“All right. All right. I’m not being fair to her. So shoot me.”
“You’re worried about Nic. I understand. But blaming Yvette really isn’t fair.”
“I know. There’s more than enough blame to go around, isn’t there? If Griff had just told Nic the truth before they got married or anytime in the past three years, Nic wouldn’t have left here. If Nic had stayed at Griffin’s Rest where she was safe and hadn’t run away to her cabin to lick her wounds, she wouldn’t be missing. If I had gone with her when she left—”
“You might be missing now, too,” Barbara Jean told her. “There is no point in thinking about ‘what ifs’ at this point. We have to concentrate on doing what we can to find Nic and to help Griff.”
“And you think that Yvette and Meredith Sinclair can conjure up some spell that will reveal to them where Nic is?”
“I think that it would be foolish not to take advantage of every possible avenue open to us.” Barbara Jean held up the tortoiseshell-handled hairbrush she had brought with her. “Once Meredith handles this brush, she may pick up on something. She may sense where Nic is now and what’s happening to her.”
“This is all too much like voodoo to suit me.”
“Maybe it is, but if using voodoo would help us find Nic, wouldn’t you be willing to use it?”
“Sure I would. I’d do anything to find Nic and bring her home.”
“I believe that Meredith has a rare gift and she is willing to use it to see if she can in any way connect with Nic.”
“I hope you’re right about her. I hope she can dream a dream or pick up on Nic’s energy or can experience an alternate reality where she sees where Nic is.”
Before Barbara Jean could respond, Maleah opened the driver’s side door of the silver minivan. She got out, rounded the front of the vehicle, and using the remote, opened the passenger-side sliding door. The ramp deployed from the bottom of the sliding door, allowing Barbara Jean to maneuver her wheelchair out of the Grand Caravan, down the ramp, and onto the half-moon driveway in front of Yvette’s home.
“Want me to go with you?” Maleah asked.
“I think I can take it from here.” She smiled up at Maleah. “You should get back to the main house. Saxon will be returning from the airport with Nic’s brother at any time. You need be there to meet him.”
Maleah nodded. “I promised Griff that I would be the one to explain what happened and bring him up-to-date on the situation.”
“Don’t paint Griff as the bad guy,” Barbara Jean said. “All of us need to pull together, not let our differences of opinion pull us apart.”
“I don’t intend to say anything against Griff. Charles David can draw his own conclusions. It’s not as if he wasn’t already aware that there was trouble in paradise.”
Barbara Jean knew it was useless to say more. Maleah, Lord love her, was a stubborn little mule who felt duty-bound by her friendship with Nic to do what she thought was in Nic’s best interest. For the time being, that included disliking Yvette and blaming Griff.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready to return to the main house.”
“Okay.” Maleah gave Barbara Jean a hesitant smile. “Good luck with Dr. Meng and Meredith. I hope they actually can do something to help us find Nic.”
Maleah and Derek met Nic’s brother in the foyer and welcomed him to Griffin’s Rest. Charles David Bellamy was tall, muscular, dark-haired and dark-eyed. He resembled his older sister so much that they could easily pass for twins. The first time Maleah met him, she had thought that it was a pity such strikingly beautiful features were wasted on a man.
“Here, let me take your bag.” Derek reached out and took the black vinyl suitcase from their guest. “I’ll run it up to your room and make sure Inez’s got everything ready.”
Maleah offered Charles David a reassuring half smile. “Come on into the living room and I’ll fill you in on everything.”
Without hesitation, he followed her; and when she indicated they should sit on the sofa, he followed her lead.
“When you called me last night, you said that Nic had left Griffin’s Rest Sunday morning and that you followed her up to the Gatlinburg cabin later, but when you arrived she wasn’t there.”
“That’s right. I should have gone with her, but she insisted I stay here. Griff sent Cully Redmond with her, in a separate car. Cully followed Nic and was to act as her bodyguard while she was away from Griffin’s Rest.”
“You explained all of this in our telephone conversation.” Charles David looked straight into her eyes. “Nic went to the cabin, but when you arrived she wasn’t there. This Redmond fellow was shot and killed while en route to the cabin. You suspect that Nic was kidnapped by a man named Anthony Linden, a man who has murdered six people associated with the Powell Agency. Now, what I want to know is, with a man like that on the loose, why would my sister leave the safety of Griffin’s Rest?”
There it was, the inevitable question that Maleah had been dreading. How could she possibly answer him truthfully without condemning Griff?
Griff had told her, “Answer his questions truthfully. And if those answers put me in a bad light, so be it.”
“Griff tried to talk her out of leaving,” Maleah finally managed to say. “So did I, but you know our Nic. When she makes up her mind about something ... In retrospect, I wish I had gone with her when she left Sunday morning, but she insisted that I stay here with Derek because we’re newly engaged and—”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“But you decided later to follow her to the cabin, right?”
Maleah nodded. “I’m sure Griff wishes he had kept her here even if he’d had to lock her up and throw away the key.” There. I defended Griff. Conscience clear. “We’re all feeling guilty that we didn’t do more to persuade her to stay here.”
“Why did she leave?” Charles David asked again. “She must have been upset about something to feel the need to get away from Griffin’s Rest, to go alone to the cabin when she knew—”
“She was upset. She needed to get away and think about some things without any distractions.” Maleah swallowed hard. “Sunday morning, Griff revealed to her certain facts that he had never shared with her, things about what had happened to him and Dr. Meng and Sanders on Amara. I’m sure Nic has told you something about that, but ... There is no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Dr. Meng was forced to have sex with a lot of different men by her psycho husband who controlled Amara and its inhabitants. Griff was ... he was one of the men. And she had a baby that her husband took from her right after it was born and she and Griff have been searching for the child all these years and ...” Maleah paused for breath.
“And Dr. Meng’s baby, the child she and Griff have been searching for, could be Griff’s child. Is that what he told Nic?” Charles David closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, so obviously doing his best to control his emotions.
She wanted to tell Nic’s brother to go ahead and cry or scream and curse or run his fist through a wall, to do whatever he needed to do to relieve the anger.
“Yes,” Maleah said. “I think Nic could have accepted the news about the child if Griff had been totally honest with her about his relationship with Dr. Meng. He had sworn to Nic that he and Dr. Meng were never lovers.”
“And technically, they weren’t,” Charles David said.
“That’s right,” Derek agreed as he entered the living room. “I’m sure that once Griff finds Nic and brings her home, they will be able to work through whatever problems—”
“If I know my sister, right now she regrets having left Griffin’s Rest,” Charles David said. “But as far as Nic and Griff being able to work through their problems when he finds her, I have my doubts. Griff should have told her everything long before now. The secrets he’s kept from her are what created their problems. And if anything happens to Nic, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive him.”
“Amen to that
.” She didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until Derek shot her a damn-it-Maleah glare.
“Where is my brother-in-law? Did he send you two to—?”
“The agency received information that led us to believe that Nic is possibly being held on a privately owned island in the Caribbean Sea,” Derek explained. “Griff took an experienced team with him on a search-and-rescue mission.”
Charles David’s eyes misted with unshed tears as he looked from Derek to Maleah. “Will you be honest with me, Maleah? What are the odds that they’ll find Nic alive?”
Oh, God. Oh, dear God. Maleah couldn’t bear the thought that Nic might already be dead. She had kept telling herself that if Linden had kidnapped Nic, he had been following Malcolm York’s orders. And if the namesake of Griff’s nemesis from Amara was behind Nic’s disappearance, then maybe—just maybe—he would keep Nic alive and dangle her life in front of Griff, using her to lure Griff into a deadly trap.
“I honestly don’t know,” Maleah admitted. “But I have to believe that she’s still alive and that Griff is going to find her and bring her home.”
When she glanced at Derek, he shook his head subtly. Was the gesture a warning or a plea? Did it really matter? She knew what he was asking her not to do, could almost hear him saying, “Don’t tell Charles David that Nic is pregnant.”
Nic wondered how long Linden planned on waiting before he removed her gag and blindfold. They had been in flight for quite a while, but she knew she couldn’t accurately estimate the time. Under the circumstances, every minute seemed endless, every hour an eternity. As much as she wished otherwise, she had no control over what was happening to her, and that knowledge both frustrated and frightened her. The great, freaking unknown lay before her, its insidious, foreboding tentacles wrapping themselves around her mind, creating wide-awake nightmares she fought to control. She could be raped, tortured, and killed. She could be set loose to run for her life while a group of crazy millionaires and billionaires hunted her for sport. She could be tossed from the plane. She could be sold into slavery and become some despot’s sex toy. The horrifying possibilities seemed endless.
Whatever fate awaited her, she felt relatively certain that Malcolm York was the all-powerful puppet master who would be pulling the strings. Did York already know what he intended to do to her? Was she simply part of some elaborate plan he had concocted? Or were his plans for her fluid and unformed, his decisions made on one whim after another? Either way, she had no doubt that York had one major objective—lure Griff into a trap by using her as bait.
Someone sat down beside Nic. She felt them, smelled them, sensed his presence and knew it was Linden.
“I apologize for keeping you in the dark this long.” He chuckled as if he found his comment amusing. “I’ve been busy. Arrangements to be made. Orders to be followed.”
Nic squirmed in her seat, but didn’t make a sound.
Linden’s fingers grazed her cheek as he reached around her to untie the tightly knotted gag. When he yanked it from her mouth and then completely off, she sucked in huge gulps of unrestricted air. Breathing so deeply made her lungs ache, but it was a good pain.
“I told Mr. York that you’ve been quite cooperative,” Linden said as he undid her blindfold and removed it. “I didn’t tell him everything.” Linden leaned close, his mouth at her ear. “Lina will be severely punished for helping you. I have personally seen to that, but there’s no need for Mr. York to worry himself with such trivial details, is there?”
Nic opened her eyes, blinked a couple of times, and turned to look straight at Linden. “You’re a sadistic son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
He laughed. Lifting his hand, he grazed his knuckles across her cheek again and then down her neck. “You intrigue me, Nicole Baxter Powell. I feel certain that Mr. York will find you as intriguing as I do.”
“Just when am I going to meet Malcolm York?”
“Soon. Be patient.”
“What’s the holdup? I thought he was eager to meet me.”
“He is. He is. But he’s made all these interesting plans for you. He wants to give you time to become acclimated to the situation, to find out for yourself that you are completely at his mercy, that he owns you body and soul.”
Nic stared at Linden, hating him with every fiber of her being, but hating the pseudo-York even more. “And just what plans does Mr. York have for me? More of the same? Being awarded as a prize to another victorious hunter?”
“Mr. York has a series of games he wants you to play to keep him entertained and also to help you adjust to your new position as his property. The game on Shelter Island was only one game and you’ve played it now. We’ll be moving on to something new and even more fun.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Linden laughed again. “I find it interesting that you haven’t lost your sense of humor yet. But you will, Nicole. You will. Before long, you won’t be uttering any sarcastic remarks. You’ll be begging for mercy.”
Nic tugged on her bound wrists. “How about I start now?” She held up her hands. “Please, take these off. I promise I won’t try to scratch your eyes out.”
Linden grabbed the back of her neck and jerked her toward him until they were nose-to-nose. Her breathing quickened. Damn it, she had waved a red flag in front of this raging bull. He threaded his fingers into her hair, tightened his hold, and yanked hard. Pain shot through her head and brought tears to her eyes.
“I would like nothing better than to beat you until you couldn’t open that pretty little mouth except to moan and groan.”
If her hands weren’t tied ... If Linden wasn’t armed ... If she wasn’t afraid retaliating would endanger her baby ...
“Who knows, maybe when Mr. York finishes with you, he’ll give you to me. Something for us to look forward to. Right, Nicole?”
He eased his fingers from her hair and his hand from around her neck. “But for now, you’re safe from me.”
She stared at him, hoping he noticed the defiance in her eyes. She needed for him to know that even if she didn’t put up a physical fight, she was not defeated. Linden was wrong about York owning her body and soul. They could use and abuse her body. They could even kill her. But her soul belonged to her and she would never relinquish possession. No matter what.
Before she realized his intention, Linden unbound her wrists. While she rubbed the raw flesh on first one and then the other, he unsnapped her safety belt, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the seat and onto her feet.
“Mr. York has arranged a surprise for you.” Linden shoved her in front of him. “You remember the way to the sleeping quarters on this airplane, don’t you?” When they reached the private cabin, Linden opened the door. “Go on. Go inside and see what’s waiting for you.”
What sort of surprise? Nausea churned in her belly. Overwhelming fear ate away at her resolve to stay strong. You can’t escape. You have no choice but to face whatever unknown terror is waiting for you. She squared her shoulders and said a prayer for strength and endurance as she tried to prepare herself. And then she took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom.
The area was dimly lit, so after Linden closed and locked the door, it took her eyes a couple of minutes to adjust completely to the semidarkness. She scanned the room from floor to ceiling, from side to side, and then the length from end to end.
Something stirred in the far corner.
Something large and hairy rose up from the floor and stood on two feet.
When the beast came toward Nic, she screamed.
Chapter 11
“Thank you for agreeing to help us.” Yvette exchanged a cordial expression with Barbara Jean Hughes.
“I’ll do anything I can to help find Nic.” Barbara Jean lifted a tortoiseshell hairbrush from her lap and offered it to Yvette. “This is Nic’s. She used it every day.”
“And yet she didn’t take it with her to the cabin.”
“There was no need. She has an identical vanity set there.�
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Yvette nodded. Staring at the hairbrush, she hesitated taking it from Barbara Jean. She had learned not to touch others, not even in a friendly handshake, unless she knew beforehand that she could block that person’s energy. Otherwise, a simple swipe of her hand against theirs could result in an unintentional invasion of their privacy. In the years she had known this kind, understanding woman, they had gradually built a fragile friendship, one sustained by the fact that they never discussed the past that Yvette shared with Sanders and Griffin.
“It’s all right. I don’t mind if you touch me.” Barbara Jean extended her hand farther, holding out the brush for Yvette to take.
Being careful to avoid any skin-to-skin contact, she cupped the back of the brush and cradled it in her hand. But even without touch, with only the hairbrush acting as a conduit between them, Yvette sensed a momentary flash of emotion from the other woman.
Pity. Sympathy. Uncertainty. And a hint of curiosity.
Yvette shivered. The uncertainty her friend felt was understandable, as was the curiosity. They knew the basic facts concerning each other’s lives, but they had never shared confidences. The pity and sympathy Barbara Jean felt were both for Yvette. She wanted neither from Barbara Jean or anyone else.
“You will stay, yes?” Yvette asked. “It is not necessary for you to be here, but I would appreciate your being near in case we need your assistance.”
“Please stay, Ms. Hughes,” Meredith said, her hazel-green eyes expressing resignation, accepting the fact that her participation was crucial.
Yvette knew, possibly better than anyone, what courage it took for Meredith to allow her psychic talents free rein. Although she had been with Yvette for a number of years now and was an adept and eager student, she had not yet learned to control her remarkable gifts. It could take many more years of training for her to acquire that ability.
Yvette motioned for Barbara Jean to move her wheelchair opposite the sofa. “Are you ready?” she asked Meredith.
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