Drawn in Blood by Andrea Kane

was going on with Xiao Long. He hadn’t been seen in Chinatown for the past two nights, nor had C-6 reported any comings or goings from his house in Long Island or his hangouts in the city. He hadn’t made or received any phone cal s. It was as if he’d dropped out of sight. And that couldn’t mean anything good.
    Derek’s stomach had clenched as he closed his cel and glanced at Sloane sleeping next to him. The timing of Xiao Long’s disappearance sucked. It made Derek only more suspicious that whatever was going on was somehow linked to the Bureau’s investigation of a connection between Xiao Long and Matthew Burbank.
    So much for phone cal one.
    Derek had just finished his morning workout, during which he’d managed to convince himself that Xiao Long could just as easily be sick in bed as he could be hiding out, planning something sinister or letting the heat die down, when Rich’s cal came in.
    Afterward, Derek wrapped a towel around his neck and sank down on the bed. He had to think—and he didn’t have a lot of time to do it in. Sloane was out running with the hounds. She’d be back in a few minutes. And by the time she walked in, Derek had to have a plan to keep her busy and out of contact with her parents—at least for the morning.
    In other words, he had to manipulate her.
    With a muttered oath, Derek tossed the towel into the hamper and went to take a quick shower.

    It took very little arm-twisting to persuade Leo Fox to push up their original appointment next week and to drive out to the cottage that morning. He seemed to be chomping at the bit to transform the place into the perfect love nest for Derek and Sloane. As for Sloane, her morning schedule was light, and after the intensity of the last two nights, Derek had no trouble convincing her that he did want to leave his mark on what was now their home—or why. Getting Leo there ASAP seemed like the most natural reaction in the world.
    And Derek felt like the biggest SOB arranging it.

    Leo arrived armed with stacks of fabric samples, decorating catalogs, and a burst of fanfare.
    He was an average-size man with a long, thin face, a sal ow complexion, and a shock of black hair. He reminded Derek of Bert from Sesame Street, except more expensively dressed and without the scowl. Leo was al smiles, carrying in his wares, tentatively greeting the hounds—although he drew the line at letting them sniff his samples—and pumping Derek’s hand when Sloane introduced them.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, scrutinizing Derek as subtly as he could—but not so subtly as to escape Derek’s notice. “Let me start out by tel ing you what a lucky man you are. I’ve known Sloane since she was a precocious little girl who climbed trees and roughhoused with the boys because the girls didn’t play hard enough. She was, and is, beautiful, smart, and afraid of nothing. I hope you can keep up.”
    Derek found himself grinning as he pictured a miniature Sloane beating the crap out of the boys. “I can try.”
    “Oh, for pity’s sake.” Sloane rol ed her eyes. “Derek is a former Army Ranger, Leo. He’s been an FBI agent for a dozen years, and he’s worked every kind of grisly violent crime you can imagine. Believe me, he can keep up. His morning workouts alone would kil me.”
    “And your Krav Maga?” Leo inquired politely.
    Sloane’s lips twitched. “That would kil him.”
    “So you’re evenly matched.” The decorator beamed.
    “We think so.” Derek looped an arm around Sloane’s shoulders. “As for knowing how lucky I am, I do. That’s why I’m so eager to get settled. I want to solidify what I’ve got.”
    “Excel ent. Then let’s get right to it.” Leo glanced around the hal way. “Where shal I set up?” he asked, indicating everything he’d brought along, which was currently perched on the hal table.
    “How about the living room?” Sloane suggested. “There’s lots of room there to spread out.”
    Leo glanced in the