Grace Under Fire

Chapter 12

Jed had gotten out of bed over thirty minutes ago, slipped on his jeans and gathered up his clothes and boots; then he sat in a chair across the room and watched Grace while she slept. The beauty and elegance of her bedroom paled in comparison to the naked woman. The covers rested midway down, just enough to reveal her naked shoulder blades. With her back to him, she continued sleeping. During the night he had become acquainted with every inch of her body. He remembered the location of every mole, every freckle and the faint scars left from the car wreck that had almost killed her. He had caressed and kissed and licked those long, luscious legs and those slender arms. Every touch had elicited a reaction from her and prompted her to reciprocate, giving as well as taking. He had wanted to make love to her in every sense of the word, but he wasn't in the habit of keeping condoms in his wallet while he was on assignments like this one, where bodyguard duties were required. He planned to rectify that today. If he couldn't find a way to pick up some himself, he would-albeit reluctantly-ask Dom or Rafe to do it for him. The next time Grace invited him into her bed, he would be prepared.

How do you know there will be a next time? he asked himself. Grace had needed sex last night. She'd been hurting in a bad way. She hadn't been with anyone in nearly four years. She was sated now, brought to climax half a dozen times during the night. So maybe that's all she needed, all she'd want. God, he hoped not, because he wanted more. He wanted her again right this minute. Despite how good it had been between them, nothing would fully satisfy him until he'd buried himself deep inside her. And there had been a couple of times when Grace had been so consumed with passion that he could have taken her completely and she wouldn't have protested. It hadn't been easy for him to hold back when what he'd wanted more than anything was to delve hard and deep inside her.

What was it about this woman, Jed wondered, that made her so special? He'd known his fair share of women over the years, had even thought himself in love a few times, but no other woman had ever affected him the way Grace did. Except for the fact that she was exceptionally beautiful, she really wasn't his type. Not that he didn't like the cool and sophisticated Hitchcock blonde type. Who wouldn't? But his tastes usually ran more to earthy women. Wild, big-breasted redheads. Raunchy, fun-loving brunettes.

His first love had been Charmaine Vaden, a voluptuous seventeen-year-old redhead, and the little sister of his best buddy, Jaron. He and Charmaine had been young lovers, hormone-driven and experimenting with sex and with life. Over the years he'd wondered what happened to Charmaine and wished her well. Then about ten years ago, he'd found out that she had married his uncle Booth. God help her!

Jed's most recent serious relationship had been with a fiery Hispanic lawyer. They'd come damn near close to making a commitment. That had been nearly five years ago. Since their breakup Marta had married a colleague of hers and they were expecting their first child.

Sex was an essential part of Jed's life; and even love wasn't new to him. But he'd never fallen so hard, so fast, and for a lady who was all wrong for him. Grace was a blueblood through and through; he was a mongrel with a scandalous heritage. She was definitely class; he definitely wasn't. He liked fast cars, fast women, football and beer. She was the chauffeur-driven type, the marrying kind, and he'd bet his last dime she preferred the opera to sports and a glass of Moet's Dom Perignon to a bottle of Budweiser.

So knowing all this, why was it that after just one night together, he already realized he couldn't get enough of her. One night wasn't enough-a dozen wouldn't be enough. God, he was hooked, seduced by her beauty, her strengths and weaknesses, her intelligence, her vulnerabilities. He wanted to ravish her and protect her at the same time. And the thought of another man ever touching her made him feel violent. Sometime between last evening and this morning, he had taken possession of Grace Beaumont. As illogical as it sounded, even to him, Grace belonged to him now.

Hell, he'd lost his mind. What made him think he had a right to lay claim to this woman? They'd had sex. Nothing more.

Grace turned over onto her back and sighed. Her eyelids fluttered. Jed scooted to the edge of the chair. Should he get up and leave before she woke or should he stay?

"Jed?" she called his name just as she opened her eyes.

"Yeah, Blondie, I'm here."

She rose up in bed and looked around the room to find him. When the sheet slipped below her breasts, she gripped the edge and lifted it high enough to cover her. "Good morning."

"Good morning yourself." Why the hell did she have to look so good at this time of day. It wasn't quite seven o'clock. They'd stayed awake half the night, tossing and tumbling in the throes of passion. Her hair was disheveled and her face void of makeup. And yet the sight of her took his breath away.

"Since last night was my first one-night-stand, perhaps you can tell me what the proper etiquette is in a case like this." Grace's gaze met his boldly, but a slight flush colored her cheeks.

"Was it just a one-night-stand?" he asked, and hated that her answer was so damn important to him.

Grace pointed to the closet. "Would you mind getting me a robe? There are several on the first rack to the right. Anything light will do."

She had neatly evaded his question and he knew better than to push her for an answer. Without saying anything, he got up, went to the closet and found a short, pale blue silk robe. When he took it to her, she looked up at him and smiled as she grabbed the garment.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She slipped on the robe, careful to expose as little of her nakedness as possible, then she tossed back the covers and got out of bed. Jed picked up his boots and clothes and headed for the door.

"Don't go. Not yet." She followed him across the room.

He turned and faced her, then waited for her to continue.

"I don't know what last night was," she admitted. "I've had two lovers. I was engaged to one and married to the other. So I lack experience when it comes to… what would you call it? An interlude? An affair?"

"Why call it anything?" Jed shrugged. "If it was just a one-night-stand and if that's the way we both feel about it, then no big deal, right? I don't think there's any protocol or guidelines for how we're supposed to act the morning after."

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Why should I be angry?"

"I don't know, hut there's a sharp edge to your voice and you're acting… well, you're behaving as if I've said or done something wrong."

"Sorry." His gaze bored into hers, daring her to look away. "But you know what? You're a first for me, too. I've never slept with a client. I've never slept with a multimillionaire or a Southern aristocrat with a pedigree she can trace back to Adam and Eve. So I'm as dumbfounded as you are by what happened between us. I can't say I didn't want it-and a lot more-but I didn't plan it, didn't expect it. I have no idea how we're supposed to act this morning or where we go from here."

She reached out and caressed his cheek. "Why don't I just say thank you very much for what you did for me? I needed you. More than you could possibly know. And you were there for me."

"Sure, that sounds good to me." If she kept looking at him with those soulful blue eyes, he was going to dump his clothes and boots on the floor and carry her back to bed. And this time, he wasn't going to care that he didn't have a condom.

"I know we can't pretend it didn't happen," Grace said. "I don't want that. But maybe we should just get on with what has to be done today and let whatever's happening between us take care of itself."

"If that's what works for you, I can handle it." He turned around, walked to the door and opened it. Before he entered the hall, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Next time-if there is a next time-I'll be prepared."

By the expression on her face, he knew she understood his meaning. They both realized there would be a next time. Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after that. And when he took her to bed again, it would be to make love to her fully and completely.

Jaron removed the documents from the hiding place between the mattress and box springs, stuffed them into his briefcase and carried his briefcase outside to his car. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. Except for the servants, the household was still asleep. Everyone except Ronnie, with whom he'd shared breakfast in the kitchen around six. Booth coming home a day early complicated things, but since the boss slept late as a general rule, it should be simple enough to leave on some pretense of syndicate business before Booth awakened. During the past few years, Booth's addiction to drugs and alcohol had lengthened the hours he spent in bed. If not for the training and working precision of the team surrounding Booth, the demigod's crime empire would have already begun crumbling.

Before he left the house, Jaron knew he needed to see Charmaine. She'd sent him a message last night telling him they had to talk. He suspected she wanted to finally admit to him that she and Ronnie were lovers.

Jaron went upstairs, knocked softly on his sister's bedroom door and waited. Booth seldom stayed the night in Charmaine's room; he preferred for her to come to his, then would dismiss her when he'd finished with her. Jaron's stomach knotted. Charmaine had never confided in him, so he didn't really know the extent of Booth's brutality to her. But he had a good idea how bad it was.

The door eased opened and Charmaine, hidden behind the door, said, "Jaron?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Let me come in. I got your message and we do need to talk, but I've got business this morning and have to leave soon."

She backed up and turned away from him before he saw her face. Jaron came in and closed the door. When he walked up behind her and grasped her shoulders, she winced.

"Turn around," he said.

She did. And what he saw made him want to kill Booth. But it wasn't the first time that the sight of his sister's battered face had instilled murderous rage in him. God forgive him, he'd been such a coward all these years, so afraid of Booth that he'd let him get away with repeated brutish cruelty to Charmaine. But that was all about to change. Once he had Grace Beaumont's five million dollars safely tucked away in an island bank account, he would quickly move on to Stage Two of his plans. Setting up his and Charmaine's deaths. He'd already come up with a couple of possible scenarios he thought would work.

"Dear God, look at you." He lifted his hand to her bruised cheek, but didn't touch her. He stared at her cracked, swollen lip. "I'm going to get you out of this hell. I swear I will. If you can endure it just a few more days…"

"Don't do it," Charmaine whispered. "I know you're the one and if you follow through with your plans, he will find out. And when he does, he'll kill you."

Jaron's heartbeat stilled for a millisecond. Charmaine knew he was the traitor Booth was trying to find. But how did she know anything about what had been discussed in Booth's private office last evening, unless Booth himself told her.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, paying little heed when she whimpered in pain. "Did Booth tell you he suspected me of betrayal?" Jaron got up in her face, talking low so no one could overhear him. "Tell me, damn it, tell me what he said."

She jerked away from Jaron and sat on the edge of her bed. One bruised leg peeked out when her robe parted slightly. "Booth didn't tell me anything," she said softly. "I have no idea what he suspects, but I know you're the one who sent the letter to Grace Beaumont and called her asking for five million dollars. You're trying to get enough money so we can escape from Booth, aren't you?"

"How do you- Ronnie! Ronnie told you about what was said in the meeting."

"It doesn't matter how I know, I just know."

"Then Booth doesn't suspect me?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time before he finds out. Whatever you're planning, don't go through with it. You'll be signing your death warrant."

"I can get it done and we can be long gone, out of the country, before Booth figures it out. Neither of us can go on living this way. One of these days, when Booth beats the hell out of you, he's going to kill you."

"Yes, I know."

Jaron paced the room, guilt and regret riding heavily on his shoulders. "This is all my fault. Everything. I got you into this living hell and I'm going to get you out. You just sit tight and wait it out. A few more days. A week at most."

"Jaron… don't."

He kissed her forehead. "I've let you down over and over again, but this time I'm going to make it right. I promise."

She smiled weakly. "Can't I say anything to change your mind?"

"I've got to go. Wish me luck." He strode to the door, doing his best to appear far more confident than he actually was.

"You could go to Jed, ask for his help."

Jaron stopped abruptly and looked back at her. "You know about Jed, then, know he's working for Grace Beaumont."

Charmaine nodded. "Talk to Jed."

"Too late for that. Now you take it easy today and think good thoughts."

Jaron hadn't counted on Jed Tyree being Grace Beaumont's bodyguard, but he couldn't switch gears and change plans now. Jed was sure to recognize him when he showed up at the park, but maybe, for old times' sake, Jed wouldn't rat him out. Jed hated Booth, as much, if not more than he did, so he had to be wanting to get his hands on solid proof against his uncle. Why would Jed care that it cost Ms. Beaumont five mil? She'd have what she wanted-and so would Jed. Revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

When Jaron opened the door of Charmaine's bedroom, he nearly ran into Ronnie, who asked, "Is Mrs. Fortier up yet?"

Jaron closed the door before Ronnie could see inside the bedroom. "She's probably going to stay in her room all day today, so don't disturb her unless she calls for you."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Ronnie?"

"Sir?"

He wanted to ask Ronnie to take care of Charmaine if anything happened to him today. But he could hardly do that without making Ronnie suspicious.

"Nothing. Just take care of my sister the way you always do."

"Yes, sir. I intend to do just that."

Jaron made a beeline for the front door, then once outside breathed a sigh of relief. He'd make a few stops along the way just to give the appearance that the trip was on the up-and-up. But he wanted to arrive at Terrebonne Park no later than eleven-thirty, grab a bite to eat and be on the lookout for any sign of trouble.

He realized that a lot of things could go wrong, that he was taking a big risk, that Booth might find out or Jed might turn him in once he recognized him. But if he succeeded, he and Charmaine would be free. That alone was worth any risk.

The satchels containing five million dollars rested in Jed's lap. He sat in the passenger seat of Grace's Mercedes as she drove them along the road leading out of town toward Terrebonne Park. Dom and Kate followed at a discreet distance. Rafe and J.J. had arrived at the park before eleven and by now had thoroughly inspected the place. Dante Moran had been given the details of the exchange so that he could put his men in place. The Feds wanted to know the identity of the guy who had betrayed Booth and get their hands on the proof of the governor's involvement with the syndicate. But for the most part, the federal and Dundee security at Terrebonne Park wasn't set in place to capture one of Booth's underlings, but to protect Grace and retrieve any evidence that would incriminate the head of the Louisiana Mafia. The traitor could be useful to the Bureau, only if he was willing to testify against Booth.

Jed wondered if Grace truly had any idea how much danger she was in? Once this deal went down and she had the proof against Booth she needed, that wouldn't be the end of it. Not by a long shot. Even if Booth were arrested, he could and would issue orders from his jail cell-and one of his first commands would be to eliminate Grace Beaumont. But Jed had no intention of letting that happen. When he'd taken this assignment and had agreed to work with the FBI, his main objective had been to find a way to bring his uncle down. Working for Grace had simply been a means to an end. But in a few short days, a great deal had changed. He hadn't expected to get personally involved with the client, hadn't thought her welfare would matter more than anything else.

"You're awfully quiet." Grace stole a quick glance in his direction.

"I was just thinking." Thinking about how I'm going to keep you safe, and why the hell you mean so much to me.

"Having the other two Dundee agents at the park won't cause a problem, will it?" she asked. "I mean, what happens if he suspects we didn't come alone?"

"Take my word for it-he won't be aware that we have any type of backup. Dom and Kate are professionals. They know what they're doing."

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "We're so close to getting our hands on the evidence that Dean and Daddy paid for with their lives."

"You have every right to be nervous. We don't know who we're dealing with, and there's every likelihood that this man is dangerous. He's probably one of Booth's henchmen. And all we have is his word that he's got the documents he claims he has."

"If he doesn't have the documents, I'm not giving him the money. Right?"

"Right. Just demand to see the evidence first."

"Yes, of course."

"I'll be where I can see you at all times and if I think you're in trouble, I'll either come in after you or I'll take him out."

"You'll kill him," Grace said.

"If it's necessary to protect you."

She grasped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He knew how difficult this was for her. The ugly, sordid, sinister side of life had been alien to her, but now she was getting a hefty dose of harsh reality.

"Doing the dirty work isn't easy and it's not pleasant," Jed told her. "But the fact is that in order to keep a balance between the right and wrong side of the law-between good and evil, if you want to put it in those terms-then someone has to enforce the law. Despite the fact that I have killed people in the line of duty, in the army and as a Dundee agent, I consider myself one of the good guys."

Yeah, Tyree, just how much of a good guy would she consider you if she knew Booth Fortier was your uncle? How would she feel about you if the truth ever came out about your family history? A crazy mother who died in a mental hospital and her deranged mob boss brother. He had tried numerous times to convince himself that there wasn't a hereditary mental defect in the Fortier family, that environment had played a major role in warping his uncle and in driving his mother insane.

"I know you're one of the good guys," Grace said. "You don't have to convince me of that fact. If I implied otherwise, I'm sorry."

What was wrong with him? He'd never thought it necessary to explain himself to anyone. Yeah, but Grace wasn't just anyone. She was a Dundee client who was depending on his protection, on his expertise. And she had become important to him personally in a very brief period of time. What she thought of him mattered. It mattered a whole hell of a lot more than it should.

"No matter what happens out there today, believe one thing-I'm going to take care of you. That's my number one objective."

Grace breathed in and out on an internal sigh. "I think someone up there was watching out for me and sent you into my life right when I needed my own personal guardian angel."

Jed chuckled. "Blondie, you're the first person who's ever thought of me as an angel of any kind."

She smiled. "I suppose most women consider you a real devil, huh?"

"Now that would be kissing and telling, wouldn't it? And that's something I don't do."

"Jed?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything."

Their conversation ended on that last comment. What could he say in response? She saw him as her guardian angel, her knight in shining armor; but that was only temporary. Once she learned the truth-the whole truth-how would she feel then? When she discovered that the Dundee agency was working with the Feds to bring down Booth Fortier and that Booth was his uncle, she wouldn't be thanking him. She wouldn't see him as a hero. The best he could hope for was that she'd try to understand… and that she wouldn't judge him.

Fifteen minutes later, Grace drove her Mercedes into Terrebonne Park, coming in on the south side, as instructed. The park had been built around a small lake, fed by an underground spring, and over the years had evolved into a picnic area, playground and a miniature amusement park. On any given day during the spring and summer months, the place was filled with people… anywhere from a couple of dozen to a couple of hundred. And on holidays, like the Fourth of July and Labor Day, the park swelled beyond capacity, sometimes recording nearly a thousand people.

As they emerged from the car, Jed noted it was a slow day, maybe twenty-five or thirty people stirring about, most of them picnicking from baskets brought from home or lunches purchased at the dairy bar. Dom and Kate pulled up and parked several slots down from them, then waited inside the car.

Grace glanced at her wristwatch; Jed took a look at his. Eleven-forty. A twenty-minute wait, if their man showed up on time. As they made their way toward the carousel, Jed surveyed the area, seeing if he could spot Dante Moran's men. He picked out a couple of guys, but wasn't a hundred percent sure about them.

"Isn't that the Dundee agent who came by the house last night?" Grace whispered as she nervously shifted the briefcase she carried from one hand to the other.

Jed followed her line of vision to where Rafe Devlin and Jenifer "J.J." Blair were frolicking about on a nearby set of swings, for all intents and purposes nothing more than a young couple having fun.

"Yeah, that's Rafe," Jed replied, keeping his voice low. "And the woman with him is an agent, too."

"That's two extra Dundee agents. The number seems to be growing, doesn't it?"

"It takes as many as it takes. Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you, Jed. If you think we need a dozen of Dundee 's finest, then it's all right with me."

A pang of guilt hit him square in the gut. She trusted him. And just by being who he was, he was betraying her trust. Nothing could ever change the fact that he was Booth Fortier's nephew, that they shared a gene pool and an ancestry of cutthroats and criminals. His pedigree-or lack of one-had never mattered to him or to any of the women in his life. But it would matter to Grace. She might be able to deal with him being a mongrel, but she'd never be able to accept the fact that his mother had been a Fortier.

"Do I wait until noon to get on the carousel?" she asked.

"Yeah. No need putting yourself on display until the very last minute." He nodded to the dairy bar. "How about something to drink? A cola? Iced tea?"

"Come to think of it, my mouth is as dry as cotton. Besides, I suppose getting something to drink will kill some time, won't it? I need something to do while we wait. I'm so nervous." Jittery laughter bubbled from her lips. "I said that already, didn't I?"

"Take a few deep breaths," he said. She did. "Now, let's see what's on the drink menu."

They bought iced tea, sat together at one of the concrete picnic tables and waited. The minutes seemed like hours, each one longer than the one before, until finally twelve noon arrived. Jed scanned the area around the carousel and noticed J.J. and Rafe paying their fares and hopping up on a couple of side-by-side wooden horses. They were laughing and playing around, nothing the least bit suspicious about them. In his peripheral vision he saw Dom and Kate eating ice-cream cones about twenty-five feet away. There was a guy picking up trash and another trimming hedges, both not more than thirty feet from the carousel. He pegged them for Feds, but only because he knew Moran had people here.

Jed handed Grace the other briefcase, the one he'd been carrying around. Each case contained two and a half mil. After Jed paid her fare, Grace boarded the carousel. She made her way to the swan seat, eased down and placed both briefcases in her lap, then crossed one hand over the other on top of the cases. Jed's stomach rumbled as tension knotted his muscles. Even with more than a half-dozen sets of eyes trained on Grace, anything could happen. She understood that if he called her name, she was to take a nosedive under the swan seat. He just hoped to high heaven that this whole thing wasn't some sort of setup. But his gut instincts told him it wasn't, that someone wanted out of the organization and needed cash fast. And whoever this guy was, he was willing to risk Booth's wrath.

Noon came and went. Five after. They waited. Ten after. Still no sign of anyone approaching Grace. She paid the fare again, as did several other people, including Rafe and J.J. He could tell that with each passing minute, Grace grew more nervous. Who could blame her? She'd been holding up remarkably well. So far. By twelve-thirty, Jed was beginning to doubt the guy would show. But they'd wait until one, the time he and Grace had agreed on before coming here today. They'd wait one hour, that was all.

At twelve-forty-five, a car backfired. Grace cried out and inadvertently knocked one of the suitcases to the wooden floor of the old carousel. Four Dundee agents and two FBI agents came to full alert, but no one made a move. A tall, blond man jumped down off the wooden horse in front of Grace and knelt to retrieve the case. Jed watched carefully, wondering if this could be their man. But the guy, not much out of his teens, placed the case back in Grace's lap and flirted outrageously with her, then when he saw he wasn't making any headway, he walked around to where a teenage girl sat alone on a brightly painted wooden horse. He got up on the horse beside her and started talking.

Jed let out a relieved sigh. What was going on? Where was their man? If he didn't show, that meant something had gone wrong. Had Booth found out he had a traitor in his organization? Or had the man simply chickened out at the last minute? Maybe he hadn't been able to get his hands on the documents. Anything was possible.

At one o'clock, Jed motioned to Grace and she nodded, then when the carousel finished that round, she got off, a briefcase in each hand. Jed took one briefcase from her, put his arm around her waist and led her toward the parking area.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where is he?"

"If he's lucky, he's still alive and just ran into a hitch of some kind. If that's what happened, he'll be back in touch with us," Jed told her. "But if he's not so lucky, then he's dead and Booth Fortier will make another move very soon."

"Another move against me," Grace said with utter certainty.

"And when he makes his move, I'll be right there with you, standing between you and whatever he sends your way."

"Oh, Jed, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

He tried not to react to her revealing statement. Didn't she realize that you didn't say something like that to a man unless he meant something special to you?

"I'm your bodyguard. It's my job to be in the line of fire."

"You're more than my bodyguard and we both know it."