Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online

motion to obtain all possible info.”
    After assuring Griff that he had followed procedure without any delay, Sanders left to do as he had been instructed.
    Griff called out to him, “Send in the housecleaning crew to clean up in there.” He inclined his head toward the utterly destroyed room.
    Sanders paused and listened. He nodded once before walking away, without uttering a single word or giving a quick backward glance.
    Griff then told Shaughnessy, “Take Dr. Meng upstairs to one of the guest rooms and stay with her until Ms. Renshaw arrives.”
    With the utmost care, the gentle giant of a man held Yvette as if she were made of spun glass as he immediately followed Griff’s orders.
    â€œYou two, come with me,” he said, sliding his gaze hurriedly from Derek to Maleah. “Once I place several calls to my contacts in D.C. and around the world, we will begin receiving a tremendous amount of information. Ninety-five percent of it will be worthless. It will be up to us to figure out which five percent can actually help us locate Nic.”
    Griff forced himself to look directly at Maleah, to face her and accept her wrath. No doubt at this very moment, she hated him almost as much as he hated himself. Maleah Perdue was his wife’s best friend. She had stood by Nic, shared confidences with her, and possibly knew her better than anyone on Earth. Knew her even better than he did.
    â€œI’m going to find her,” Griff swore to Maleah.
    She stared at him, tears moistening her eyes, her teeth clinched tightly. He sensed that she wanted to physically attack him, to claw his eyes out, to damn his soul to hell.
    Mercy God, didn’t she know he was already in hell?
    Derek Lawrence grasped Maleah’s hand.
    â€œAnd we’re going to help you find her,” Derek said. “We’re a cooperative team working together for the duration of this all-out manhunt. We have one goal—find Nicole and bring her home safely. Nothing else matters.”
    Â 
    Morning sunlight poured into the room like melted butter over hot pancakes—soft, warm, and golden. As she roused from sleep, Nicole blinked her eyes several times, all the while her mind slightly muddled. At first, she wondered why Griff had opened the blinds when he usually kept the room dark until after they were both awake. Still in that relaxed state between sleep and becoming fully alert, she turned over in bed and ran her hand out in search of her husband.
    She was alone in bed. Griff must have gone downstairs already. He would bring her a cup of coffee soon, sit down on the bed, and give her a morning kiss.
    Nicole’s eyes snapped open wide.
    She was not home at Griffin’s Rest. This was not her bed. Griff was not downstairs.
    After flipping over on her back, Nic gazed up at the white ceiling. In the quiet stillness of the room, she listened and heard the delicate hum of a motor. Easing herself into a sitting position in the center of the large king-size bed, Nic glanced up and down and then circled the entire room. A large ceiling fan with palm leaf–shaped blades rotated slowly, sending whiffs of cool air downward. The twenty-by twenty-five-foot room, tastefully decorated with ornately carved dark furniture—four-poster bed, highboy, and large chest—was in direct contrast to the pale white and cream drapes, bed linens, and brocade material covering the armchairs and the chaise longue.
    Where am I?
    And then, once again, it all came flooding back, her memories like a tidal wave. Her abduction from the cabin in Gatlinburg. Her conversation with Anthony Linden aboard the private airplane. Being bound, gagged, and blindfolded upon arrival before being transported via a jeep to—? Where was she?
    Linden had guided her from the jeep onto a boat. At that point everything was fuzzy, but she vaguely remembered being carried inside a building and ... And what?
    Damn it, he had drugged her again.
    While