a better word to describe how I feel about meeting Jerome Browning this morning,” Derek told her. “Unsettled, curious, and wary. You need to be wary of him, too. He’s cunning. If he senses any weakness in you, he’ll use it against you.”
“And you and Griff think I’m weak, don’t you? You think I’ll fall apart just because Browning murdered my college boyfriend.”
“Neither Griff nor I think you’re weak. But you will be vulnerable because of your connection to Noah Laborde.”
She heaved a heavy, labored huff. Derek was right. There was no use denying the obvious.
He reached over and laid his open palm across her tightly fisted hand. The moment he touched her, she jerked her hand away and lifted it off the table.
Ignoring her reaction, he said, “The way I see this interview with Browning is you and I act as a tag team, both of us questioning him. If at any time you become uncomfortable and want to terminate the interview, then don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“And you’ll whisk me up in your big strong arms and carry me off on your gallant white charger.” The moment the silly comment left her lips, Maleah regretted it. She had a problem about speaking before thinking things through, and this was especially true with Derek.
He didn’t respond.
She groaned. “Sorry.”
He laughed. “I didn’t know you thought of me as a knight in shining armor.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “Most of the time, I think of you as a royal pain in the butt.”
“Likewise, Blondie.” He lifted his coffee cup and saluted her with it.
Barbara Jean had lived at Griffin’s Rest for several years, ever since Griff had placed her under the agency’s protection during the hunt for her younger sister’s killer. Within a few days, he had put her to work, there in his home, under Damar Sanders’s guidance. Her attraction to Sanders had not been love at first sight, but rather a recognition of two lonely, wounded souls in need. Despite the fact that they were lovers and sometimes in their intimate moments she called him Damar, she thought of her friend and lover as Sanders. No one used his first name, not even Griff and Yvette, his closest friends.
She admired and respected Griffin Powell as she did Sanders and shared a deep affection with Nicole. She considered Yvette Meng a friend, but they were not close, not the way she and Nic were. The beautiful Eurasian psychiatrist possessed a quiet, gentle personality. Almost shy. Her unique empathic abilities that allowed her to gain insight into a person’s thoughts and feelings by a mere touch separated her from others. Until recently, Yvette had lived in London, half a world away. But then, three years ago, Griff had begun construction at Griffin’s Rest on a retreat for Yvette and a small group of her protégés, young men and women with special psychic talents.
Barbara Jean knew less about the missing years of her employer’s life, from age twenty-two to thirty-two, than Nic knew. And even though Sanders had told her that he and Yvette had shared those years with Griff, he had not divulged very many details. Sanders had been married long ago and had lost his wife and child. He had never told her the specifics and she had never asked. He, Yvette, and Griff had been held captive on an uncharted Pacific island by an insane billionaire named Malcolm York. They had eventually escaped, after they killed York. The horrors they had endured together had united them as comrades and bound them to one another forever.
Nic and Yvette shared a precarious friendship, somewhat one-sided since Nic couldn’t quite manage to overcome her concerns about Griff’s love for the other woman. Where Nic needed to know more about her husband’s past and allowed the secrets he couldn’t share with her to come between them, Barbara Jean accepted Sanders for who and what he was. His past was just that—his past. It had made him the man he was today, but
“And you and Griff think I’m weak, don’t you? You think I’ll fall apart just because Browning murdered my college boyfriend.”
“Neither Griff nor I think you’re weak. But you will be vulnerable because of your connection to Noah Laborde.”
She heaved a heavy, labored huff. Derek was right. There was no use denying the obvious.
He reached over and laid his open palm across her tightly fisted hand. The moment he touched her, she jerked her hand away and lifted it off the table.
Ignoring her reaction, he said, “The way I see this interview with Browning is you and I act as a tag team, both of us questioning him. If at any time you become uncomfortable and want to terminate the interview, then don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“And you’ll whisk me up in your big strong arms and carry me off on your gallant white charger.” The moment the silly comment left her lips, Maleah regretted it. She had a problem about speaking before thinking things through, and this was especially true with Derek.
He didn’t respond.
She groaned. “Sorry.”
He laughed. “I didn’t know you thought of me as a knight in shining armor.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “Most of the time, I think of you as a royal pain in the butt.”
“Likewise, Blondie.” He lifted his coffee cup and saluted her with it.
Barbara Jean had lived at Griffin’s Rest for several years, ever since Griff had placed her under the agency’s protection during the hunt for her younger sister’s killer. Within a few days, he had put her to work, there in his home, under Damar Sanders’s guidance. Her attraction to Sanders had not been love at first sight, but rather a recognition of two lonely, wounded souls in need. Despite the fact that they were lovers and sometimes in their intimate moments she called him Damar, she thought of her friend and lover as Sanders. No one used his first name, not even Griff and Yvette, his closest friends.
She admired and respected Griffin Powell as she did Sanders and shared a deep affection with Nicole. She considered Yvette Meng a friend, but they were not close, not the way she and Nic were. The beautiful Eurasian psychiatrist possessed a quiet, gentle personality. Almost shy. Her unique empathic abilities that allowed her to gain insight into a person’s thoughts and feelings by a mere touch separated her from others. Until recently, Yvette had lived in London, half a world away. But then, three years ago, Griff had begun construction at Griffin’s Rest on a retreat for Yvette and a small group of her protégés, young men and women with special psychic talents.
Barbara Jean knew less about the missing years of her employer’s life, from age twenty-two to thirty-two, than Nic knew. And even though Sanders had told her that he and Yvette had shared those years with Griff, he had not divulged very many details. Sanders had been married long ago and had lost his wife and child. He had never told her the specifics and she had never asked. He, Yvette, and Griff had been held captive on an uncharted Pacific island by an insane billionaire named Malcolm York. They had eventually escaped, after they killed York. The horrors they had endured together had united them as comrades and bound them to one another forever.
Nic and Yvette shared a precarious friendship, somewhat one-sided since Nic couldn’t quite manage to overcome her concerns about Griff’s love for the other woman. Where Nic needed to know more about her husband’s past and allowed the secrets he couldn’t share with her to come between them, Barbara Jean accepted Sanders for who and what he was. His past was just that—his past. It had made him the man he was today, but
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