Free Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton Page B

friends and employees, bolted out of the office suite, and charged down the hall, the picture of Nic, naked and vulnerable, forever burned into his brain. He had shaken off Yvette’s comforting hand as she tried to connect with him. He didn’t want her to ease his pain. The others had called out to him, but he hadn’t heard a word they said. A bloody rage roaring inside his head drowned out every sound except an accusatory inner voice telling him that everything was his fault. Nic’s kidnapping was his fault. Anything that happened to her was his fault.
    After Amara and the years when he had diligently pursued claiming Malcolm York’s fortune for his widow—for Yvette—he had avoided all but the most superficial relationships. And when he had returned to the United States a billionaire, with a mysterious past, and had become one of the most sought-after bachelors in the South, he had lived up to his reputation. He had gone through women as if they were a disposable commodity, keeping his affairs on a purely physical level and avoiding any emotional attachments. His actions had not been as selfish as others might assume. By not allowing himself to become emotionally involved, he was not only protecting himself, but the women in his life.
    Beneath his expensive tailor-made suits, Griffin Powell was a beast with deadly survival instincts, instincts honed to perfection during his four years on Amara. When your life depended on acquiring the skills necessary to stay alive, you either adapted and became as cunningly diabolical as your captor or you died. Griff was a survivor. He had done whatever was necessary to stay alive and in the process became a dangerous wild animal.
    And then FBI Special Agent Nicole Baxter had come into his life. Fiercely dedicated to her job, she had immediately disliked the CEO of the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency because he didn’t play by the rules.
    They had locked horns more than once, both stubborn, neither giving an inch.
    Griff had taken great delight in ruffling her feathers whenever possible. Although he had found her attractive—what man wouldn’t?—he had realized the attraction wasn’t mutual. Or so he had thought. The first time he kissed her, he should have run like hell. He should have protected her. He hadn’t. He had thought he could handle his feelings for her, control them, and keep them from getting out of hand. But once he had made love to her ...
    Falling in love with Nic and having her love him in return was Griff’s miracle. Did a man have the right to ask for more than one miracle in a lifetime?
    If so, he was willing to make a deal with God, on whatever terms the Almighty required.
    Griff flung open the French doors that led onto the patio and stopped long enough to draw in huge gulps of the refreshing breeze coming in off the lake. Gazing at the fading gold embers of the day spreading across the water, Griff thought about how many evenings he and Nic had shared here on this patio.
    The pain he felt was unbearable and yet he had no choice but to bear it.
    He lifted his gaze from the beautiful and serene lake to the evening sky, afire with the approach of twilight.
    “Punish me,” he said aloud. “Don’t punish Nic. Name your price, God, and I’ll pay it.”
    He sensed rather than saw or heard someone behind him. He wanted to shout at them, demand that they go away and leave him alone.
    No one could help him.
    “What will you do if God will not bargain with you?” Sanders asked as he came up beside Griff.
    With his gaze still focused heavenward, Griff replied, “Then I’ll make a deal with the Devil.”
    They stood side by side for several minutes in the peaceful solitude of the warm summertime evening.
    “He wants to torment you,” Sanders said. “He sees your love for Nicole as a weakness, one he intends to take advantage of while he holds her hostage. You must prove to him that he is wrong, that your love for her is your greatest