Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

“No, of course not. I’m fine. Just missing you. But I’m glad you’ll be home day after tomorrow.”

He grunted. “That’s the thing. I’ve run into a few snags, and it looks like I may be here awhile longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Four or five days. A week at most.”

“A week? Why, what’s happened? I thought this was just a routine business trip.”

“It’s a business trip that’s run into some problems that I have to fix.”

She needed to tell him that there were a few problems here at home he needed to fix, but instead she said, “I may fly out to San Francisco and visit Charles David.”

“Why don’t you do that, honey, and take Maleah with you. I’m sure your brother would love to see you.”

“Are the business problems you’re trying to fix putting you in any danger?” Nic asked point-blank. She knew how he had acquired his vast wealth and the kinds of people he’d dealt with in his past.

“You shouldn’t be so intuitive. Yes, there is a certain risk, but I’m working on eliminating any future problems.”

“Who do you have there with you?”

“Luke Sentell. And a man from Cam Hendrix’s firm, too. He’s an expert in international law. I brought him along to work with the European lawyers I have to deal with on this project.”

If Griff had taken Luke Sentell with him to act as his bodyguard, that meant he had anticipated trouble-big trouble. Sentell was a former Delta Force commando. “If you go and get yourself killed, Griffin Powell, I’ll never forgive you.”

Griff chuckled. “That alone is reason enough to stay alive.”

“Does Yvette know what you’re doing?”

Silence.

Then he took a deep breath and replied, “Yes.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. What I’m dealing with right now concerns a part of the past that has come back to haunt me and Yvette and Sanders. That’s the only reason they know more about this than you do. Believe me, honey, I want to protect you from-”

“When you come home, you’ll tell me everything.” She didn’t add “or else,” but she might as well have.

“I’ll tell you everything I can. I promise.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. Damn it, she hated women who cried at the drop of a hat. She’d never been the type. She cleared her throat and swatted away the pesky tears.

“Nic?”

“Come home to me, okay?”

“I will. I’ll call you tomorrow night. And Nic-I love you. You know that. You’re everything to me.”

“Same here,” she told him. “I love you.”

Griffin Powell laid his phone on the table and walked away, his heart heavy. He hated himself for what this secrecy was doing to Nic, the person he loved more than life itself. But how could he tell her that the ghosts of a past he had thought dead and buried had suddenly reappeared and possibly threatened not only his life, but the lives of Sanders and Yvette and anyone they loved?

At this point, there were only rumors. Vague. Unsubstantiated. Underworld gossip. But if there was even a grain of truth in the vague reports he had received, he didn’t dare ignore them.

Luke Sentell stood at the windows overlooking the Paris street below the fourth-floor apartment. “She’s sleeping.”

“Did you have to give her an injection?” Griff asked.

“Yes. She was too agitated to rest otherwise and finally agreed that she needed sleep. She’d been awake for more than forty-eight hours.”

“I hate what this is doing to her.”

“It’s necessary.”

Griff nodded.

“You should rest for a while, too,” Luke told him.

“I will.”

Griff left the parlor, intending to go to his bedroom and try to get a few hours sleep, but as he passed the guest room, he heard her moaning loudly. He eased back the partially open door. She tossed restlessly in her sleep, her arms flaying about as if she were fighting off demons.

Perhaps she was. He had no idea what vivid images appeared in her mind, even when she was asleep.

He walked quietly into the room and over to the bed. When he reached down and pulled the wrinkled sheet and silk coverlet up and over her, she cried out, the sound chilling. And then she settled again, quiet and unmoving.

Griff stood by her bed and watched her sleep for several minutes. Meredith Sinclair’s curly red hair looked like orange flames against the cream silk pillowcase. Without makeup on her round, freckled face, she looked young. Much younger than her twenty-nine years.

“I’m sorry, Meredith,” he whispered. “I know what this is costing you. But Yvette understands that you could well be our only hope of finding out the truth. That’s why she sent you with me.”

Cathy made a pot of decaf coffee and served it with the Italian cream cake. Both pieces were enormous. Frankie’s was known for its large servings. Jack and Lorie had cleared away the Styrofoam containers that had held their dinner and dumped them and the used plastic utensils into a large black garbage bag. When Cathy lifted the silver serving tray loaded with the coffee pot, three cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and a creamer, as well as three plates and plastic forks, Jack took the tray from her and carried it over to the small oak kitchen table. After he sat down, she distributed the cups, saucers, plates and forks and then poured the coffee. She hadn’t been able to find her silverware, and the only dishes she had unpacked were her everyday Wal-Mart pottery. Thankfully, one of the first boxes she had unpacked had contained her coffee service, which she had bought several years ago using her Treasures discount.

“This cake looks delicious,” Jack said. “I have a weakness for sweets, especially cakes.”

Lorie surveyed his long, lean body. “Either you have a great metabolism or you work out like crazy to keep that great toned body.”

Jack chuckled, but before he could comment, the doorbell rang.

“Are you expecting someone?” Lorie asked.

“No, I’m not.” Cathy laid down her plastic fork and scooted back her chair. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll go see who it is.”

“If it’s a tall, dark, handsome stranger, invite him in,” Lorie said. “And I’ll take him home with me.”

Cathy laughed as she left the kitchen. Despite all the hard work involved in moving and unpacking, Cathy had enjoyed the day immensely, in great part thanks to Jack. And the easy camaraderie that she and Jack and Lorie had shared this evening reminded her that this was the way life should always be.

When she reached the front door, she glanced through the viewfinder and smiled when she saw Seth standing on her porch. She opened the door without hesitation, ready to welcome her son, but suddenly she saw that he was not alone. Brother Donnie Hovater and his daughter were with Seth, and Missy held what appeared to be a potted plant of some sort.

“Hi, Mom,” Seth said.

Donnie Hovater tapped his daughter’s shoulder.

Missy cleared her throat, held out the plant that sported a small red bow and said, “Happy housewarming, Mrs. Cantrell.”

Cathy accepted the gift and invited them into the living room. “Please come in. And excuse the mess. I’m afraid I’ve made only a small dent in the unpacking.”

“That’s quite all right,” Donnie said as they entered the house. When he heard laughter coming from the kitchen, his brows rose quizzically. “Are we interrupting anything?”

“No, certainly not.” Cathy shut the door and motioned to the sofa. “Please, won’t y’all sit down?” She looked at Seth, puzzled as to why he was with the Hovaters. “If you’d like to see the house, feel free to look around.” Then she turned back to Donnie. “I have decaf coffee. Would you care for some?”