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making it back tonight.

Chapter Three
    HANNAH. I'm not making it back tonight.
    That was the last thing he'd said to her, followed by four long, mind-numbing, terrifying days of absolute silence. Damn Jonas Harrington to hell. She was through.
    She wasn't giving him another day—another hour—of her time. She'd wasted most of her life waiting for him, and if she meant so little to him, it was past time to make the break.
    Just a few weeks earlier he had nearly died from a gunshot wound and nearly taken her with him, when she'd worked so desperately to save his life. What had the ungrateful jerk done to thank her? He'd gone out looking for trouble—and found it—
    again.
    She had known the moment he was in trouble. She felt his pain, as if across a great distance, and knew immediately he was in San Francisco. Frightened out of her mind, she'd run to the captain's walk and sent the wind to aid him, but he hadn't come to her once the danger was over.
    Hannah. I'm not making it back tonight . He hadn't even bothered to call her. Not to thank her, not even to make sure she was all right when he knew the toll the use of her gifts took on her. Not even just to reassure her that he was all right.
    Well, she wasn't going to be the one calling him. She'd had enough of looking like a fool.
    She was heading to New York on another work assignment. She detested leaving, but she had a job to do, and this time, maybe she wouldn't come back. Maybe she'd have to just stay away from Sea Haven.
    The thought made her eyes brim with tears and she stood on the captain's walk, three stories up above the endless waves, and stared down at the turbulent sea below. The water was beautiful in the moonlight; shades of black, deep blue and shimmering silver rippled across the surface. Spray leapt into the air with each rush of the waves crashing against the rocks below. She sighed and leaned her elbows against the railing as she watched the fog gathering in the distance, beginning to spread tendrils above the rhythmic waves. As always, the sea soothed her, tugging every drop of anger out of her, to leave her calm, but sad and wistful, aware that this time she had to act—she really did have to put distance between Jonas and herself.
    "Jonas." She whispered the name to the sea, allowed the wind to carry the sound out over the water.
    The sea whispered back, blowing vapor inland, long streaks of snow-white mist, so that it looked as if a comforter were being slowly pulled up over the bluff. The fog added an aura of mystery and ethereal beauty to the night. It crept over the sea and into the treetops, and began to surround her home. She always came here to find peace; this time she came to find the strength to leave.
    She murmured softly to the wind and it rose in a swell, skipping over the water playfully, tossing droplets into the air so it appeared to be raining sparkling diamonds.
    She inhaled the scents of the sea. The swirls of fog danced in the slight breeze, layering over the surface of the water.
    Hannah let the familiar sounds of the sea soothe her. This was her favorite place in the world. In all her extensive travels, she'd never found another spot she wanted to call home. She could breathe in Sea Haven, was comfortable with the camaraderie of the people in the small town. She liked that she knew everyone, that she could go to the grocery store and see familiar faces. There was comfort in Sea Haven, and the town was surrounded by the raw, powerful beauty of the ocean, which always gave her peace. The sea was constant, reliable, a source she could draw on in the worst of times.
    She lifted her face to the sky, her breath rushing from her lungs when she saw three vapor trails beginning to form into solid circles around the moon. One glowed an eerie red, one a dull yellow and the last a dark, ominous black. Hannah snapped to attention, wariness replacing the dreamy relaxed expression the wind had given her.
    One hand went to her throat in a