Colby Agency: Guardian Of The Night Part 4

Chapter Four.

Blue spent her first night and full day on St. Gabriel Island learning the area around Drake's home and developing a routine. The security on the island was nonexistent. Anyone could dock almost anywhere and come ash.o.r.e without notice. According to Lowell there were scarcely more than a few hundred residents and some of those were only part-timers. A couple of the summer homes often sat empty the entire season, offering the perfect refuge for any sort of unsavory characters.

Chester, the self-appointed lookout for the islanders, spent the better part of his days strolling about and monitoring the goings-on here and there. So far, he had noted nothing out of the ordinary except that one of Widow Paisley's cats had gone missing. He was sure the animal, being a tomcat, would show up in a day or two.

Blue had given Lowell a panic pager. It was smaller than a disposable lighter and could be easily kept in his trouser pocket. Any time she was out of sight and he needed her, all he had to do was depress the b.u.t.ton and her pager would go off, alerting her to his distress. She hoped Drake would carry one as well, but she doubted his cooperation on any level, much less one that indicated his need to have her around. According to Lowell, he even refused to use the security system installed years ago in the house. It wasn't top of the line, but it was there.

She glanced at the darkening sky as she moved around the perimeter of the yard, careful to stay within the concealing fringes of the trees. Five minutes tops and it would be completely dark and she would be inside. She shivered as the low-lying fog rolled in around her. It was truly creepy. Lowell had warned her that the rare cool summer night often invited the fog. It floated on the air like wispy ghosts. It made the ordinary look alien. Between the eerie mist and the smell-the ancient, seagully odor that worked deep into her nose and awakened some rarely used area of gray matter that was perfectly capable of believing in monsters-she was edgier than usual.

Considering Drake's nocturnal habits and the need for daytime observations, she had opted to sleep in increments, a few minutes here and a few there. She'd learned that little exercise in discipline from her fellow Specialists, Ferrelli and Logan, who had gained the skill while in the military.

The ability to drop immediately to sleep and grab forty winks whenever possible was immensely helpful when she needed to be available 24/7. Bad guys didn't keep bankers' hours, nor did she have the personnel at hand to rotate shifts. She was lucky Drake had permitted her to stay. Lowell was livid at his continued insistence that he didn't need anyone. Bottom line: she was it. Lucas would be nearby, but only as backup. His presence would not be given away unless absolutely necessary.

Noah Drake did not want her here in any capacity. Blue had a hunch about that persistent att.i.tude. The man wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination. She had a growing suspicion that he no longer cared...that he wanted to face whatever lay in store for him and get it over with. Maybe he was simply tired of living the way he did.

Sympathy shouldered its way to the forefront of her emotions. "Dammit," she muttered. She did not want to feel sympathetic toward the man. He would pick up on that line of thinking immediately and his reaction would not be pleasant. He had certainly done nothing to garner sympathy or any other softer emotion from her, but she wasn't stupid either. He had suffered greatly...still suffered. Whatever he had done for his government had altered his life to a significant degree. How could the man have any kind of social life? Career? Or anything else? He couldn't. Not really. Any friend or lover would be forced to live in darkness just as he did.

Blue muttered another curse. Just what she needed...tender feelings for the guy. He was a cla.s.s-A jerk. Yes, admittedly, it was too bad that his life pretty much sucked, but did he have to be mean-spirited to those who tried to help him?

She stilled, the mist swirling around her like curling tentacles, but she scarcely noticed. Yes. He did have to be indifferent...condescending...and flat-out mean. It was the only way to prevent bonding. Becoming attached to anyone, male or female, could be costly. Noah Drake could not depend on another human being freely choosing his way of life. No matter how enamored a woman might become of him-and Blue could definitely see that happening-she would resent a nocturnal existence as soon as the novelty wore off.

Oh, Noah Drake would definitely have no difficulty attracting the opposite s.e.x. He was incredibly good-looking, well-built, and there was something about his eyes. Something that went well beyond the size, shape and color...something magnetic, hypnotic. Then there was that square, chiseled jaw and strong chin that always looked shadowed with his dark coloring. And that mouth was no common feature either. It was full, masterfully sculpted and undeniably sensual.

She moistened her lips and released a long, slow breath. She would not be physically attracted to him. That was not only a major professional no-no, it was a personal disaster. Her career was her life...Noah Drake resented the very government she deeply respected.

The adage "as different as night and day" precisely described the two of them in far more ways than one.

Blue slipped onto the screened back porch and glanced one last time at the sun as it sank beneath the horizon, dragging the few remaining veins of gold and orange from the marbled ebony sky. Soon Noah Drake would rise to greet the night.

Awareness quivered through her, but she squashed the sensation. This was business...nothing more.

Stepping into the kitchen, she inhaled deeply. A sweet and tangy exotic scent tantalized her senses, making her mouth water. "Mercy, Lowell," she almost moaned. "I hope that's on tonight's menu."

He glanced up from the stove. "It's my own special Asian chicken recipe. I hope you'll like it."

Blue moved closer to the stove and peered into the large wok. Red and green peppers, scallions, snow peas and even pineapple were sauteing in a dark liquid along with slender strips of chicken.

"Mmm...looks wonderful."

Lowell winked. For an older guy he was a bit of a flirt. "It is, trust me."

Though she certainly didn't want to encourage him, she couldn't help but smile. Lowell Kline was incorrigible. She hitched a thumb towards the second floor. "Gotta shower, but I'll be right back."

A frown furrowed across his brow. "Before you go," he said hesitantly, "you should know that Chester phoned while you were out."

"Really?" She forced her brain to focus on the conversation rather than the delicious aroma of the concoction in the wok. "Did the Widow Paisley find her cat?" she suggested teasingly.

A smile replaced Lowell's frown. "Yes, but that's not why Chester called. He ran into a couple of men, outlanders, at BullDog's last night."

Blue's interest piqued. "Did he give you a description or other pertinent details?"

Lowell nodded. "He said the two were young, rather rakish-looking and were bragging about playing target practice with unsuspecting human targets."

Blue doubted rakish was in Chester's vocabulary, but she got the idea. "He thinks they were the ones who shot at me yesterday?"

Another succinct nod. "One of them said something about scaring a blonde and hoping to run across her again. Chester is certain he was referring to you. I told him not to worry-that Mr. Drake said you were a fighter."

She tried not to put too much stock in Drake's comment. Instead she considered Chester's report. The likelihood that the real threat to Noah Drake would hang out in a place like BullDog's and brag about his exploits was about zero. Maybe the bullets she'd dodged yesterday were fired by a couple of cognitively delinquent punks, but it just didn't feel right. Blue had been shot at enough times to know what real intent felt like.

"Do you think you should call your friend Lucas Camp and have him send someone to check it out? He might even want to come himself."

Blue shook her head. "Not just yet. That's really more a matter for the local authorities. Maybe Chester should report the incident to the sheriff."

Lowell turned the gas off beneath the wok and placed a lid over it to allow the contents to steam amid the fragrant sauce. Blue's senses as well as her stomach lodged a protest at being denied the pleasure of the aroma.

"Chester did say that he planned to inform the authorities," Lowell went on. "But his real concern was for your and Mr. Drake's safety since the hoodlums are still loitering about. The sheriff might not get around to looking into the problem for a day or two. Sometimes, here on the island, we're forced to take care of things on our own." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Chester did say that he hopes to locate where the two are hanging out and pa.s.s that information along to the authorities as well."

Blue didn't like the sound of that. "If Chester starts following those guys around, he might be the one in danger," she said, automatically worrying about the old guy. Not only was he a good connection to the residents here that she didn't want to lose, she genuinely liked him. Unlike Noah Drake, Blue formed attachments quickly. She hoped that wasn't one character trait she'd come to regret...especially where he was concerned.

Lowell set another pan atop the stove. Blue's gaze followed his movements, wondering vaguely what delight he planned next.

"Chester can take care of himself," he a.s.sured her. "Don't bother worrying about him. You shouldn't be fooled by his laid-back manner, he's as cagey as they come."

Blue shrugged. "It's a habit with me. I grew up in a house with five brothers. I know how much trouble guys can get into." When Lowell lifted a skeptical eyebrow, she adopted an immediate expression of contrition. "Present company excluded, of course."

"Five brothers." He shook his head in wonder. "My, your poor mother must've had her hands full."

Blue laughed softly remembering the day the youngest of her brothers graduated from the police academy. Her mother had said a prayer of thanks that G.o.d had gotten her last son through to manhood, then she'd crossed herself and added that she hoped all would go well from there. Men were such babies. She'd heard her mother say it a thousand times.

And it was true-at times-of all men.

She wondered if Drake ever suffered one of those petulant moments. She almost shook her head at the thought. No, he would never allow such a lapse in control. She suddenly wished he would. For just one minute she'd love to see him totally out of control.

"...they were all I had."

Blue snapped back to attention. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?" She'd zoned out completely there for a moment.

Lowell looked startled, as if he'd just realized that he'd spoken aloud. "My family," he said quickly. "I lost them..."

She couldn't imagine the emptiness of being completely alone in the world. "Your whole family? That's terrible."

He looked away, the pan on the stove forgotten for the moment. "Yes."

His sadness was palpable. "Some sort of accident?" She asked before she thought.

Lowell's gaze settled heavily onto hers. "Murdered."

The announcement startled her...or maybe it was the tone he used. Fierce...pointed. Lowell Kline had obviously not gotten over the loss. She could certainly understand how difficult it would be to try and get past that kind of tragedy.

She touched his arm rea.s.suringly. "I hope the person responsible is paying dearly for his actions."

Lowell's expression hardened, but a knowing smirk tilted his lips. "They've paid all right," he said. "More than even they know."

Her tension elevated. But, Blue considered, the loss of an entire family to violence would likely evoke this kind of intense reaction in the remaining family member. Maybe he didn't like to talk about it.

Lowell seemed suddenly to realize he'd startled her. "You'll have to forgive me," he said with obvious remorse. "My family is a sore subject for me."

She patted him on the arm once more. "I understand. I can't imagine losing even one of my brothers."

Glancing toward the ceiling, Lowell said, "I wonder what's keeping Mr. Drake? He's usually up by now."

The notion that Drake might have risen already and left by the front door to prevent having to deal with Blue slammed into her midsection with all the force of a physical blow.

"I think I'll head on up for that shower now."

His attention returning to the stovetop, Lowell reminded her, "Dinner should be ready in ten minutes."

"Can't wait," she called over her shoulder, refraining from breaking into a run as she left the room.

If Noah Drake had left the house without informing her, she was going to...

She took the stairs two at a time. Well, she didn't know what she was going to do. But whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it.

Her pace increased as she moved down the second-floor hall. Lowell had warned her that the third floor was off limits, and she hadn't had a problem with that...until now.

She had a job to do and Noah was going to have to start cooperating at least a little. Blue Callahan wouldn't lose her first princ.i.p.al as a Specialist because he was too hardheaded to listen to reason.

Standing at the bottom of the smaller staircase that led to the third floor, she took a moment to catch her breath...to bolster her courage actually. He wasn't going to like this if he was still up there. She thought about him wandering in the dark with two trigger-happy bozos running around. He might not like her trespa.s.sing into his private male domain but...

"Too bad," she murmured.

She moved up the stairs, taking care not to make a sound. On the small landing there was only one door...his. She started to knock, but the small crack between the door and the frame stopped her. She swore hotly, repeatedly, under her breath. The door wasn't closed all the way. Lowell had told her that Drake kept his door closed and locked at all times when he was in his room.

Drake was gone.

She started to turn away, but then thought better of it. She might not get a chance to check out his room again. What the heck? She was here. Might as well make the most of the opportunity. That would teach him to run out on her.

Holding her breath, she pushed the door inward. Thank G.o.d it didn't creak. Like the rest of the house the room was pretty d.a.m.ned dark, but she was getting used to it little by little. A sitting area greeted her as she stepped inside the room. There was a television and an extensive collection of electronics for listening to music and playing DVDs. An open laptop computer sat on a desk on the far side of the sitting area, the screen saver sending dim bands of light dancing across the room. She moved farther into the room and noted three doors. Two were typical interior doors, most likely to the bathroom and closet. The third was bolted shut with a total of six deadbolt locks. She frowned, wondering where it led-then it hit her. The widow's walk.

She looked to her left where a wall of windows looked out over the ocean, but heavy draperies blocked the lovely view. Behind the drapes she knew there would be closed hurricane shutters beyond the gla.s.s. The carpeting was dark, red maybe, like that on the stairs. A ma.s.sive armoire stood against the wall next to the heavily bolted door. When she reached the middle of the room, she turned around slowly, taking in the whole picture.

The furnishings were either antique or perfect reproductions. There were no photographs or artwork on the walls. A few books were scattered on the table near the small sofa. She considered checking the t.i.tles but forgot all about the books as her gaze moved over the bed. Large. Four-poster. The linens were rumpled. Drawn like smoke to fire, she moved closer. Her mind conjured the darkly handsome image of Noah lying amid those tousled sheets. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the slightest hint of his male scent still lingered there. Heat and a new kind of hunger stirred deep inside her.

She opened her eyes and studied the pillow and the impression that still marred it. Instinctively she reached out and touched the place where he had lain. Something electrical pa.s.sed through her and she shivered. The bed wasn't even cold yet. He hadn't been gone long.

Another flash of fury sent those other foolish sensations scurrying for parts unknown.

It was time she and Noah Drake had a serious talk.

One of the doors on the other side of the room suddenly opened.

Blue's gaze swiveled in that direction. Her heart surged into her throat...then stopped altogether.

Noah Drake stood in the doorway that no doubt led to the en suite bathroom, naked save for a towel slung carelessly around his lean hips.

"What are you doing in here?"

The rich, deep sound of that voice, even filled with anger and accusation, affected her in a way that was beyond her control.

"I thought you'd run out on me again." She swallowed tightly and realized then and there how lame her excuse sounded. But it was true and she'd taken the opportunity to snoop. Now she was caught. "I came up to check...and the door was open so I a.s.sumed..."

He moved in her direction. "You a.s.sumed I was out, giving you the perfect occasion to nose around." The accusation was stinging. As he came closer she could see the tightness of his features, the barely restrained fury. He was madder than h.e.l.l and close to taking it out on her in more ways than maybe she was prepared to deal with.

"Yes," she admitted, mainly because one word was about all she could manage. With him less than two feet away, she could see the water droplets still clinging to his olive skin and the smoothness of his freshly shaven jaw. He'd missed a smidgen of shaving lather. She resisted the urge to reach up and wipe it away. His hair was still wet, looking exactly as if he'd done no more than run his fingers through it to push it out of his way.

He shifted that dark, hypnotic gaze from her to his bed and back. Heat exploded inside her, sending stream after stream of hot, urgent sensations through her body. She trembled once before she conquered the weakness, but her heart rate would not slow, her rapid intake of breath belied her composure.

"What did you expect? A coffin maybe? Or did you expect more of a laboratory setting? The kind of place you see in the old Frankenstein movies?"

She shook her head. "I didn't expect anything like that...I-"

"My private s.p.a.ce is off limits, Miss Callahan." He moved closer still...until she could smell the freshly showered scent of his skin and the male essence that was his exclusively. She tried not to look...that was the last thing she needed, but she just couldn't help herself. He was too gorgeous...too splendid to ignore. His skin was smooth, sprinkled lightly with dark hair. But it was the exquisite muscle definition that played utter havoc with her brain.

Whatever had happened to him five years ago, there was no outward indication that he was anything other than perfect.

"I...I'm sorry," she finally managed, dragging her gaze up to his. This proved even more unsettling. Even in the low light, it was impossible to miss the s.e.xual hunger glittering behind all that anger in those deep-brown eyes.

This was not good.

"I should give you some privacy to...to..." she blurted, stalled, then swallowed. She had to pull it back together. Calm...cool...collected. "I apologize, but I only came up here because I was concerned about you. It is my job."

Beneath that fierce, penetrating gaze, she felt suddenly and utterly naked. Despite the b.u.t.ton-down blouse worn over a tank top, the jeans and two loaded weapons, she felt completely disarmed, bare. Maybe if the blouse and jeans had been more loosely fitting or if she'd b.u.t.toned the blouse all the way to her neck...maybe then she wouldn't be feeling quite so exposed.

As it was, that gaze roamed over her like an exploring caress. Over the bare skin at her throat and in the V of her blouse. Down her arms, unshielded by the sleeveless blouse. Then over her denim-clad legs. More of those little bursts of heat flared inside her. She'd never once considered her manner of dress as anything other than utilitarian, functional. But now, she felt exposed...uncovered.

She curled her fingers into fists, fastened her gaze on the door, and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. A smart person knew the time to make an exit. When she would have moved past him, he encircled her arm with those long, strong fingers. He restrained her for three long beats before speaking. Then, he looked down his shoulder and directly into her eyes.

"I don't think you realize just how dangerous it is here for you."

His tone was thick with desire and promise, soft in a way that was lethal to all that made her woman. Her breath evaporated in her lungs as she lifted her gaze to his. There was no mistaking what she saw there. The intensity of his s.e.xuality...his hunger made her tremble in spite of her best efforts to keep the outward response in check.

"I've been in dangerous situations before," she said, her voice almost as husky as his. "I'm not afraid of risking my life for a client. It's what I do."

He watched intently as she spoke, followed every movement of her lips, then shifted that dark, dark gaze back to hers. "There's a great deal more here to fear than physical danger from my enemies, Maggie Callahan. Are you sure you're prepared to stay?"

Her attention drifted down to that awesome chest...and lower to where white terry cloth draped loosely around lean hips, then up again...back to those devastatingly hypnotic eyes. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She smiled when surprise flared in those dark depths. "You won't scare me off so easily, Noah Drake," she added, emphasizing his name with a sultry inflection that surprised even her. "I always did love a challenge."