Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

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 Hannah 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,