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make any changes she wanted. But almost as if she didn’t quite think of Griffin’s Rest as her home, Nic had made few alterations.
    Derek snorted. Good God, why did he always do that? Why did his brain instantly delve into other people’s psyche and try to figure out what made them tick? Instinct, pure and simple. His instinct dictated that he profile everyone.
    Maleah emerged from her white SUV, slung the straps of her small leather bag over her shoulder and approached him. If she took more time with her appearance, she could be strikingly beautiful. She had all the ingredients, from pretty face to shapely body. Shapely? Get real, Lawrence. The woman is built like a brick shithouse and you know it.
    â€œWaiting on me?” she asked.
    â€œYeah. What took you so long?”
    She glared at him, giving him an eat-dirt-and-die look. “I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m totally pissed at you.”
    â€œWhat did I do now?”
    â€œYou drove like a bat out of hell, that’s what you did.”
    He stared at her, totally puzzled by her comment. “You lost me somewhere there, Blondie. I have no idea—”
    â€œI got a speeding ticket, thanks to you.”
    He grinned. “How is it my fault that you got a ticket?”
    Glowering angrily at him, she clenched her jaw and huffed. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it. Let’s go inside and—”
    Before she could finish her sentence, the front door opened. Sanders glanced from Maleah to Derek. “Please, come in. Griffin and Nicole are waiting for you.”
    Sanders had been Griffin Powell’s right-hand man for as long as Derek had known either of them. Griff and Sanders’s association went back a good twenty years. Rumor had it that they had met during the ten missing years of Griff’s life, when he had disappeared off the face of the earth shortly after graduating from the University of Tennessee nearly two decades ago.
    A couple of inches short of six feet, the bald, dark-eyed, brown-skinned Sanders possessed the bearing of a much larger man. His stance, his attitude, and his appearance practically screamed military background. His slightly accented English suggested a foreign birth and upbringing.
    Ever the gentleman his mother had raised him to be, Derek waited for Maleah to enter first. Sanders led them past the large living room with the floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace and down the hall to Griffin Powell’s private study. The door stood open and inside Griff sat behind his antique desk placed in the corner by the windows overlooking the lake. The moment he saw them, he lifted his two hundred and forty pound muscular body from his desk and stood at his impressive six-four height. Griff was a big man, his mere physical presence intimidating. Include his wealth and power and that added up to a man only a fool would ever cross.
    But out there somewhere was a fool who was killing people connected to the Powell Agency.
    Nicole Powell stood with her back to them in front of the massive rock fireplace, one of several in the house. When Griff rose from his desk, she instantly turned to face them, her soft tan eyes focusing on her friend Maleah. Physically, the two women were opposites. Nic was a tall brunette; Maleah a petite blond. Whenever he saw Nic, the first thought that came to mind was Amazon Warrior. Standing five-ten in her bare feet, with an hourglass figure reminiscent of Hollywood sex symbols of the 1950s, the lady’s size was every bit as impressive as her husband’s. Derek genuinely liked both Mr. and Mrs. Powell, but it had been easier to like Nic immediately because of her outgoing personality. Griff was more reserved, a man who made others earn his approval.
    â€œPlease, come in,” Griff said, then he looked at Sanders and told him, “Close the door.”
    Once the five of them were closeted in Griff’s private study, everyone except Sanders seated, Griff spread