Iris Johansen - Dark Summer

"Danner?"

"And Marrok. I could accept you tilting the odds in Danner's favor, but I can't risk you doing anything that might affect Marrok."

Devon frowned. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No." She sighed. "I'm not getting to you." She hesitated, then said a rush, "Okay, what if I told you that you'd die if you jump into this?"

A chill went through Devon. "I'd say you were pretty desperate to stop me. Did you see this in your crystal ball?"

Bridget shook her head. "It doesn't work that way." She made a face. "And I didn't actually sense you'd die. Just that you were in danger of… something."

"I could be in danger of stubbing my toe." She shook her head. "Bridget, if you're trying to frighten someone, you shouldn't throw it out there, then start qualifying."

"I was trying to frighten you." She added simply, "Because I'm frightened, Devon."

And that grave simplicity scared Devon more than the words that had gone before. She moistened her lips. "I was in danger a hundred times on those search and rescue missions through the years. You can't stop because something might happen." She kept her voice cool and steady. "Particularly when the warning comes from someone who I don't know and has admitted that she just gets 'feelings.' You could be trying to influence me into doing what you want."

Bridget stared at her helplessly. "It's true, you know. I don't hit it every time, but this time I think…" She shook her head. "You won't do what I ask?"

"I won't go to Sarah's." She stared her in the eye. "What are you going to do about it?"

Bridget didn't speak for a moment. "I'm going to accept it and make the best of you." Her voice became brusque. "I don't want you near Marrok. Suppose you work with me."

"Why not? I think it's a good idea for me to be in a position to keep an eye on you." She paused. "As long as I'm doing something constructive, and you don't expect me to take orders."

"You'll have something to do that's constructive. You're a vet and good with dogs. Marrok tells me we may be bringing the other dogs here. It's risky, but if we-" She stopped, her gaze on the road where two headlights speared the darkness. "I think that's Lincoln. It's about time he showed up. Come on, let's go up and meet him."

"Why?"

"Because I need him to see me. We haven't been together in a long time. It's always good to do person-to-person reinforcement." She was already walking toward the house. "And I want to ask him where he's been."

"Will he answer?"

"Probably not. But if I ask it in the right way, he'll wonder if I already know."

Devon shook her head ruefully. The more she learned about Bridget, the more she felt she had to learn. This conversation had revealed her to be a combination of toughness and vulnerability. The toughness was undoubtedly real. The vulnerability could be feigned. There was no question she was clever enough to be playing both sides against the middle. Maybe she didn't want another player in the game if there was a greater chance of her being exposed.

And maybe she did believe that Devon was going to die. She had rushed to qualify, but that could have been a lie. What was the truth?

"I'll be fair with you." Bridget was studying her expression. "You're not going to have to be afraid of me. Unless you do something to hurt Marrok."

"I'm not afraid of you," Devon said. "And Marrok can take care of himself." She saw Marrok coming down the steps of the porch as a car pulled up before the house. "You were right, that's Lincoln behind the wheel." She said with mock wonder, "Gee, you must be psychic."

"And you must be a smart-ass," Bridget said. "It's nothing to joke about."

"I need to joke about it. You said the Grim Reaper was about to cut me down."

"That's not what I said. Well, maybe I did. But I told you I wasn't sure what-" Bridget grimaced. "And it didn't work anyway. I didn't do it right."

"You obviously don't exude the correct amount of menace. They didn't teach you well at MI6."

"They taught me well." She was watching Marrok turn on his heel and go back to the porch. "I believe Marrok is pissed off with our Mr. Lincoln. I'll have to take my turn at him." Her pace quickened as she left Devon and went toward Lincoln.

Devon had no desire to tag along behind Bridget. The woman had her own agenda, and Devon would end up standing around and observing. She had done enough of that for the past few days. She wanted to initiate, not witness.

And she didn't want to go up the steps to the porch, where Marrok was standing. He had turned and was watching her.

The porch lights shone on his dark hair and highlighted his high cheekbones, but his eyes and the hollows of his face were in shadow. His stance was straight, unmoving, almost wary.

Her own response was instinctive, her body tensing. She hadn't been away long enough, dammit. She was right back where she was when she had left him. Well, she couldn't stand here like a doe caught in the headlights.

She slowly climbed the steps. "Bridget said she thought you'd quarreled with Lincoln. Is he staying?"

"So he tells me. Unless I decide to toss him out." He paused. "Are you staying?"

"Yes." She tried to smile. "Though Bridget pulled out all the stops trying to convince me to go to Sarah's. Even a psychic premonition about my impending doom."

"That doesn't amuse me."

"Me, either." She gazed at Bridget and Lincoln talking beside the car. "Particularly since I believe she meant it."

"Then go back to Sarah's."

She shook her head.

Marrok muttered an oath as he took a step closer. "Stop being stubborn. You can't help. Leave here."

She could feel the warmth of his body though he wasn't touching her. Dear God, she was starting to shake. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Back off, Marrok."

He went still, his gaze on her face. "Verbally or physically?" he asked softly. "I'll shut up. I don't want to talk anyway."

He was close enough now that his eyes were out of shadow, and she could see the glitter, the dark softness. And his mouth…

She should move away from him. She could feel heat tingle through her, and her body was readying.

She didn't move.

"Come on," he murmured. "I'll find us a place. Though it will have to be fast. I'm about to-"

"No." What was she saying? Yes. Yes. Don't say that word, or she'd be lost.

She saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Why? You want it. Is it because I'm a half-breed?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Don't be stupid. And insulting. Where did that come from?"

"Twenty years ago." His lips twisted. "It just tumbled out. I thought I'd gotten over it. You never know what poison lingers, do you?"

"No." She felt a surge of sympathy so strong it was like a tidal wave. How many scars did Marrok have from that ugly childhood? She wanted to reach out, touch him, comfort him. "You probably got the best of both worlds by being a half-breed. They say mutts are the smartest, most loyal dogs. It's probably the same thing."

"Oh." He looked startled, then smiled slowly. "Only you would make that comparison. I know you're trying to kiss and make it better, but calling me a mutt is a strange way to go about it."

"I guess it is." Something had changed, she realized. The sexuality had not ebbed away, but there was now a tenderness, a gentleness, a humor, that had insinuated itself into the whirlwind of eroticism. "But it's true."

"And you're defending me the way you're going to defend my dogs of summer. They're worth it. I'm not sure I am."

"If you expect me to say anything else to expand your ego, you're going to be disappointed."

"No, calling me a mutt is compliment enough." He shook his head. "But you've spoiled what might have been a promising start to seduction. You were close. If I'd pushed just a little harder…"