Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

stand by the bed and handed it to the detective. He didn't want to draw attention, so he did what he did best, faded into the shadows and masked his presence with a small, influential push to keep the detective from really noticing him.
    'I called the police in New York, and the girl was still missing, so I asked my manager, Jerry St. Ives, and one of the band members, Brian Rigger, to find Dean and ask him about the girl when we reached Red Rocks this morning, before the crew set up. I told Jerry, if Dean had violated our agreement and invited this girl to the party, he was to be fired.'
    'So they both talked to him this morning.'
    Joley nodded. 'I got ready for my run and stepped off the bus. Tish, the wife of my sax player, had just arrived and I haven't seen her for some time, so I went over to say hello. I saw Brian, Jerry and Dean talking together. They were standing over by the stage. I couldn't hear what was said, but Dean was angry and he kept looking over at me. Eventually he flipped me off and walked to the parking lot. I went for my run, and the last I saw of Dean, he was alone, over by the crew bus.'
    Ilya stepped out of the shadows. T observed them as well. He was angry and he stalked off toward his bus. I didn't hear what was said, but he was evidently quite upset at Miss Drake.'
    'Did your manager fire him?'
    Joley leaned her head against the back of the couch. Her headache was getting worse. 'I don't know. I haven't had a chance to talk to Jerry about it. I wanted to get in a run before the sound check, and this morning was my only opportunity.'
    'Did you see the argument becoming heated?'
    Joley took a deep breath and let it out. 'It got loud, yes. But if you think either Jerry or Brian could have harmed Dean, you're wrong. They just aren't like that.' She frowned at the detective, leaning forward so that he would look her directly in the eye. 'I've known Brian forever and he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. And Jerry has too much authority over everyone to have to resort to murder. You didn't say what happened. Could it have been an accident?'
    'He was shot between the eyes. No, ma'am, I don't think we could call it an accident. Do you know if Rigger or St.
    Ives own a gun?'
    'No. God, no. I'm telling you, they would never do something like that - kill Dean, I mean. Brian is incredibly gentle and Jerry just plain wouldn't bother.'
    'And you never talked to Walters?'
    Joley shook her head. 'No. And when I saw he was so angry, I didn't want to.' She pressed her fingers to her temples again. 'I really have a headache. I've never had one this bad.'
    Ilya studied her pale face. The headache was worsening. It was essential to keep a low profile, but he couldn't stand by and watch Joley suffer needlessly, not when he could help her. With a small sigh, he moved from the shadows, sat down beside her and turned her face toward his. He rested the pads of his fingers on either side of her head. 'You're pale, Joley. Do you get migraines?'
    'Not as a rule,' she admitted. 'But occasionally. This one is bad.' And getting worse by the moment. It made her feel vulnerable in front of the detective. Already, her stomach was churning and little white dots flashed in front of her eyes.
    'Just close your eyes. This won't take more than a moment.'
    Ilya sighed to himself. Even with the ability to fade the detective's memories, Branscomb would remember this.
    Joley was too famous, too beautiful and sexy not to make an impact. A bodyguard ridding her of her headache was something too intimate not to be noted. And Ilya couldn't touch her without being intimate. His hands were that little bit too gentle. His touch more of a caress than anything else. This was the reason a man like Ilya Prakenskii didn't get involved emotionally, because in the end, it was dangerous to both of them.
    Inwardly he cursed, but he maintained his expressionless mask. He couldn't hide the body language warning the other man off, or the gentleness of his own touch, but his face gave nothing away as he placed his fingers at her temples and pushed healing energy from his soul to hers. Healing was intimate - giving Joley a part of himself, taking a part from her.
    Better, laskovaya moya?
    Joley nodded. 'Thank you, it's much better.'
    Ilya glanced at the detective. Shrewd eyes. Cops eyes. Ilya recognized that look.
    'You two went running,' Branscomb said, his voice almost casual.
    'Running keeps me in shape,' Ilya said, 'and allows us a small