Colby Agency: Guardian Of The Night Part 11

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 s.e.xual 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 a.s.sisted 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 toward 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 G.o.d."

"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 G.o.d.

He rose and moved about the room to ensure the threat had pa.s.sed. 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.

He held up his hands in a calming manner. "It's all right. You're okay. Whoever attacked you is gone now."

A frown marred her forehead. She rubbed a hand over her face and shook her head. "I came in here to find you and he came out of nowhere, wrestled me to the floor and then drugged me with an inhalant."

Noah picked up an object from the floor. It had, apparently, been under her. "He left you a gift."

Her gaze focused on the voodoo doll in his hand. It was black with a lock of long blond hair wrapped around it. Blue's blond hair, Noah was certain.

"You're sure it was a man?" he asked, his gaze connecting with hers.

She nodded. "I'm positive."

The lights had been set so low when he'd come in the room he couldn't see how she could be so certain. "The room was almost completely dark."

She pushed to her feet. "I'm positive it was a man," she said more firmly, irritably in fact. He supposed if he'd just been drugged he would be a bit irritable as well.

Noah pushed to his feet, watching her closely. The next thought that occurred to him sent fury roaring through his veins. "Did he...?"

The look in her eyes told him he didn't have to finish the question. "No. But I felt him-" she cleared her throat "-against me. He was aroused."

Fury...outrage...there was no word to describe accurately the depth of the emotion ripping him apart inside. He crushed the doll in his fist, wanting to do the same to whoever had done this to her. He didn't care that somehow someone had trespa.s.sed in his home. He only cared that they had touched her.

"I want you to leave. Today." He spoke slowly, struggling to keep his words even, a semblance of calm in his tone. "I don't need your protection. I can take care of myself."

She threaded her fingers through her hair and exhaled a heavy breath. "We've been through this before, Drake," she refuted firmly. "I'm not leaving until the threat to you is neutralized or I'm rea.s.signed." She c.o.c.ked her head and glared defiantly at him, daring him to rebut her proclamation.

A new blast of outrage stiffened his spine. "Fine. Then you'll be rea.s.signed. Rothman brought you here, he can send you away."

Noah gave her his back and left the room. He would call Edgar now. He wanted her out of here today.

Final decision made, Noah double-timed it back down to the second floor and paused at Lowell's room. He tapped on the door. "It's safe to come out, Lowell. We need to call Chester to come take you to the mainland to have your arm seen to."

The door opened slowly. Lowell peeked out before opening it all the way. "I can probably get there on my own," he offered, always sensitive to putting anyone out.

Noah shook his head and surveyed the older man for other injuries. "No, it might not be safe for you to go alone. We'll call Chester. Dawn is upon us, I'm sure Chester will be up."

Noah ignored a seething Blue who followed close behind him. The sound of her soft voice tugged at his senses as she questioned Lowell about his encounter in the hall. It appeared that both had been attacked by the same person. Both insisted the house's exterior doors had been locked.

Whatever the case, Noah was taking no more chances. Lowell and Blue were leaving. He would face this alone. He should have insisted on this to begin with. Edgar had pulled a fast one on Noah by sending Blue, and then he'd been so intrigued by her he had not sent her away immediately. A mistake on both their parts. Noah wouldn't put it past Edgar's having asked for a woman, perhaps even this particular woman, in hopes of stirring emotions in Noah.

Well, his plan had worked.

Too well.

But it was over now.

The loud pounding on the front door made Blue gasp as they descended the main staircase.

Resisting the urge to look back at her, Noah hesitated at the bottom of the stairs and waited for Blue and Lowell to catch up with him. He kept his eyes carefully averted from hers.

"The two of you can wait in the living room while I see who is here."

Blue placed a hand against his chest. "I'm the one with the gun handy."

Noah lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "That doesn't appear to have been a great deal of help to you thus far."

Her full lips thinned in anger. "Step aside, Drake, I'm getting the door. Besides, the sun is rising."

Realization jolted Noah with her words. He'd been so overwrought with concern for her and for Lowell, that he'd completely forgotten this d.a.m.ned curse.

She inclined her head toward the stairs. "Go back to your room. Lock yourself in. We'll take care of this." She withdrew her nine-millimeter.

"Check the viewfinder first," Noah insisted, determined to know the extent of the threat, if any, before he left them alone with it.

She huffed a breath, then did as he asked. "It's Lucas!" She turned to Noah. "Did you call him?"

He shook his head. "No." And he hadn't. His call was going to be to Edgar. He wanted Blue and her people off this island today. "But since he's here, invite him in. We have things to discuss."

Noah retired to the parlor where any light let in by the opening of the door wouldn't reach him.

Blue glowered at his retreating back. She had never in her life met such a stubborn man. Then she thought of those heartrending works of art in his secret room. Her anger dissolved, leaving only the raw emotions she knew would serve no purpose. But she simply couldn't push them away.

She drew in a bolstering breath and opened the door. "Mr. Camp, is something wrong?" She tried to sound calm and businesslike. At the moment she was too worried about what Noah intended to say to her boss.

Confusion lined Lucas's brow. "I received your 9-1-1. What's going on here?"

"What?" She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her, not wanting Noah to overhear. "I didn't send out a call for help."

The purple and gold hues of dawn stretched across the lush green lawn and the black sedan parked there. A thin mist still clung to the air, reminding her of the night before last's adventure in the woods with Sykes and Jaymo.

"I don't know what's going on, Callahan," Lucas began, "but I don't like this at all. Who had access to your pager in the last half hour?"

The memory of being rendered unconscious by an intruder exploded inside her head.

Someone was watching every move she made.

Someone who had the means to gain access to the house.

A p.r.i.c.kling sensation on the back of her neck sent her instincts soaring toward alert.

"We should go inside," she suggested, scanning the yard once more. "I've got-"

A high-pitched crack rent the air.