Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [48]
As much as she loved being a part of Griff’s agency—correction—their agency, Nic couldn’t help thinking about their very recent second honeymoon. It had been wonderful to spend an entire week without giving other people’s problems a thought. Selfishly, a part of her wished that she and Griff could live a different life, a simple, uncomplicated life with both of them working simple, nine-to-five jobs that never involved a life-or-death scenario.
But when she had become an FBI agent, she had chosen a profession in law enforcement, hadn’t she? That job had sometimes entailed danger and at the very least occasional excitement. And when she had married Griff, she had known that he would spend the rest of his life trying to right wrongs, trying to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Fate had placed the two of them in the unique position of being able to work outside the system to seek justice. Coming from a background at the Bureau where she’d tried to be a by-the-book agent, she had not adapted instantly to the way Griff ran his agency. But she had come to understand that too often the guilty got off scot-free and the innocent suffered without ever receiving justice or even closure. The Powell Agency tried to tip the scales in the victim’s favor.
As soon as Sanders stopped the limo in front of the house, Griff helped Nic out, kissed her cheek, and said, “I need to go over a few things with Sanders. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“All right.” She smiled at him and then went inside, not turning around to watch while he and Sanders took the car to the garage behind the house.
They were home. Back into the maelstrom of Powell Agency business. Nic supposed she should drop into the kitchen to say hello to Barbara Jean, but what she wanted to do was contact Maleah ASAP. She knew Barbara Jean would be overseeing a late Sunday lunch for the four of them, so she would talk to her shortly. But having just learned from Sanders that Maleah had been paired with Derek Lawrence on these latest combined cases, Nic thought she should check with Maleah to see how their twosome was working out.
As soon as she closed the door to her bedroom suite, she flopped down on the chaise longue, dumped her purse to the floor, and grappled inside to find her phone. She hit Maleah’s preprogrammed number and waited.
“Nic? Are you at home or—?”
“We just got in,” Nic said.
“So, how was the second honeymoon—everything you wanted it to be, I hope?”
“Everything and more,” Nic admitted, flashes of memorable moments in Griff’s arms flickering through her mind.
“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you. For both of you.”
“I understand you’re involved in a new and very interesting case that is connected to two other new cases and that you’re paired with Derek Lawrence.” Nic waited for the explosion of expletives, but when Maleah remained silent, Nic asked, “Want me to take you off the case entirely and assign someone else?”
“No,” Maleah told her emphatically. “I want to be involved with this case. After all, one of the potential victims is my sister-in-law’s best friend.”
“I could reassign you, put you with one of the other agents working on the case and send someone else to California with Derek tomorrow. All you have to do is say the word.”
“I’m tempted, believe me. But that would be asking for special treatment, taking advantage of our personal friendship. I won’t do that, no matter how I dread the thought of spending days on end with that man.”
“I really do understand,” Nic said. “There was a time, years ago, when I felt the same way about Griff. Back when I was with the Bureau, just the sight of Griffin Powell made we want to scream, usually scream at him.” Nic laughed.
“My God, don’t you dare compare Derek and me to you and Griff. I am not attracted to Derek Lawrence in any way, shape, form, or fashion. And he certainly isn’t attracted to me. There is no deep-buried sexual tension waiting to explode between the two of us.”