Safe Harbor (12 page)

She flashed him a look of disbelief. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

He shrugged again, muscles rippling across his arms and back as he paced restlessly. The TV announcer began describing another gown by a famous European designer, once again drawing Jonas's attention so that he stopped and stared at the screen. Hannah moved into the bright lights to a thunderous applause, spiral curls in platinum and gold hanging to her waist, her famous blue eyes shadowed with glitter to match the gold threads gleaming through the dress.

"Sometimes when I look at her," he admitted, talking more to himself than to Sarah, "I can't breathe. I've felt that way since the first time I ever laid eyes on her." His fists dropped to his sides, but they were clenched tight, so tight his knuckles were white. A muscle jerked in his jaw and his mouth tightened as the camera once more panned the audience, the commentator gleefully announcing that everyone who was anyone was at Fashion Week in New York.

"She has a wicked sense of humor, if she ever lets it out," he added. "I sometimes stir her up just to see her retaliate."

The camera picked up glamorous stars and public figures, wealthy icons and hotel owners, as well as reporters and numerous identifiable people from the fashion industry. Movie stars and politicians, household names, people from the music industry were all represented and, along with them, their bodyguards. Sarah drew in her breath sharply, one hand going to her throat.

"Jonas," she whispered. "I think I saw Ilya Prakenskii in the crowd. Why would he be there? He's a Russian hit man, isn't he?"

Jonas's eyes gleamed like twin chips of ice. "That's his reputation, but no one has ever managed to pin anything on him. If he's there, he's guarding Sergei Nikitin."

"That man who was so fixated on Joley? I know he has a bad reputation as a mobster, but Nikitin seems so young to have risen to so much power so fast."

"He's definitely with the Russian mob." He glanced at her and then back to the screen. "You're afraid of Prakenskii. Has he contacted you since the incident with Aleksandr and Abbey?"

"You mean when he saved Aleksandr's life and we had to give him our word that we'd return a favor?" Sarah asked with a little shiver. "No. I'd hoped we'd never see him again. He's a very powerful man. Like Elle, he has tremendous gifts."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Sarah bit her lip. "He has a path to Joley's magic. He can touch her, talk to her, fight magic with magic—and he's powerful, Jonas. To save Aleksandr, we made a deal with the devil."

"I hope he's not the threat I feel."

"Why would he save Abbey's fiancé and then harm Hannah?"

"I've never understood half of what people do to one another," Jonas said, pushing his hand through his hair once again. And he didn't either. Why people were so cruel to one another, why money and power drove them to kill and betray, he would never understand—not in a million years. And how he himself had gotten so good at killing and figuring things out, his mind cool and clinical in a crisis when he was so emotional deep inside where no one saw—no one but Hannah.

All the while the commentator rattled on about New York Fashion Week being the biggest gala in years, the best collections, the fabulous designers. Jonas turned his attention back to the screen as the camera once more took in the crowd. He spotted the elusive Russian hit man, standing just to the back of Sergei Nikitin, the mobster. His stomach did another somersault, the knots tightening, his fist clenching. Was it possible Nikitin wanted retaliation against the Drakes? There was
something. Someone
. He just couldn't find the threat, but he felt it on the outer edges of his consciousness, whispering to him, digging at him, making him hyperaware.

Sarah watched Jonas, not the screen. His gaze was fixed, and his body was utterly still as if he were hunting. She hardly dared to take a breath, afraid of disturbing his concentration. He didn't believe he had paranormal talents, but the Drake sisters had always been aware of his abilities—just not exactly what they were. He was certainly in tune with them—and with danger. His face had the grim expression he often wore when he was investigating a particularly intense crime.

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting to remain calm. Apprehension ate at her, so strong she could barely breathe. Was the familiar feeling the beginning of warnings, precognition kicking in—or was it empathy for whatever Jonas was feeling—because she was beginning to get the impression something terrible was about to happen.

"What's wrong?"

"Damn it, I don't know." His gaze went dark with anxiety. "She's in trouble, though. I know she is. I should have gone with her."

Sarah swallowed her alarm, forcing down panic. "Calm down, Jonas. I want you to sit down and take a few deep breaths."

"Go to hell, Sarah. I'm not some little kid. Hannah is—
everything
to me."

Sarah's heart jumped. Jonas had never admitted his feelings aloud for her sister. He didn't even seem to notice what he was saying, and with Jonas, that was a bad sign. The Drake sisters had been born with special gifts, talents they relied on and were an intrinsic part of their lives. They'd always known Jonas had the same rare abilities, just as fundamental to him as breathing, yet he didn't seem to fully comprehend how to develop and use his talents on demand. The abilities were there, forces to be reckoned with. Sarah could feel the energy pulsing through the room, emanating off him in waves as he tried to ferret out the danger to Hannah.

"The reason you're going to figure out what's wrong is because she is everything to you. We can take a plane to New York and be there in a few hours. She's safe right now. She's surrounded by television cameras and celebrities. There must be a few hundred private bodyguards in that building along with massive security."

Jonas's gaze leapt back to the screen, shaking his head. "She's not safe," he repeated, his white teeth snapping together. "There's someone…" His voice trailed off and his attention slipped from Sarah wholly back to the screen. His eyes had gone cool and assessing, his body utterly still, all of his concentration centered on the crowd behind Hannah.

Sarah heard the boom of the ocean, a portent of trouble. Her heart pounded along with the waves. She was suddenly very, very frightened for her sister. She searched the crowd, trying to see what bothered Jonas. The cameras jumped from inside the show to outside, where a crowd pushed along the sidewalk hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the celebrities. There were so many movie stars inside and the fans had come out to see them.

A reporter focused on several small groups holding protests across the street, each outshouting the other. There was the inevitable animal rights group protesting the use of real animal fur for clothing. Sarah moved closer trying to catch a glimpse of faces. Hannah never modeled animal fur, but she had refused to represent or join or in any way have her name used in conjunction with the large and well-known group, as she'd researched it very carefully.

Evidence had come to light that the members "rescued" animals from sanctuaries where the animals were well cared for, but kept in cages. The reporters had dutifully filmed the rescues, never realizing the real story was that the animals were immediately euthanized as there was nowhere to put them and no way to feed and care for them once they were taken from the sanctuaries. Hannah had been vocal in her refusal to join after she had done extensive research and several other misdeeds had been uncovered, rocking the foundation of the group.

"They hate her," Sarah pointed out. "I recognize the man with the beard. He threatened Hannah when she talked the reporters into investigating."

"Yes," Jonas agreed. "It's a powerful group with many celebrities lending their names without knowing what really goes on. Hannah blew their organization's secrets wide open and they lost a great deal of support, but more importantly, respectability. That means they've lost funding."

"Did she get any letters from them recently?"

Jonas kept his gaze glued to the television screen. "She gets letters from everyone, and yes, specifically, there were letters calling her a bitch and saying she wasn't going to get away with trying to ruin their organization. I talked to the board members and they said they couldn't control fanatics and had no way of knowing who would try to intimidate anyone in their name. They said they were grateful to Hannah for finding the bad apples in their group."

"And you bought that?"

"Not for a minute." Jonas frowned as the camera panned the crowd and settled on a second group of protesters. Realizing the television camera was on them, the people held up signs, shaking them and shouting, calling me fashion show abhorrent and an abomination against all that was moral and right.

Sarah sighed. "Now he's going after the fashion industry? That's the Reverend RJ. I think RJ stands for reject from theology class. He's very charismatic and has been gathering a good-sized following. Elle told me about him. He's been under surveillance for some time because he's very inflammatory and his 'religion' is officially considered a cult. He's moved his followers into the mountains about two to three hours' drive from here."

"Yeah, the deputies have told me how uncooperative they are. They don't allow anyone onto their property. He's building a fortress up in the hills, but so far, he hasn't really done anything wrong and his followers keep to themselves."

"He's going to be a problem," Sarah said, staring at the man on television as he waved his arms and gestured wildly. "He's a long way from California."

"Free television time. He can look important and gather more followers," Jonas said. "I've never understood how educated people are taken in by con artists like the Reverend." He inhaled sharply. "Right there, to the left of the Reverend's little flock. That's Rudy."

"Rudy?"

"Rudy Venturi. He writes to Hannah nearly every day. I should have known that little pervert would go to her event.
The idiots advertise months in advance and might as well shout to every whacko out there to come and get her."

"The idea is for people to come to the fashion show, Jonas."

"Well, they've come," he replied grimly, "and my gut is telling me Hannah is in trouble. Try her cell phone."

"She isn't going to have a cell phone on her in the middle of a fashion show," Sarah said, but she picked up the phone and began to punch in numbers. "What should I say?"

"You tell her I said to get the hell out of there now. Don't take any crap from her, Sarah." He stalked across the room, reaching for the phone. "Here, let me tell her."

Sarah hastily hung up. "She isn't going to listen to you when you're barking orders. Can't you just tell her you think she's in danger? If you start swearing at her, she's going to turn stubborn."

Jonas turned away from her, but not before she saw the shadows in his eyes. He was really worried. It had nothing to do with Hannah's lack of attire, something he harped on regularly, but this time, she could tell, he was thinking of little else but Hannah's safety. With her heart pounding, Sarah quickly left a message telling Hannah they thought she was in danger and to please have an escort take her out of the situation.

The New York Fashion Week was one of the biggest events of the year. Sarah doubted Hannah would get the message at all, let alone comply. "Even if she does leave, Jonas, will that make her safer? Right now, she's in the middle of a large crowd. Maybe she's safer there."

"She'd be a hell of a lot safer with me." His gaze was back on the screen, his white teeth snapping together with impatience. "Why the hell are they showing all the protesters? I want to see the crowd pushing up against the ropes."

"Who does Hannah have for security?"

"Her idiot agent hired someone. I can't wait to tell him he's fired."

Sarah's eyebrow shot up. "You're going to fire Hannah's agent? Does she know?"

"Do I really give a damn?"

"Jonas, you're so arrogant. That's not going to get you anywhere with Hannah."

"Being nice hasn't gotten me anywhere."

Sarah nearly choked. "Nice? You've been nice to her?"

"Considering what I wanted to do, then yes, I was being nice. Stop distracting me. I need to figure this out. Who do we have in New York?"

She knew he was thinking out loud and refrained from answering. No one was in New York. None of her sisters were even in the country. She felt helpless to warn Hannah. She pressed her fingers hard against her temple trying to still the throbbing pain there. Maybe she was just allowing Jonas to freak her out. She wanted that to be the case, but she was so afraid it wasn't. She knew—
knew
—Hannah was in trouble. The knowledge was bone deep now and she was thousands of miles away without a way to warn her sister.

She looked at the television set, waiting for the commercial break to be over so she could look at her sister walking down the runway. Hannah would know. Sarah crossed her arms across her waist and hung tight. "She'll know, Jonas. Just like you—like me. She's going to know there's danger and she'll be careful."

Jonas flashed her a quick repressing glare. She was a security expert. The fashion show and the party that would be held afterward were a bodyguard's nightmare and she knew it. She'd done her time filling in as a bodyguard, and that many people crushed into one room with booze, dancing and wild music was going to be the worst possible scenario to keep a client safe.

"She knew before she left or she wouldn't have asked me to go with her," Jonas said. "And she still went. Damn her for that."

"Jonas, that isn't helping. Hannah has a job to do. If she gives her word that she's going to be somewhere, she has to be there. Her word is every bit as important as yours is. People count on her. Having Hannah model their clothes can mean a successful season. It's huge to have her on board."

"I can't believe you're defending what she's done. Her life is in danger, Sarah. Can't you understand that? Her life. She's risking her life for a fucking fashion show. You tell me how that's not just plain insane?"