Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

of color drained from her face. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, fighting for air. Her entire body cringed at the sound of that velvet, taunting purr. Instinctively she reached out to Jackson, throwing out her other hand while her fingers clutched the receiver to her ear.
    â€œPoor Dane couldn’t endure. He’s rather dead right now. Perhaps you’d like to talk to me instead.â€
    Jackson reached around her without a word and depressed the phone with his finger, cutting off the contact. El e dropped the receiver and buried her face in his lap. He put both hands over her head protectively. He’d been in her mind. He knew what those chil ing words had done to her—destroyed every bit of confidence she’d begun to build in herself again.
    He stroked her hair, offering comfort in her mind, not aloud, knowing she didn’t want everyone to see her in her weakest moment. Bomber pushed close to her, closing in on one side as if to shield her.
    Hannah crossed the room, breaking the silence first. “Drink some tea, El e. He’s a long way away and he can’t touch you here. He wants you to think that he can, but you’re safe here.â€
    El e swal owed hard, not yet having the strength to control the tremors in her body. “How do you know, Hannah?â€
    â€œI just know. Sit up and drink your tea. He wants you afraid because he can better control you that way. But you’re home, here with us, and we’re going to heal you and make you strong again. He can’t win. He believes in his own power because he’s never had anything or anyone stand in his way.†She crouched down beside her youngest sister, gently pushing her hair from her face. “Look at me, honey.†She waited until El e lifted her head and their eyes met. “You aren’t alone. You have al of us. You have our men. You have Jackson. You have this town. But most of al , you have your own talent, your own strengths. He isn’t going to win.â€
    El e drew in a deep breath, turned and leaned her head back against Jackson’s legs as she took the teacup from her sister. She looked around the room at the people who loved her—the people who would fight for her—fight with her. “He kil ed Dane. My handler. Dane’s the only one who knew my identity. I was loaned out and he was afraid someone in his agency worked for Stavros. He claimed that Stavros had police on his payrol throughout Europe and even possibly here. He didn’t want to take any chances. We built the Sheena MacKenzie cover very careful y over a period of time in order to bring her into Stavros’s world.â€
    â€œI’m sorry, baby,†Jackson whispered gently. His fingers found the nape of her neck and began a slow massage to ease the tension out of her.
    â€œDane was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die on my account.â€
    â€œIt wasn’t your account, El e,†Sarah corrected. “He was trying to stop a human trafficking ring. You and I both know how dangerous that is.
    It’s becoming the number one moneymaker, edging out drugs and weapons trafficking al over the world. Every branch of law enforcement everywhere is concerned, and al of them know the risks, just as they do when they’re trying to bust a drug ring.â€
    El e bit down hard on her lip, not wanting to think about Dane. He came from a long line of law enforcement and his family had spent generations working for their country trying to stop crime. Dane had requested help from the United States and he’d gotten her. She hadn’t done very wel for him. Stavros had gotten to him, which meant Dane had been right—someone in his office was on Stavros’s payrol . It was only a matter of time now.
    Even if Dane had protected her identity, Stavros knew Sheena MacKenzie was an undercover agent. He’d never stop now until he found her.
    Jackson said nothing, knowing how the Drake family worked. He’d been around them enough times. He knew he was an intel igent man, but several in the room were better thinkers than he was. He was the quiet, action type, finding little reason for a lot of talk and a lot of reason for action.
    For him, it was al quite simple. Stavros would never go to prison. Even if he was caught red-handed, he had too much money and too much clout for the evidence to stay untouched. It would