Dangerous Tides (Drake Sisters 4)

She cleared her voice. "While I really appreciate the invitation, especially the utter finesse with which you delivered it, I still think I'll have to pass."

"Why?"

The challenge in his voice dug under her skin, raising prickles until she felt her temper beginning to stir. Or maybe it wasn't his challenge, maybe she just wanted him so bad she was edgy and restless and wanting to pick a fight with him. Need clawed in the pit of her stomach, raging at her so she had to look away.

Libby's gaze collided with a man at the table to her left, only feet away. Recognition jolted through her. Her breath left her body in a rush and she sat up straighter, her eyes suddenly wide with fear as she turned back toward Ty.

His reaction astonished him. One moment Tyson could feel the lust of a lifetime raking his gut, hardening his body, hammers driving through his skull until his head thundered and his blood thickened and poured into his lower region with such ferocious heat he feared he might spontaneously combust, and then she looked at him with fear instead of passion. She looked vulnerable and fragile instead of sultry and seductive.

Everything in him responded on the most primitive, protective level, just as it had on a sexual level. He had never felt protective in his life, yet he wanted to stand up and smash something--or someone. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and shelter her against his stronger body. Cracked ribs and torn muscles aside, he suddenly was a caveman, adrenaline rushing and the need to protect her swamping him, even dampening the intensity of his physical attraction.

He reached out to take her hand, wrapping his fingers securely through hers to let her know she wasn't alone. He heard several chairs scrape and turned his head as three men surrounded the table, pulling out chairs and seating themselves without an invitation.

"I don't suppose you noticed you're interrupting a private dinner." Tyson greeted them sarcastically. He raised his hand to summon the waiter.

One of the men moved his jacket casually to reveal a gun in a shoulder harness. Instead of sobering him, Tyson felt fury sweep through his body. He nearly came across the table to strangle the man. He was well aware of Libby's pale face and her fingers tightening around his as if to restrain him. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"I want a few words with the young lady," the tallest of the three men said in a low tone. "I'm John Sandoval and these are my colleagues. I'm here on behalf of my boss, Edward Martinelli. I only need a few minutes of her time to avoid a lot of unpleasantness. I'm certain she doesn't wish to make these photographs public." He tossed several eight-by-ten's on the table in front of Ty.

Tyson glanced down at the pictures. They were of him in his hospital room, obviously taken through the glass partition. He appeared to be in bad shape, unconscious, tubes and lines running from his body to machines. Libby stood over his unconscious body. It must have been the reflection of the flash in the window because she seemed to glow, as if her body gave off a strange light, the aura surrounding her white hot. Her hands were on his head and her eyes were closed.

His heart jolted hard in his chest and then began to pound. There was pain on her face. Not just pain, but gut-wrenching agony. And in each succeeding photograph, the pain appeared to grow worse until blood flecked the corner of her mouth and tears tracked down her face. The last picture showed him alert and wholly conscious and Libby huddling against the wall looking lost and vulnerable.

"You see now." John leaned forward, flicking the pictures with his finger. "It would not be good for the tabloids to get these photos along with a copy of your brain scan after your accident."

"And just how would you have gotten his confidential records?" Libby demanded. Her fingers tightened on Tyson's until her knuckles turned white, but she kept her voice even.

John shrugged. "These hospitals are so careless leaving patient files everywhere. My boss simply is asking for a few minutes of your time. He's a generous man, but not a patient or forgiving one. You do not want to be his enemy."

"And he does not want to threaten me," Libby said and her green eyes began to smolder with quiet fury. The wine in Tyson's glass bubbled and frothed blood red. She tried not to let them see they'd kicked her in the gut. If those pictures were printed in a tabloid, she and her sisters would become the next media freak show.

"Edward Martinelli is a friend of mine," Ty said. "We go rafting and climbing together. I intend to give him a call and let him know you're harassing and threatening Miss Drake." Tyson pushed the photographs back across the table, contempt showing in every line of his face. "Anyone can doctor photographs. All they need is a software program and they can produce any effect they want. I'm not impressed with your so-called evidence."

Libby didn't dare look at Tyson. She was catching some of his thoughts. He didn't believe in the Drake sisters' gifts and felt if they hadn't been so eager to get the world to believe they could perform magic, these kinds of threats wouldn't happen. He hadn't noticed the wine in the glasses or the coffee in the mugs bubbling. She took a breath and let it out slowly to calm herself down. Very casually she laid her palm over the nearest wineglass to still the bubbles.

Tyson ran a finger down Libby's arm to get her attention, giving her a brief smile. "The sheriff will be here any minute. He's rather fond of Libby and trying to blackmail her isn't going to go over big."

"You misunderstand," John said, reaching for the pictures.

A hand reached over his shoulder and scooped up the pictures. "Libby, I'm sorry we're late for dessert. Have you ordered yet?" Elle Drake handed the photographs to the man standing behind her.

Jackson Deveau towered over Elle, but only because she was short. He was a stocky man with broad shoulders and obvious power, unlike Jonas Harrington's much more subtle strength. Jackson's features were set in hard lines, his eyes glittering with menace. "Gentlemen, I believe you're in our seats."

The same man who had moved his jacket to show his gun, did so a second time, a casual gesture meant to intimidate. Instantly Jackson's hand circled the nape of the man's neck and slammed his head violently to the tabletop. The muzzle of the gun in the deputy's other hand pressed deep against his skull. "Libby, Ty, move back from the table now."

Tyson had already risen, pulling Libby out of her chair and behind him. Ty glanced around the room. The other occupants were silent, watching the drama unfold. Mason Fredrickson, one of Sea Haven's residents, and an older man Ty didn't recognize flanked Jackson. Both men were reserve law enforcement, willing to back up local authorities when there was no one else available.

John didn't move but the other man reached inside his coat and Mason pinned his hand. "I wouldn't. You don't know Jackson. He'd shoot all three of you and then we'd have to clean up this place before we

could have dinner. Just keep your hands on the table."

Jackson cuffed the first man and put the second one in flex cuffs. All the while John Sandoval merely stared at Libby. "They have permits to carry the guns." His gaze remained on her face. "This is all so unnecessary. He only wants to speak with you, a few minutes of your time. To anger him would be foolish." He lifted Libby's water glass in a casual gesture and took a drink, no expression on his face.

Sandoval choked. He dropped the tumbler of water so that glass shattered across the table and the liquid soaked into the cloth. Both hands went to his collar. He tore desperately at it, his coloring mottled. Libby pushed Tyson out of her way and rushed to Sandoval's side as Jackson and the other two men pulled their prisoners away from the table. Sandoval went down to his knees, Libby's arm preventing him from falling. She took one look at his face, the gasping for air and turned her head, her gaze locking with her younger sister's. They stared at one another for a long moment.

Libby lowered Sandoval to the floor and loosened his collar. His lips turned blue and he made terrible gasping sounds. Using her body to cut off the view of the others in the room as best she could, Libby traced symbols in the air over his head. The lines glowed silver and sparkled, revealing another darker set of symbols. Libby hissed and glanced back at Elle.

The silver sparkles leapt over the darker ones, extinguishing them. Libby bent over the man, her lips against his ear as she seemed to be aiding him. "It would be very foolish of you to threaten anyone in my family," she whispered.

Libby stood up and moved back behind Tyson to Elle. She caught her younger sister by the arm. They stood, nearly nose to nose, staring at one another. Elle reached out and jerked Libby to her, holding her close. I feel and see danger all around you, around your aura, and I can't find the source. I'm so afraid for you.

Elle rarely used telepathic communication, so Libby often forgot she was a strong telepath, but her sister's voice was clear in her mind, the fear echoing loudly. Libby laced her fingers through her sister's, connecting them together so they could feel power leaping back and forth. On some level Libby was aware of Jackson removing the three men from the restaurant and the waiters hastily cleaning the table off, but it all seemed far away.