LITMIR.BIZ

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      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 amusement 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 hell 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 hell 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 hell 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 hell through these damned 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 hell 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 damned 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 damned 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 anticipated. 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 sunglasses 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

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