She felt the warmth of a blush creep up her neck. Turning away from him, she picked up a pair of small pearl studs off her dresser. “Thank you for the compliment.” She slipped one stud and then the other through the holes in her ears before turning back around to face Derek. “Have you been downstairs yet?”
“I went down for a cup of coffee about fifteen minutes ago. Sanders and Barbara Jean are in the kitchen preparing pancakes and sausage. I spoke to Griff briefly before he came upstairs to see Nic.”
“Then they’re together now?”
Derek nodded. “Griff has a meeting planned for ten this morning in his office here at the house.”
“Who’s being invited to this meeting?”
“Only the people Griff and Nic trust with their lives—Sanders, Barbara Jean, you, me, and Yvette.”
She hadn’t realized that her expression had altered in any way at the mention of Dr. Yvette Meng, not until Derek said, “Making a face like that is a dead giveaway, you know. It implies that you don’t like Dr. Meng.”
“It’s not that I dislike Yvette. I don’t. She seems like a very nice lady, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Her presence here at Griffin’s Rest creates problems for Nic, for her marriage.”
“It shouldn’t,” Derek said. “Yvette Meng isn’t a threat to Nic’s marriage. If ever a man was completely in love with his wife and totally dedicated to his marriage, that man is Griffin Powell.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“That’s my gut instinct. If there was anything more than friendship between Griff and Yvette, it’s in the past, and Nic needs to believe that.”
“So you do think there was something more than—?”
“Whoa there, Blondie. Don’t put words in my mouth. I said
Maleah felt the need to defend Nic. “I think Nic has every right to feel the way she does. How would you like it if the woman you loved moved a dear old friend, who just happened to be male, into your home? And you knew with absolute certainty that she loved this man?”
“There’s love and then there’s love,” Derek said. “I’m surprised that a woman such as Nicole Powell would be so insecure.”
“Loving someone the way she loves Griff can make a woman vulnerable, even someone like Nic.”
“Yeah, love can make us all vulnerable,” Derek agreed. “And to answer your question—no, I wouldn’t like it if the woman I loved brought an old friend whom she loved into our lives on a daily basis, had him practically living at our back door, especially if I thought they had once been lovers. But I’d deal with it somehow, if the only alternative was giving up the woman I loved.”
“That’s what Nic is doing, what she’s been doing ever since Griff built the sanctuary for Yvette and her proteges here at Griffin’s Rest.”
“You disagree, don’t you?” Derek asked. “What would you do? How would you handle the situation differently?”
Maleah hesitated, uncertain just how honest she should be with him.
“Why do you think Nic hasn’t done that?”
“I think the answer to that would be obvious.”
“Enlighten me.”
“No.” She had already said too much about her best friend’s personal life. Her only excuse was that it had become so easy to talk to Derek.
“Nic’s afraid that if she demands he make a choice between Yvette and her, he might choose Yvette,” Derek said. “That’s the reason.”
Maleah didn’t confirm his assessment of the situation, but she wasn’t the least bit surprised that he had zeroed in on the exact reason.
“I’m hungry,” she said, deliberately changing the subject. “Let’s eat breakfast. I love Barbara Jean’s pancakes.”
Derek nodded, and then opened the door and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
She slipped her arm through his. “Derek?”
“Hmm . . . ?”
“I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.”
“For what?”
“For looking out for me after that last interview with Browning.” It had been on the tip of her tongue to say, thank you for taking such good care of me. For holding me, comforting me, letting me draw strength from you.
“Hey, no problem, Blondie. That’s what partners do, right?”
“Yeah, right.”
Why was it that she wished he’d said he had done it because he cared about her and not just because they were partners?
The phone rang at precisely at 7:30 A.M. that morning.
“Well, hello there. What a nice surprise to hear from you. How are y’all doing? How’s—?”
“Listen very carefully,” he said. “You are going to receive a phone call later today with instructions on what you have to do, and if you don’t do exactly as he tells you to do, she’s going to die.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s going to call me? Who’s going to die?”
The caller explained about the kidnapping, that the person they both loved had been kidnapped, taken from her bed in the middle of the night, and a note had been left on her pillow. Someone had managed to break in through an upstairs bathroom window, go into her bedroom and abduct her without anyone being the wiser.
Whoever had taken her was not an amateur. He had to be a professional.
Had the Copycat Carver taken her? If so, why had he changed his MO? Why had he kidnapped her instead of killing her? It didn’t make any sense.
“You understand, don’t you?” the caller asked. “If you don’t do what he tells you to do, we’ll never see her alive again. Please, please tell me that you’ll do whatever he asks you to do.”
“Yes, of course I will.”
“Swear to me.”
“I swear.”
The reality of the situation was difficult to grasp. This was a nightmare of monumental proportions. Life or death. But no matter what the instructions or how difficult the assignment, the orders would be carried out. There was only one choice—to do whatever was necessary to save her life.
Chapter 31
The private jet had landed safely at Heathrow. He and his employer’s guest, both equipped with false IDs, including passports, zipped through customs without a problem. When she had awakened en route, frightened and confused, he had explained in simple terms what had happened, what was going on, and what he expected her to do. And quite amazingly, she had not screamed or cried. Undoubtedly, she was suffering from a mild form of shock, which actually worked in his favor.
As a general rule, he didn’t hire out as a kidnapper. Too many things could go wrong. Murder for hire, on the other hand, was his forte. A quick, clean and simple kill. If the money had not proven to be irresistible, he would never have taken on the current assignment.
Until they had cleared customs, he didn’t draw an easy breath. Anything might have happened. But he had warned her that he would kill her if she did not cooperate. He had learned long ago that fear was a great inducement in gaining obedience, especially from females.
After picking up a hired car, he placed her in the backseat, forced a couple of sleeping pills down her throat and told her to lie down and keep quiet. She had choked on the pills and had coughed and cried. When he had wiped
