Part 7 (1/2)

Relief washed over her so quickly she felt weak with it. But what about the other guy?

Dammit. Drake could be an open target.

Blue lunged from her hiding place and almost stumbled over the jerk on the ground.

”There's another guy out there,” she warned softly, peering through the darkness in the general direction from which she'd heard Jaymo's thras.h.i.+ngs.

A leaf crushed beneath a footstep.

She whipped to the right.

Nothing.

Just the darkness.

”Where are you?” Her whispered words held a distinct edge of impatience. She was just about tired of Drake's hide-and-seek maneuvers.

”You don't need to be afraid,” that silky voice a.s.sured her. ”I've taken care of him.”

Fury abruptly replaced all other emotions. ”You were supposed to stay put,” she said crossly. What was wrong with this guy? Did he have a death wish? she wondered as she crouched down to feel around for her Glock.

”If I'd stayed put,” he commented dryly, his voice closer now, ”where would that have left you? Two against one? Not very good odds.”

She located her Glock, tucked the backup .38 into her ankle holster and pushed to her feet. ”I can take care-” he stood right in front of her...only inches away; she staggered back a step ”-of myself.”

Standing in a thin shaft of moonlight, the amused look on Drake's face was clear to see, telling her he was not convinced. ”Looking for this?” He dangled the broken chain and light stick in front of her.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand. ”Actually,” she snapped, ”I was looking for my Glock.” To punctuate her words she shoved the weapon into its holster at her shoulder.

”I suppose we should tie up these two,” he suggested, ”and call the sheriff.”

”I suppose.” She checked the jerk, Sykes, who'd manhandled her for a concealed weapon. Nothing. The rifle was accessorized with a strap so she slung it over her shoulder. Rolling him over as necessary, she stripped off the guy's s.h.i.+rt and belt to use for restraints.

When Drake had dragged Jaymo to where she waited, she did the same to him, tucking his handgun into the waistband of her jeans. Using their s.h.i.+rts and belts, she secured the two men's hands and feet. They wouldn't be going anywhere.

”Are you all right?” Drake asked when she was finally ready to head back to the house.

”I'm fine.” It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. ”Lead the way,” she relinquished with a sweep of her hand. He would know the most efficient route to take and the sooner they returned to the house and made that call, the sooner these guys would get theirs. She was pretty sure they had nothing to do with Drake's situation. Just a couple of lowlifes with too much time on their hands.

To her surprise, Drake stayed close as they moved through the dense woods and curling fingers of fog toward the house. She'd half expected him to disappear as he usually did. The realization that he was probably making it easy on her because she'd gotten roughed up only made her angry. She didn't need his protection. She was here to protect him. The jerk who'd pinned her to the ground had only momentarily gained the upper hand. She had taken him. She'd only needed the right opportunity.

Now Drake would no doubt think he was the protector because he'd gotten the other guy before she did. She'd just have to make sure he understood the chain of command here. He was supposed to follow her orders when it came to security. He hadn't, thus risking his safety in a situation she was perfectly capable of handling.

Lucas Camp and Edgar Rothman would not be pleased. She had to make sure Drake played by the rules from this point forward. She didn't need his heroics...though she had to admit that a tiny part of her was flattered. She forced that thought away. The last thing she needed was a foolish notion like that. She had a job to do.

And what the h.e.l.l had gotten into her with that kiss proposition? Her face flushed with heat. She thanked G.o.d Drake wasn't looking at her right now. She'd asked-no, she'd told him to kiss her. What had gotten into her?

Yes, they'd both wanted it and the tension had been annoying. But there was simply no telling what he thought. Most likely he had come to the conclusion that she was a few cards shy of a full deck. And she couldn't blame him. She was more of a professional than that. The demand had simply popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

His reaction had very nearly undone her. He'd taken hold of her so fast that it had startled her. Then he'd touched his lips to hers, just the slightest brush of skin, but she'd almost lost her mind at the contact. There was no way to pretend the desire away, it was there...strong and insistent.

As they emerged into the yard she couldn't resist a long look at the fog-embellished ocean. The sound of the waves lapping against the sand soothed her. Therapeutic, she decided. Just listening to it made a person want to forget the problems of the world. The moon hung so low in the sky it threatened to dip right into the water. She s.h.i.+vered, then hugged her arms around herself. How could danger lurk in such a beautiful place?

She looked up at the house and suppressed the urge to s.h.i.+ver again. The same ornate features that were appealing by day turned eerily haunting by night. She stared a moment at the shutter-clad windows that flanked Drake's bedroom-the tower room. Her imagination conjured his image on the widow's walk, looking out over the sea, yearning...wis.h.i.+ng for what he could not have. She wondered how often he stood there and viewed the world to which he'd been sentenced?

No matter how beautiful, considering the vivid blue of the ocean, the pure white of the sand and the intriguing, albeit dark, emerald forest, this place was still a prison.

Life without the possibility of parole.

Life...alone.

The enormity of it was suffocating...overpowering. He had no options, no goals or hopes. Only this place and the darkness. The painting she loved came to mind again. This was the kind of place, the kind of forlornness that the artist must have felt when painting it.

Noah Drake was like that.

She blinked, startled by the depth of her own emotions.

She turned back toward the house just in time to b.u.mp into the muscular frame belonging to the subject of her intense reverie. He stood near the steps, waiting for her to catch up, watching her every move.

”Sorry,” she murmured, another blush heating her cheeks. Could she do nothing right in this man's presence? She closed her eyes for a second and sighed wearily, then forced her attention to the steps. She just needed to get inside and put this episode behind her.

Long fingers curled around her forearm, restraining her when she would have moved past him. ”You're injured.” When she looked up at him he touched her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. Worry furrowed his brow. ”I should see to that right away.”

An electrical charge skittered over her skin. She moistened her lips, for the first time tasting blood. She hadn't even noticed, but now the aches and pains made themselves known. Her back ached where she'd hit the ground. Her left elbow burned where it was skinned and her lip was busted.

”It's nothing,” she protested as she pushed past him and onto the screened porch. She didn't have to look back or even hear him to know that he followed. She could feel him right behind her. He watched her with an intensity that unnerved her so completely that she felt at a loss to explain her reaction.

”What's happened?” Lowell demanded the moment they entered the kitchen. It didn't help that she deposited the confiscated rifle and handgun on the table. ”Dear G.o.d, what is all that?”

Only then did Blue recall her torn blouse. She tugged the edges together, knowing full well she must look a mess. ”You should call the sheriff. The two guys who did the careless shooting yesterday are tied up out there. A Sykes and a Jaymo.” She glanced at Drake, who was still staring directly at her. ”He can tell you where they are.”

”Are you all right?” Lowell persisted as he followed her across the room.

She held up a hand to stop him. ”I'm fine. Really. Call the authorities and everything will be fine.”

Lowell looked at Noah, a question in his eyes.

Noah shook his head in answer to what he knew Lowell wanted to ask. ”We left them bound and down for the count about a hundred meters east of the yard's perimeter. By the time a deputy gets here from the mainland they'll have regained consciousness. He won't have any trouble locating them then since they'll likely be screaming their heads off.”

Lowell nodded, though he still looked hesitant.

”I'll take care of her,” Noah said reluctantly, knowing that's what the older man wanted to hear.

”Perhaps she should call her superior,” Lowell suggested before Noah could exit the kitchen.

Noah turned back and pinned him with a gaze that left no question as to the certainty of his words. ”This has nothing to do with the general or why she is here.”

Lowell conceded the point. ”I'll make that call and take care of any questions.”

Satisfied, Noah turned his attention to Blue Callahan. She didn't want to see him again tonight, he was certain. But she was not going to get her wish. This was his fault. Though the riffraff they'd encountered tonight had nothing to do with Noah or his past, still, she was here because of him and that past. Had she not been here, she wouldn't have gotten hurt tonight. Admittedly, he had wanted her to leave, still did, but he didn't want her hurt in any way.