[Magic Sisters 05] - Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

The shirt was far too big, but it covered everything, and the jeans were old and faded and snug on her. As she pulled them up over her hips, she saw Jonas on the phone. He went suddenly still, the expression on his face harsh as he reached out and snagged his jeans, putting them on one-handed.

  Something was wrong. Really wrong. "What is it?" Hannah asked, anxiety creeping into her voice as she observed his murderous expression and the uneasy glances he sent her way. "Are my sisters all right?" But she would know if one of them was in trouble. She always knew.

  Jonas put down the phone, his hand going to the nape of her neck. "Early this morning, when Jackson was heading into the office, someone tried to run him off the road. He was in my car and still using my jacket. I have his."

  "Oh no. Was he hurt?"

  "The car is totaled and he's got a few scrapes and bruises, but he's alive." He grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it. "Jackson's been with me through more nasty battles with the bullets flying and neither of us thinking we were going to get out than I care to remember. I don't like that he took another hit for me." He paced across the floor, too restless to stay still when he was puzzling it all out.

  "This doesn't make sense. They had to have thought it was me driving the car, but clearly you weren't in the car. Why would they make me a target?"

  Hannah slid down the wall to the floor, crossed her arms over her breasts and drew up her knees, making herself smaller, huddling in the corner. This was her fault. Someone had tried to kill Jonas and poor Jackson had gotten in the way. Anything that happened to him had been because of her. Why? She didn't understand what she could have done to make someone hate her so much. Her sisters were in danger, and so were Jackson and Jonas. She closed her eyes on the tears burning so close.

  Jonas glanced at her white, pale face and instantly knelt down beside her. "It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. Jackson is all right."

  She shook her head, rocking back and forth. "Where can I go that I won't take the chance that someone I love is going to be hurt?" She looked up at him with sorrow and shock in her eyes. "Who could possibly hate me so much they not only want to destroy me, but everyone I love? What could I have done to cause this?"

  Jonas had seen victims of crimes, hundreds of them. He'd reassured them, soothed them, broken bad news and good news, but it had never been personal. Her emotion choked him, strangled him, made him feel helpless and racked with fury that someone could put that look on her face. "Nothing, Hannah. You didn't do anything at all. People who choose this kind of madness are ill. A slight can be imagined, fantasized. It isn't really about you. It's about them and their self-absorbed hatred, an all-consuming destructive emotion. It isn't someone you know. No one who knows you could ever do this to you."

  "I don't know what to do."

  "I do, sweetheart. This is what I do. I'm taking you back to your house…"

  She shook her head. "I don't want them going after my sisters."

  Jonas framed her face with his large hands. "Baby, you're not thinking clearly. Your house eats people for snacks. Your trees throw them into the ocean. Your balcony comes alive and your windows repair themselves. You and your sisters are damned safe in that house, which, by the way, I'm never going to look at in the same way again."

  She almost managed a smile as she allowed him to pull her up. "All right. I'll go home with them, but you'd better stay in the house as well. I mean it, Jonas. Whoever is doing this is obviously trying to kill you now."

  He looked around, found their shoes in the living room and handed her sandals to her. She flushed, seeing her skirt, blouse and coat right at the entrance to the doorway.

  "We didn't get far, did we?"

  He grinned at her. "Best night of my life, Hannah. Thank you." He leaned over, kissed her and pulled on his shoes. "Let's get out of here. Let me go first, just in case. Get right into the truck."

  She nodded and waited for him to take the lead. He stopped long enough to lock the door behind him, and hurried to the truck, his gaze quartering the area around them, looking for anything suspicious.

  Hannah settled in the truck, drew her seatbelt across her and drummed her fingers on the seat in apprehension while he shoved the key into the ignition.

  Jonas reached for her hand, his fingers running over hers in a little caress before he picked up her hand and brought it to the warmth of his mouth. "It's going to be all right, baby. It won't be much longer before we figure this out." He nibbled on the tips of her fingers and turned the key.

  The engine whined, but refused to turn over. Jonas swore under his breath.

  "Maybe we should talk to Abbey. She hates using her abilities, but she can determine truth," Hannah said hesitantly.

  "I don't think we have anyone she can question yet." There was something worrying at the back of his mind, something just out of reach, if he'd just remember it. He turned the key again and the motor made the same noise, refusing to start.

  Jonas snapped his teeth together and grabbed the key, impatient, but suddenly he went still. His alarms were screaming at him, his stomach burning with knots, he just had been too absorbed in Hannah to focus on it. Jackson's track was always—always—in perfect running condition.

  Hannah frowned, the sudden stillness in him sending her natural alarms shrieking. "What is it, Jonas?"

  He reached down and unsnapped Hannah's seatbelt. "Get out of the track. Get out now, Hannah. Hurry, damn it."

  She reacted to the urgency in his voice, the fear. She tried to push open the door, remembered it was locked and reached for the handle.

  "Run for the trees, away from the house. Run fast, baby, I'll be right behind you."

  Hannah slid out. "Tell me."

  "There's a bomb in the track." His voice was calm, but his eyes were savage. "Get the hell out of here, Hannah—now."

  Chapter Nineteen

  HANNAH didn't wait to ask questions. She took off running away from the house toward the trees to the back of Jonas's property, her heart thundering in her ears. She glanced over her shoulder, to reassure herself Jonas was coming. He was right behind her, his body squarely between hers and the truck.

  "Go!" he said urgently, one hand on her back, pushing her forward.

  Hannah ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached, stumbling across the uneven ground. She felt the blast before she heard it, the buildup in the air, the smashing concussion that lifted them both and flung them like paper dolls through the air. She landed hard, the wind knocked out of her, body sore and bruised, the world silent as her ears protested the violation of sound.

  Around them the wind rose, leaves and twigs whirling in the air along with the debris from the truck. Orange-red flames mixed with black smoke, burning hot and bright, billowing high into the air. Blackened parts of the track were scattered across the wide expanse of lawn leading down toward the trees and a door lay in the bushes near the front steps of the house.

  Frantically she crawled to where Jonas lay just a few feet from her. Jonas! She didn't speak aloud, there was no point until their ears settled from the terrifying blast. For one heart-stopping moment she thought he was dead. He lay still, his face pale, his chest not moving. Her world came to an end, crashing down around her so that she sank onto the ground beside him, her trembling hand sliding over his skin to find his pulse. Oh, God, please, Jonas, be alive. She'd know if he were dead, she was certain, but still, until she found his pulse, her mind screamed and screamed.

  He drew in a gasping breath and his eyes flew open, hands coming up to capture her wrist in a viselike grip, and drag his gun from his shoulder harness. His eyes were savage, his face grim. Hannah's heart stopped as the gun swept across her. His gaze found her face and he visibly settled, then began running his hands over her looking for injuries.

  I'm all right, she assured him. What about you?

  Good. I'm good. He looked at the towering inferno. Jackson's truck is toast. Sitting up, he looked warily around him, indicating the trees again. We're too exposed here.


  My sisters will know and they'll send help. Already the wind was picking up around them. A ringing in her head began to grow. Something flew by her ear with an angry buzz.

  Jonas slammed into her hard, rolling her over in the dew-wet grass. They continued rolling along the slope and then he was dragging her up. "Run, damn it, zigzag and get into the cover of the trees."

  His gun was up and he squeezed the trigger, aiming back toward the house. Four bullets rang out in rapid succession, even as his other hand shoved at her back.

  Hannah ran. Her breath came in sobs, but she forced her mind to find calm. She had to help Jonas. More than one person was shooting at them.

  Bullets hit in front of them, effectively halting their progress. Jonas threw her to the ground again, trying to find a target to give her a chance. She knew saving her was the only thing on his mind. They were caught out in the open on the rolling expanse of lawn that led to the edge of the forest surrounding three sides of the property. They were hemmed in. The barrage of bullets came from various directions, trapping them.

  "Listen, baby, they could kill us right now if they wanted. Whatever they have in store for us is worse than taking a bullet. We have to get out of here. I'm going to lay down cover, and you start running. Just keep going and don't look back."

  She caught his arm and shook her head, staring at the flames bursting up into the sky in one big conflagration. "Fire. We have fire, Jonas, one of the five elements. They started it, but it's mine to use."

  She knelt up slowly, her hands already flowing in the air, weaving a complicated pattern, and she lifted her face to the sky, her voice soft and melodious. He couldn't catch the words but power shimmered in the air.

  The enemy closed in, ringing them, still a distance away, confident they'd run their prey to ground. Hannah never looked at them, never acknowledged they were even there. She looked like an ancient goddess as she called on the universe for protection.

  The blackened carnage of the truck shook violently. A stream of orange and red sparklers rocketed into the sky, racing forty—fifty feet straight at the clouds. Abruptly the flames stopped, hovered overhead briefly in a fantastic display of flame and light, then shot across the sky in a fireball, leaving a trail of fire raining down on the heads of the men standing between Jonas and Hannah and the forest.

  For a moment no one moved. The first fireball struck one man's shoulder, driving him to the ground. His clothes went up in flames. He screamed and rolled frantically on the ground. And then it was raining fire, flames hurtling out of the sky, sending their attackers running for cover.

  Jonas dragged Hannah to her feet. "Run! Get to the trees."

  She knew Jonas's property fairly well. He owned sixty acres, most of it forest which backed up to a state park. She made for the trail that took them into the thickest grove of trees, bursting through the underbrush guarding the parameter and then into the forest itself. The canopy overhead darkened the interior. Branches lay on the ground where they'd snapped off, and moss clung to tree trunks and branches, turning some of the trees a brilliant green.

  Jonas caught her hand and signaled to take the narrow animal path to his left, away from the wider trail for his Jeep. Hannah moved through the narrow tunnel of broken branches, the brush scraping her arms and shoulders right through her shirt. Jonas's breath was harsh against her neck, but his hand was steady on her back.

  The fireworks had given them breathing room and they headed deep into the interior of the forest, where the trees gave them cover and the brush was thicker, making it much more difficult for anyone to find them.

  The buzzing in her ears had settled to an annoying hum. "Do you think they'll follow us?"

  "It's hard to tell. Your sisters will send help, but it's going to take a few minutes. Who are these guys? I didn't get close enough to recognize anyone."

  "Me either." Hannah looked around her. It was difficult walking over the uneven ground in sandals. She glanced up at Jonas's face. It was difficult to remember sometimes, that he hadn't always been a part of their family and that his estate was so large. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here."

  His hand guided her along the narrow trail, steering to the left where he had played as a child. He knew vines hung there and the brush was thick and tangled. "Go this way, baby. I used to build forts out of the downed branches and formed tunnels from the foliage. There'll be more cover along this path." He'd crawled like a soldier through the animal trails on his belly back then, never knowing he'd be doing it for real in an effort to save Hannah's life. At the time it had been an imaginary game, pretending to attack the "germ" soldiers killing his mother. Now he had real enemies after them.

  Hannah reached back and took his hand, knowing he was suddenly thinking of his mother. These were the woods his mother loved so much. She'd enjoyed the sea, the sight and sound of it, but the forest was her first love and her husband had bought the estate with the beautiful home and acres of mixed forest where one could stand in any room on the main floor and just look right over the trees to the ocean.

  "No harm will come to us here," she murmured, wanting it to be the truth. Not in his mother's beloved woods.

  They turned along a path that followed a stream. Wild turkeys burst out of the huge ferns growing along the winding creek and up the slope. The huge birds called to one another in alarm, flapping wings and rushing up the hill to another path, two of them taking to the air in agitation.

  Jonas swore and caught her shoulder. "There's no way they didn't hear that. If they lost our trail, they'll be on it now. I should have hunted those idiot treacherous turkeys a long time ago."

  "You don't hunt."

  "I'm going to start." He'd never really hunt the turkeys. His mother had watched them every morning from her window. She would count the toms, even name them. She knew which trees the turkeys preferred roosting in at night. The hens would sometimes shelter the chicks under the deck during the day, or lead them down to the stream in the thickest part of the ferns, just at the edge of the forest where Jonas kept the weeds cleared so she could always see. The wild turkeys had brought pleasure and, in a way, relief to his mother. They would always be safe from hunters on his property.

  Jonas never hunted animals. Not the deer or bear or bobcat, not even those damned wild turkeys his mother had loved so much. He hunted men and he was damned good at it. He wasn't so good at running from them. "I could find a safe place to stash you, Hannah, and double back."

  She stopped so abruptly he ran into her. "You aren't stashing me, Jonas. We're in this together." Her hand gripped his harder. "I can't lose you. Not now. Not like this. And you're a crazy man when you get angry. You're angry now, I can feel it."

  He was shaking with fury, a fierce warrior trapped and unable to fight his way out. His instinct was to turn the tables on them and go hunting, but he refused to put Hannah in more danger. She knew that. Understood it. But she wasn't willing to let him separate them.

  The sound of gunfire reached them a split second before the bullet. It hit the tree closest to them, spraying bark all around them. Instantly a shower of bullets zinged into the trunks around them, thunking into wood and sending splinters and bark over them. Jonas pulled her down, his body covering hers as he cautiously lifted his head to peer through the leaves.

  "Can you see them?" she whispered.

  Jonas glanced down at her. Beneath him, her body was trembling, but despite her stark white skin and enormous eyes, Hannah's mouth was firm and her gaze steady.

  "If you can give me a direction, I can slow them down or maybe, if I'm lucky, pin them down until help arrives."

  She took a long sweeping look at the trees around them. The forest here was full of old growth, the trees tall, many of their lower branches cracked and hanging.

  "Lure them in, Jonas. Bring them to us. If we fall back and let them have this spot, I think I can stop them right here."

  "You move quietly, Hannah, stay low to the ground. Go deeper into the
forest, we may need an escape route." His ears had stopped ringing and he could hear voices shouting back and forth. "Can you hear that?"

  "Just barely."

  "That's not English. You know languages. What are they speaking?"

  Her small teeth bit at her lower lip as she concentrated. "The accents are very heavy. They're speaking Russian, Jonas." She let her breath out slowly. "They have to be Nikitin's men."

  Jonas frowned. "Why would Prakenskii save your life if Nikitin wanted you dead? He's definitely Nikitin's man."

  Hannah's shirt caught on a splintered branch and jerked her to a halt. Jonas reached down to pull it carefully loose.

  "Is he?" Hannah asked. "Are you sure? Because he wanted Joley to go upstairs with me when Nikitin came to our house. He warned us to be careful of using our powers and said Nikitin didn't know about or suspect us."

  "I'll admit we can't get much on him. We've asked Interpol and every other source we could tap. There are rumors. They say Prakenskii was trained from childhood as an agent. He was raised learning how to make killing an art form."

  "How awful for him." Hannah went down on her knees to maneuver through a particularly low tunnel of debris.

  Jonas followed, his shoulders catching on the network of old downed branches and leaves forming the game tunnel. "It's too much of a coincidence for me to buy. Prakenskii right there to save you. Nikitin chased you through the damn room. What the hell are they up to?"

  Hannah frowned. "I just can't imagine that Prakenskii could be in the same room with me—with Joley—with all of my sisters—and not one of us pick up on his guilt. It's too big of a secret to hide. If his intentions are to harm me, and why would that be his ultimate goal…" She broke off with a little gasp as her hair caught in the low, sharp, very brittle foliage.

  Jonas felt his heart leap. "Hannah." His voice was a soft hiss of reprimand. "We're not out here for a Sunday stroll. I'll get it, stop pulling. You're shaking the brush around us."

  Hannah tried to stay still, her heart slamming hard against her chest. The dead network of branches felt like she'd run into a thorn bush. Her scalp, owing to her naturally curly hair, was very tender. Between the branch and Jonas yanking on it, tears swam in her eyes.