Dead By Morning by Beverly Barton

conscientious about his drinking habits. After the smooth liquor made its way down his throat and warmed his belly, he glanced at Griff, who was staring into the cold fireplace.
    â€œWe both know that Browning isn’t going to willingly offer us any information,” Derek said.
    â€œNo, he’ll sense from the get-go that he has the upper hand. And he’ll use it to his advantage. He’ll want something in return for anything he gives us.”
    â€œFor anything he gives Maleah.”
    Griff nodded. “She’s strong and smart and I’d trust her with even the most difficult assignment. But this is different. From what I’ve read about Jerome Browning, he’s going to play hardball and I don’t know if Maleah is a tough enough opponent.”
    â€œShe’s not going into this alone,” Derek reminded his boss.
    â€œThat’s true.” Griff stared at Derek, as if he was judging his worth as a warrior. “She’s going to need you. She won’t like it and may even resist your advice and assistance. You know what a stubborn little mule she can be.”
    Derek chuckled. “That’s an understatement. She is without a doubt the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.”
    â€œNic is worried about her. She understands why Maleah is the one who should interview Browning, but they’re close, almost like sisters, and know each other’s weaknesses. Nic’s concerned that Browning may use any weakness he senses in Maleah against her.”
    â€œIf Browning picks up on any weakness in her, I have no doubt that he’ll use it. But I’ll be there to advise her.” Derek took a second sip of whisky and then set the glass down on the floor beside his chair. “Before we leave for Georgia, I’ll go over all the files we have on Browning and do an in-depth study on the guy. After we meet him, I’ll work up my own profile and compare it to the old FBI profile the agency put together.”
    Griff nodded. “I want the copycat killer found and stopped before anyone else dies.” He downed another gulp of the Macallan, huffed out a deep breath, and took another swig.
    It was Derek’s opinion that recently Griff had been drinking too much. The man had a high tolerance for alcohol, was able to drink enough to knock another man on his ass, and usually knew his limit. But for the past couple of months, Derek had noticed a distinct change in his boss, and not only in his drinking habits.
    â€œYou do know that these murders are not your fault,” Derek said.
    Griff’s grumbling growl came from his chest, a combination of anger and pain. “He is sending me a message. No matter what anyone thinks, I know that I’m the ultimate target. He wants me to suffer, to know that he’s killing these people because they are in some way associated with me.”
    â€œI know that’s what you believe, but there is no way you can be sure.”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œLook, Griff, I’ve never asked for specific details about your past, about those missing ten years,” Derek said. “I figured everything that happened to you and how you earned your billions was nobody’s business. Certainly not mine. What I know, you’ve told me yourself, and I appreciate your trusting me with the information. But if there’s something specific that I need to know, something that could help me—”
    â€œGo with Maleah to see Browning. Size up the guy. Get all the info you can out of him and then we’ll talk.” Griff finished off his glass of whisky.
    Derek didn’t need to say more. He understood that Griff had dismissed him. He stood, said good night and closed the door behind him when he left.
    As if he were standing guard, Sanders waited across the hall from Griff’s study, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. With a stocky, fireplug build, every muscle toned, a sharp mind