Free Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton

surprise her, perhaps shock her or even scare the hell out of her.
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    Meredith Sinclair, Yvette’s most gifted protégée, and Luke Sentell, the Powell Agency’s from Black Ops agent, arrived at Griffin’s Rest shortly before six that evening. The moment she arrived, Griff sent Meredith upstairs to Yvette, explaining to her what was needed. He had then taken Luke into his den and shut the door.
    â€œSanders contacted us while we were en route from Paducah,” Luke said. “I assume you have no word about Mrs. Powell yet?”
    â€œNo, nothing,” Griff said.
    â€œTell me what I can do.”
    â€œYour expertise will no doubt be needed more later on, but for now, you can contact anyone and everyone you know who might be able to help us. Even the smallest bit of information could help locate Nic.”
    â€œI understand. I’ll start immediately. I can make several phone calls, but I can gain more info out in the field. I should leave tonight, if at all possible.”
    â€œLet Sanders know what you need and he’ll see that you get it. You’ll report in to me or if I’m unavailable to Sanders or Derek Lawrence.”
    â€œI’ll need a line of credit and—”
    â€œTell Sanders how much and he’ll transfer the funds in the morning,” Griff said. “Spend whatever is necessary. There is no amount too high to pay for the right information.”
    â€œAnd no action off-limits.”
    â€œAbsolutely. Do whatever needs to be done.” Griff had just given a trained killer, albeit trained by the U.S. government, carte blanche to kill. “While you’re gathering info, see what you can do to help Sanders locate a man who was on Amara with us. His name was Raphael Byrne then. He has probably been using various aliases the past sixteen years. Sanders can give you all the information we have on him.”
    â€œDo I need to know why we’re looking for Mr. Byrne?”
    â€œBecause he could be our best chance, maybe our only chance, of finding the man who calls himself Malcolm York. We all agree that odds are the fake York orchestrated Nic’s abduction.”
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    When Linden opened the double doors in the foyer, the doors that led outside to the front of the mansion, Nic held her breath. Was there any way she could escape? The armed guards outside the doorway gave her the answer—no way in hell. While she halted on the expansive veranda, Linden walked ahead of her, down the three steps to the yard, and then turned and held out his hand.
    â€œCome along, Nicole. There is a great deal to see before nightfall.”
    And just what happened at nightfall?
    She remembered Griff telling her that Malcolm York’s hunts always stopped at the end of the day and if a kill had not been made earlier, one of the wounded human prey was singled out to be killed at nightfall.
    When she hesitated, Linden frowned. “I would prefer not having to force you. If that becomes necessary, it won’t be pleasant for either of us.”
    Reminding herself that far more than her own life was on the line, Nic went down the steps and directly over to Linden’s side. He smiled.
    â€œGood girl. I have to admit that your compliance has surprised me. I had expected you to put up even more of a fight than you have.”
    â€œDon’t mistake cooperation for weakness,” she told him.
    He lifted his brow and stared at her. “Duly warned. Now come along. I’ll show you where the prized stock is kept before we join the others in today’s hunt.”
    Nic forced herself to keep moving, to stay at Linden’s side without betraying any sign of emotion. He had to know that she possessed some knowledge of Griff’s experiences on Amara and therefore had some idea what to expect. But like a little boy eager to show off his new bicycle, Linden hurried her along, away from the house and down a long, winding, brick walkway. All the