Colby Agency: Guardian Of The Night Part 2

She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart jolted into a faster rhythm.

"Why are the lights so low?" There was no way to miss the edge of panic in her voice. She swallowed at the rising sensation, and blinked rapidly to force her eyes to adjust.

"I'm afraid it's something you'll need to get used to, Miss Callahan. With Mr. Drake's condition, the wattage allowed in any room is minimal."

She peered at Kline in the dim light and hoped he couldn't see the level of her disbelief as she pointed to the fixture. "This is hardly more than a beefed-up night-light."

He sighed. "I'm afraid so. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Sure." She plastered a smile into place. All she needed was for this guy to report back that she was uncomfortable with the conditions. "I guess it's just a little..." She shrugged. "A little darker than I expected." A lot darker than she'd expected.

"Your vision will adjust." He picked up her bags before she could protest and moved toward the graceful stairs that ascended from the middle of the center hall to the second-story landing. "We'll take your things up to your room so you can get settled."

Forcing herself to relax, Blue's gaze moved appreciatively over the elegant staircase. The details were obscured but looked impressive by any standards. A red or burgundy carpet runner on the wooden treads kept their footfalls silent as she followed Lowell up the stairs. He led her to the first room on the right. There were three other doors that she could see. She peered toward the far end of the hall where a second smaller staircase led to the third floor. A dozen questions about the house as well as its owner sprang to mind, but they could wait.

After depositing her bags onto the bed, Lowell indicated a door across the room. A bathroom probably. "When you've settled in and freshened up, come downstairs and I'll serve your dinner."

"That would be nice." She hadn't bothered with lunch at the crowded airport. She'd been too psyched and ready to begin her a.s.signment.

"Before I forget." Lowell reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced a key. He looked at it for a long moment, as if hesitant, then offered it to Blue. "This is the key to the house."

She took it, glanced at it briefly, then lifted her gaze back to his as he added, "The exterior doors and windows are locked at all times. Never," he pressed her with a gaze at once intense and beseeching, "ever leave one open or unlocked." He cleared his throat. "The drapes and shutters are to remain closed at all times and no other light, not even a flashlight, is allowed. The third floor is off limits."

She nodded. "I understand."

His gaze was relentless now. He reminded Blue of a bear guarding her only surviving cub. He apparently needed to be absolutely certain she understood. "I don't know how much you've been told about Mr. Drake's condition, but mere minutes in bright light would kill him. For that reason, no one is allowed in the house other than myself and now you."

"There's no need for concern, Mr. Kli-Lowell," she amended. "Though I don't know all the specifics, I can a.s.sure you that I won't do anything that will jeopardize Mr. Drake in any way." This was her first big a.s.signment, she had every intention of impressing the bra.s.s. But it would certainly help if she knew more particulars about Drake. She'd have to bide her time it seemed.

Lowell nodded, looking contrite. "Of course. If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask." He paused at the door. "I almost forgot. There's a case for you on the bureau." He gestured to a ma.s.sive piece of furniture near the heavily draped windows. "It was delivered yesterday." He said it as if knowing what the case contained and finding it more than a little distasteful.

"One question." Blue stopped him before he could get out the door. "When can I meet Mr. Drake?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Callahan." His posture grew more rigid.

"Call me Blue," she echoed his earlier words, hoping to penetrate the wall he'd suddenly thrown up.

"Blue," he acquiesced, "I'm afraid Mr. Drake usually doesn't leave his room until well after sunset. Even then he prefers his solitude. But I'm sure he'll want to meet with you in time. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

In time? Blue pushed the disappointment away. She liked to get the feel of her a.s.signment as quickly as possible, but pus.h.i.+ng the subject wouldn't help. She had to gain trust here. She needed to know Drake's routine, his likes and dislikes. What he expected of her.

"No." She shrugged as if considering her other options. "I can't think of anything else I need at the moment. I'll get settled and maybe do a little exploring before it gets too dark."

"Very good." He hesitated once more before leaving. "There is one other thing."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for yet another revelation that would hinder her ability to do her job.

"Mr. Drake isn't pleased about this. He didn't want protection. The fact of the matter is I've gone directly against his wishes allowing you here. I'm not sure your first meeting with him will be pleasant."

Perfect. Blue smiled in hopes of relieving his evident anxiety and not giving away her own. "Not to worry. I have five ornery older brothers at home. I'm pretty good at handling that kind of macho male mentality."

Lowell's uncertain expression remained in place, but, to his credit, he attempted a smile. "Well, I'll see you in a bit then."

Blue watched him go, then slowly surveyed the s.p.a.cious room with its high ceilings and period furnis.h.i.+ngs. Plain, drab, and what she decided had to be beige walls and beige bed coverings. It was hard to say for certain in the low light. No pictures or other decorating items. Judging by the room's size, she thought it might be what was considered the master suite. A quick look into the adjoining bathroom and she was sure of it.

She exhaled a weary breath and wondered how the heck she was supposed to do her job if Drake didn't want her here? She lifted her chin and folded her arms over her chest. Easy, she decided. She'd just have to change his mind. She had a lifetime of experience charming the male of the species.

It only took Blue a few minutes to unpack her things and check out the weapons Lucas had arranged for her use. She strapped on the ankle holster, pulled her jeans leg down over it, then shrugged into her shoulder holster before going downstairs. She always felt naked without her gun. Throughout her whole life, the people she loved most had accessorized with weapons. Well, except for her mother, who'd crossed herself every time one of them walked in or out of a room carrying a gun. Though she had little tolerance for violence, Margaret Callahan was as tough as nails. She'd had to be to survive in the same house with that many cop egos.

Blue checked out the other three rooms on the second floor. All were bedrooms, one looked to be Lowell's. Each room was as large as hers and had its own private bath. And all were dull-as-dirt beige. Lowell had hung a few pictures, of family or friends, she supposed, and on one wall was a large Georgia Bull Dogs banner. A small television set occupied the far corner. She wondered if the island had cable. Probably not.

She resisted the urge to check out the third floor. It was off limits, Lowell had said. Judging by its size, as seen from outside, Mr. Drake's suite most likely made up the entire floor. He was probably sleeping up there right now. She shook off the vampirish images that formed in her head as she recalled Chester's remark about the reclusive man. Time to get the lay of the land.

Her hand glided along the curved banister as she slowly descended the staircase. For the first time she noticed the finer details of the huge chandelier that hung above the center hall. It was lovely, dimly lit, but lovely just the same.

She wondered vaguely if the electrical wiring had been modified or if the lights themselves had been changed in some way to ensure that the light wattage remained so low. Though her eyes were already beginning to adjust as Lowell had said they would, it was still too dark for her liking.

But she'd deal with it.

The main parlor was just as plain and beige as the rest of the rooms. Not that she had anything against beige, mind you. But this beige monotony was unbroken by anything other than wood floors and wood trim, all the color of rich, dark coffee, like the mahogany door on the front of the house. She considered that maybe white was too reflective and most other colors too dark, thus the selection of beige. Maybe she'd ask about that. Eventually.

Thankfully the parlor's furnis.h.i.+ngs were more contemporary and slightly more colorful. There was another television set and a stereo system. Someone liked cla.s.sical music, she decided, noting the stack of CDs. A desk and computer along with row after row of book-filled shelves occupied one side of the room. Like the rest of the house, the windows were shrouded in thick draperies-even they were beige. But at least this room looked used. The brown leather sofa looked worn and comfortable and was flanked by two plaid overstuffed side chairs.

As she strayed back into the hall a whiff of something absolutely heavenly enticed her nose and made her stomach rumble. She followed the delicious scent to the kitchen at the rear of the house.

"Whatever that is, it smells great," she commented aloud.

Lowell glanced up from the oven. "Ten more minutes and you'll find out." He closed the door and laid the oven mitt aside. "It's my own secret recipe."

Blue smiled at the note of camaraderie in his tone. "Can't wait." She took in the kitchen in one sweep. Modern, but not so much that it took away from the house's overall feel of a bygone era. "I think I'll take a walk and get my bearings," she announced, feeling restless and with a definite need to see the sun one last time before it disappeared for the day, leaving her to this gloom.

He nodded absently. "Don't be long."

Blue was careful to lock the front door behind her just as Lowell had instructed. Taking her time, she surveyed the grounds around the front of the house. The spirit bottles jangled as the breeze kicked up, drawing her attention or maybe warning her of some impending doom. She grinned and wondered if Lowell had done that, or maybe Mr. Drake under the cover of darkness just to spook the locals. But surely neither of them would be the superst.i.tious type.

As she strolled around the house she was caught off guard again by the dark, foreboding forest that closed in on the yard from both sides. Trees, centuries old and laden with moss, towered over the thick brambles and undergrowth that cloaked all else. The distant rustle of leaves startled her, sent her backing up several steps. She executed a quick right face and marched to the backyard.

Pete's sake, she was too old for this kind of childish behavior.

The moment she rounded the corner at the back of the house, her breath caught. The beach flowed right up to the gra.s.s, less than twenty yards from the house. The blue surf foamed white, roared and then died on the sand, dragging back only to start the whole process over again. All but a sliver of the sun had melted into the horizon, leaving vivid streaks of gold and orange to color the otherwise royal-blue sky. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air.

She wished she was barefoot as she walked through the sand, but she was on the job. She looked back at the house. G.o.d, it was beautiful. A wide screened porch had been added for enjoying the view of the Atlantic. A widow's walk loomed high overhead. She wondered if anxious wives had used it as a lookout for their husbands returning from the sea. Or maybe the pirates and smugglers had benefited from the perfect vantage.

Blue was certain she'd never seen any place more beautiful.

Despite the darkness that lay within those walls, she couldn't call this place unappealing. It was no wonder Mr. Drake had chosen this island, this house as his refuge.

She turned to look out over the ocean once more, chafing her arms to chase away the tremble that accompanied the knowledge that the sun was now completely gone.

She stalled mid-turn.

A thread of tension tightened inside her.

Someone was watching her.

Chapter Three.

Blue stared up at the third-story tower room as the tension erupted into a s.h.i.+ver that raced across her skin. She braced herself against the sensation, but it didn't help.

Someone was watching her.

Was it him?

Drake?

The last rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon, slinking away with the waning light and leaving nothing but the gray of desolate dusk as she stood on the beach and peered up at the house through the thickening gloom.

"I'm not so easy to spook, Drake," she muttered. "So don't be thinking you can be rid of me so simply." Lowell had warned her that Drake didn't want her here.

She would change his mind. Surely common sense would prevail. If the man's life was in danger, he needed protection. His enemy could strike at any moment.

A crack ruptured the silence.

Blue recognized it instantly.

Gunshot. High-powered rifle.

The sand kicked up where the next round pierced it. She dove for cover. There was none.

Simultaneously unholstering her weapon and scrambling toward the edge of the forest, Blue kept her head low as yet another shot rang out and plowed into the ground less than three feet away.

A hunter, she considered.

Not open season if things on the island were consistent with those on the mainland.

The shots hadn't come from the direction of the house. Not likely from Drake. At least she hoped liked h.e.l.l it wasn't him. Then again, he could be over the edge.

As soon as she'd reached the fringes of the forest, she stilled, listening for telltale sounds of the approaching shooter.

Silence.

Long minutes pa.s.sed as she moved deeper into the concealing shadows of the forest, her ears ever alert for sound, her gaze moving constantly in search of movement. There was no time to think, only to act.

She needed to work her way around to the front of the house and then use the overgrown shrubs for cover to cross the lawn. Getting inside and checking on Drake was top priority.

He could be in danger.

This little game of carnival shooting gallery could be nothing more than a distraction to keep her occupied while the real trouble went down inside.

Lowell kept the house locked. That was good. But it wouldn't stop an a.s.sa.s.sin intent on accomplis.h.i.+ng his mission.

She kept moving, adrenaline urging her forward. The undergrowth was thick...the brambles unforgiving. She pushed through the brush, trying not to think about what might be hiding within its concealing depths.

As the threat appeared to lessen, she slowly became aware of her surroundings. Complete darkness had closed in around her.

Her heart thundered in reaction, sending the sting of panic rus.h.i.+ng through her torso...her limbs. Her hands shook. Sweat dampened her skin. She had to keep going.

...I wouldn't want to be out in these woods at night. The memory of the very words she'd thought only a couple of hours ago slammed into her head.

And here you are, another little voice taunted.

Blue muttered a curse. She reached beneath her b.u.t.ton-up s.h.i.+rt and shook the light stick hanging on her chain. The black color of her s.h.i.+rt kept the glow hidden, but it was there and that's all that mattered. She could make the dark go away if only a little. Instantly her heart rate dropped to a more normal pace.

Moving cautiously, she was almost to the front of the house. No more shots had been fired and she hadn't sensed any signs of a tail. Maybe it was some local goofing off with target practice. If that was the case someone needed to instruct him on weapon safety. Those shots had been all too close for comfort. On second thought, Blue decided the guy needed his b.u.t.t kicked L.A. style.

A twig snapped maybe ten yards behind her.

She stopped. Held her breath. Listened intently. And squinted into the consuming darkness without moving a muscle. There was something...

A whisper of foliage against fabric or maybe skin tingled her auditory senses.

He was closer...almost on top of her.

She darted to her right, then ran like h.e.l.l, hoping to G.o.d she wouldn't crash into a tree.

The light from the full moon pierced the thick overhead canopy from time to time, just enough to give her some sense of place and direction. A silent mantra trembled on her lips over and over keeping her focused. I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm not afraid of the dark. She had her gun and her light. They were all she needed.

In spite of the blood pounding in her brain and the occasional cras.h.i.+ng sounds made by her plunge through the dense vegetation, every now and then she heard a snap or a rustle of underbrush behind her.

He was coming.

Harder, faster she surged forward, low-lying branches snagged at her clothes, her skin, like long bony fingers from the stone-cold hand of death.

Her shoe snagged on a root. She pitched forward and barely caught herself before she hit the ground.

He was almost on top of her now.

She pushed onward. Her lungs were beginning to burn for more oxygen. She couldn't control her breathing anymore. Had to breathe deeper, faster. Had to have more air. What the h.e.l.l? She was already making more than enough noise to give herself away.

She burst into a clearing, thigh-deep weeds and brush slapping at her jeans.

A shaft of moonlight glinted off something large...a building.