Turbulent Sea (Drake Sisters 6)

All people left a specific trail behind, a part of their aura, their song, the same as fingerprints, and Joley knew each sister could find one of the others if she ran across that energy trail.

Ilya? She couldn't help reaching out to him. She wanted to feel the warmth of his touch, the comforting caress of his voice.

We were sent a map to follow. He's distraught, Joley, genuinely distraught.

You know it's a trap. They have cover everywhere. This is heavy brush country, lots of trees, and they'll have the advantage of knowing the terrain. They chose it.

You worry too much. It will be all right.

She wanted the reassurance, and his voice, that amazing voice, provided it. She believed in him, which was almost shocking to her. She believed in her family and never thought anyone could come close to making her feel safe in the way they did, but Ilya had slowly inserted himself into her life until she found herself believing. And now that belief was so strong, she had no doubts he would find a way to rescue her.

Joley stared out the window into the night, watching the lights of cars flashing past. For Joley, marriage was sacrosanct. In her profession, marriage often ended up in a quick and easy divorce. She didn't want that. Her parents had a long and happy marriage, and her ancestors had done the same. One by one her sisters had found men they felt they were true partners--best friends, astonishing lovers. Joley had never believed that would happen to her. She had always believed the bond of her sisters would be all that she had, and she'd been determined to make that enough--until Ilya. He was everything. Her heart, her soul, and he certainly commanded her body. She knew what love was, and she had finally made that sacred commitment with every fiber of her being.

The car slowed, and Joley let her senses flair out as much as possible, trying to send impressions of movement or heat or anything that might help Ilya. Her sisters would be somewhere safe, and no one would ever know they'd been there, helping in the battle, but Ilya would be on the front line and she wanted him to have every advantage.

"Look for guards on your side," she hissed to Brian.

Jonas let us out a few miles away from you. We're going to high ground so we can command the wind, Hannah informed Joley.

They were coming up on a cabin. Steve parked the car and they sat for a few minutes. He slowly lowered the glass between them. "Don't do anything stupid, Joley, and you might get out of this alive."

"Maybe I will." she said, "but you won't."

Brian kicked her ankle. "Don't provoke him."

"You haven't seen provocation yet," she answered, tossing her head in defiance, not bothering to lower her voice.

Steve opened the door and reached in to pull Joley out.

She slapped his hand away. "Don't you touch me, you miserable slug, slimy, worthless, traitorous piece of shit." She put all the contempt she could muster into her voice--the one weapon that none of them had even considered. She let him feel her disgust, allowed her voice to influence, not only him, but everyone within hearing distance to look at Steve the way she did. "You have no honor. If you would turn on me after being my friend for years, you would turn on anyone. No one can trust you."

Steve reddened visibly, her voice leaving him exposed not only to the others, but to himself. He shifted his feet and stepped back.

Joley shot him a look of utter disdain and climbed out on her own, carrying herself as regally as possible. She looked him up and down and stepped past him, going straight to the cabin and the men waiting on the porch. She flashed a cold smile at John Dylan, who half sat on the railing, swinging one leg, arms crossed over his chest.

"If you'd wanted a meeting, John, you might have just said so at the hotel or the arena. It's a little on the chilly side here."

Brian trailed after her, and just as he reached the porch stairs, the man behind him shoved him. Brian stumbled and fell into her. Joley staggered, recovered her balance, turned and in one precise move, snapped out a front kick, catching the guard square in the chest. She wanted the attention centered solely on her, especially now that John Dylan was present. Nobody could guess at Brian's relationship with Nikitin.

Dylan stepped up to her and slapped her hard, rocking her backward. She tasted blood in her mouth, but she refused to flinch. She just stood there, staring him down.

What the hell just happened? The voice was utterly cold, white-hot but arctic-cold, the voice of death.

Joley shivered. There was that underlying fury, the volcano beneath the ice cap. I kicked one of Dylan's guards, so Dylan slapped me. John Dylan is here and everyone is deferring to him. Looks to me like he's in charge.

She could feel Ilya making an effort to tamp down his fury. Stay away from that son of a bitch. I'll be there in another couple of minutes. Aleksandr and Jonas will take out as many guards as possible to give us a clear escape route. Just don't provoke him.

Brian took her arm, drawing her against him.

"Now that I have your attention," Dylan sneered, "where's your friend, the bodyguard?"

She smirked. "You mean the one you're all so afraid of?" She embedded the suggestion in her voice, as well as amplifying their fears. "What do you want, Dylan?"

"In a few minutes you'll find out." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered Brian one, and when he declined, Dylan pulled one from the pack and lit it. "Sorry you got mixed up in this, Brian, you weren't part of the deal. You just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You never should have gotten in the car with her."

The wind shifted slightly, coming in from the west. It tasted of salt water, as if blowing off the ocean that was behind several mountains. Joley lifted her face to the cool breeze and inhaled the scent of sea. Around them the branches of the trees rustled, murmuring softly, the leaves flashing silver in the night. She heard the faint sound of feminine voices rising in an age-old chant. Soft. Insistent. Musical. She recognized the surge in power surrounding her like a protective cloak.

"Car coming," Steve announced.

"Shoot the bodyguard the moment he steps out of the car," Dylan ordered. "Grab them."

They're planning to shoot you on sight, Ilya, Joley warned, ignoring the man who grabbed her arms and yanked them behind her back. Turn around. Get out of here.

Dylan caught at Brian as the car swept up to the house, using his body as a shield, and dragging him backward toward the door of the cabin. Joley was thrown facedown over the railing, a gun pressed to the back of her neck, a hard hand against her back.

The car rolled slowly toward the cabin. The guards began to shoot, the bullets drilling holes into the vehicle until it looked like a sieve. Joley could see it coming toward the porch at the same steady speed.

Don't move.

It was all the warning she got. The gun suddenly shifted, pointing away from her. She felt the guard jerk. He was flung back and away from her. Blood spattered across her back and arms. The gun clattered to the floor.

Now. Toward the trees.

Joley leapt onto the railing and jumped off of it, sprinting toward the tree line. Around her the wind whirled and screamed, creating a mini-cyclone. Branches broke off from the trees above her head, hurtling toward the porch, knocking men down. Ilya came out to meet her, the gun bucking in his fist, spitting death, laying down a covering fire as he yanked her behind him.

"Go! Get down."

Deliberately, Ilya fired three shots into Steve's throat, sending him over backward.

"Brian. They've got Brian," Joley said as she raced deeper into the trees and shrubbery.

Ilya aimed over Brian's head and squeezed the trigger, but at the last moment, Dylan went through the door.

"No! Hold your fire." Nikitin grabbed Ilya's gun arm. "You might shoot Brian."

"You shouldn't even be here. They want you dead, I told you that. Get to cover," Ilya snapped.

In the distance they heard the crack of a rifle, then another shot. Jonas and Aleksandr were protecting their escape route. The wind tore at the house, whirling around it

, loosening boards and rattling the windows. It increased in strength, vicious, finally ripping boards loose so that they flapped. Shingles flew from the roof.

Nikitin pulled out his gun, speared Ilya a fierce look and ran toward the cabin. Ilya swore and ran after him. Twice he shot one of Dylan's soldiers as they reared up in front of Nikitin. The Russian made it to the porch in spite of the wind and kicked at the door. Ilya grabbed his shirt and jerked him to the side as bullets splintered the door from the inside.

Sergei Nikitin was no coward, he never had been. He was used to giving orders and expected his men to obey him. He was going in after Brian, which told Ilya more than anything else that his feelings for the guitar player were absolutely genuine, because Nikitin never took an unnecessary risk.

Ilya took a breath and summoned energy to him, tapping into the Drake sisters' combined strength, gathering the wind so that it pulled back for a moment and then slammed into the door with the force of a battering ram. The door buckled and crashed to the floor, and the wind swept inside.

A volley of shots poured out of the room, the flashes bright in the darkness. Ilya waited for the sudden silence, sent another blast of wind ahead of him and rolled in behind it, going to the left, at an angle from the gunfire. He tried to track Dylan, but the man had already moved. Brian began to struggle violently, kicking and hitting until he broke free and made a dash for the window, obviously intending to dive out of it.

Ilya couldn't get a clear shot at Dylan, who had overturned furniture to provide cover. He saw Dylan's gun sweep up and track Brian. Heart in his throat, he rolled to get a better angle. Nikitin ran at Dylan, firing round after round. Most of the bullets thunked harmlessly into furniture, but the distraction forced Dylan to turn the gun from Brian to Nikitin. The two mobsters exchanged a ferocious storm of bullets until Ilya aimed, squeezed the trigger and shot John Dylan through the heart.

The wind retreated, leaving behind silence. The room smelled of blood, gunpowder and death. Brian turned slowly, his fingers still clutching the windowsill. Nikitin lay on the floor, the gun still in his hand, blood pouring from several wounds.

Brian dropped to the floor and crawled to Nikitin, taking his hand. "Don't." He rocked himself. "Don't go."

Nikitin glanced at Ilya, who shook his head. "Get him out of here." He tried to say more words, but blood choked his throat, poured out of his mouth. He coughed, tried to clear his throat. "Don't let any of this touch him." More blood streamed.

"I'll take care of it," Ilya promised.

Nikitin looked up at Brian, and, as their eyes locked together, he died.

Chapter 20

THE sea crashed and foamed, spraying over rocks and up into the darkened sky in white bursts, the sound loud, but familiar and comforting. Joley walked along the captain's walk, pacing slowly back and forth, knowing one of her ancestors had traced exactly the same path--waiting, watching, hoping for her man to return home from the perils of the sea. She felt a kinship with that woman from long ago; she knew what it was like to wait and watch and worry. She knew what it was like to love someone else with every breath in her body. She desperately wanted Ilya to escape unscathed from his dangerous job and return to her.

Ilya had been away, tying up the remnants of his operation for three long weeks. The first week, she and the band members had spent with Brian, helping him through the first rush of terrible grief. Now he was staying with Logan and Tish, living quietly and trying to come to terms with what he wanted to do in the future.

Joley had returned to her family home and tried very hard to fit in again, but without Ilya, her world, even the sanctuary of the Drake house, was gone. She concentrated on the ocean, watching the way the endless waves rose and fell. At night the water appeared black and shiny, with sudden bursts of silver as it foamed against the rocks.

She ached, inside and out, worried about Ilya, afraid for him. He'd gone after Sergei Nikitin's human trafficking network, determined to shut it down. With Nikitin gone, his front line would scramble and hide, so Ilya had very little time to catch them before they disappeared into the shadows where they preferred to live. Working undercover for so long had made Ilya a loner, rarely using or even having a backup, or checking in as regularly with his bosses as he should. Jonas had told her what little he could, but Ilya preferred being alone and didn't often give much information. Bottom line--she had no idea where he was or even if he was safe.

Joley sighed and leaned on the railing, the wind blowing her hair from around her face. She inhaled the salt air, tasted the sea spray, felt restless and empty. Where are you? She would wait as long as it took for him to come to her. It was two in the morning. She accepted that there would be another night without sleep. She missed Ilya so much that she could barely go into the house anymore. She wanted to stay outside, close to the sea, where the wind could carry her news of her man. Where are you?

She pulled her cloak closer around her and continued her lonely vigil. Deep inside, her stomach churned like the wild sea, her brain refused to quiet, wave after wave of anxiety crashing through her mind, conjuring images of every conceivable injury or death that could befall Ilya. What if he never returned to her? So many women before her had stood in this very place waiting for a man who never came home, and they never knew where his ship had gone down. That could happen. He would just disappear and no one would ever know.

Where are you? She pressed a hand to her stomach. She needed peace. She needed Ilya. Come home to me. Just come home.

The wind tugged at her hair, teasing her with small fingers of awareness over her skin. She inhaled and caught a faint scent. Everything inside of her went still. Fear held her paralyzed for a moment. Her mind might be playing tricks on her. She turned slowly and walked to the rail, looking down away from the sea and for the first time toward the path leading up to her house. She had refused to allow herself to look--to hope--to believe he would really be there.

In the distance, emerging out of the dark and the few tendrils of fog. she made out a man with wide shoulders and a long stride. Joley would recognize that walk anywhere. In the night he was a dark shadow, moving with stealth and power.

As he approached the gates, she held her breath. The Drake home had power of its own, and the padlock was on those high gates. The house would protect any Drake woman from a threat if need be. Ilya never even broke stride, although he had to have seen that the iron gates were locked. He would know those ancient symbols of protection, yet he walked, head up, his strides covering ground fast.

Joley's heart began to beat too fast--too hard. Her legs went weak so that she clutched at the rail. Tears burned in her eyes and blurred her vision. She felt a lump rising in her throat, choking her. Ilya. Her Ilya. At that moment she couldn't speak or move, not even to call out to him, absolute joy bursting through her.

The padlock simply fell from the gates, and they swung open. The creak was loud in the silence of the night as the metal parted in the middle and welcomed him inside. Ilya kept walking up the winding path, through garden still overgrown with flowers in the dead of winter. Behind him the gates closed, clanking hard, and the padlock leapt from the ground, back to its place to guard the entrance.

Joley dropped her cloak and ran. She waved her hand and the door opened for her. She raced down the hall and took the stairs two at a time. The house was dark and cold, mirroring the way she felt inside. She hadn't been able to bring herself to light a fire or even make a cup of tea, but the darkness didn't hinder her, she knew every step of the way to the front door and she sprinted, her heart bursting.

The door swung open before she even managed to send it a command, and he was there. On her front porch. Real. Solid. Alive. Joley leapt on him, so that he had no choice but to catch her in midair. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, sank her face into the hollow of his shoulder and burst into tears.

He buried his face in her silky hair and just held her on the porch while the wind whipped around them

in a joyous frenzy and the waves climbed higher and higher as if dancing in their delight.

Ilya carried Joley inside and kicked the door closed behind him. At once a fire sprang up in the fireplace. Candles on the mantel lit one by one, lending the room an amber glow. The mosaic beneath his feet seemed to come alive, swirling with colors and shooting stars. He swore for a moment that he heard whispers, feminine voices welcoming him home, but when he looked around, they were completely alone.

Ilya let Joley's legs slide back to the floor, but he caught the nape of her neck and turned her face up to his. He had never in his life had a home, but when he walked through the gates, and the door to her house had swung open, and Joley had been there, her face lit up like Christmas morning--he had known. He was home.

Emotion overwhelmed him, robbed him of speech, leaving him without words to tell her how much he loved her. He brought his mouth to hers, slowly, inch by inch, watching her face--her eyes. Watching the way she loved him back. He had dreamt of this moment, feeling the soft silk of her mouth, warm and tasting of that long-ago honey that had been so good. The dream didn't come close to the reality. He sank into her arms, into her kiss, and knew he was truly home. She held nothing back; she simply melted into him, her body soft and pliant, sensual with promise.

Joley couldn't stop her tears, and he tasted them, too, his lips wandering over her face, memorizing the shape and feel of her.

"I was so scared," she whispered, linking her fingers behind his neck. "Please never go away like that again."

"I have no intention of ever leaving you, Joley. I handed in my resignation and walked away."

"What happened? Were you able to take the network down?"

"The bust covered four countries and netted us sixteen major players. I found your missing teen and we brought her home. She was traumatized, but she was alive and HIV-free, luckier than some of the others."

"Thank God!"

Ilya kissed her again, a long, slow savoring of her, pulling her closer, needing to feel her warmth. "How is Brian?"

Joley pulled off his jacket, needing to inspect him for injuries. She almost dropped it on the floor, but something made her go and hang it in the entryway closet beside her coat. The two jackets looked as if they belonged together. "We're all taking turns watching over him, and hopefully he'll come to terms with his loss. It makes it so hard for him because he can't really talk about Nikitin to anyone and have them understand why he might have fallen in love with a monster."