After sipping the delicious hot brew, she sighed. “I’d make breakfast, but there are no groceries in the house.”
“Check your refrigerator and pantry,” he said.
“Did you …?” She opened the refrigerator and found it fully stocked. “Did you steal my keys, make copies of them, and then send one of your flunkies to Woodbridge to do all this?”
“Yep.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m not much of a cook, but I can whip up scrambled eggs and fry bacon.”
“I’ll help,” Griff said. “I’m a whiz at making toast.”
After breakfast, they cleaned up the kitchen and then took a shower together. One thing led to another, and it was after three when they got out of bed again.
Cuddled close, they sat on the sofa, eating popcorn and sipping on Cokes in bottles while they watched an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western on TV.
Using the remote, Griff clicked off the television. “I can’t believe we both like old-western movies.”
She snuggled against him. “Hey, it just goes to prove the theory that we really are two halves of a whole.” That phrase had now become their own personal joke.
“And as your better half, I think you need for me to stick around a while longer.”
“You’re not leaving until tomorrow,” she reminded him, then punched him in the ribs. “What do you mean, ‘my better half’?”
He grunted. “I was thinking I could rearrange my schedule and stay here for a week or so.”
“No.”
“Why not? If I stay—”
“If you stay, you’ll pet and pamper me. You’ll watch my every move. You’ll smother me.”
“If I promise not to—”
She kissed him, then rubbed her nose against his. “I love you, Griff. I love making love with you. I love being with you. But if I’m ever going to be Special Agent Baxter again, if I’m ever going to get my life back, I have to do it on my own.”
“Promise me that you won’t take walks alone. Not ever.”
“I promise that, until we capture Rosswalt Everhart, I will not go on walks alone and I will keep my gun and cell phone with me at all times. I will not take any unnecessary risks.”
“I wish all those promises made me feel better,” he told her. “But the God’s honest truth is that unless I can keep you no more than ten feet away from me, I’m going to worry about you.”
“I’ll call you every day. Twice a day. Maybe three times on Saturdays and Sundays.”
“I’ll be here or you’ll be at Griffin’s Rest on the weekends.”
“Most weekends,” she agreed.
Hugging her close, he kissed her temple. “Maybe I’ll just move to Woodbridge.”
“Griff …” she whimpered.
“Now, that was an A-1, first-class girlie-girl whine.”
“Oh, you!” She crawled all over him, tickling him and kissing him, until they toppled onto the floor.
The second of January came all too soon. Griff had persuaded Nic to let him stay all day and fly home tonight. He didn’t want to leave her. Couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. If she knew what he’d done, she would skin him alive, but sometimes a man had to go against the wishes of the woman he loved. For her own damn good. He had assigned a Powell agent to watch Nic 24/7. He had chosen Luke Sentell for two reasons: Nic had never met him, and he was a former Delta Force commando.
Where yesterday had been relaxed and fun, today was quiet and serious. She had told him about her husband, Greg, how he’d died, why he’d killed himself.
“I thought Greg was the perfect man for me because he was so different from my father. I just never looked beyond the surface and saw what a weak person he was.”
They had shared a few tales from their childhoods and teen years. Despite the abject poverty in which Griff had grown up, his early life had been far happier than Nic’s. He had always known how much his mother loved him, how proud she was of him. Nic had never felt unconditionally loved by either parent and had been repeatedly told how deeply she had disappointed her father.
When he opened up more to her about his experience on Amara, she told him about how frightened and alone she had felt being held captive by the Hunter, how she had feared each day might be her last. But she had never given up.
“We had to kill all of them,” Griff told her. “After we executed York, we had to take out his guards. They were hired henchmen who would do anything for money.”
“How many were there?”
“Ten.”
Silence.
Nic sat quietly, her gaze cast downward, her breathing slow and even. And then she looked at him. Compassion and understanding in her eyes.
“You feel that their blood is on your hands,” Nic said. “Even though they were paid mercenaries who did York’s bidding, you wish you hadn’t had to kill them.”
“They were human beings.”
“But it was kill or be killed. You had no other choice.”
“We thought we had no other choice at the time. Looking back, I wonder.”
“What good does it do to look back? Learn from it, then let it go. Isn’t that Yvette’s advice?”
“Yvette is very wise.”
“Very. Beautiful and wise and psychic and rich.”
“Rich?” Griff questioned.
“If she was York’s widow and he was a billionaire—”
“I have York’s billions, not Yvette.”
“Why? How?”
“We spent six years claiming Yvette’s inheritance, going through both legal and illegal channels. Some of York’s investments were in legitimate corporations. Others were connected to organized crime and even to countries with ties to terrorist organizations.
“Yvette’s father had been a diplomat and her mother’s family had connections throughout Europe. She used those connections to open doors for us. And Sanders had been a Gurkha solider, as his half-English/half-Nepalese father had been. The Gurkhas are the most fearsome warriors in the world, their skills unmatched by others anywhere on earth. He taught me how to fight to win, to fight dirty when necessary. The knowledge and skill he imparted to me kept me alive on Amara and sustained me for our battles with lawyers and judges as well as when we made deals with numerous devils on Yvette’s behalf.
“Yvette stayed with us for the first year after we left Amara, but she returned to medical school, did her internship and residency in London, while Sanders and I obtained her inheritance for her. In the end, almost everything that had belonged to York was Yvette’s.”
“Then what happened?” Nic asked. “Did y’all split the money three ways or—”
“Neither Sanders nor Yvette wanted York’s blood money.”
“But you did.”
“Yes, I did. At the time, I felt that I had earned it. That we’d all earned it. Yvette signed everything over to me. I set up accounts with unlimited funds for both her and Sanders. Neither of them has ever touched a dime of that money.
“When I finally came home after ten years, back to the U.S., back to Tennessee, Sanders chose to come with me. It was his decision to pose as my servant, but we both soon realized that we were more comfortable with him acting as my right-hand man. I spent a great deal of money at first, buying everything I thought I’d ever wanted. But after less than a year, I realized I wanted—no, I needed, to do something more with all my money.”
“And that’s when you founded Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency,” Nic said, “and decided to do what you could to help people who had been harmed by others, to try to put a stop to criminals destroying lives and—”
He grasped her shoulders. “No matter what I do, how much I give to charity, how many criminals I help put behind bars, it doesn’t change who I am and what I did.”
“You’re not perfect,” Nic said. “No one is. Yes, your past sets you apart from most people. The horrible things that happened to you o
n Amara helped mold you into the man you are today. But don’t you understand that you could have become as evil as York and you didn’t? You didn’t because, deep down inside, you’re a good man. You want justice and fairness. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I never thought …” He grasped her hands. “God, no wonder I love you so much. What other woman could look past the ruthless, selfish bastard I’ve been and see what’s good in me?”
Nic pulled on his hands, dragging his arms around her.
Her cell phone rang. She jumped.
“I’ll let it go to voice mail,” she said.
They sat there, holding each other.
Griff’s cell phone rang.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Get it. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Griff reached over on the coffee table and picked up his phone. “Powell here.”
“Hello, Griffin.”
“Hello, Rosswalt.”
Laughter.
“Make that ‘Mr. Everhart.’ I allow only my friends to call me by my given name.”
“And we’re not friends, are we, you Goddamn sick son of a bitch?”
“Temper, temper. Play nice or I won’t give you any clues.”
“I didn’t realize you had started a new game,” Griff said. “No one has found LaTasha Davies’s body hanging upside down from a tree.”
“Circumstances change. Rules have to be altered. I disposed of LaTasha in a new way. I don’t think her body will ever be found.”
“But you killed her and scalped her and now you’re ready for a new hunt, with a new prey.”
“Yes, something like that. And I do so want you and Nicole to play with me. Maybe this time you’ll figure out the clues before it’s too late to save the poor girl I’ve chosen.”
“I’m listening.”
“One clue for you. And one for Nic.”
“Have you already called Nic?” Griff asked, certain that the call Nic had let go to voice mail had been Everhart.
“I left her a message.”
Odd that he’d left a message. He had done that only once before. He had always wanted to hear Nic’s voice. “You gave her a clue in the message?”
“I’m sure she’ll contact you to let you know. You two are still partners, aren’t you?”
“What Nic and I are or are not is none of your damn business. Just give me my clue.”
“Very well.” There was a lingering pause before Everhart said, “Vulcan.” Then he hung up.
Nic tugged on Griff’s sleeve. “What?”
“He left your clue in a voice mail.”
“He did?” Nic laughed nervously. “Apparently, he doesn’t love the sound of my voice as much as he used to. So, what are your clues?”
“Clue. Singular. Only one for each of us.”
“Hmm … What’s yours?”
“Vulcan.”
“Damn.” She got up. “My cell phone’s in the bedroom. I’ll get it and be right back.”
While Griff waited, he repeated the one-word clue several times and a couple of possibilities came to mind. Vulcan, the Roman god of fire and metalworking. Was the woman a firefighter? Or maybe the word referred to the Vulcans of Star Trek fame. Could the Hunter’s next victim be a young astronaut in training? Probably not.
When Nic returned to the living room, her cell phone clutched in her hand, she had an odd look on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just that hearing his voice again … I didn’t realize it would unnerve me so much.”
“He can’t hurt you. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what I have to do.”
Nic smiled. A forced smile for his benefit.
“He gave me a two-word clue,” Nic said. “‘Six bits.’”
“Six bits? Six bits, as in money?”
Nic nodded. “How much is that—seventy-five cents?”
“What could money have to do with his next victim?”
“Bank teller? But that hardly implies physical fitness.”
“I need to stay here,” Griff said. “At least overnight. I’ll contact Sanders and you get in touch with Trotter. The more minds we have working on this, the better.”
“If we haven’t figured it out by morning, it’ll be too late. He’s going to kidnap her tomorrow.”
Chapter 31
Birmingham cheerleader Mia O’Dell disappeared on January third. The fact that Griff and Nic had figured out Everhart’s clues the night before had been of little help. Birmingham was Alabama’s largest city, filled with high school and college cheerleaders. A statue of Vulcan high atop Red Mountain was a Birmingham landmark. And one of the oldest and most popular cheerleader yells was, “Two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar, all for our school stand up and holler!”
During the past week, Nic had begun counseling sessions with a bureau psychiatrist, had stopped by the field office every day, and had spoken to Griff on the phone morning and evening. It had taken her four days to figure out she was being tailed. The fact that it had taken her that long to suspect someone was following her proved to her that she wasn’t quite ready to return to work, even if she had been trying to convince Doug to reinstate her as soon as possible.
She was going nuts not being able to work, especially now that the Hunter had abducted another victim. At least Doug had agreed to let her sit in on the task force meetings. That way she could at least stay up-to-date and be ready to dive back in as soon as the bureau’s headshrinker deemed her fit for duty.
Photos of both Rosswalt Everhart and Mia O’Dell had been sent to every country bordering the Caribbean Sea, from Mexico to Venezuela, from Jamaica to Trinidad. Even though all the law enforcement agencies had been issued copies of the photographs, the Powell agency had hired locals to distribute the photos in every city and town.
Nic hung her coat on the back of a kitchen chair, got a beer out of the refrigerator, and headed for the living room. Once slumped comfortably on the sofa, the beer bottle open and the first swig downed, she kicked off her shoes and reached for the portable phone on the coffee table.
She hit the programmed number for Griff’s cell phone. He answered on the first ring. Nic smiled. She liked the fact that she had him trained so well.
Oh, God, he’d be pissed as hell if he knew she’d even thought such a thing.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?” he asked.
Nic loved his voice, that gravelly baritone. Tough-guy deep. And sexy as hell.
“Same old, same old,” she told him.
“Hmm …”
“I stopped by the hospital today to see LaTasha.”
“No change?”
“Nope. I hate that we can’t tell her family she’s alive.”
“Once we catch Everhart—”
“Will we ever catch him?”
“You know we will. It’s only a matter of time.”
Nic huffed. “But will it be in time to save Mia O’Dell? God, Griff, she’s only nineteen.”
“We’re getting dozens of calls every day from all across the Caribbean. So far, none of the leads have panned out, but somebody’s going to call with some info we can use to track down Everhart.”
Nic took another sip of beer and set the bottle on a coaster on the coffee table. “I want you to do something for me.”
“Name it.”
“Call off the dogs.”
“What?”
“Don’t act innocent with me,” Nic said. “It’s taken me longer than it should have to realize you’ve got somebody tailing me. Call him off.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nic growled. “Damn it, Griff.”
“Okay, okay. But he’s there for your protection. And for my peace of mind.”
“What about my peace of mind? I do not want one of your agents—”
“He won’t interfere. He’ll be completely discreet.”
“No. Call him off, now.”
“An
d if I don’t?”
“Then I won’t come to Griffin’s Rest and I don’t want you to come to Woodbridge.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Try me and see.”
“Damn it, Nic, I—”
“Call him off. Tonight.”
“Okay, but you have to promise me that you’ll be careful.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“And you’ll come home to Griffin’s Rest this weekend?” Griff asked.
“Maybe.”
“Either you come to me or I’ll fly there tomorrow evening.”
“Miss me?” she asked, feeling triumphant, knowing she had won this battle with Griff.
“I miss you something awful, honey.”
“Same here. And I miss everyone else, too. How are Sanders and Barbara Jean and Yvette?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he replied. “Yvette left this afternoon. She’s going to spend some time in London with old friends while she’s attending a conference over there.”
“Hmm … Griff, what are you wearing?”
“My blue cashmere sweater. Why?”
“Anything else?”
He laughed. “What if I said no, nothing else?”
“I’d say I’ve never had phone sex, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”
Griff grunted. “Bad girl.”
Nic breathed heavily, then deepened her voice to a husky tone, and told him exactly what she was going to do to him the next time they were together.
Pudge had brought Mia to Tabora on Saturday and for five days she had tried to amuse him. She had begged and pleaded and even offered him oral sex. The pathetic little slut disgusted him. She didn’t have an ounce of grit in her. Spineless little twit. He had thought perhaps she would provide a temporary diversion. She hadn’t. That’s why she had spent every night in the cage. She had screamed and cried so loudly the first night that he had been forced to move the cage farther from the house. But if all went as planned, he’d be rid of her very soon. One way or another.
Taking the phone outside with him, he sat in the big rattan rocker on the porch, closed his eyes, and visualized the woman he wanted here with him. The woman he would punish for tormenting him day and night. No matter what he did, how hard he tried, he could not erase Nicole Baxter from his mind. The bitch had gotten inside his head and was driving him crazy. The only way to get her out of his head was to bring her here to Tabora and kill her.
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