Pirate's Persuasion - Lisa Kessler Page 0,3
by.
“Excuse me. Drake?”
He turned at the sound of a woman’s voice to find a face he would never forget. “Heather? What are you doing here?”
Heather Storrey was a sought-after medium in Savannah. He’d met her in person a few weeks ago during the showdown with the Serpent Society in the Bonaventure Cemetery. He’d never seen another woman like her, and that was saying something, since he’d been alive nearly two hundred and fifty years. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight like a porcelain doll, and her bright, ice-blue eyes stared directly into his soul. She wore her long silver hair down tonight, tempting him to run his fingers through it.
She glanced up and down the street before crossing over from her parked car. Closer now, she met his eyes again. “You’re in danger.”
He followed her gaze down the darkened, empty road and raised a brow. “How so?”
“Please just take my word for it. We don’t know each other well, so you’re going to have to trust me when I say I’m not one for dramatics.” When he continued to stare, she rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to believe me if I try to explain.”
Tip of the iceberg. This woman might speak to the dead, but she would laugh in his face if he told her he’d lived through more than two centuries already, and he’d most likely be here for at least two more.
He placed his ladder into the bed of his truck and turned to face her. The determination in her gaze reminded him that, although she looked fragile, she possessed the heart of a warrior. She’d proven it the night they met. She’d nearly gotten herself killed trying to protect a federal agent in the Bonaventure Cemetery.
Drake cleared his throat. “Why don’t you start with how you knew I’d be here?”
Her shoulders relaxed, her lips curving gently at the corners. He caught himself hoping she might smile. “We have a mutual friend.”
“We do?” It had to be Agent Bale, but Drake wouldn’t call the head of Department 13 a “friend.” They hadn’t heard from him since the altercation at the cemetery anyway.
Besides, Agent Bale wouldn’t have known Drake was installing the restored doors at the Juliette Gordon Low birthplace tonight…unless the agent was spying on him.
He wouldn’t put that past Bale.
“One-Eyed Bob.” She grinned, and the moonlight danced in her light eyes, sending an unusual flare of warmth through his cold heart. “I just finished a job at Oatland Island and chatted with him over a plate of fried shrimp and hushpuppies. When I mentioned meeting you at the cemetery a few weeks ago and that I needed to find you again, Bob knew you were hanging doors. He told me I might be able to catch you before you went home.”
Drake smirked. Bob. He should’ve known.
The one-eyed pirate had been the cook on the Sea Dog and drank from the Holy Grail with the rest of the crew. These days he owned Bob’s Seafood, a popular restaurant with the locals. “I’ll have to thank him later.”
“I’m glad I found you.”
Something about the spark in her eyes seemed…familiar. He shoved the thought aside, unwilling to examine it any closer. A stark memory of that night in the cemetery filled his head. He hadn’t put himself between her and the barrel of a gun through a conscious decision or a heroic urge.
It had been instinct.
And he had no fucking clue why. The endless passing of decades might be catching up with him, stealing his sanity.
He scanned the darkened street. “Where is this danger you wanted to warn me about?”
“You won’t be able to see it coming. Not with your eyes.”
He frowned, looking her way again. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means the danger won’t be from a gun.”
He chuckled and put his toolbox in the truck beside the ladder. “Do you always talk in riddles?”
“This isn’t a joke.” She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “I warned you that this would sound impossible. No matter how it sounds, it’s still real.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked.
“I came here to pass on a warning. If you don’t believe me, that’s your business. I have no way to prove it to you.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “Never mind. I did what I could. What you choose to do with the information is up to you.”
She was no shrinking violet, he would give her that. He hadn’t meant to offend her, not really. He’d