Part 5 (2/2)

She quickly gave him an update on Chester's findings in regard to the gunshots.

Anger infused Noah. This was not the general's style at all. This incident was exactly what it had appeared-two fools with too much time on their hands.

There was only one way to deal with a fool.

”I'm going out,” he announced. ”Now.”

He didn't give her time to argue or question his agenda. He simply walked out.

She followed.

”Should I hold dinner for you?” Lowell asked as Noah pa.s.sed through the kitchen.

”I can fend for myself later,” he answered without slowing. This was his home...his refuge. He would not be threatened for no reason in his own home.

He and General Bonner had a score to settle. Not that Noah thought Bonner was right in any sense of the word. But at least he had credible motivation for his actions.

Fury washed over Noah anew.

Two punks using Callahan for target practice was unacceptable.

The moment he was outside he lingered for a time to draw in a deep breath of fresh night air. As predicted, the temperature was cool...mist drifted through the darkness, the moonlight doing nothing to banish it.

The frothy water lapped at the sand, teasing, twirling, then draining away. Noah moved toward it, the sound like a beacon in the darkness. He loved the ocean. That it rolled across the sand of his own backyard made him feel very lucky indeed. This was his one pleasure...his one escape.

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 spa.r.s.e moonbeams, captured the gold in her honey-colored hair, making it gleam like raw silk. Her full attention was riveted to the waves cras.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+fted 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 h.e.l.l.

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 coa.r.s.e 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 b.u.mps 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 h.e.l.l 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 superst.i.tions 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 princ.i.p.al 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 relations.h.i.+p 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 circ.u.mstances 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 cla.s.sified.

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 b.u.t.t like a hothouse flower. Certainly no man wanted a woman like her for his wife or the mother of his children.

Regret p.r.i.c.ked 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?

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