Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

roof. For several heart-stopping moments she found herself staring down at the rocks and sea a good hundred feet below her, afraid she couldn’t reach it and would fal . She studied the distance above her. She would have to lever her body up using the power of her legs and catch the edge. One chance. That’s al she’d have—and she was going to take it.
    El e had climbed rocks and mountains al over the world. The slick roof was not going to be her undoing. She rehearsed every move in her mind and pushed off, using her powerful leg muscles to propel her upward. Her hands caught, slipped and her fingers dug into the roof, holding. She let her breath out and gathered strength before drawing her leg up and over. Once positioned, she could pul herself al the way up.
    She took a moment to recover and then ran lightly across the roof to the other side of the house where Stavros was conducting his meeting. She stayed low, knowing she would show up easily against the bright sunlit roof. She could see Sid escorting four men up the path to the house. Frowning, she lay flat.
    The men wore biker colors with patches, of the standard 1 percent symbol and an intricate sword with blood dripping down the blade. She’d seen the patches before.
    Outlaw bikers from one of the most notorious clubs rising on three continents were the only ones who would dare to wear the symbol of the Sword.
    Some said the origins of the group were Russian, and it quickly spread across Europe to the United States. The recruits were brutal, prison-hardened and wil ing to kil over the slightest insult. She had run across them in several cases related to trafficking guns and drugs, as wel as murder for hire. The club, known as the Sword, was fast gaining a deadly reputation that rivaled existing crime lords. Convictions were rare because only a handful of witnesses had ever agreed to testify against them. And of those few, not one had ever lived out the day after a death sentence was handed down from the club’s notorious leader, Evan Shackler.
    What would Evan Shackler or any of his bikers be doing on the island of a wealthy shipping magnate? And why was Stavros clapping him on the back as if they were old friends? More than old friends . . . Brothers? They greeted one another in a traditional Greek manner, kissing both cheeks, which wasn’t a sign that they were relatives, but they looked uncannily alike. As they walked side by side, she could see a huge resemblance, although Evan looked wild and unkempt with his long hair and shadowed face beside Stavros’s handsome executive image. They were close in height and weight and had the same mannerisms, even moving their hands in the same way. She’d have to look into the files for Shackler and meticulously check his background.
    But if Shackler was in some way related to Stavros—which she admitted was a leap—could he be psychic? Had Stavros protected his island to prevent a relative from using psychic ability against him? That would make sense. If Stavros was psychic, he would want to be able to use his abilities just as she and her sisters did in the privacy of their home. Never once had she thought of constructing an energy field to prevent psychic talents from being used, so Stavros had to have a good reason for doing so.
    Something bit the back of her shoulder, a vicious sting that was hard enough to send her spinning around. The sound of a gunshot registered almost before the fact that she had been hit did. Blood stained the front of her shirt and down her arm, bursting across the roof like an artist’s spray.
    Stavros was shoved to the ground by Sid, one hand preventing him from moving while Sid’s gun tracked someone behind her.
    â€œNo one touches her!†Stavros screamed. “Kil him. Shoot him.â€
    Sid’s gun blazed and she heard a body fal behind her, realizing Sid’s gun was trained on the guard who shot her, not her, and she scrambled back over the roof, crawling because she couldn’t stand, couldn’t use her useless arm. Breathing was difficult as she made her way to the edge of the roof overlooking the cliffs. Her body hurt so badly she didn’t think she could make it back into the room even if she wanted to. She couldn’t let Stavros keep her. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself and she knew what he wanted now. He would keep her in this house—this