ELIJAH Lospostos was a steely-eyed, extremely handsome man in a tough, scary way. He had a wealth of gleaming black hair spilling down into eyes the color of mercury one moment and as dark as night the next. Saria stood at the helm of her boat, winding her way through the choppy water, trying not to think about how dangerous he looked or why he would take orders from Drake Donovan. Elijah and his partner, Jeremiah Wheating, two more members of Drake’s team, had spent the night in the swamp and they waited for nightfall for the entire team to return.

The rain poured down in thick silvery bands, making it difficult to see as she tried to keep the boat in open water as much as possible on the way to the strip of land facing Fenton’s Marsh. She had five men in her boat, all silent, all grim-faced and all knowing something she didn’t. On the other hand, Drake hadn’t hesitated in asking her to take them into the swamp. She had the feeling none of them needed her as much as she thought they did.

She sent another quick look at the five men who took orders from Drake. They were all dangerous men. The lair had no idea how very dangerous these men were, and yet—they all took orders from Drake. A small frisson of fear slid down her spine. She didn’t know Drake quite as well as she thought she did, not if he commanded men like these.

She turned her face up to the skies. Dark clouds rolled and churned, driven by a vicious wind. Her legs absorbed the pounding of the boat as it skimmed over the rough water. She noted none of the men seemed adversely affected by either the foul weather or the bumpy ride. She wasn’t certain why they were going out on such a night, but they were all armed. Whatever Elijah had told Drake earlier in the day, he had emerged from the meeting grim-faced, his eyes, usually s warm, were flat and cold and frankly quite scary.

She hadn’t asked questions as she normally would have, because he had told his men she was coming with them and his tone said not to question his judgment. She saw the shock on their faces, although they tried to hide it.

“You warm enough?” Drake asked.

He stood close to her, close enough for her to feel his body heat right through her windbreaker. He rested one hand lightly—possessively—on the small of her back. She felt her stomach do a slow tumble. It didn’t matter that her brain was trying to warn her that she was in over her head with him, her heart—and all the rest of her body—reached for him.

She nodded. “I’m used to the weather. Your friends?” She nodded toward the men in inquiry.