Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton Page B

from the room without a word of protest or a backward glance at either Linden or Nic. Once the door closed behind the servant girl, Linden turned to Nic again. The way he ogled her made her uneasy.
    Mr. Auburn Hair grunted, kicked back the covers to reveal his naked body, and cursed loudly as he tried to sit up.
    Linden lifted the small package from under his left arm and handed it to Nic. “Fresh clothes. Shower now while you can and get dressed.” He glanced at the grumbling man who struggled to get out of bed. “I’ll take care of our guest.”
    Nic didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the package and ran into the bathroom. If only there was a lock on the door. But there wasn’t. Either man could easily barge in on her. But Linden had said for her to take a shower while she could. Did that mean it could be a while before she got the chance again?
    After removing the robe, she hung it on the back of the door, and then turned on the shower and stepped under the lukewarm spray. Working quickly, she washed her hair before she soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed her body. In less than five minutes, she had bathed, towel-dried her hair, brushed her teeth, applied deodorant, and dressed in the skintight jeans and cotton T-shirt Linden had provided. No bra. No panties. Not a good sign.
    She stood in front of the wall of mirrors above the double-sink vanity and inspected the bruises on her neck. Mr. Auburn Hair had choked her when he’d wrapped his hands around her neck as he kissed her.
    Last night, she’d gotten lucky, thanks to Lina. But Linden said they were transferring the young woman off the island today. Did he suspect what she’d done to Mr. Auburn Hair? Or were her services simply required elsewhere? When Lina went away, Nic would lose her only ally on the island.
    She walked over to the closed door and listened, wondering what was happening in the bedroom. If Mr. Auburn Hair had caused a ruckus, she hadn’t heard it while she was in the shower. She cracked the bathroom door just enough to peek into the bedroom. It appeared to be empty. There was no sign of either man. She eased the door open and walked out of the bathroom.
    Alone in her gilded cage, Nic slumped down on the chaise longue, a sense of hopelessness weighing down on her. She was on an island, probably somewhere in the Caribbean, but she had no idea exactly where. Could she reasonably expect Griff to find her? Yes, damn it, if it were humanly possible to locate her, Griff would do it. At this very moment he was using every resource available to the Powell Agency to search the world over for her. She simply had to stay alive, to do whatever was necessary to keep herself and her baby safe until Griff came for them.
    But between now and then, what was going to happen to her? If not for Lina, Mr. Auburn Hair would have raped her last night, probably more than once. Was he only the first of many men she would be expected to service? Last night, she had been nothing more than part of the hunter’s package deal—winner take all, and that included a woman for the night. How many more would there be? And how would she deal with them without Lina’s help?
    Nic closed her eyes. “Please, God,” she whispered, “help me stay strong. Help me survive. Keep my baby safe.”
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    Malcolm York looked out from the wall of windows in his penthouse suite in Mayfair. The lovely view of Hyde Park had been one of the reasons he had leased the two apartments that covered approximately ten thousand square feet, which was quite enormous for this area of London. A local real estate magazine had boasted that these duplex penthouses could well be the most impressive penthouses in London, possibly in the entire world.
    Malcolm liked owning impressive things. This penthouse was only one of his many possessions, including his garage of automobiles, his yacht, his stable of Thoroughbreds, the castle in Scotland, a ranch in the U.S. and