All the while the commentator rattled on about New York Fashion Week being the biggest gala in years, the best collections, the fabulous designers. Jonas turned his attention back to the screen as the camera once more took in the crowd. He spotted the elusive Russian hit man, standing just to the back of Sergei Nikitin, the mobster. His stomach did another somersault, the knots tightening, his fist clenching. Was it possible Nikitin wanted retaliation against the Drakes? There was something. Someone. He just couldn't find the threat, but he felt it on the outer edges of his consciousness, whispering to him, digging at him, making him hyperaware.
Sarah watched Jonas, not the screen. His gaze was fixed, and his body was utterly still as if he were hunting. She hardly dared to take a breath, afraid of disturbing his concentration. He didn't believe he had paranormal talents, but the Drake sisters had always been aware of his abilities--just not exactly what they were. He was certainly in tune with them--and with danger. His face had the grim expression he often wore when he was investigating a particularly intense crime.
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting to remain calm. Apprehension ate at her, so strong she could barely breathe. Was the familiar feeling the beginning of warnings, precognition kicking in--or was it empathy for whatever Jonas was feeling--because she was beginning to get the impression something terrible was about to happen.
"What's wrong?"
"Damn it, I don't know." His gaze went dark with anxiety. "She's in trouble, though. I know she is. I should have gone with her."
Sarah swallowed her alarm, forcing down panic. "Calm down, Jonas. I want you to sit down and take a few deep breaths."
"Go to hell, Sarah. I'm not some little kid. Hannah is--everything to me."
Sarah's heart jumped. Jonas had never admitted his feelings aloud for her sister. He didn't even seem to notice what he was saying, and with Jonas, that was a bad sign. The Drake sisters had been born with special gifts, talents they relied on and were an intrinsic part of their lives. They'd always known Jonas had the same rare abilities, just as fundamental to him as breathing, yet he didn't seem to fully comprehend how to develop and use his talents on demand. The abilities were there, forces to be reckoned with. Sarah could feel the energy pulsing through the room, emanating off him in waves as he tried to ferret out the danger to Hannah.
"The reason you're going to figure out what's wrong is because she is everything to you. We can take a plane to New York and be there in a few hours. She's safe right now. She's surrounded by television cameras and celebrities. There must be a few hundred private bodyguards in that building along with massive security."
Jonas's gaze leapt back to the screen, shaking his head. "She's not safe," he repeated, his white teeth snapping together. "There's someone..." His voice trailed off and his attention slipped from Sarah wholly back to the screen. His eyes had gone cool and assessing, his body utterly still, all of his concentration centered on the crowd behind Hannah.
Sarah heard the boom of the ocean, a portent of trouble. Her heart pounded along with the waves. She was suddenly very, very frightened for her sister. She searched the crowd, trying to see what bothered Jonas. The cameras jumped from inside the show to outside, where a crowd pushed along the sidewalk hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the celebrities. There were so many movie stars inside and the fans had come out to see them.
A reporter focused on several small groups holding protests across the street, each outshouting the other. There was the inevitable animal rights group protesting the use of real animal fur for clothing. Sarah moved closer trying to catch a glimpse of faces. Hannah never modeled animal fur, but she had refused to represent or join or in any way have her name used in conjunction with the large and well-known group, as she'd researched it very carefully.
Evidence had come to light that the members "rescued" animals from sanctuaries where the animals were well cared for, but kept in cages. The reporters had dutifully filmed the rescues, never realizing the real story was that the animals were immediately euthanized as there was nowhere to put them and no way to feed and care for them once they were taken from the sanctuaries. Hannah had been vocal in her refusal to join after she had done extensive research and several other misdeeds had been uncovered, rocking the foundation of the group.
"They hate her," Sarah pointed out. "I recognize the man with the beard. He threatened Hannah when she talked the reporters into investigating."
"Yes," Jonas agreed. "It's a powerful group with many celebrities lending their names without knowing what really goes on. Hannah blew their organization's secrets wide open and they lost a great deal of support, but more importantly, respectability. That means they've lost funding."
"Did she get any letters from them recently?"
Jonas kept his gaze glued to the television screen. "She gets letters from everyone, and yes, specifically, there were letters calling her a bitch and saying she wasn't going to get away with trying to ruin their organization. I talked to the board members and they said they couldn't control fanatics and had no way of knowing who would try to intimidate anyone in their name. They said they were grateful to Hannah for finding the bad apples in their group."
"And you bought that?"
"Not for a minute." Jonas frowned as the camera panned the crowd and settled on a second group of protesters. Realizing the television camera was on them, the people held up signs, shaking them and shouting, calling me fashion show abhorrent and an abomination against all that was moral and right.
Sarah sighed. "Now he's going after the fashion industry? That's the Reverend RJ. I think RJ stands for reject from theology class. He's very charismatic and has been gathering a good-sized following. Elle told me about him. He's been under surveillance for some time because he's very inflammatory and his 'religion' is officially considered a cult. He's moved his followers into the mountains about two to three hours' drive from here."
"Yeah, the deputies have told me how uncooperative they are. They don't allow anyone onto their property. He's building a fortress up in the hills, but so far, he hasn't really done anything wrong and his followers keep to themselves."
"He's going to be a problem," Sarah said, staring at the man on television as he waved his arms and gestured wildly. "He's a long way from California."
"Free television time. He can look important and gather more followers," Jonas said. "I've never understood how educated people are taken in by con artists like the Reverend." He inhaled sharply. "Right there, to the left of the Reverend's little flock. That's Rudy."
"Rudy?"
"Rudy Venturi. He writes to Hannah nearly every day. I should have known that little pervert would go to her event. The idiots advertise months in advance and might as well shout to every whacko out there to come and get her."
"The idea is for people to come to the fashion show, Jonas."
"Well, they've come," he replied grimly, "and my gut is telling me Hannah is in trouble. Try her cell phone."
"She isn't going to have a cell phone on her in the middle of a fashion show," Sarah said, but she picked up the phone and began to punch in numbers. "What should I say?"
"You tell her I said to get the hell out of there now. Don't take any crap from her, Sarah." He stalked across the room, reaching for the phone. "Here, let me tell her."
Sarah hastily hung up. "She isn't going to listen to you when you're barking orders. Can't you just tell her you think she's in danger? If you start swearing at her, she's going to turn stubborn."
Jonas turned away from her, but not before she saw the shadows in his eyes. He was really worried. It had nothing to do with Hannah's lack of attire, something he harped on regularly, but this time, she could tell, he was thinking of little else but Hannah's safety. With her heart pounding, Sarah quickly left a message telling Hannah they thought she was in danger and to please have an escort take her out of the situation.
The New York Fashion Week was one of the biggest events of the year. Sarah doubted Hann
ah would get the message at all, let alone comply. "Even if she does leave, Jonas, will that make her safer? Right now, she's in the middle of a large crowd. Maybe she's safer there."
"She'd be a hell of a lot safer with me." His gaze was back on the screen, his white teeth snapping together with impatience. "Why the hell are they showing all the protesters? I want to see the crowd pushing up against the ropes."
"Who does Hannah have for security?"
"Her idiot agent hired someone. I can't wait to tell him he's fired."
Sarah's eyebrow shot up. "You're going to fire Hannah's agent? Does she know?"
"Do I really give a damn?"
"Jonas, you're so arrogant. That's not going to get you anywhere with Hannah."
"Being nice hasn't gotten me anywhere."
Sarah nearly choked. "Nice? You've been nice to her?"
"Considering what I wanted to do, then yes, I was being nice. Stop distracting me. I need to figure this out. Who do we have in New York?"
She knew he was thinking out loud and refrained from answering. No one was in New York. None of her sisters were even in the country. She felt helpless to warn Hannah. She pressed her fingers hard against her temple trying to still the throbbing pain there. Maybe she was just allowing Jonas to freak her out. She wanted that to be the case, but she was so afraid it wasn't. She knew--knew--Hannah was in trouble. The knowledge was bone deep now and she was thousands of miles away without a way to warn her sister.
She looked at the television set, waiting for the commercial break to be over so she could look at her sister walking down the runway. Hannah would know. Sarah crossed her arms across her waist and hung tight. "She'll know, Jonas. Just like you--like me. She's going to know there's danger and she'll be careful."
Jonas flashed her a quick repressing glare. She was a security expert. The fashion show and the party that would be held afterward were a bodyguard's nightmare and she knew it. She'd done her time filling in as a bodyguard, and that many people crushed into one room with booze, dancing and wild music was going to be the worst possible scenario to keep a client safe.
"She knew before she left or she wouldn't have asked me to go with her," Jonas said. "And she still went. Damn her for that."
"Jonas, that isn't helping. Hannah has a job to do. If she gives her word that she's going to be somewhere, she has to be there. Her word is every bit as important as yours is. People count on her. Having Hannah model their clothes can mean a successful season. It's huge to have her on board."
"I can't believe you're defending what she's done. Her life is in danger, Sarah. Can't you understand that? Her life. She's risking her life for a fucking fashion show. You tell me how that's not just plain insane?"
Chapter Six
HANNAH smiled and waved for what seemed like the thousandth time in ten minutes. She was at maximum overload and had signaled her agent, Greg Simpson, numerous times that she needed to leave. He was having none of it, deliberately ignoring her frantic motions. It had been difficult enough to do the show, let alone attend the party afterward, and Greg was aware of it. She had a good mind to spill his drink right down the front of him so he'd have to leave. She sent him a little warning buzz, but he just flashed her a quelling glance, turned his back on her, and continued talking to Edmond and Colese Bellingham, the up-and-coming designers of the season.
Hannah sighed, knowing he was angry with her for her decision to quit. She blew a quick kiss toward Sabrina, a model she genuinely liked. Sabrina smooched back and rolled her eyes, before turning her attention back to one of the many actors surrounding her who didn't have a chance in hell with her.
"Hannah, you look gorgeous tonight," Russ Craun greeted her and leaned in to give her a kiss, handing her a glass of sparkling liquid as he did so.
Hannah turned her head to ensure his lips landed on her cheek, glancing at her watch as she took the glass. Her sisters usually gave her a little boost to keep her from having a fullblown panic attack when she was working, but they'd all been out of town and she was very shaky.
Russ was a friend, a high-profile football player with a reputation for high jinks, yet she'd found him to be very sweet. He attended quite a few of the same parties and he always made an effort to talk to her without doing anything more than harmless flirting. More than once he'd come to her rescue when men were crowding too close around her.
"Russ! It's always so good to see you." She looked around him. "Who'd you bring with you tonight?" He usually dated young, pretty actresses who hung on his arm and stared adoringly up at him. They never lasted long, but they looked good in the magazines and kept his name on the front page of the newspapers.
"I came alone, hoping you didn't bring a date."
Hannah laughed. "You know I never bring a date." She took a small drink of the champagne and let the fire slide down her throat. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she needed something to get her through the next few minutes until she could extract herself from the crowd and get to the safety of her hotel room.
"Why is that?" Russ asked, taking her hand and leading her through the enormous room. The party was pulsing with life and music, the sound loud, the conversations pushing the noise level even higher. He opened the balcony doors and led her outside. "That's better."
Hannah nodded in agreement and stepped close to the railing. Setting her glass on the polished marble, she gripped the edge with both hands and threw her head back to inhale deeply. "Don't you love the night? The stars are like gems." She lifted her arms toward the moon, her long hair spilling around her, her face lifted to the darkened sky.
"Do you do that deliberately?" Russ asked. "The moonlight spills over you and puts you in the spotlight. Your hair turns platinum and gold and you look like the most beautiful woman in the world with soft, tempting skin and mysterious eyes and the most sinfully kissable lips I've ever seen."
Hannah blinked at him and then burst out laughing. "Tell me you don't use that line on your girlfriends. They couldn't possibly fall for it."
He grinned at her. "What woman wouldn't want to be told her lips are a sinful temptation?"
"That was my skin, my lips are sinfully soft," she pointed out.
"Hasn't your boyfriend ever told you that you're a sinful temptation?" he asked.
Hannah hesitated. The question always threw her. She didn't really have a boyfriend. She'd never really had a boyfriend. There was only one man she was interested in and he would eat her alive. She blushed thinking about it. He already had. But Jonas wanted someone very different and Hannah could never be that person. She'd tried. He hadn't noticed that she'd tried, but she had. Just looking at Jonas hurt. She touched her lips. She could still feel his kiss. A sizzling, dazzling moment that stopped her heart every time she thought about it.
Her body tingled, went warm at the thought of the other things Jonas Harrington had done. His hands on her, his mouth on her, his body filling hers, moving inside hers. She fought to keep from blushing, because the things Jonas had done would make anyone blush--but she couldn't say he was her boyfriend. They'd had great sex. Mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex she hadn't known existed, but as always, they'd fought and he had been furious and disappointed and cutting. No one could cut her down the way Jonas did. No, she couldn't say he was her boyfriend.
"Don't tell me you don't have a boyfriend," Russ said, crowding her close to the rail.
Hannah disliked most people touching her. She detested that odd little quirk in herself. She wanted to be friendly and easy the way Sabrina was, but any company started the beginnings of a panic attack and a crowd like this was devastating to her. It was humiliating to be a grown woman, successful at business, but be unable to control herself the way even a young child could.
"Why do you always make a try, Russ, when you know I'm going to say no to you?" she asked, holding her ground for pride's sake.
His grin widened, became devilish. "Two reasons, Hannah, my little temptress. First, I might get lucky and you'll change your
mind. And second, I love that trapped look you get on your face right before you decide to let me down gently." He reached around her, caging her body, as he picked up her glass and handed it to her. Raising his own, he winked. "To another rejection."
Hannah watched him take a drink, a small frown pulling at her mouth. "Don't be silly. You ask me out when you have a woman on your arm. You've never been serious."
"Of course I'm serious. Any man would be serious over a chance at you, Hannah. Who is your mystery man and why doesn't he ever come with you?"
Hannah touched the glass to her lips, but didn't actually drink, a trick many of the models used when attending major events. "This isn't his thing."
"You mean guarding you from other men isn't worth his time? Because if you belonged to me, I'd be right at your side, making sure men like me didn't come near you." He took another drink, tilting his head to study her face. "Maybe he doesn't deserve you."
Hannah shrugged and this time she did take another swallow. It burned all the way down, but she needed a little false confidence with this strange and unexpected conversation. Jonas would probably laugh if he knew she thought of him as hers. Worse, he'd be angry with her and accuse her of using him to keep other men at arm's length--and maybe she did. There had never been room for any other man. Jonas had occupied all of her thoughts from the moment she'd met him--and she feared it would always be that way--even long after he married someone else and settled down to have a family of his own. They'd had mind-blowing sex and he was going to marry someone else and she was going to end up an old strange lady with cats all around her.
It made her want to cry. The liquid in her drink began to bubble and she automatically put her hand over the rim of the glass. She had to stay in control and any thoughts of Jonas always stole her control. She could still hear her own soft cries as his tongue made a leisurely foray over every square inch of her body. She took another swallow and let the fire settle in her stomach.
"See, there you go." Russ brushed his fingers across her face as if wiping away her expression. "You look so sad. I don't like you looking sad, Hannah. Give me a shot. I wouldn't put that look on your face."