Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

suit and shoes cost as much as a small car.
    Everything he had, he had gotten through someone's suffering.
    Hannah felt the evil in him when she was so close, and it didn't help the nausea churning in her stomach. She glanced past him and her gaze was caught and held by Ilya Prakenskii. For a moment she couldn't breathe, unable to look away from his cold, merciless eyes. He was reputed to be a hit man for Nikitin, and at one time had been trained by Russia's secret police. Strangely, Hannah couldn't feel anything—good or evil—when she was close to the man.
    "Miss Drake." Ilya nodded his head, moving past Nikitin to take her elbow and remove her from Russ's hold. He drew her to him. "You look ill. Do you need help?"
    Hannah swept back her hair with a shaky hand. She felt dizzy and disoriented. She needed to lie down. She should have been afraid of Ilya, maybe she was, but he was strong and holding her up and she felt confused so she remained still, afraid if she tried to get away, she'd fall flat on her face. If she answered, she might get sick.
    "Hannah?" Ilya asked again, his voice low, but commanding. He tipped her face up toward his, staring down into her eyes.

    "I was just about to take her home," Russ said, frowning at the bodyguard's high-handed proprietary manner.
    Hannah shook her head, one hand pressed to her stomach. Models didn't throw up at parties right after the biggest fashion show of the season in the United States.
    Desperate, she wiped the beads of sweat from her face and tried to step away from Ilya.
    Ilya glanced over his shoulder to the two glasses sitting on the railing and a low hiss escaped between his teeth. As he reached for Hannah's glass, Russ stepped back to avoid his arm and knocked into the railing, sending both glasses crashing to the garden below.
    "Stay put, Hannah," Ilya instructed. "If you want to get back to your hotel, we'll be more than happy to escort you."
    Sergei Nikitin smiled again, looking more the shark than ever. "Of course, Miss Drake, it would be an honor to see you to your hotel safely." He turned his attention to Russ. "You are the football player."
    His accent had thickened, a bad sign, Hannah thought. She had to take charge or she'd end up obligating her family even more than they already were to the Russians, and she didn't want Nikitin anywhere near her sister Joley. She might be confused and disoriented and very, very sick to her stomach, but she held on to that much. Sergei Nikitin wasn't a good man and he had a bad habit of turning up wherever her sister was performing, looking for an introduction.
    Hannah made a concentrated effort to step away from Ilya and reach for Russ's arm.
    Ilya moved without seeming to move. Glided. Or maybe his muscles just rippled.
    Whatever happened, he was suddenly and solidly between her and Russ. Ilya spoke in Russian to his boss.
    Hannah frowned. She knew Russian and she could have sworn he ordered his boss to watch the rapist while he took care of her. Rapist ? She must have misunderstood.
    Russ was her friend. And where was her agent? She needed to leave. It was all getting too complicated and she was definitely going to be sick all over the Russian mobster's bodyguard.
    Nikitin replied and Hannah's face lost all color. She felt herself going pale. He told Ilya to throw the bastard over the railing. She understood that with no problem. She didn't have the strength to fight against two men to save Russ and they certainly had the wrong idea about him. She'd been uneasy all night, but Russ didn't need to rape women. They threw themselves at him.
    "He's my friend," she said, or thought she said. Her voice was strange—tinny—far away. What was wrong with her?
    Ilya shook his head. "She understands Russian, Sergei. Be careful what you say, she might not realize you're amusing yourself."

    Hannah would have relaxed, but Ilya seemed to be staring Russ down, his piercing blue eyes locked on to the football player with lethal purpose. Russ was very arrogant and she'd seen him intimidate several men, but with Ilya, he either knew the man's reputation, or something in those ice cold eyes warned him off.
    Russ shrugged his shoulders. "Hannah, I can see you're busy. I'll just tell your agent you're ready to go."
    Hannah watched him go through the double French doors, leaving her alone on the balcony with a mobster and his bodyguard.
    "We must take her to her hotel where she's safe," Nikitin ordered.
    Ilya shook his head. "I can