Colby Agency: Guardian Of The Night Part 3

Blue lunged for it and took cover inside. A dank, musty odor immediately shrouded her. She crouched down, her weapon clenched in one hand as she braced the other on the floor for support while she caught her breath. She didn't even want to know what the furry stuff under her fingers was. Moss maybe. She could hope.

She held her breath, released it slowly. Willed her heart rate to decrease. Forced her mind to focus on the impending threat...to pinpoint the direction and proximity. He couldn't be far away.

Listening intently, a.n.a.lyzing each sound, she heard nothing but the resonance of the night bearing down on her.

The constant cry of cicadas.

The wind stirring the leaves.

d.a.m.n, it was dark.

She made herself as small as possible, hunkering in the blackness just inside the open doorway, her weapon leveled steadily in her right hand, her left hand now flattened against her chest, feeling for the small light stick beneath her shirt and drawing comfort as her fingers closed around it.

He moved.

She didn't hear him and certainly didn't see him, but she sensed the movement.

To her right...five yards away maybe.

She squinted in that direction and saw nothing. He couldn't be that close. If he'd left the cover of the trees, she should have seen at least a glimpse of him or a glimmer of movement in the moonlight.

...roams around all hours of the night like some kindda vampire... Chester's words echoed.

Gla.s.s jangled, jerking her gaze to the left.

Spirit bottles like the ones back at the house hung from the lowest limb of a nearby live oak. The bottles swayed, banging against each other from time to time, the moonlight glinting from their surfaces. A new kind of uneasiness slid through her and she called herself every kind of fool. She was not superst.i.tious. And she d.a.m.n sure didn't believe in vampires.

The deep weeds rustled, yielding beneath a heavy footstep.

She looked right again, her heart jolting back into top speed.

Nothing.

There was nothing there.

Dammit.

There had to be.

"It's safe to come out now, Maggie Callahan."

Her heart skidded to a near-stop at the sound of the deep, male voice splitting the darkness, drowning out all other sound with its richness...its seeming oneness with the night.

"Whoever was shooting is gone now. You don't have to be afraid."

She blinked, peered as hard as she could in the direction of the voice, but saw nothing. She swore silently.

"Come out, Maggie Callahan," he said, an underlying amus.e.m.e.nt in his silky tone now. She could almost see him smiling. "Let me show you the way back to the house before you stumble over something that bites."

She gritted her teeth against a shudder. Who the h.e.l.l was this guy? It wasn't Lowell or Chester. There was a slight, ever so slight, drawl, but the voice was too deep and smooth to belong to either of them. It could be Drake, she considered, but she couldn't imagine him running out into the darkness like this since his life was in danger already.

Not unless he'd lost his mind anyway.

"Who are you?" she demanded, giving away her position but seeing no way around it. She darted to the other side of the open doorway just to be safe, thankful that the ancient floor didn't creak under her weight and the suddenness of her move.

"Maybe you'd prefer that I call you Blue."

She tensed. He hadn't given her a straightforward answer, but he'd narrowed the possibilities. Besides her family, only her close friends and the people with whom she worked knew the nickname she'd been called all her life-bestowed because of the unusual deep color of her eyes.

She'd told Lowell. This had to be Drake. Or someone he'd hired to scare her off.

"I asked you to identify yourself," she demanded, impatience and anger searing away any lingering fear. If this guy was yanking her around- "I'm the man you came all this way to protect." He laughed softly, the sound shivering across her frazzled nerve endings. "Ironic, isn't it?"

She shook off the effect his voice had on her and issued yet another demand. "Prove it. Show yourself."

She didn't know how much he'd changed in the past five years or what physical scars he'd suffered, but she would surely recognize him to a degree from the picture in the mission profile. The Noah Drake of five years ago had thick, dark hair and even darker brown eyes. He'd been a h.e.l.l of a good-looking guy with an athletic body to match.

But that had all likely changed.

"You'll just have to trust me," he said, that smooth voice containing a challenge now. "Besides, I don't think you want to risk further exposure to the curse."

Curse? She wanted to throttle whoever he was. "Just show yourself or some ID and everything will be cool," she told him flatly. No way was she stepping out into the open until she knew who this guy was. Curse. Yeah, right.

"There's a small cemetery behind this old chapel," he went on as if she hadn't said a word. "They say there's a voodoo witch buried there and anyone who comes near her grave will die a terrible death. Now you don't want that, do you, Specialist Callahan?"

It was Drake. He had the kind of high-level clearance to know the organization that had actually sent her. Lowell only knew that Rothman had hired her. She kept to herself the litany of adjectives that tumbled into her mind. Very descriptive adjectives she was certain Drake wouldn't want to hear since they all accurately expressed what she thought about him at the moment.

"I'm not afraid of any curse." Blue stepped out into the open, but didn't put her gun away. She turned slowly, peering into the darkness for any manifestation of Drake. "Nor am I the one receiving the death threats."

"No one has actually threatened my life," he argued pointedly and without conviction.

Blue whipped in the direction of the sound, it was closer and from her left this time. Where the h.e.l.l was he?

"Then why am I here?" she argued. "And why are you being so secretive? Why didn't you call out to me when I was running like h.e.l.l through these d.a.m.ned woods?" She was mad now.

"Hmm." The sound seemed to resonate all around her. She trembled in spite of the anger fueling her courage. "First," the taunting words went on, "you're here because Edgar Rothman feels guilty." Pause. "Secondly, I didn't call out to you until I was sure."

Drake was right behind her.

Blue spun around. "Sure of what?"

She blinked. Nothing. Only darkness.

"That there was no one else except you."

"Where the h.e.l.l are you?" This had gone far enough.

"Turn around, Specialist Callahan," he said as if she were a child, "and walk straight ahead. You'll find the house in that direction."

"Why can't I see you?" Frustration made her voice tight and a little high-pitched. She did as he said and turned around slowly, very slowly, but she didn't like this one bit.

"Straight ahead, Blue," he ordered.

She stiffened her spine and tightened her grip on her weapon. Whatever his game, she wasn't playing. Maybe Rothman didn't know his friend had dropped over the edge, but he was going to find out the minute Blue got back to a phone. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why I can't see you."

"Then it's going to be a long night for you, I fear."

He was gone.

Though she hadn't heard a sound and d.a.m.ned sure hadn't seen him, she knew it as surely as she knew her own name. The air felt suddenly thinner, lighter, as if a presence that diminished all else had abruptly vanished.

Blue shook herself. Maybe the intensity was just her imagination. With the silence coagulating around her, she was beginning to think she'd imagined the whole conversation. This was too d.a.m.ned strange.

Deciding not to take the word of some disembodied voice, she moved slowly around the old building he'd called a chapel and looked for a path of any sort leading away from it. The moon's light was scarcely any help, but she was glad for it. She stumbled again, this time over a rock. She straightened and glared down at the hindrance in her path.

It wasn't a rock.

An old headstone stared back at her.

MAGGIE "BLUE" CALLAHAN made her way back to the house much more quickly than Noah had antic.i.p.ated. She had more guts than he'd given her credit for. He'd stayed close the entire journey just in case. Though she hadn't heard him and definitely hadn't seen him, she'd known, or at least suspected, that he was there. She'd stopped and looked directly at him twice. Her perceptiveness was uncanny.

Noah smiled. Unexpected. He enjoyed that aspect of observing her, even if her presence did infuriate him.

He'd watched her on the beach. She didn't look like a bodyguard. Not only was she female, but she was attractive as well. Long blond hair that she didn't bother to restrain had drifted over her shoulders and danced playfully at the wind's invitation. She stood tall and slender, but she didn't look thin. Rather she appeared fit and strong. But it was the curve of her cheek and the masterfully carved details of her mouth that had held his attention the longest.

Very attractive. Also unexpected.

She'd felt him watching her even then.

The technology that allowed him to view the world in any capacity during daylight hours was best described as high-powered sungla.s.ses or the reverse of night vision, all built into a savvy camera with zoom and wide-angle capabilities. In his room, as in the main parlor, there was a monitor which he could tune to east, west, north or south, and see all angles from the house. This was his only means of self-protection during the day, other than Lowell's presence. Well, there was the escape tunnel...but that was a last resort. Only he knew of its existence and it held dangers of its own.

She'd walked along that beach, staring out over his ocean as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and he'd grown aroused by the image. He'd longed to taste the length of her slender throat...those lush lips. To trace her body with his hands.

He forced away the frustrating thoughts. For five long years he had disciplined himself against all emotion, all needs that didn't equate to survival. He would not allow this woman to shake what he'd suffered endless hours, days and months to build.

Blue was at the front door again, unlocking it with trembling fingers. He heard her muttered curses as she tried twice to accomplish her task. Noah moved to the rear of the house where he would prepare before going inside for their first and only face-to-face meeting.

No matter how efficient or attractive Miss Callahan was, he didn't want her here.

He didn't need anyone else.

And he definitely couldn't risk losing control. Firm, relentless control was all that got him through each day.

"I said, I want to see Mr. Drake."

The sound of Blue's outrage carried through the house and was now directed at Lowell. She'd stormed into the kitchen and demanded to know where Noah was. Lowell, of course, had no idea.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure where he is at the moment." He raised his empty palms, but even that seemingly nonchalant gesture didn't hide his mounting concern. "When he heard the shots," Lowell explained, "he rushed out. He hasn't come back."

Blue's furious expression didn't change. "Does he keep any weapons on the premises?" She glared at Lowell, daring him to avoid the truth. "Say a high-powered rifle, maybe?"

Noah smiled, amused once more by her fierce determination. So she thought he'd been the one doing the shooting to scare her off. Oh, he wanted rid of her right enough, but he wouldn't go to that extreme.

"What are you suggesting?" Lowell demanded, affronted. He was a loyal friend, even if Noah was loath to admit it.

"I'm suggesting-"

"Good evening, Miss Callahan," Noah said as he strode into the kitchen before she took her interrogation tactics further. Blue Callahan didn't give up easily. That had quickly become clear as he'd hesitated, listening, in the small hall that separated the kitchen from the screened porch.

Startled, her intense glower shifted to him. She blinked rapidly as if caught off guard by what she saw. He had no idea what she'd expected.

"The answer to your question is yes." He moved across the room, stopping only when he was close enough to attempt to intimidate her with his presence. She was tall, but several inches shorter than he was. And he was stronger. Though he doubted he would garner much success at bullying her physically. She looked more than capable of holding her own. "I have several weapons at my disposal and you're welcome to inspect them all. They are presently locked in a gun cabinet upstairs."

Blue wasn't intimidated, startled maybe, but not afraid in the least. He almost smiled as respect bloomed inside him. She appraised him thoroughly, taking her sweet time. He tensed beneath that level of scrutiny. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been looked at so long and carefully by anyone, much less a woman.

Now he was the one intimidated. It was almost laughable. But Noah wasn't laughing.

"Mr. Drake, I presume?" she said pointedly when at last she'd completed her visual examination. He didn't miss the flicker of approval amidst the fury in those extraordinary eyes.

He realized now why she was nicknamed Blue. The zoom and detail-distinction capabilities of his equipment weren't quite good enough to provide the finer details. Her eyes were incredible. The most intense shade of blue he'd ever seen. He wondered if the hue would be as dark when she wasn't quite so angry.

"You might as well know up front that I don't want you here," he said in lieu of acknowledging his ident.i.ty and forcing away the dangerous thoughts his mind insisted on conjuring. "Since it would be next to impossible to get a boat to take you back to the mainland at this time of the evening, you're welcome to stay the night." He pressed her with a look he felt certain spoke volumes about his irrevocable stand on the matter. "But first thing tomorrow morning you will leave this property."

She didn't waver in the slightest. "It doesn't matter that someone was shooting-"

"At you," he pointed out. "It could have been one of the locals who despises outlanders. Or an unscrupulous hunter who failed to consider where his stray shots might end up."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, impatience radiating off her in waves. "Yeah, right. You know that isn't the case. I know when I'm being shot at."

"Whatever the case," he said without hesitation or further consideration. "Tomorrow morning you will leave. Goodnight, Maggie Callahan." He strode across the room without looking at her. He didn't need her here. The only thing he needed was to be left alone.

"Don't get your hopes up."

The sound of her defiance brought him up short.

He turned around slowly, leveled his gaze on her extraordinary blue one. "What did you say?"

Arms folded over her chest, she strolled up to him and looked him square in the eyes. "I said," she repeated pointedly, "don't get your hopes up. I have an a.s.signment."

She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. He frowned, unaccustomed to human touch after all this time.

"You're that a.s.signment. I have a problem with failure." She smiled up at him, the gesture lacking humor but underscoring her determination perfectly. "Good night, Noah Drake."

She walked out of the room without a backward glance.