Dead By Nightfall (37 page)
Authors: Beverly Barton
Chapter 39
“I hate to break up this little lovefest,” York said, laughter in his voice, a voice all too similar to the real Malcolm York’s slightly accented, baritone voice.
“You two will have all night together. But for now, I’d like for all of you to join us in the lounge so we can go over my plans for tomorrow’s hunt.”
Reluctantly, Griff lifted his mouth from Nic’s. He looked into her teary eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. “You and our baby.”
With teardrops trickling from the corners of her eyes, Nic told him in a barely audible voice, “We love you, too.”
When York instructed Linden to show his guests into the lodge, Griff set Nic on her feet, but kept his arm securely around her waist. Sanders entered first, followed by Yvette. As she passed by Rafe, she brushed his arm in what appeared to be nothing more than a slight misstep on her part.
“I’m so sorry.” She mumbled the apology to Rafe as she followed Sanders into the building.
The lounge covered an area in the center of the lodge approximately thirty-by-thirty square feet, a huge room filled with leather sofas and chairs, Native American artwork and colorful blankets, one hanging on the wall above the eight-foot-wide fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling windows covering an entire wall revealed a breathtaking panoramic view of the nearby mountains.
York pranced into the room like a glorified show horse. “Sit, please, everyone.”
The three hunters and the four human prey took seats around the room while York remained standing, taking center stage in his grandiose one-man act. Griff kept his arm around Nic. She held his hand in a death grip.
“This prehunt meeting won’t take long,” York said. “You will be able to go upstairs to your assigned rooms very soon. Dinner will be provided, of course, in your rooms. And your clothes for tomorrow’s hunt are now being delivered. The weather is a bit nippy, the predicted high for tomorrow is fifty-five, but it won’t be much above freezing at dawn when you’ll be heading out, so I’m allowing you long sleeves.” He grinned wickedly, enjoying every moment of his speech.
“I say, dear boy, I’m unaccustomed to rising that early,” Harlan Benecroft said. “You should know that I’m not a morning person. Can’t we postpone this hunt until a decent hour, say nine or ten?”
“Griffin, Nicole, Sanders, and Yvette will be awakened at dawn and given an hour’s head start. See how generous I can be?” He glanced from one of them to another. “We have eight hundred acres here, but of course, you will not be given free rein of the entire ranch. There are guards posted at strategic points to make sure you stay within the proper boundaries.”
“Sir Harlan, Mr. Bouchard, Mr. Kasan, and I will return to the lodge at noon for lunch and then resume the hunt at two. At nightfall, the hunt will end. If the hunt is successful ... well ...” He laughed. “Those of you who are still alive tomorrow night ... well, actually, I don’t expect any of you to survive.”
“If Yvette manages to survive, I should very much like to renew our acquaintance, at least for one night,” Bouchard said. “I have some unfinished business with the lady.”
“If she survives, she’s yours,” York said. “For one night. But after that, my beautiful wife will be mine to do with as I please. And unless I change my mind, it will please me to strangle the life out of her.”
“That would be such a waste. I have no doubt that, even as old as she is, Dr. Meng would fetch a high price in certain markets,” Harlan Benecroft said. “If she isn’t killed tomorrow, you really should—”
“Damn it, old man, you have no right to tell me what I should or should not do.” York glared at Harlan.
“You always were a hothead. Never would listen to anyone else,” Harlan said. “You should have been spanked more as a child.”
“And you’re the reason children commit patricide!”
Harlan’s face turned red as he huffed loudly. “Damn it, boy, did you forget to whom you’re speaking?”
York seethed silently for several minutes, the entire room waiting for him to explode. But instead, he said in a strangely calm voice, “Linden, arrange for our special guests to be shown to their rooms.” He glanced from Bouchard to Rafe. “Gentlemen, I do apologize. Would you mind giving Sir Harlan and me a few minutes alone to finish our conversation in private?”
Griff had no idea what the problem was between Benecroft and York and didn’t care whether they worked it out or not. Actually, he would like nothing better than for the two of them to kill each other.
Sanders and Yvette were led away by guards, but Linden escorted Nic and Griff up the stairs and down the hall to a second-story bedroom.
“Enjoy your night together,” Linden told them. “It will be your last.”
Ignoring what Linden believed to be a prophetic comment, Griff slammed the door in the man’s face, and then pulled his wife into his arms.
Holding her at arm’s length, his hands gripping her trembling shoulders, Griff inspected Nic from her disheveled hair to her bare feet. All the while, she could barely take her eyes off his face, his expression so filled with love and concern.
“I’m all right,” she told him.
“No, you’re not, but you will be as soon as I get you out of here and back home where you belong.” Circling his arms around her, he hugged her to him.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby. I was going to, but ... I should have told you the minute I knew I was pregnant. And I never should have left Griffin’s Rest. This whole thing is my fault. Oh, Griff, I’m so sorry about—”
“Shut up, damn it.” He grasped her face, cradling her cheeks with his palms as he tilted her head and kissed her again.
She gave herself over completely to the savagely passionate kiss. Then moments later, when Griff slowly lifted his mouth and pressed his cheek against hers, he said, “I drove you away with all my secrets and lies. If this is anybody’s fault, it’s mine, not yours.”
“We can share the blame. But there’s something else, something wonderful, that we can share.” She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her belly. “Let me introduce you to our baby.”
Griff’s hand quivered as he lifted Nic’s sweater and touched her swollen stomach. “When I think about what you’ve been through ... what you must have endured ...”
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.
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