"I see where you're going with it and I just don't think he could hide that from us. We've been in his head too much. One of us would have known."
Another small knock on the door had Jonas slipping his hand inside his jacket to grasp his gun.
Sarah stepped in with a wide, forced smile. "Hannah, I thought maybe you'd like something to eat. You really should keep up your strength."
"I should, too," Jonas reminded her, relaxing. "If you're bringing Hannah a tray, bring me one, too, please."
Sarah's gaze swept the room. She frowned. "Hannah? Where's your mirror?"
"I had a little run-in with it," Jonas said. "She loves me anyway, don't you, baby?" He crouched down beside Hannah and took her hand, looking up at Sarah with a wry smile. "Guess that earns me seven years of bad luck."
Kate poked her head in the door. "Hannah, you have a visitor. Ilya Prakenskii is here to see you."
A shiver slid down Hannah's spine. She couldn't hide her uneasiness from Jonas, not when he was so close and holding her hand.
"I'll go down," he said.
Hannah pulled her hand away, sick of being coddled. Yes, she was frightened, but Joley was her sister, her responsibility, and she wasn't going to send Jonas down while she cowered in her room.
"While you get dressed," he added. "Don't take all day."
"No." Sarah shook her head. "She doesn't need to go down. Stay here, Hannah. Kate and I can go with Jonas and see what he wants."
"No, I need Hannah to come with me. I want her impressions of anything Prakenskii says or does. She's the strongest empath among you."
"Elle and Libby are empathic and Elle is stronger than any of us," Sarah corrected.
"Libby is all about healing, Sarah," Jonas said, a bite of annoyance in his tone. "And Elle's volatile. If Prakenskii is here for something other than checking on Hannah, I don't want Elle starting a war. Keep Joley and Elle far away from him."
"Hannah can't go down," Sarah said. "I forbid it."
"Hannah." Jonas turned to her, his tone absolutely neutral, his gaze gentle. "You tell me what you want to do, baby. I'd prefer you there, but if you'd rather not--say the word."
"Jonas," Sarah hissed. "Stop pushing her. You're always pushing her. She's barely out of the hospital. She needs looking after."
Hannah moistened her suddenly dry lips with her tongue. Her heart pounded hard in her chest and little jackhammers tripped at her temples, but this needed to be done. Not by Jonas or Sarah. But by her. She owed him a debt and more, she wanted to look into his eyes and read him the way she could most people, because if he presented a threat to Joley, they all needed to know.
"Jonas is right, Sarah. I want to see Prakenskii myself. I need to thank him for saving my life, and like Jonas, I want to see if I can read him. I spent a lot of time connected to him."
"And he has a path to your spirit, Hannah. To your soul. He knows who you are and what you can do."
"That's true," Hannah admitted, "but at the same time, I have a path to his spirit. He can't block all of us and I need to find out information."
"But..." Sarah protested.
"Get dressed, baby," Jonas said decisively. "We'll meet you downstairs." He held the door open. "Sarah? Kate? Let's go see what Prakenskii wants."
Chapter Eleven
"ILYA, good to see you again." Jonas extended his hand toward the Russian.
Ilya rose from the chair where Libby had seated him and shook the sheriff's hand. He nodded to Kate and Sarah. "I had hoped to see Hannah."
"She'll be down in a few minutes," Jonas assured him. "She's doing much better."
"I was surprised they allowed her home. Another few days in the hospital would have been good for her," Prakenskii said.
"She needed to be home with us," Sarah said. "And Libby is a doctor. She makes certain Hannah is well cared for."
Jonas studied the Russian. In the hospital, he had been too consumed with Hannah to do anything but stay by her side and will her to live, but now he looked closely at the man who had saved her life. Ilya Prakenskii gave Jonas the impression of a caged tiger, quiet and watchful, power and lethal intent coiled and ready to spring with razor-sharp claws. It was impossible to try to read behind his piercing eyes. Ice cold, dagger sharp, Prakenskii's eyes revealed absolutely nothing, not even to a professional like Jonas.
"And it's easy to protect her here, on your own home turf," Prakenskii said, his voice casual. There was nothing casual about the sweep of his gaze as it went around the room, taking in every detail. He focused for a moment on the intricate mosaic tile at the entryway. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his gaze met Sarah's briefly before moving toward the entrance. A polite smile showed white teeth and nothing more as he rose. "There you are. It's good to see you up and around, Hannah."
She had dressed in a long flowing skirt and a long-sleeved blouse. Jonas closed his eyes briefly as she moved into the room. To him, she was beautiful--utterly--absolutely beautiful. The scars were jagged and vicious, bright red and raw, seaming her face and down her neck in angry patches, but it didn't matter. Hannah appeared ethereal to him, mysterious and sexy and the epitome of feminine courage. She had hidden from him--her sisters--reporters and photographers, but had refused to hide from a potential enemy. Her shoulders were straight, her hair streaming down in long spirals, and even without makeup, even with the horrible wounds still so fresh, she appeared elegant, graceful and welcoming.
Pride swelled in him and Jonas came to his feet, crossed instantly to her side and swept an arm around her waist, his gaze meeting Prakenskii's. It was both a warning and a declaration between men.
Prakenskii took Hannah's outstretched hand and bowed low. "You are healing nicely. Soon, there will be no evidence. Are you sleeping well? Sometimes, after these incidents, one has trouble."
To Jonas's surprise, Hannah told the truth. "I have trouble, but Jonas and Sarah both warned me I might, so I wasn't surprised or upset by it." She indicated his chair. "Please sit down. Would you care for some tea?"
"I'd like that, thank you."
Hannah waved her hand toward the kitchen and seated herself opposite Prakenskii. "It was quite unnecessary for you to come all this way to check on me, but I appreciate it." She smiled at the man, but her hand slid down Jonas's arm until her fingers were linked with his and she was squeezing so tight her knuckles were white.
"Of course I would want to know how you were doing," Prakenskii said. "When one develops such a connection, the interest is always there."
His accent put a twist to the words and his gaze remained steady on her face. Sarah stirred uncomfortably and Jonas felt a surge of power in the room. He couldn't tell where it came from, but Ilya Prakenskii swung his head alertly, a wolf catching the scent of prey. Jonas watched him closely and he could see everything shift and focus beneath that calm demeanor. Joley walked into the room. It seemed as though everyone held their breath. The tension ratcheted up another notch.
He knew. Did you see that, Hannah? He felt her before she came in.
Prakenskii's head swung back, just briefly, so that those piercing eyes could flick from Jonas to Hannah, and for the first time, there was surprise.
He knows. Hannah's husky voice slid into Jonas's mind. He knows you're telepathic and it surprised him.
It surprised me as well, Jonas admitted truthfully.
Prakenskii once again rose to his feet. "Joley. It is always a pleasure to see you."
She didn't offer her hand, but smiled and inclined her head, queen to peasant, her dark brown eyes going almost black as her gaze swept the Russian from head to toe. "Don't stand, Prakenskii, it isn't necessary."
"It is, however, courteous," he said with a slight bow.
Joley blushed, the color sweeping up her neck into her face, and her eyes glittered, twin points of black obsidian. The floor shifted beneath their feet, lights flickered, curtains fluttered, even the walls undulated in sweeping waves as the room swelled with power. A picture above the fire
place fell. It stopped abruptly in midair and then, before it could hit the floor, rose leisurely to hang neatly back in place. Everyone in the room went still as they absorbed Prakenskii's obvious reprimand.
Hannah's hand slipped from Jonas's and she rose with her usual grace, crossing to Joley, slipping between Prakenskii and her sister to slide her arm around Joley's waist. "Thank you for dealing so efficiently with the reporters, Joley. You made me laugh and few things make me laugh these days."
"I enjoyed it, although nothing stops them for long. They've surrounded the place. The only reason the fence hasn't been torn down and trampled is because we have a security force guarding it."
The tea tray floated in with several steaming mugs and she directed it toward Prakenskii, as if every day of the week people saw floating trays. "The cookies are Libby's, so they're particularly good for you, along with tasting great. The honey is in the small creamer."
The Russian deftly plucked a mug and a cookie, lifting the cup toward Hannah in a salute as he reseated himself. He didn't outwardly appear in the least upset over his less than enthusiastic welcome from Joley, but the tension in the room remained. "The place is overrun not only with photographers and reporters, but also your fans. In the crowd it is impossible to tell who is friend or enemy."
Jonas leaned forward, snagging Hannah's hand and tugging until she sat beside him. He shifted slightly, enough to put his body in a position to defend Hannah should the need arise. He didn't trust Prakenskii, not with an aura of danger surrounding him and every single Drake sister on alert. He wished Sarah and Kate had kept Joley out of the mix. Joley and Prakenskii obviously rubbed each other the wrong way and he could see, quite clearly, that in spite of Prakenskii's expressionless features, a storm lurked below the surface when his gaze rested on her.
He's angry with Joley for some reason, Hannah confirmed, but I can't tell why. Not just angry, Jonas, he's livid with her. I can catch glimpses of it, like a white-hot rage, and it isn't even buried all that well. I don't think he cares if I know or not.
It was an unexpected complication. And Prakenskii's veiled warnings annoyed Jonas. "If you know something, just say it, straight out, Prakenskii. Why would you think an enemy would be in Sea Haven? They're dead."
Sarah gasped and Kate made a sound of distress. Libby frowned and missed taking a cup of tea from the tray as it passed her.
"I don't think it's necessary to discuss this in front of Hannah," Sarah intervened.
Hannah gripped Jonas's hand harder. They were doing it again, protecting her. Had she always been such a baby that they felt the need to wrap her up in cotton and shield her from every danger? Or was it the attack? Had it changed her sisters as much as it had changed her?
Jonas laid his other hand over hers, trapping her fingers and hiding the white knuckles from Prakenskii's sharp gaze. "Of course Hannah wants to know whether or not Ilya believes there is further danger to her. We all do."
"I don't think you believe for one moment that the danger to Hannah is past," Prakenskii said. "It read like a hit to me. And hits, as amateurish as that one was, are usually paid for and ordered by another individual hiding in the shadows. But you know that, Mr. Harrington."
"Jonas?" Hannah looked at him, forcing him to meet her inquiring gaze.
"Damn it, Hannah, don't look at me like that."
"Don't swear at her, Jonas," Libby snapped.
Both ignored her.
"It isn't over?"
"You didn't think it was either, so don't even go there. That couple were idiots. Like Prakenskii said, amateurs. Someone else had to be behind it. Why do you think you're not in the hospital right now? I needed you where you had protection around the clock."
"Did it occur to you that if I'm in danger, and you bring me here, so are my sisters?" Hannah hissed the words between her teeth at him, her bright hair crackling with electricity and the liquid in her tea mug boiling.
"Sarah is a security expert. Your sisters are all psychic and they have enough powers to help. We can see what's coming at us here."
"I'm not going to put my sisters in jeopardy, Jonas, not for one minute. You should have told me immediately what you thought."
"I agree with Hannah," Prakenskii said, joining the fray without a qualm. "The others shouldn't be placed in harm's way. It only makes for more targets and therefore more suspects."
Joley threw her tea mug at him, her aim deadly accurate. Prakenskii waved his hand and the missile and liquid stopped in midair. He flashed her one, deadly look, his blue eyes darkening to a turbulent sea. He snapped something at her in Russian.
Hannah made a small strangled sound and Joley's breath was a hiss of warning.
What did he say to her? Did he just threaten her? "If you have something to say to Joley, Prakenskii, say it to everyone. If you're threatening her..."
He told her to stop being childish, Hannah reassured Jonas.
"Joley is perfectly capable of looking after herself with me, aren't you?" Prakenskii said.
"Absolutely," Joley acknowledged and waved her hand toward her tea mug. Liquid filled the cup and it floated back. "Don't worry, Jonas, I'll be fine." She snapped something back at Prakenskii in his language and then switched to English. "And for your information, Hannah is our sister. We're not about to cower in the corner while she's in danger, so go beat your chest somewhere else."
What did she say? Jonas asked.
She called him a few vile names.
"One of these days; Joley, I'm going to retaliate and then what are you going to do?" Prakenskii asked quietly, his gaze holding hers.
"Don't," Hannah intervened. "I need you to tell me what you think is going on, Prakenskii. Joley, please." See, Jonas, he keeps directing the focus back toward Joley. What does he want from her? I'm afraid for her. Could this be about Joley?
Jonas turned the idea over in his mind. It felt wrong to him. Everything so far felt wrong. He was missing the crucial piece of the puzzle that would snap everything into focus for him.
"Please accept my apologies, Hannah," Prakenskii said. "It was not my intention to upset you. I wanted to assure myself that you were doing better and to warn Mr. Harrington that I still feel a threat is imminent. Unfortunately I can't tell where it's coming from or who it's directed toward."
"Why would you warn us?" Jonas asked bluntly.
Prakenskii sighed and put down the mug of tea. "Perhaps it is as simple as Hannah's sister is marrying one of the few men in the world I call friend." His gaze strayed to where Joley stood rigid against the wall. "Or perhaps I wanted to see, one more time, whether the reason I can no longer sleep at night is worth it."
Joley pressed tighter against the wall as if making herself small, yet there was defiance in every line of her body. "I don't owe you any explanation whatsoever."
"Then I call in one of the favors your family owes to me. It is not your personal debt, but a debt of honor your family owes to me."
Joley's face went pale. "For that? We owe you two lives, yet you'll give up one for a simple explanation of my behavior? You aren't the brightest bulb on the planet, are you?" Her melodic voice held the whip of insult and she tossed her head defiantly. "I thought you knew everything. You're not nearly as powerful as you want us all to believe you are."
"Too powerful to be goaded by a rude, ungrateful coward who is still a child playing at being an adult."
But her insults were getting to him. The balance in the room had shifted from the Drakes to Prakenskii and both Hannah and Jonas felt it. Hannah intervened again. "I'm the one who owes you, Mr. Prakenskii. If you would be so kind as to tell me what your favor entails, I'll do my best to help you."
"I would like an explanation--"
"Don't. Don't ask," Joley said. "Please don't ask."
"I gave you every opportunity to explain."
"You haunted me day and night, tormented me. Made me angry. It isn't your business. It's stupid using up a favor from our family for such a trivial thing."
"Trivial." He stood up, and his rage poured into the room, white-hot, just as Hannah had said, a volcano erupting, so that the walls bulged out, unable to contain the red and black energy bursting into the room. The ground shifted and shadows moved over the mosaic tiles. Feminine voices cried out in eerie warning, rising from the floor and the walls.
The Drake sisters leapt to their feet, and Jonas put his body between the women and the furious Russian. He looked at no one but Joley. The two of them stood, their gazes locked in a battle no one else was part of or could understand.
"Stop!" Hannah glared at them. "Please sit down, Mr. Prakenskii." When he didn't move, she stepped closer. "Ilya. Please."
Prakenskii slowly pulled his gaze from Joley's and took his seat. Joley shook her head as everyone else visibly relaxed and then she turned on her heel and left the room. The tension instantly lessened.
"Please accept my apologies once again, Hannah," the Russian said. "I should have been more careful. I rarely lose my temper. I have no excuse." He lifted the mug of tea to his mouth, blew to calm the boiling liquid and took a drink.
"I don't understand. Why are you so angry with Joley? Is she in some kind of danger?"
Hannah forced her mind open, reaching--stretching--to catch a glimpse of the truth in him. She felt a barrage of emotions, the intensity nearly overwhelming, but just as quickly, he shored up his defenses and became as cold as ice.
"Joley deliberately puts herself in danger."
Hannah sank back into the chair and glanced briefly up at Jonas. Prakenskii believed he was telling the truth. She caught that as well as the accompanying temper pushed down deep. "What do you mean?" For a moment she could barely breathe. Was someone after her sister, the way someone had wanted her dead?
Sarah opened her mouth but Hannah held up an imperious hand, effectively stopping anything she might say. Hannah never took charge and it shocked her sisters.
Joley stepped back into the room, her dark eyes blazing. "You want to know about the pictures in the tabloid? Me with my latest lover?" She glared at Prakenskii, both hands on her hips, tossing her head so that her hair went flying in all directions. "It's publicity. The man is history already, so you don't need his name, but a photographer followed us to the house Tyson bought for Libby and caught us. Big deal."