nonsense?
Blue didn’t believe in superstitions or any of the related mumbo-jumbo. The possibility that Drake had put the old woman up to saying those things was by far the most logical explanation. Still, it had unsettled her. And what had she meant by there’s something bad coming? Was she referring to the general, who wanted his revenge on Drake? If she lent any credence to the woman’s words at all, it was the part about being in over her head. Blue had definitely stepped in a little deep by allowing this crazy attraction to her principal to get a foothold in the first place. Neither she nor Drake appeared to have any control over it.
Blue’d had only one serious relationship in her life and that had just kind of fizzled out. Men didn’t deal well with aggressive women, especially those working for the country’s president. Her job had intimidated most of her male friends, other than those with whom she worked, and they treated her like one of the guys. She’d wanted it that way. The last thing Blue wanted under any circumstances was to be treated as anything other than what she was, a highly trained Specialist in the art of protection and a number of other skills that were classified.
But sometimes, to her self-disgust, the woman in her yearned to be treated like a woman…a real woman. The sweet, fragile kind. Then again, no man in his right mind was going to treat a female who could most likely kick his butt like a hothouse flower. Certainly no man wanted a woman like her for his wife or the mother of his children.
Regret pricked Blue, but she immediately banished it. This was the life she’d chosen and she had no real regrets…at least she hadn’t until now. If a man couldn’t love her for who and what she was, then too bad. She was too busy for a love life anyway.
Who needed flowers and candy or midnight phone calls or long, quiet walks on the beach?
Not Blue Callahan. She had a nine-millimeter, a .38 and enough attitude to keep life pretty damned interesting.
Who needed a man?
“Hello, Maggie.”
The sound of Noah Drake’s deep, rich voice shimmered over her, making her pulse react and her brain contradict her confidence in herself.
Blue touched her chest, feeling the small light stick beneath her blouse, drawing comfort from it. “You enjoy sneaking up on people, do you?” She strained, trying to see him in the darkness. …the darkness will get you.
She forced away the old woman’s words. The dark wasn’t going to get her. She could run too damned fast to get caught by it or anything else. Besides, she had her light and her Glock.
Drake laughed softly. “I didn’t think anything rattled you, Maggie Callahan.”
She silently railed at herself for allowing the edge in her voice. He was the last person she wanted to know what scared her. “You annoy me, Noah Drake, you don’t scare me.”
“Is that right?”
He was right behind her.
She spun around expecting to find nothing.
He was almost invisible, his black clothes faded into the night like a chameleon’s cloak. But that handsome face was plenty visible in a narrow spotlight provided by the moon, the lean, chiseled features a study in shadows and light. That carnal mouth almost smiling.
H
e stared down at her, those dark eyes drawing in the sparse light, glittering with it. Another velvety laugh. “I don’t believe you, Maggie Callahan.”
She ignored her brain’s warning to back up a step. She would not give him the satisfaction. “Why do you do that? Call me Maggie Callahan?”
He watched her mouth as she spoke, only lifting his gaze to hers when she finished speaking. She barely restrained a shiver. He was doing this on purpose…goading her.
The smile stretched fully across that sculpted mouth. “Because it annoys you. I like it when you’re angry.” He laughed, more a breath of sound, but the amusement was clear. “It keeps you off guard.”
She nodded once. “I see. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at my expense.”
He moved…closing the already minimal distance between them. It took every ounce of determination she possessed not to step back. “I didn’t invite you here. You came into my world and refused to leave. All is fair in love and war, Maggie Callahan. And this is definitely war.”
She lifted her face, looked directly into his eyes, ignoring the realization that only inches separated their mouths. “But you forget, Mr. Drake, we’re on the same side here.”
“Are we?”
The whisper of his breath across her lips was almost her undoing. She trembled in spite of her best efforts not to. “Of course. I’m here to protect you.”
He looked at her mouth for so long that she almost groaned with the effort of keeping her responses in check.
“And who is going to protect you?”
“Am I in danger right now?” she answered his question with a question of her own. Don’t give him any more ammunition, she warned, the impulse to run almost overwhelming.
Another long, blatantly hungry stare at her mouth. “Very definitely.”
A little hitch disrupted her breathing…an answering catch in his crumbled any bravado she had left.
Enough.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and kiss me?” She looked straight into that startled gaze. “I know you want to. Just do it. Then you’ll have it out of your system and we can get past this silly little game you like to play.”
His fingers were in her hair, his palms cupping her face, so fast she felt dizzy from it. But it was his eyes that took her breath away. So much need…so much pain.
That sinful mouth lowered slowly toward hers and her heart lurched in anticipation. Her whole body tingled with it. Who was she kidding? She wanted this as badly as he did. From the first moment she’d laid eyes on him she’d wanted him.
Why pretend?
It was just the two of them in the darkness. Tension as thick around their bodies as the swirling fog.
His firm, full lips brushed hers and she gasped. God, if he didn’t kiss her now…she would die. She would just die.
A twig snapped behind her. Twenty yards away maybe.
Drake’s head went up.
Blue swiveled toward the sound.
Voices.
Male.
She flattened a hand against Drake’s chest when he would have moved past her. She looked up at him and shook her head, simultaneously drawing her weapon. She gestured for him to stay, he only glared at her.
Ignoring his disapproval, she eased toward the voices. Slowly, carefully, not making a sound.
She glanced back once to make sure Drake wasn’t following her. He’d disappeared again. Fear stung her at the thought that he might try to work his way around from the other side. She had to get there first.
Moving more quickly, Blue made her way toward the voices. Two, she estimated. Both male.
But one thing she’d learned long ago and had consciously chosen to ignore, unfortunately for her, proved true, haste makes one careless.
The rustle of leaves beneath her right foot, then the crack of a twig. She’d just given away her position.
Before she could move in a different direction, the muzzle of a weapon bored into her skull.
“Well, well, Blondie, fancy meeting you out here in the dark.”
One of the two guys Chester had told Lowell about had referred to her as the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who this bozo was.
“You’re trespassing,” she said succinctly. “And if that weapon you’re carrying is a hunting rifle, you’re in even more trouble than you know.”
“Oh, yeah?” He jabbed her a little harder with the tip of the barrel. “Drop that gun you’re carrying or you’ll find out the hard way just what it is.”
Not foolish enough to call his bluff, Blue set the safety on her Glock and tossed it onto the leaf-covered ground. She had her backup piece. “Satisfied?”
“Turn around,” he ordered. “And put your hands up.”
Her hands held high, she turned around slowly to face the man and his weapon. Before she got completely around, he grabbed her by the blouse and jerked her hard against him.
“You think you’re one tough lady, don’tcha?” he demanded, his face in hers.
She looked straight into his eyes and said, “Yeah, I do.”
He glared at her for a second, then looked to his left and shouted, “Over here, Jaymo!”
This guy she could handle, two might be a problem. She had to act now.
He grinned down at her, it wasn’t pleasant, not even in the dark. “I think,” he said eagerly, “we’re gonna have ourselves some fun.”
“You know what I think?” she said suggestively.
He jerked her closer. “What’s that?”
“Not.” She knocked the barrel of his weapon upward with her left arm at the same time plowing her right knee into his unsuspecting groin.
He hit the ground, dragging her with him.
The weapon discharged into the night.
Chapter Six
Blue’s ears were still ringing from the rifle blast as she struggled against the man’s weight. If he got on top of her…
Too late.
Her heart hammered faster, driving adrenaline through her bloodstream. She shoved at his chest with all her might, grunting with the effort, using the adrenaline to her advantage. She had to get him off. She kicked and flailed her legs, for all the good it did with him straddling her hips.
“Get off me, you son of a—”
“Well, now, Blondie,” the sleazy bastard growled, leaning close, the smell of liquor thick on his breath, “he said you’d be a fighter.”
Blue froze for one fraction of a second. The blood roared in her ears, blocking out all else. She pushed away the first thought his crude statement evoked. Lowell had said that Drake… She refused to believe that he would go to these lengths to be rid of her.
“Just makes things more interesting,” the pig on top of her said lasciviously.
“You don’t want to do this, pal,” she warned, then tried to get in a punch, but he manacled her wrists and pinned her arms above her head before she could pull free. He crushed her hands together. The breath hissed between her teeth as pain seared all the way to her bones.
“Jaymo!” he called over his right shoulder. “Get over here, buddy, or you’re gonna miss all the fun!”
Swearing under her breath, Blue twisted beneath him. Bucked. Anything to try and throw him off. He only pressed down harder, keeping her trapped almost effortlessly.
If only she could reach her ankle holster…
Relax, she told herself, forcing her body to still. If she relaxed so would he, then…
“Now.” He stared down at her, his features scarcely visible in the night. His face was long and narrow, a thin, blade-like nose jutted out from its center. His hair was short and dark. The smell of sweat permeated his clothing.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Holding both her hands pinned in a punishing grip against the ground with his left, he ripped open her blouse with his right. She stiffened, fear rocketing through her.
“Well, well. What’s this?” He jerked hard on the chain around her neck, the metal biting into her flesh bef
ore snapping. He held the light stick up for closer inspection and rotated it slowly.
“Surely a firecracker like you isn’t afraid of the dark?” He leaned toward her, using the dim glow from the light stick to inspect her face more thoroughly. He grinned, enjoying her discomfort or maybe looking forward to what he had planned for her.
She turned away. “Go to hell,” she muttered. He’d better enjoy the moment because she wasn’t going to make any of this easy.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, grinding himself against her. Nausea roiled in her stomach. “We can do this the easy way or—”
She got her right hand free, plowed the heel of it hard into his nose. Screaming, he grabbed his face with both hands. Shoving with all her might, she propelled him backward. He tried to fight her off with one hand, using the other to hold his bleeding nose.
“Jaymo, you dumb bastard,” her captor cried out. “Get over here!”
One swift kick to the head and her former captor, grunted then toppled to the ground.
Gasping for breath, Blue stared at his crumpled form for one long moment.
“Sykes! Where the hell are you, man?”
The other guy…Jaymo…maybe ten yards away.
She scrambled away from the slumped form and into the concealing undergrowth. She struggled to hold her breath…to keep from making a sound. Her panic rushed toward hysteria at the idea that it was dark and she didn’t have her light. Her heart pounded so violently she was certain sudden death was imminent or, at the very least, someone would hear it.
Calm, she told herself. Stay calm.
The moon was still full. It wasn’t completely dark. Tiny spears of light penetrated the thick overhead canopy here and there.
Not completely dark, she repeated silently as she retrieved her .38 from the ankle holster.
She was okay.
The friend, Jaymo, was stumbling around like a bull in a china shop. He was closer now. Hidden by the trees or the fog or both.
A new surge of the fight-or-flight chemical flooded her veins.
Drake.