Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

her, she found that small note thrilling.
    The voice swore, and the surge of energy grew darker. Someone behind her screamed, and she turned to see Ilya mowing people down as if they were cardboard figures, his glittering blue eyes locked on her, his face grim. He looked like an avenging god, breathtaking, power in motion, his masculine body moving with fluid, lethal grace. The paparazzi, the gathering crowd, even his own security people were knocked flat as he came for her.
    He took her breath away. The sheer beauty and energy of him, as if he was power personified, as if he understood the very force of nature and somehow was part of it. Men moved out of his way until he flowed past like the wind of death, holding their breath to keep from taking a chance that they might draw his attention.
    Joley couldn't stop the way her body rose and her feet began to run. Her vision blurred again, and this time she was afraid she was crying. She'd been fine - fine - in control - until she saw him. Now she couldn't get to him fast enough.
    His arms closed around her and he dragged her against his chest. He was so strong - a rock, hard and unyielding, when she needed an anchor to cling to. She knew she was safe. Flashes went off around them, and Joley huddled closer to him, keeping her face buried. Sobs shook her body, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop crying. And the press was already there.
    I'm getting you out of here.
    He didn't ask. Ordinarily that would have made her crazy, but she didn't want to have to think. He just said trust me and had her in his arms, cradling her close to his chest. Her head hurt and her ears were ringing and her world had just gone up in smoke. She circled his neck with her arms and pressed her face there, accepting his protection.
    'Brian,' Ilya snapped. 'I'm taking her somewhere secure.'
    'She needs to go to the hospital,' Brian called in desperation.
    Joley stirred as if she might protest, but she could feel Ilya's absolute resolve and she didn't have the energy to argue with him. Ilya was always a force to be reckoned with, and right now she wanted to just curl up and cry, so she allowed him to take her over.
    She felt the brush of his mouth on the top of her head, the strength in his arms, the shift of his muscles as he took her through the crowd to a waiting car. The door of the Town Car was open and he slid in, an easy, fluid move, never once jostling her. The door slammed closed.
    'Go,' Ilya ordered. 'Hurry.'
    'They're going to follow us, Ilya,' Joley warned. 'The reporters. They won't stop.'
    'They're giving chase,' the driver confirmed, glancing in the rearview mirror.
    'I don't want anyone to see me like this,' Joley protested, without lifting her head. She could live with the tabloids falsely portraying her as a partying, hard-living rock-and-roll icon, but she couldn't bear for anyone to see her vulnerable.
    'Go to the house,' Ilya ordered.
    Everything in her stilled. Joley pulled away - or rather tried to. Ilya's arms remained around her like steel bands.

    'Nikitin's house?'
    'No. My house. I do have one or two when needed.' He caught her chin in his fingers and lifted her face so he could examine the cut. 'You'll need stitches.'
    For the first time she really looked at him. There was an angry scrape along his cheekbone, a bloody gash at his ribs and a bloodsoaked cloth wrapped around his upper arm. 'Oh my God. Ilya. Oh my God.' She tried to kneel up on the seat to examine him. 'You're hurt. You need a doctor worse than I do. What happened? Tell me. And tell the driver to take us to the hospital.'
    She touched his raw cheekbone with gentle fingers. 'I'm not Libby, but I can help. Where else? Your side. Your arm.'
    Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage on his upper arm, and more spread in a widening patch at his side. 'Ilya, this doesn't look good.'
    'Shh, laskovaya, moya, the driver will get us somewhere safe and we'll take care of everything. You've got a concussion and you're in shock. Lie quietly.'
    He settled her back in his arms, holding her to him, his heart still stuttering from the close call.
    Someone was going to die over this. Threats were a nuisance, but trying to kill Joley was a death sentence.
    'You look like you've been in a war,' she said softly. 'Tell me what happened.' She brushed at her head several times, smearing more blood, wincing, and repeating the action.
    Ilya pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her to stop the involuntary