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Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

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sisters, but it was entirely possible they did put themselves in a trance. That was a logical explanation. He frowned at Sam. "I thought you were friends with the Drakes."

    Sam shrugged. "Of course I am, but that doesn't mean I'm not aware they're crazy. Come on, Ty, do you think all that heebie-jeebie stuff is for real?"

    "Of course not."

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    "Then it's either all about sex or you having to figure her out or both."

    Tyson waved him off, angry but not knowing why. He didn't like Sam's assessment no matter how true it might be. The officers were no longer even looking his way and he took advantage of the fact, moving swiftly over to where Libby lay on the ground just feet from the smashed car.

    Matt Granite nodded at him. "We've got to get them back to the house."

    "I'll get Libby." Tyson didn't want anyone else picking her up, holding her close. She looked dead, still unconscious, her skin like wax.

    "No." Sarah made the protest, calling from the car.

    Damon Wilder, her fiancé, immediately wrapped his arm around her. "We're taking you all home, Sarah.
    Libby will be fine once we're in your house."

    "Have Jackson put Libby in the car." Sarah's gaze touched on Tyson.

    He felt her instant rejection of him. There was none of her teasing laughter, no acceptance at all. She looked at him the way he might a virus under a microscope. Deep inside, everything he was welled up in protest. Stubbornly he pushed past Jackson to reach for Libby.

    "No!" Sarah was sharper this time, steel in her voice. "You aren't what she needs right now."

    Ty glared at her. "I’m exactly what she needs right now. Someone with logic."

    Matt put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't understand any of this and you'll do more harm than good.
    We'll handle it."

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    Jackson sent Ty a dark, dangerous look, those ice cold eyes chilling him. "Back off, Derrick. Go home.
    I think you've caused enough trouble for one night."

    Tyson watched as Jackson gathered Libby's slight weight into his arms. She hung limp, lifeless, her cloud of dark hair falling over his arm like skeins of silk. Ty paced along beside the deputy. "All I wanted to do was get Jonas help." He defended himself. He didn't give a damn what Jackson thought of him, but he needed to tell Libby.

    He followed Jackson to the deputy's vehicle. He'd never felt so helpless in his life, or so unsure. He always knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, but he just didn't have a clue about the situation he was in. He needed to protect Libby, even if it was from herself and he could see now that her family not only encouraged her behavior but would fight him if he tried to take her out of the situation.

    Matt Granite and Aleksandr Volstov blocked him from reaching in and pulling Libby out of the police car. "You'd better go," Aleksandr said. "You don't want to make any enemies."

    Anger flashed through Ty with such ferocity he could barely contain it. He stepped closer to the Russian, uncaring the man was an Interpol agent and had been trained since childhood in more ways to kill a man than Ty might ever know. "You back off. All of you. I'm not afraid of you and you're not warning me off of Libby. She needs help and all of you are idiots."

    "So you're going to save her from her family," Matt said.

    There was warning in Matt's stance, enough to remind Tyson he was a former army ranger. Ty shrugged off Sam's restraining hand. "Hell, yes, I'm going to save her from her family. They're fruitcakes and you're just as bad, encouraging them to believe in witchcraft. It's a bunch of garbage and you know it. Get the hell out of my way, Granite. You don't impress me all that much either."

    Sam yanked on his arm, staring at him as if he'd grown two heads. Tyson couldn't blame him. He didn't believe in fighting—it was stupid and childish—but he wasn't afraid at the prospect of a fight. He had excelled in several forms of martial arts, but when he sparred, it was to teach or to be taught, or he simply ended the fight as fast as possible with a knockout. There was no in between. Yet now, he was virtually picking a fight with the Drake sisters' fiancés.

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    He shrugged Sam off a second time and stood solidly in Matt Granite's path, nose to nose, chest to

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