Turning the faucet off, Lindsey handed the last of the dishes to Drake to be dried. He wiped it down, and she glanced at his hands. A jagged scar stretched from the space between his thumb and forefinger to the back of his hand, then traveled up his forearm until it disappeared beneath his rolled up sleeve.

"What's that from?" she asked, pointing to the unusually long scar.

A shadow clouded his normally glittering tea green eyes. As quickly as it had appeared, however, it disappeared. "Oh, nothing. I was in a rather nasty accident in uni. I can't exactly remember what happened... was smashed at the time."

Confusion rippled through her when he grinned impishly. She knew he was lying, and that he knew exactly what happened to cause that scar. But the fact that he seemed to have brushed the topic aside almost immediately meant that he wasn't about to be straight with her. She let it go: it was none of her business, anyway.

"Do you have any scars?"

"None that you can see," she answered without thinking. The question had come out of nowhere, and Lindsey had been taken aback. She caught his raised eyebrow and rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Some scars don't show on the surface."

He searched her eyes with an inquisitive stare that left Lindsey uneasy. It was a moment before he looked away, and another long moment before he said anything. "I do believe you're right."

She shook her head to clear it. This situation was just plain awkward, and it left Lindsey with her foot in her mouth. She deserved it for putting her nose where it didn't belong. Why did she even ask him about that stupid scar? She didn't even know him. She had no business asking Cameron Drake anything personal.

It didn't matter: she'd just pretend it didn't happen.

Lindsey moved to the far side of the counter and grabbed the empty carafe, deciding that making coffee would be a wonderful distraction from the uncomfortable scene that was unfolding.

"I'm curious," Drake began, his tone pensive. She braced herself. His curiosity always left her with a headache. "How are things going with that boyfriend of yours?"

So much for distracting myself, she thought with a pang of disappointment. She fixed her comtemptuous gaze on his eyes. "What's it to you?"

He flashed her a lopsided grin. "As I said, I'm only curious."

"Right." She lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. "They aren't." He looked confused. "We broke up a couple months ago. It wasn't a big deal. The distance was just too much for us."

"Uh huh." His gaze was distinctly contemplative. "Well, it seems to me the relationship was a lost cause from the beginning." He held his hands up in surrender at her defensive glare. "I'm just saying. If it was meant to work, you'd have found a way to cope with the distance."

Her anger faded, and she realized he was right. "I don't know why you care. We hardly know each other."

"I know you better than you think." A sly grin touched his lips. "I always request a dossier when I'm assigned to protect someone. It gives me extra incentive to do the best job possible... most of the time."

She was about to question his last statement when a creak sounded from the hall that led to the bedrooms, and she stiffened. Save for Drake, the agents had gone outside to keep watch for any sign of Gedda. She would have heard one of them come inside, and as far as she knew, no one had.

She looked to Drake, who was gazing past her to the kitchen's only entrance. Lindsey's voice shook when she spoke. "What was that?"

"I don't know. Probably just the cat." He eyed her momentarily, then understanding lit his face. "I'll go check it out." He removed his gun from the holster at his hip and slipped silently around the corner, disappearing into the darkness.

The silence swallowed her, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and uneasiness. The minutes stretched by excrutiatingly slow, and it only added to her discomfort. God, she hoped it was nothing.

A lamp crashed to the floor in the hallway!

She started for the doorway, hesitating only to go back for a knife to protect herself. The sound of a body being thrown against the wall urged her to move faster. She entered the hallway, and in the darkness she noted two forms struggling with each other. Lindsey was able to identify Drake immediately by his long, thin form. The other man was nearly a full head shorter, with a thicker build that was bordering on overweight.

Lindsey made a move for the two men, the knife gripped firmly in her hand. But before she could attack, the gun went off. Both men went still as the gun fell to the floor, but it was Drake who slid to the floor along with it.

When the intruder turned his attention to her, she struggled to push away the shock and took the offensive. She ran at the stranger, tightening her fingers around the handle of the knife in a relentless grip. The man reacted slowly, and the blade entered his side. Her hand slipped, and the blade sliced her palm painfully, and she bit back the cry as she retracted the blade.

It didn't stop him. Lindsey ducked, narrowly evading him as he attempted to tackle her. She rushed down the hall, throwing the door closed behind her when she entered her mother's room. Before she had a chance to hide, the door swung open to reveal the heaving form of her attacker. He came at her full force, and she stumbled when she moved to get out of his way. She wasn't able to move her arm out of the way in time, and the knife cut into her forearm.

Ignoring the pain, she rolled over to find the man moving toward her. When he was close enough, she kicked the intruder in the balls, eliciting a grunt as he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. She sat up, staring at the man for a moment before standing and leaving the room.

She walked over to the injured agent sitting up against the wall. She knelt beside him, examining him closely in the dim light from the kitchen. A dark stain spread at the top of his shoulder, and she realized with relief that it was only a shoulder wound.

"You okay?" Drake asked, coming back to himself quickly. He waved off Lindsey's assistance as he stood.

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who got shot." She touched his shoulder delicately, the warmth of the blood sending a chill through her. "Does it hurt?"

"Only a bit. I'll heal." He flinched as he reached to pick up his gun. "Eventually." He paused. "You're bleeding."

She flinched as Drake reached out to touch the long cut on her arm. "It's only a flesh wound." She half-smiled at him. "I'll heal."

"We should probably clean up." He glanced at the bedroom. "But I'm going to check on our guest, first. You go tell the other agents what happened. Though from your little brouhaha, I'm surprised they haven't come in already."

"Brouhaha?" she asked, smiling wide despite herself.

"Yes. Brouhaha. I'd blame my being from England, but I'd be lying. And I don't like to lie... much." He grinned, and Lindsey couldn't help but chuckle in response. He turned for the bedroom. "Go. Tell the other guys. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

She watched him walk away, then turned for the front door. The men had said they'd be waiting in the shadows by the door, so as not to be seen by anybody they didn't want seeing them. She opened the door and stepped outside. The cool air felt good against her flushed skin, and she breathed it in deep before checking for the agents.

No one was there.

Lindsey considered searching for them, but thought better of it. There was no telling what lay in the darkness. She wasn't about to risk her neck after her encounter with that attacker. She turned and walked back into the house, heading immediately for the kitchen.

She jumped when the bedroom door opened, relaxing immediately when Drake appeared in the doorway. "I went outside, but the agents weren't where they said they'd be. Where do you-" she broke off at the look on his face. "What is it?"

He motioned stiffly to the bedroom. "He's gone."