Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton Page B

a long, slender arm across his chest, her movements rustling the silk sheets. He glanced at the woman, seeing her clearly in the sunlight shining through the row of windows in the bedroom of Cassandra Wilder’s loft apartment. The woman lived up to her name—Wilder—in and out of bed. She was insatiable, like a bitch in heat.
    Rafe stretched languidly, wondering what time it was. Probably noon or later. They had not returned to Cassie’s place until nearly dawn.
    As he turned from Cassie, intending to get up, find his clothes, and discreetly leave before she awoke, he felt another warm body lying next to him on the opposite side of the bed. He reached out and ran his hand across the darkly tanned body of the brunette Cassie had chosen at Harlan Benecroft’s private club—Body Parts—and brought home with them. Cassie had paid for the woman’s services, for her to become the third party in their ménage à trois.
    The dark-haired woman whose name he didn’t remember, if he’d ever known it, sighed heavily and cuddled against him. He stared at her, admittedly enjoying the sight of her voluptuous breasts, the curve of her waist, the tempting waxed V between her slender thighs. She was young. Probably no more than twenty. How many years had she been a prostitute, a sex slave owned by one of Sir Harlan’s contemporaries?
    He couldn’t waste his time or energy on feeling anything akin to pity for her. He couldn’t save her. He wasn’t in the business of rescuing others. This girl, like Cassie, meant nothing to him. They were a means to an end. They were his intro into Harlan Benecroft’s world. And he needed Benecroft to believe he was a rich and powerful man who didn’t care how he made his millions or how much it cost him to appease his sexual appetites. Cassie had led him to Benecroft and Benecroft had led him to his ultimate target—Yves Bouchard.
    Rafe lifted himself up and over the luscious brunette, landed quietly on both feet, and picked up his scattered clothing on his way to the door. Later, he would order Cassie two or three dozen roses and wait until the florist delivered them before he called her.
    Body Parts was only the tip of the iceberg as far as sex clubs went. What he needed now was access to the best of the best, the darkest, most perverted slave markets, the places that Yves Bouchard frequented on a regular basis.

Chapter 5
    By midafternoon that day, Griff had become totally absorbed in spearheading the manhunt for Nicole. Utilizing her special abilities to absorb his emotions while at the same time infusing him with her own strength and energy, Yvette had given him what he needed most at this time—to function in a somewhat normal manner. He could not change the past, couldn’t undo what had been done. But what he did now, today, and tomorrow and the next day, could mean the difference between life and death for Nicole. He had to find her and rescue her. The alternative was unthinkable.
    He had two choices. Succumb to his emotions again, which would render him completely useless. Or he could focus on what had to be done.
    He had chosen the latter.
    Nic was still alive. He was certain of that. If she were dead, he would know, somewhere deep in his soul.
    And as long as she was alive, there was hope. He clung to that knowledge, aware that it was his lifeline, the only thing keeping him from sinking into madness.
    The Powell Agency headquarters in downtown Knoxville, housed in the Powell Building, was seventy percent staffed and by tomorrow morning would be fully staffed with every employee in place. He had set up three shifts so that the agency would be completely active around the clock. Holt Keinan would remain in Sevier County to monitor the sheriff’s investigation into Cully Redmond’s death and Nic’s abduction. Ben Corbett had arrived in Louisville and had informed Cully’s sister about his death. After he had