Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

shirt caught on a splintered branch and jerked her to a halt. Jonas reached down to pull it carefully loose.
    "Is he?" Hannah asked. "Are you sure? Because he wanted Joley to go upstairs with me when Nikitin came to our house. He warned us to be careful of using our powers and said Nikitin didn't know about or suspect us."
    "I'll admit we can't get much on him. We've asked Interpol and every other source we could tap. There are rumors. They say Prakenskii was trained from childhood as an agent. He was raised learning how to make killing an art form."
    "How awful for him." Hannah went down on her knees to maneuver through a particularly low tunnel of debris.
    Jonas followed, his shoulders catching on the network of old downed branches and leaves forming the game tunnel. "It's too much of a coincidence for me to buy.

    Prakenskii right there to save you. Nikitin chased you through the damn room. What the hell are they up to?"
    Hannah frowned. "I just can't imagine that Prakenskii could be in the same room with me—with Joley—with all of my sisters—and not one of us pick up on his guilt. It's too big of a secret to hide. If his intentions are to harm me, and why would that be his ultimate goal…" She broke off with a little gasp as her hair caught in the low, sharp, very brittle foliage.
    Jonas felt his heart leap. "Hannah." His voice was a soft hiss of reprimand. "We're not out here for a Sunday stroll. I'll get it, stop pulling. You're shaking the brush around us."
    Hannah tried to stay still, her heart slamming hard against her chest. The dead network of branches felt like she'd run into a thorn bush. Her scalp, owing to her naturally curly hair, was very tender. Between the branch and Jonas yanking on it, tears swam in her eyes.
    A barrage of bullets had Jonas slamming her to the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Her head throbbed where she was certain a patch of hair had been yanked out.
    "Scoot through the vegetation on your stomach," Jonas whispered.
    Hannah tried not to be a priss. They were about to be shot. She shouldn't be worried about ticks and spiders, but she could think of little else as they eased their bodies forward, trying to find cover.
    Sarah had better get her ass in gear and send us some help . Jonas swore crudely under his breath as a bullet hit the ground close to them. To her credit, Hannah made no sound, but it was enough to fuel the already murderous anger in him. He resisted the urge to leap up and fire back. He had to stay hidden. The enemy wasn't certain yet exactly where they were.
    All he could do was to try to keep his body positioned in front of Hannah's and protect her until help arrived.
    Sarah knows. They've sent Jackson and the others by now and they're out on the captain's walk waiting to send aid. I can feel them, the power gathering in the air waiting for me. Just get those men to come in the forest. I can do the rest.
    He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and leaned over her to put his lips against her ear, not wanting any mistakes. "You want me to draw them to us?"
    She nodded. Her mouth was dry, but this was what she was born to do and she was confident in her ability.
    "Keep moving back, baby," Jonas cautioned and fired several rounds, more to give away their position and draw the attackers in than to hit someone. He snapped another clip in his gun and continued pushing her forward. "Watch the stream, Hannah.
    There's a narrow strip of land with a downed log over it. Use that to cross."
    That would put the stream between them and their attackers. Ferns grew large and thick on either side of the stream going up the slope leading to the stands of trees. He followed Hannah through the plants, noting where the ground dipped down and where their attackers would have the best cover.
    "Here. I can use the water. Find us a place to wait for them, Jonas."
    He made a careful sweep with cool, assessing eyes. He'd spent hundreds of hours in this place. It was his childhood playground and he knew every single square inch of ground. He nudged her to the left. "Make for that little slope. Use the ferns for cover, but you can't brush them with your body, Hannah."
    Her skin itched and prickled as if a million bugs crawled over her. She was terrified there were ticks in her hair. The ground close to the stream was marshy and wet. She didn't want to think about that as she slid along, using her elbows to propel her. And she hated the fact that any of that was in her