by Debra Webb
Blue had thought that knowing all the facts would help her to fully understand and to focus better on the mission, but that was far from the case. Knowing the sacrifice he had made for his country and the pain he had suffered as a result only made her more aware of him as a man. She had certainly known her share of selfless males. Her father and brothers had all chosen the course of public service, putting themselves in the direct line of fire to safeguard their neighborhoods and cities. Any one of them would be willing to lay down his life for another. She felt the same way. Had proven her loyalty to the job on numerous occasions.
The reality that Noah Drake continued to suffer, watching the world from inside his prison as life passed right by him, tugged at her heartstrings no matter how hard she tried to be objective. She told herself repeatedly that he was simply her assignment and that she was here to do a job and walk away when it was over, but it didn’t help. Somehow, from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, something had shifted, some strange connection had fused. It was as if she’d known him for months instead of days. She couldn’t explain it, she only knew that it was there.
In spite of his seeming nonchalance about his personal security, she wanted desperately to keep him safe…to make all this right for him. But he wanted more. If she was brutally honest with herself, she wanted more as well. That just couldn’t happen. Her entire life she had prided herself in her work, focused completely on it. Sure she wanted the house in the suburbs and the pitter-patter of little feet…someday.
Just not today. She had dreams to fulfill. Goals to reach. She couldn’t possibly give up everything and be happy in a remote place like St. Gabriel. Not that Drake had asked her to. In fact, he’d made it very clear that his proposition involved a physical relationship only. He hadn’t had to say those precise words, she’d understood completely.
It had cost him dearly to go out on that emotional ledge and make the offer. She’d hurt him by declining…rejecting him. Blue closed her eyes and let go a heavy breath.
She didn’t want to hurt him. But, either way, she would. Whatever decision she’d made would have ultimately meant heartache for both of them. When Lucas called with another assignment she wouldn’t be able to say no. How could a man like Drake be happy with a wife who rushed off to play hero more days out of a month than not?
Of course, he hadn’t asked her to marry him. He’d asked her to have sex with him.
She thought of the way his kisses had melted her insides…of how his body had felt against hers. It was definitely a tempting offer. But it would be a huge mistake for both of them. She would never be able to have a physical relationship with a man like Drake without falling in love with him. She knew that if nothing else. Not to mention the distraction it would lead to. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Until the threat was pinpointed and neutralized Drake’s life depended upon her…as did her own.
No matter how she rationalized it, no matter that she knew she was doing the right thing, she had to make him understand that her decision had nothing to do with a lack of desire or with any lack on his part. She had to set the record straight.
Blue chafed her arms and shivered as she moved through the long entry hall and toward the stairs. The clock chimed then struck three times announcing the hour. She was tired, she needed a few minutes sleep, but she wasn’t sure she could risk the downtime until Lowell was up and about. Surely she could make it three or four more hours.
The bloodred runner muffled her steps as she climbed the sweeping staircase. She’d almost gotten used to the eerie gloom of the house. The dim lighting gave everything an other-worldly appearance 24/7. It reminded her of an old Hitchcock film. There could be most anything lying in wait around the next corner.
She slowed, frowning, as she passed Lowell’s room. The door was closed but a bright glow filtered from beneath the door. She remembered his warning that even flashlights were forbidden. Apparently it was do as I say not do as I do because the light spilling from under his door was definitely brighter than the designated watts. She considered knocking, but then thought better of it. If he’d been reading, he might have simply fallen asleep with the extra light on. There’d been enough stress in the past couple of days, there was no point in making bad matters worse for no real reason since the light was confined to his private quarters.
She climbed the second staircase a bit more slowly, dread pooling in her stomach. Not that she had any misgivings about seeing Noah, to the contrary. She enjoyed seeing him a little too much. However, she did not look forward to the inevitable confrontation in regards to his earlier proposal.
Be that as it may, she had to do the right thing here. She wasn’t a coward. She thought again about the old woman who’d warned her that something bad was coming. Blue had never been a superstitious person, but every time she heard the jangle of those spirit bottles or thought of the old woman, she got the willies and had the urge to cross herself. God, she was becoming her mother.
Overreacting was not her usual MO. Maybe the perpetual lack of light was wreaking havoc with her ability to keep her head on straight. Her hormones were definitely unbalanced.
She rapped on Drake’s door and waited, straining to hear any sound. Nothing. She supposed he could be on the widow’s walk. He seemed to really like that spot. Though she’d never been up there she was sure the view was spectacular.
No answer.
She knocked again, her instincts going on point.
Nothing.
If he’d sneaked out of the house without telling her…
She tried the knob; it turned.
Holding her breath, she opened the door and pushed it inward. The room looked even darker than before. She wondered vaguely if there was a dimmer switch somewhere. Or maybe it had just felt lighter with his presence. She reached for the light stick beneath her blouse and gave it a little shake. The answering glow took her stress barometer down a degree or two.
The room smelled like him, she noted as she moved through the dark space. Clean and masculine, but with an underlying mysteriousness that escaped her ability to describe—something leathery or earthy.
“Mr. Drake,” she called out when she encountered no sign of him. She didn’t want to be accused of snooping again.
No answer.
The instinct that he was not here nagged at her. His presence was somehow energized…magnetic, and she didn’t feel that right now. There was a definite emptiness…a void that only he filled.
Blue sighed and silently railed at herself. She was falling for him already and they had only kissed. What was wrong with her? She just wasn’t the type to swoon over a handsome man, not even a dark, mysterious one. Maybe her mother was right and her biological clock had kicked in, screwing up her hormones in more ways than she knew. She needed that like another hole in the head. She was on a mission, there was no time for feminine weaknesses.
Right now she was a Specialist…being a woman wasn’t supposed to be relevant.
“Mr. Drake?” she called again.
Not a sound.
Dammit all to hell.
When he returned to the house, which he would have to do soon, she intended to give him a dressing down he wouldn’t soon forget. She’d warned him about going off on his own without telling her. As he’d pointed out, however, he was pretty much safe in the dark. It wasn’t like anyone could see him if he didn’t want him or her to.
Blue froze in the center of the room.
For that matter, he could be watching her right this minute from just across the room. She turned slowly and squinted into the darkness. She could vaguely make out the shapes of furniture. The bed, a chair, an armoire. The sitting area she remembered from her previous visit. But all detail was obscured.
She was almost certain he wasn’t in the room. Her instincts couldn’t be that far off the mark. Well, she decided, if he could break her rules, she could break his. Maybe she would do a little snooping.
Moving soundlessly, she entered the bathro
om, which was not quite so dark. As in her bathroom, there was a restored clawfoot tub, an ornate pedestal sink and then a more modern glass-encased shower. The other necessary fixtures were in keeping with the antiquity of the house. Smooth, cool tile covered the floor and part of the walls. It looked to be beige or off white. If there had ever been a window, there wasn’t one now. His scent permeated the room. The fresh masculine soap and that other musky, earthy fragrance that was his alone.
The next door led into a large walk-in closet. Inside was a well-stocked wardrobe that was all black, shoes included. For blending in to the darkness, she presumed. At the end of the clothing racks was something unexpected, another door. She crossed to it and only hesitated a moment before opening it. She shouldn’t…she knew she shouldn’t. But she just couldn’t help herself.
For a long time after entering the secret room she simply stood there and stared at what she saw. She’d noted the state-of-the-art ventilation system and the worktable. The faint smell was unmistakable, the supplies lying about irrefutable evidence, but it was the other, larger items that took her breath away—blew her mind.
Noah Drake was an artist.
Canvas after canvas, stacked three deep, sat on the floor along the walls. One was framed and hanging on the wall. The beauty of it drew her closer. It was a spectacular view of the ocean at night, most likely from the widow’s walk. He’d captured the moonlight glinting on the softly rolling waves perfectly. The infinity of it, bordered on both sides by trees and mist, the stillness, the sense of waiting. It was beautiful, hauntingly so. And in all that beauty she saw the loneliness of the man who’d painted it. Though he never, for one second, allowed her to see or feel it in him, here it was, savage pain and longing captured with each stroke of the brush.
Everything inside her went very still as recognition slowly unfolded inside her.
She knew this work. The heart-wrenching, draw-you-in-and-swallow-you-up depth of it.
Her gaze dropped down to the bottom right-hand corner and her breath caught in her throat. N.D.D. Noah David Drake. His full name had been in his profile. She’d read right over it without a second thought.
She turned away from the beautiful painting and moved around to the front of the easel that stood in the center of the room. Propped on the stand was a work in progress…
Her image.
The air that had trapped in her throat rushed from her in one long whoosh. She forced herself to breathe. The vague scent of oil paint and mineral spirits filled her lungs. He was far from finished but the eyes left no doubt as to the subject.
Something inside her shifted, clicked as if finally connecting fully. This was why she’d been drawn so strongly to Noah Drake from the very beginning. She’d been in love with his work for months. She’d sat in that gallery and studied that one painting of the forest for hours on end. Any time she wanted to relax, to lose herself between missions, that’s where she went. The painting drew her into another time and place where a man who could only be as haunting and alluring as his work must surely be.
And he was.
Here. On St. Gabriel. This was why something about the place had felt familiar to her. The connection just hadn’t fully cemented. She knew this place, knew this man.
Taking another deep breath to calm her racing heart, Blue forced herself to leave the room. She closed the door behind her and stood in the closet for a few moments to allow her eyes to adjust to the slightly dimmer lighting.
This was what Noah Drake did with his time. She now also knew how he earned at least part of his income, the paintings. The gallery owner had told her that his showings were always a sellout, but no one knew who he was or even his real name. Only N.D.D. The works were all sold through an agent in Atlanta. The owner had intended to keep the piece Blue had purchased, but she’d finally, after months of putting up with Blue’s obsession with the painting, agreed to sell it to her.
Blue moved toward the bedroom door with the intent of hunting Noah Drake down and demanding to know why he hadn’t shared this wondrous secret with her as well. Surely if he was prepared to have a sexual relationship with her he could have told her this. Then again, he had insisted on no strings.
Well, she would just tell him what she thought about that in a New York minute.
A hand clamped over her mouth. Instinctively she reached for her weapon. Another hand manacled her wrist. Adrenaline rushed through her veins.
She twisted, used her right leg to unbalance the body holding her firmly against it.
They went down…hit the floor. Two simultaneous grunts echoed in the silent room. She twisted…almost broke free. He rolled her over, scrambling to get on top of her. His hand moved away from her mouth. She screamed, prayed Lowell would hear her. Kicked with all her might. Struggled to free her arms, which were pinned beneath her.
The hand came back. Pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose. She tried to shake it off. Bucked to throw him off. She couldn’t breathe…strange odor.
Her body went limp.
Fabric rustled as he moved off her.
She tried to move…then…nothing.
NOAH MANEUVERED through the darkness toward home. He was running behind schedule. If Blue had noticed him missing she would be furious.
He clenched his jaw. He refused to care if she was angry with him. He told himself that her rejection did not pain him, but it was a lie. He wanted her desperately, felt that same want in her, but she denied its existence.
Not that he could blame her. She was fiercely dedicated to her work. At one time he had been as well. To pretend otherwise would be just another lie. She was right and he was wrong. Allowing this thing between them to escalate beyond the professional was a mistake. He should be thankful that she’d had the good sense to say no.
But he wasn’t.
In all fairness he would not hold the decision against her. It was hers to make. His own selfish interests had driven him to toss out the offer. How could he fault her for making the right decision?
He couldn’t.
But he didn’t have to be happy about it.
The house was too quiet when he entered through the screened porch. Usually Lowell was up by now and pacing the floors waiting for Noah’s return. Especially when he was late as he was this morning. Noah had spent a good deal of the day and part of the night painting. But then he’d had to get away from the house. Had to feel the wind on his face and smell the salt air.
His work in progress had forced him away. It wasn’t bad enough that he was infatuated with the woman…he had to go making her the subject of his work.
Bringing her to life on canvas was like touching her intimately. He grew hard just thinking about it, even now—after an exhausting run and hours of walking aimlessly.
Noah’s frown deepened as he moved through the parlor and back into the entry hall without encountering anyone or hearing any sounds of habitation.
He froze, his gaze riveted to the front door.
It was ajar.
He moved to the door and swung it wide open. There was no one outside as far as he could see. No automobile. He closed the door and locked it, then listened intently. Not a single sound. Lowell knew the rules about keeping the door locked, as did Blue. Both were conscientious about seeing that it was done.
Fear rushed through him.
He bounded up the stairs and was halfway down the second-floor hall when he came upon Lowell. He was attempting to pull himself up from the floor, using the wall for leverage.
“What happened?” Noah demanded as he assisted him in getting to his feet.
Lowell cried out in pain when Noah moved his right arm. “I think my arm is broken,” he groaned.
“Tell me what happened,” Noah insisted, fighting for calm. “Where is Miss Callahan?”
Lowell braced himself against the wall. “I don’t know. I heard her scream and I came out of my room and someone attacked me from behind. I didn’t see anything.”
The older man turned tow
ard the staircase that led to Noah’s quarters. “The scream came from your room.”
Ice forming in his chest, Noah followed his gaze. “Go into your room, Lowell, and lock the door,” he ordered without ever taking his eyes off the stairs.
“You can’t go up there,” Lowell said, clearly frightened. “There could still be someone there.”
Noah’s gaze collided with his. “Miss Callahan is up there.”
Horror claimed Lowell’s expression as if he’d only just realized what the scream he’d heard meant. “Oh, dear God.”
“Lock your door,” Noah repeated as he started toward the stairs. Fear of what he might find…or that he couldn’t help her roared through him. He didn’t have a weapon…only his ability to disappear into the darkness.
By the time he reached the third-floor landing he was prepared to enter the room as stealthily as a shadow.
The door stood open. The lights were turned so low that they were very nearly off. That would work to his advantage. His night vision was so well developed that it would not hinder him in any way.
Blue lay on the floor in the middle of the room. His heart pounding, he moved to her side. Her pulse was slow and steady. No visible signs of injury. Thank God.
He rose and moved about the room to ensure the threat had passed. The door to the widow’s walk stood ajar. He opened it and checked the area. Nothing.
Certain that whoever had broken in was gone, he adjusted the light setting to the full wattage allowed and hurried back to where Blue still lay unconscious.
Three seconds of fierce concentration later and he knelt beside her, his body as visible as hers. He was glad that now had not been one of those times he found it difficult to make the transition back to normal. Gently, he rolled her onto her back and checked her body thoroughly for unseen injury, broken bones and the like.
As his hands moved over her she roused. “What…what’re you doing?”
She pushed up and tried to scramble away from him, her eyes wide with fright and confusion.