The Forbidden Trilogy(6)

Anger boiled in his blood, unwilling to be cooled by the water. He turned his board toward the sand and rode back to shore, scanning as he did for anyone paying too much attention to him.

Kylie the Beach Bunny scampered up to him and threw her slender arms around his neck as he shrugged out of his wetsuit. "You looked so hot out there, Drakey. Did you come back for some fun in the sun?" Her lips sought his, but he pulled away.

"Not now, Kylie. I have to get going. Did you see anyone around the beach watching me, or anyone who looked suspicious?"

Her painted, puckered lips turned down in confusion. "No, why? Let's go get a drink and maybe go back to my place if you're done here. I can take your mind off whatever is worrying you. Did you get my text messages and voicemails? I even came by your place but you weren't home. I've missed you." She ran a finger down his wet chest, tracing a drop of water to his navel.

He pulled her hand away. "I said, not now." He added just a bit of compulsion to his voice, using his mind to nudge hers. A vacant expression crossed through her blue eyes then disappeared. He hadn't really controlled her mind; he'd just given it extra encouragement so he could get rid of her without a scene.

Another trickle of foreboding crawled over his shoulders. Goose bumps formed on his arms and he shivered despite the heat.

Kylie frowned, but said nothing else as she walked away, her long, tanned and very exposed body attracting the admiring glances of every man on the beach.

Drake didn't care.

Another, more powerful pricking alerted him to danger. He whipped his head around in time to see a figure in black slip into a car parked in the lot, and drive away.

***

Before anyone else could stop him, Drake grabbed his towel and board and walked the few blocks through the streets of Venice Beach back to his apartment.

His best friend Brad was still asleep, probably up late again—writing, trying to become a famous journalist, but getting stuck with Crime Watch and Feature Obits.

Drake showered, dressed and started a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

Percolating coffee and the smell of frying food finally convinced Brad to join the land of the living. "Dude, you get up way too freaking early."

"You sleep in way too freaking late. On this, we will just have to agree to disagree. Eat some bacon." Drake pushed a plateful of food in front of Brad.

"Thanks, man. How were the waves this morning? You ready for the West Coast Championships?" Brad shoveled breakfast into his mouth.

Drake considered how much he should reveal about his unnerving morning. "I think I'm being watched."

This put a halt to the eating. "Oh, man, I told you this was a bad idea. You need to keep a low profile, dude. Stick to teaching surfing lessons to wannabes, but don't enter an international surfing competition with major media coverage. What if someone finds you?"

The small two-bedroom apartment they shared felt even smaller. Drake fought the urge to escape back into his ocean, but even that holy place had been violated.

He put his dishes in the sink and paced the living room, staring at the stains in the brown carpet. Their bachelor pad wouldn't impress many women, but it kept Drake close to the beach and Brad close to the newspaper he worked for. A happy compromise.

"This is important to me, you know that. I can't spend my life as a beach bum teaching surfing. I want so much more than that. I could get sponsors and surf for a living."

He sighed and sank into the living room chair. A pile of bills taunted him from the coffee table. He shuffled through them, then held them up as evidence. "Phone bills, rent, power, car insurance... by the time I finish paying these every month, I have nothing left. I can't live like this, man."

Brad frowned. "I know what it's like. I'm in the same boat. You'll find a way."

Drake slammed his fist into the table. "No, you're not. You're in a boat going somewhere. You have dreams, ambition, and a way of making it happen. You have family who give a crap about you. What do I have? A shady past, a string of foster parents who only wanted me for the money, and one skill that I can actually use in public. I'm in a sinking boat. I have to find a way to make my life matter. Don't you get that?"

His fist throbbed for a moment, but then his body healed even that, leaving him numb once again.

Brad had been with him through a lot, but he'd never understand where Drake had come from and what he needed. Not totally.

"Drake, you're right. I can't ever know what it's been like for you, but I do know you have to stay low on the radar if you don't want people digging into your past, into what happened when you were young. There are bad people out there who would just love to capture someone with your powers. I don't want to find your name on my next Crime Watch list."