Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

hit him. They knew his position exactly . He should have moved the moment he'd fired. He was even further gone than he'd thought. He swallowed hard and stayed low, trying to be a part of the retainer, knowing he had to get out of there, but afraid his legs wouldn't hold. A wave of dizziness hit him hard, nearly putting him on the ground. He hung on grimly, breathing deeply, desperate to stay on his feet. Once he went down, he'd never be able to get back up.
    Jackson came out of the shadows, blood dripping from his chest and arm, his face grim, eyes savage. He touched his knife and drew a line across his throat, indicating another kill—and that kill had come between Jackson and Jonas, which meant they were surrounded. He held up four fingers and directed Jonas's attention to two positions close and two behind them. He pointed up.
    Jonas felt his heart skip a beat. No friggin' way was he going to climb a fire escape ladder three stories up. He doubted if he could have run the gauntlet, straight down the alley, but it looked a hell of a lot easier—and shorter—than three stories up. He took a breath, ignored the protest as a thousand dull knives sawed into his insides, and nodded his assent. It was their only chance to get away clean.
    Jonas took a step away from the receptacle, following behind Jackson. One step and his body went ballistic on him, the pain crushing, robbing him of all ability to breathe.
    Shit. He was going to die in this damn alley, and worse, he was going to take Jackson with him—because Jackson would never leave him.
    Enemies were closing in from every direction and there was just no way he could climb that ladder. They needed a miracle and they needed it fast. There was only one miracle that he could count on, and he knew she was waiting for his call. She always knew when he was in trouble. Jonas spent a lifetime protecting her, wanting her so badly he woke up night after night, sweating, her name echoing through his bedroom, his body hard and tight and so damned uncomfortable he sometimes wasn't sure he'd live through the night. But he refused to give in and claim her when he couldn't stop himself from taking jobs like the one he was on—because he was damned if he'd get her killed.
    Still, he had no choice. She was his ace in the hole and he had no other option but to use her, if he wanted to survive. He reached out into the night and connected with a feminine mind. He knew her. He'd always known her. He could picture her in his mind standing on the captain's walk overlooking the sea, her platinum and gold spiral curls cascading down her long back all the way to her luscious butt, her face serious, gaze on the sea—waiting.
    Hannah Drake . If he inhaled, he could breathe her in. She would know he was in trouble. She always knew. And God help him, maybe that was what this was all about.
    Maybe he had wanted her attention—needed her attention—and this was the only way left to him. Could he be so fucking desperate that he would risk not only his life, but Jackson's as well? He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

    Hannah . He knew he touched her mind, that she touched his. That she had known the moment the trouble had started and she had been waiting, steady as a rock, in her own way as reliable as Jackson. She waited only for a direction before striking. Now that she had one, all hell was really going to break loose. Hannah Drake, one of seven daughters born to the seventh daughter in a line of extraordinary women. Hannah Drake. Born to be his. Every harsh breath he drew into his lungs, every promise to stay on his feet, to stay alive, he gave for Hannah.
    Jackson pointed back toward the building and Jonas swore under his breath. He took a tentative step back toward the shadows, bent over, stomach heaving, tossing up every scrap of anything he'd had to eat or drink in the last few hours. The terrible wrenching sent another wave of dizziness sweeping over him and jackhammers did a macabre tap dance, ripping through his skull. Sweat dripped and blood ran and reality retreated just a little more.
    Jackson got an arm under his shoulder. "You need me to haul you out?"
    They'd need Jackson's gun if they were going to make it. Jonas had to find a way to dig deep and stay on his feet, crossing the distance and climbing for freedom with two bullets in him, and a still-fresh wound from an earlier gunshot. He shook his head and took another step, leaning heavily on Jackson.
    Hannah, baby. It's