Guardian of the Night
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 identity 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 assignment.”
She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. He frowned, unaccustomed to human touch after all this time.
“You’re that assignment. 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.
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 ashore 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 button 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 attitude. 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 class-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 sex. 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 sautèing 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 pass 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 assured 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.”
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