Dead By Nightfall

by Beverly Barton

  She laid her hand over his. “Don’t. Please. I do not want to think about these past few months or talk about them. Not tonight. Tonight, all I want is to be with you.”

  One last night before we die.

  She didn’t say the words aloud. If she did, Griff would tell her that they were not going to die tomorrow, that he was going to turn the tables on York and save them all.

  But what if he doesn’t? What if he can’t?

  He can. He will.

  But if the worst happened tomorrow, at least they would have had this one last night together.

  Apparently York and Sir Harlan had resolved their difference. At dinner that evening and afterward in the lounge while the five of them enjoyed their host’s fifty-year-old brandy, the two men appeared to be, once again, the best of friends.

  During the meal, tomorrow’s hunt had been the main topic of conversation. Pretending he was as enthusiastic as they about stalking and killing humans took little effort on Rafe’s part. All he had to do was think about replacing Griff and the others with York and his cohorts. Something Rafe had every intention of doing. But he needed help to accomplish the reversal of roles in tomorrow’s reality play and that meant getting in touch with Sentell tonight if at all possible.

  “I was wondering if it would be safe for me to take a short nighttime stroll around the property?” Rafe asked.

  “Quite safe.” York swirled the golden mahogany liquor in his glass. “As long as you don’t venture too far away from the lodge itself. There are some wild animals out there, but probably not as wild as the animals we’ll be stalking tomorrow.”

  Everyone laughed, even Rafe, who, for the time being, had to continue the pretense that he was Leonardo Kasan, a man as ruthlessly perverse as they were.

  “As for any other types of danger,” Linden said, “there are guards posted around the clock, a quarter of a mile out, in all four directions.”

  “I’ll be sure not to lose sight of the house,” Rafe said as he rose from his chair. “I’m keyed up about tomorrow’s hunt. It will be a first for me. I need something to help me relax. I believe some of this fresh mountain air will help me sleep like a baby tonight.”

  “Quite right. Quite right,” Sir Harlan said as he casually saluted Rafe with his brandy snifter and then downed the last drops of the Rémy Martin cognac.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll run upstairs for my coat before I head out. And if I don’t see you before morning, sleep well and have sweet dreams about tomorrow’s hunt.”

  As Rafe headed upstairs to retrieve his coat, he smiled when he heard Sir Harlan say, “Didn’t I tell you what a splendid fellow Leonardo is?”

  “I find him interesting,” Bouchard said. “Sometimes, I feel him watching me and I do not know what to think.”

  “Perhaps he fancies you,” York said, humor in his voice. “He may not know that as a general rule you prefer much younger bedmates. But then, your tastes are somewhat eclectic, aren’t they? A little of this, a little of that.”

  “I say, if I liked men, I’d be tempted by Leonardo,” Sir Harlan told them.

  With the sound of the men’s laughter following him up the stairs, Rafe hurried into his room, grabbed his jacket, and rushed outside as quickly as possible. He needed fresh air, all right, something to cleanse the filth from his mind.

  After taking a turn around the house, Rafe ventured farther out, seeking a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of either those inside the lodge or the sentinels guarding it. He needed complete privacy to make a phone call. As the nighttime wind whirled around him, he turned up the collar on his coat, and then tapped in the memorized number, one he would later delete from the throwaway phone.

  He didn’t have to wait long before Luke Sentell answered. “Talk.”

  “This is Rafe Byrne. I know where they are, Griff and the others. I’m here with them, only I’m slated to play on the home team for the next big game.”

  “And?”

  “We’re between thirty-five and fifty miles southwest of Missoula, Montana. We drove past the towns of Lolo and Florence. And then we turned off on a gravel road somewhere between Stevensville and Hamilton and drove maybe fifteen to twenty miles to a place that York calls the Big Valley Hunting Lodge. The ranch covers eight hundred acres, but the hunt will be confined to a much smaller area. And FYI, the place is crawling with guards. They’re posted everywhere.”

  “That’s enough info for us to find the place. When we get there, our first order of business will be to take care of the guards.”

  “You’d better get your butt in gear, Sentell. The hunt starts tomorrow, an hour after dawn. If you and your men don’t get here with some real firepower—”

  “Do what you can until we show up,” Luke told him. “I have a team on standby here in Denver. Griff said you’d come through for him. He sent us to Denver two days ago so we would be ready to move as soon as you contacted me.”

  “I hope you and your team are as good as Griff thinks you are. My guess is you’ll have to wipe out a small army of at least twenty men, possibly more.”

  “Can do,” Luke said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Nic lay in Griff’s arms, blissfully happy, refusing to let tomorrow intrude on their reunion. They had made love in a frenzy of physical and emotional need. Griff had tried to take things slow and easy, to be extremely gentle, but she had wanted his passion, and had been as desperate for him as he was for her.

  When their dinner had been delivered, Griff had met the guard at the door and taken the tray. Later, he had devoured the thick stew and crusty bread. When she had stopped eating after only a few bites, Griff had encouraged her to eat more and somehow she managed to clean her bowl, all the while hoping she wouldn’t throw up later.

  She didn’t want to tell Griff that she had been living on bread and water for days now.

  Refusing to think about anything except being with Griff, she curled up against him and kissed his shoulder. He slid his hand over her hip and then cupped her butt as he nuzzled her ear.

  “I love you,” he told her again. He’d been saying those three words repeatedly, but she never tired of hearing them.

  He laid his big hand over her rounded belly. “And I love you, too, almost as much as I love your mama.” He lifted himself up and then leaned down to kiss her stomach.

  Nic speared her fingers through his thick blond hair as he laid his head beneath her breasts. Griffin was such a handsome man—tall, muscular, broad-shouldered, and ruggedly masculine. And he had the most remarkable blue-gray eyes. Would their child resemble him or her or would he or she, like most children, be a unique combination of each parent? Would their son have Griff’s beautiful gray eyes and her dark brown hair? Would their daughter have her brown eyes and Griff’s blond hair? One thing for sure, he or she would be tall. Griff was six-four and she was five-eleven.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Powell.”

  She smiled. “Just wondering what Little Miss or Little Mister Powell will look like.”

  “She’ll look just like her mama and be the most beautiful little girl in the world.”

  Nic playfully pulled Griff’s hair. “He will look like his father and be the most handsome little boy ever.”

  Griff lifted himself up and over Nic, bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders so that he kept the weight of his body from pressing down on his unborn child. Nic slipped her hand between them and wrapped it around Griff’s erect penis.

  “Woman, what am I going to do with you?”

  “You’re going to make love to me again, that’s what you’re going to do.”

  “Is that an order, ma’am?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Griff took immediate action. He rolled over and off her. And starting at her forehead, he kissed a meandering trail downward, over her cheeks, mouth, chin, and throat. Pausing at her swollen breasts he laved each tight nipple until Nic thought she would scream.

  He lifted his head f
or a moment. “I’m not hurting you, am I? Your breasts aren’t sore or—”

  “As long as you treat them gently, you won’t hurt me.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I swear to God, Nic, I will never hurt you again.”

  “And I’ll never leave you again. Not ever.”

  Griff’s facial muscles tightened, as if he was in pain. He closed his eyes.

  When he slid his hand between Nic’s legs, urging her to part them, she spread her thighs. Returning his attention to her breasts, he licked and sucked, while he stroked her intimately until she climaxed.

  Shuddering with release and panting rapidly, she reached out for Griff, but he gently turned her onto her side and began a kissing and licking assault on her back and buttocks. Enjoying every decadent moment, Nic made no protest as he covered every inch of her body, loving her, worshipping her with sensual tenderness. And when he eased her onto her back as he positioned himself between her thighs, she opened to him, giving herself freely, knowing it was what he wanted. He slipped his tongue inside her. In and out, lapping, stroking, pressing, and then sucking gently. Nic’s hips lifted off the bed as her body shattered with a second orgasm.

  While the aftershocks still rippled through Nic, singing along every nerve ending, Griff lifted her up and on top of him so that she straddled his hips. He bucked up and entered her slowly and carefully. Taking him deep inside her, she melted around him. Giving her control, he allowed her to set the rhythm. Within minutes, tension began to build again, spiraling tighter and tighter so that when Griff came, her own explosive release followed his by mere seconds.

  She slid off him, fell backward onto the bed, and nestled against him. When he slipped his arm around her, she laid her head on his shoulder. They rested there together, listening to each other’s breathing, savoring the sweet inertia that follows fantastic sex.

  “Griff ?”

  “Hmm ... ?”

  “There hasn’t been anyone else,” she said in a barely audible voice. “No sex with—”

  “I’m glad, for your sake,” he told her. “But you have to know that if ... if it had happened, it wouldn’t change anything for us, about the way I love you.”

  “I know. I understand so much more about ... things. You and Yvette and ...” Nic sucked in a labored breath. “There was a man ...”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  “We didn’t have sex. York thought we did, but we didn’t. Jonas was a kind, decent man, one of York’s captives. He was good to me. I cared about him. He—He died saving my life.”

  Griff kissed her forehead and held her in his arms as she cried.

  Chapter 40

  Shortly before dawn, one of York’s guards woke them, told them to dress quickly, and be prepared to leave the lodge at daybreak. Griff and Nic didn’t talk much while they washed off and put on the long-sleeved, bright orange jumpsuits York had provided. No shoes, no socks, and no coats. Not only would they be unarmed, they would be barefoot and cold—and glowing like jack-o-lanterns on Halloween night. If Rafe hadn’t been able to contact Luke Sentell, they would be on their own today, with only Rafe to help them. It had been sixteen years since Griff had participated in one of these sadistic hunts. He was older, his reflexes not as quick, his jungle warfare instincts not as sharp, and his survival skills somewhat rusty. But this time around, he had a lot more to lose than in the past. He had a wife and a child to protect. And so help him God, that’s what he intended to do.

  When the guard returned, Griff kissed Nic hurriedly before they were herded up, along with Yvette and Sanders, and forced down the stairs and outside into the cold. Griff halfway expected York to be waiting for them with a farewell message, but he was nowhere to be seen. Four other armed guards watched over them until the dawn light appeared, pink and red blossoming in the eastern horizon against an indigo sky.

  “Let’s go,” the man in charge told them.

  Lined up single file, they followed as one guard took the lead, two brought up the rear, and the other two fell into step on either side of them. They were marched about a quarter of a mile from the lodge, past what had once been open cropland and deposited on the edge of a wooded area.

  “You have one hour,” the lead guard told them. “Make the most of it.”

  The guards waited. Apparently their orders were to make sure the quarry scurried into the woods and didn’t backtrack toward the lodge.

  “For now, we’ll stay together,” Griff said as he grasped Nic’s arm and guided her from the clearing.

  Sanders and Yvette followed and no one spoke again as they traveled deeper into the forest, not until at least ten minutes later. Surrounded by towering evergreens, a mix of pines, spruce and cedars, and golden aspens, Griff halted and gathered them closely together.

  “If we stay together, it will be almost impossible not to leave a trail of some kind,” Griff said. “And my guess is that York has a tracker on his payroll, someone familiar with the territory.”

  “I agree,” Sanders said.

  “The hunters will come out together, the four of them, and probably stay together most of the morning, but Rafe will break away from the others as soon as he can. And unless he was able to contact Luke, he’s all we’ll have on our side.”

  “Rafe planned to contact Luke last night,” Yvette said.

  All eyes turned to her.

  “You touched Rafe and picked up on what he was thinking?” Griff asked.

  Yvette nodded. “As we were ushered into the lodge yesterday, I touched him briefly. He allowed me to read that one thought.”

  “Let’s hope he managed to do what he planned,” Griff said. “But until we know for sure and see some sign Luke and his team have arrived, we have to stay one jump ahead of York and his friends.” He nudged Nic toward Sanders. “I want you to take Nic and Yvette. Keep them with you if at all possible.”

  “No, I don’t want to leave you.” Nic grabbed Griff’s arm.

  He pulled her around and in front of him. “I’m going to make a couple of false trails so they may think that we split up. It’s possible that they will decide to do the same so they can pursue us separately. If that happens, the tracker can’t go with all four of them, so I’m hoping York will keep him close by. Once Rafe is on his own, I can meet up with him and find out where things stand.”

  He could tell Nic wanted to protest. But she didn’t.

  “Not now, but once you’re away from here, do whatever you can to get your clothes filthy, smear them with mud, do whatever possible to dilute the bright color.”

  And then he hugged Nic good-bye and waited until she disappeared with Sanders and Yvette into the woods. Once the others were out of sight, he worked quickly, going due west, deliberately breaking small limbs off shrubs and disturbing the landscape as subtly as possible, leaving a clearly discernible trail. Once that was done, he backtracked to the spot where he had parted with the others and headed toward the mountains. He tromped through the woods and into an open field scattered with small boulders, the grass a golden brown and red clover growing in profusion.

  After creating two separate trails that might divert the hunters, as a single group, from following the true escape, Griff took refuge behind a seemingly endless wall of stately tamarack trees. He placed himself behind the wide trunk of a single tree—and waited.

  Rafe had joined the mighty hunters for an early-morning breakfast.

  “I want to speak to Mr. Hirt,” York had explained as he’d risen from his chair. “He’s an expert tracker. However, I don’t plan to put him to work until this afternoon. No sense ending the fun before it even begins.”

  There had been no way for Rafe to let Griffin know that he’d been able to contact Luke Sentell last night and that the cavalry was on its way. For all he knew, Sentell and his elite warriors were already in Montana, possibly on the outskirts of the lodge, preparing to work their way through the army of posted guards.

  After York had left to speak to his tracke
r and Sir Harlan and Bouchard excused themselves, Rafe lingered in the dining room, nursing a second cup of coffee. Once on the hunt, he had to make some sort of excuse and break away from the others.

  Intending to return to his room for his coat and to take the pistol and boot knife from his suitcase and hide them beneath his quilted hunting jacket, Rafe left the dining room and headed toward the stairs. He had managed to hide a Beretta Cougar 9mm and a double-edged boot knife and sheath beneath the bottom lining in his bag that he’d personally carried aboard York’s private jet when he had boarded with Sir Harlan in London.

  As he passed by the lounge, he heard Yves Bouchard’s voice. “Does he truly believe that he is Malcolm York?”

  “I don’t know,” Harlan replied. “In the beginning, he could differentiate between fantasy and reality. He was enjoying the game, and happy and excited as he planned and plotted Griffin Powell’s doom. I applauded him, supported him ... was even proud of him for the first time in his life.”

  “Oui, I also,” Bouchard said. “But now, je suis inquiet. Since faking his own death and returning to life as our old friend York, your son has gained much power and great wealth. He is to be feared, n’est-ce pas vrai?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid you’re quite right to be concerned. Ellis inherited a sizable fortune from his grandmother and was independent even as a teenager. But at least while he was still Ellis Benecroft, I had some influence over him. Now that he is Malcolm York, he seems to think he does not need to show me the proper respect a son owes his father.”

  “If he becomes a threat to Kroy Enterprises, how far are you willing to go to stop him?” Bouchard asked.

  Rafe stood perfectly still outside the lounge, barely breathing for fear he would be noticed. But the information Sir Harlan was unknowingly sharing with him was far too important not to risk being discovered eavesdropping.

  Malcolm York was Ellis Benecroft!

  Ellis was Sir Harlan’s only child, reported killed in a horrific car crash, along with some famous supermodel, five years ago. Sir Harlan had identified his son’s watch and rings, and the dental records had confirmed the corpse’s teeth a match to Ellis’s. But records could be falsified, doctors paid off or threatened.