Long After Midnight by Iris Johansen Page A

and drew out the Colt. Dammit, she
hated
guns. When Michael had brought the gun home for her, she had agreed to learn how to use it but refused to have the weapon anywhere in the house except in the safety box. Now she slipped the gun in her leather shoulder bag and then carried the purse to her bedroom. She set the bag, flap open, on the floor beside the bed.
    My God, a week ago she would never have dreamed she would sleep with a gun within reach.
    She could feel tears sting her eyes as she lay down on the bed and nestled her head into the pillow.
    Things are crazy, Daddy. I’m so tired of trying to be all things to everyone. I’m not good enough. I’m not smart enough. I need you.
    I feel so damn alone.
             
    Marianne was asleep. Seth could hear the soft sound of her breathing.
    He rolled over and sat up in bed.
    Ishmaru.
    Not good.
    He got up and moved toward the open glass door leading to the balcony. The soft, warm wind felt good on his naked body. He stared out at the surf below. He’d always liked the freedom of the open sea, and this condo was as different from the crowded houses where he’d grown up as night was from day. God, how he’d hated those places. Funny that he hadn’t been able to keep himself from fighting like hell to belong in them. But then he’d been such a contrary little bastard, clawing for a place. . . . Thank God, he’d learned to let go and walk away.
    But some part of that hungry, desperate kid must still have survived, because one of the first things he’d bought was this condo. He’d kept it all these years. A place to come back to, a haven.
    Did Ishmaru have a haven?
    He didn’t like what Kendow had told him about Ishmaru. He wasn’t a man Noah would be able to handle easily.
    Seth wouldn’t find him easy either, but at least he was used to dealing with vermin. Noah didn’t have his experience.
    Even when they were in the Special Forces together, Noah had never been cautious enough. He lacked the basic cynicism that made a good fighting man. He always wanted to believe in the best scenario.
    Seth didn’t believe in much of anything and knew that most scenarios had to be molded to the shape he wanted.
    Yet it was Noah’s very lack of caution that had led him to rush in and drag Seth out of the line of fire when he was wounded at Grenada. Seth owed him.
    But he had been going to relax and let Noah run the show.
    Dammit, Noah was his friend. He couldn’t let him blunder in and get himself killed.
    He was doing Noah an injustice. Noah wasn’t a blunderer. It would be okay. Noah had said he was to go to the cabin and wait.
    “Seth . . .”
    Marianne was awake again and he knew that tone. He smiled as he turned and moved toward the bed. Marianne never asked for more than he wanted to give. She was usually available when he came back to Miami and asked no questions. She liked sex and a few laughs and then moved on to someone else. So give her what she wants. Take what you want. Forget about Ishmaru.
    Let Noah run the show.

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    FIVE
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    T he man’s insane?” Kate repeated.
    “Sounds like it to me,” Noah said. “Doesn’t it to you?”
    “It may not be the same man. He didn’t seem—He was very . . . normal.”
    “All I’m telling you is what I found out from Seth. Your description rang a bell with him.”
    “Who is Seth?”
    “A friend.” He paused. “Can’t you see this changes the picture, Kate? Any threat is doubled when you’re dealing with someone who won’t do the expected.”
    Kate shivered and closed her eyes. The idea of criminal insanity had always terrified her. How could you protect yourself from a man who had no reason? “His name is Ishmaru?”
    “Yes,” he said. “I’ll be at the motel. Call me.”
    She stared at the phone after she’d hung up.
Clever, Noah. Tell me just enough to scare the socks off me and then go away and let me brood about it.
    “You’re up early, Kate.” Phyliss came into the kitchen, dressed in her