Grace Under Fire

Chapter 15

"What do you mean you want to tell her everything?" Sawyer MacNamara growled the question. Jed's having phoned him in the middle of the night and wakened him from a sound sleep might have something to do with his less-than-pleasant attitude.

"She has a right to know what's going on," Jed said. "Her life is in danger. She had a dead body dumped at her gate tonight."

"What's going on there with you two?" Sawyer asked. "You sound as if you've gotten personally involved with Ms. Beaumont. Tell me you haven't."

"Whether I have or not isn't the issue, the issue is-"

"Damn it, man, you've known her only a few days, just how serious could things have gotten in that length of time? And you're right-the issue isn't whether you've got the hots for Grace Beaumont. It's that Dundee 's, and therefore you, are part of a major operation involving the Federal government. There's a hell of a lot more at stake than just proving Dean Beaumont's and Byram Sheffield's deaths were murder."

"Don't you think I, of all people, know that," Jed snapped. "I'm telling you that Grace can be trusted with the truth."

"The Bureau isn't going to see it that way."

"Screw the Bureau."

"Look, we're going to keep Ms. Beaumont safe-you, Dom, Kate, Rafe and J.J. When this is all over, she'll be alive and we'll have Fortier behind bars for the rest of his life. What more could she want?"

"Grace wants to know whatever I'm not telling her. It's not the information that's so important to her, it's the fact that I'm keeping something from her. She's the type who doesn't like being kept in the dark-about anything. Besides, she's smart. She'll probably start figuring it out pretty soon."

Sawyer groaned. "Use some of that good-old-boy charm of yours and feed her a line of bull. You've charmed many a woman, haven't you? This wouldn't be any different."

"I'm not going to lie to Grace. I won't fabricate some story to pacify her."

"There's no way Moran will give you permission to share secret information with her. Too much is at risk, including the life of the agent working undercover."

"Maybe I won't ask Moran."

"Don't you go off half-cocked and do something stupid," Sawyer said.

"Get this straight-I'm telling her something, even if it's only half the truth. I've already told her that I'm going to see Booth tomorrow and that I'm attending Jaron's funeral. "

"Did you tell her that you're Fortier's nephew?"

Every muscle in Jed's body froze. He wanted to tell Grace everything-everything except that. "No, I haven't."

"She'll find out eventually," Sawyer reminded him. "Maybe your personal history with Fortier is what you should share with her, not the details of a highly confidential and potentially deadly FBI operation."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Jed knew he wasn't going to tell Grace that he was Booth's nephew. Not yet. Not until he had no other choice. "The other reason I called is so you can tell Moran that if he wants to give me a last-minute briefing, he should call before nine. I'll be leaving then for Beaulac to pay a visit on my uncle."

"I'll let Moran know that you're set to make contact with his agent tomorrow. And as far as the other, don't let your dick do your thinking," Sawyer warned. "If you do, you could wind up in trouble with the Feds and you could also lose your job at Dundee 's."

"Mmm-hmm. Sounds like a win-win situation."

Sawyer harrumphed. "You're going to do whatever the hell you want to do, regardless of what I say. Why bother even asking me?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Jed said honestly. "But I do know that my first priority is Grace Beaumont."

"Bringing Booth Fortier down will be in Ms. Beaumont's best interest. Just remember that."

"Yeah, I'll remember." Jed hit the Off button on his phone.

He'd pretty much known before he called Sawyer what Dundee 's CEO would say. Hell, the guy was a former Fed. And Jed knew that as much as he wanted to come clean with Grace, he couldn't. If by keeping silent, he had to face her wrath, he could handle it-even if she stayed angry with him until this assignment was completed. But it sure would make things easier for him if he could tell her something. Anything to appease her curiosity. Okay, Tyree, just how much can you tell her and not jeopardize the operation?

Of course the wise thing would be to tell her nothing. He could just go to bed right now, get a few hours of sleep before leaving for Beaulac, and then face Grace later in the day. As much as he hated to leave her under someone else's protection, he trusted Dom and Kate to keep Grace safe. But by not coming clean with her, all he was doing was putting off the inevitable.

He paced the room in his sock feet. Sometimes avoiding an issue was a solution. A temporary solution. He sat on the edge of the bed, yanked off his socks, then unbuttoned his shirt. If he told Grace that Booth Fortier was his uncle, would that satisfy her curiosity? If he swore to her that he hated the man as much as she did, would she believe him? Or would she distrust him, turn against him, fire him as her bodyguard?

Jed removed his shirt and hung it on the cannonball bedpost of the Colonial style oak bed, then flopped down across the top of the bedspread. Lying there his hands cupped behind his head, he tried to stop thinking about Grace… about the trip to his uncle's house tomorrow… about Jaron. He had no idea what sort of man Jaron had become, how many crimes he'd committed for Booth, for the syndicate. But he figured his old friend had been guilty of just about every offense on the books. What Jed couldn't figure out was what had made Jaron so desperate to escape Booth's hold that he'd risked everything for Grace's five million.

A soft rapping on his door abruptly ended his speculation. He started to get up, but didn't. Instead he said, "Yeah, come in."

The door eased open. Grace peeked inside. "Jed, may I speak to you?"

"You should be in bed trying to get some sleep." So much for putting off a confrontation, he thought.

"I can't sleep." She opened the door all the way, walked in and shut the door behind her. "We need to talk."

Why was it that just the sight of this woman made him soft in the head and hard everywhere else?

"Can't it wait?" he asked.

"Did you telephone Mr. MacNamara?"

"Yeah. And the answer is no. No way in hell."

She nodded. "I figured as much."

"If it was my decision to make, I'd tell you." Jed sat up and slid over to the edge of the bed. "But I work for Dundee 's and-"

"I understand."

Standing in the muted light from the one bedside lamp, she looked like an angel. A golden angel, all shimmering beauty. And he could tell that the fiery indignation with which she'd confronted him an hour ago downstairs in the kitchen had burned itself out. She seemed quite calm, even a bit subdued.

"You don't have to tell me anything," Grace said. "I think I've figured it out. You're working for Dundee 's, but you're cooperating with the FBI. They're interested in proving that Fortier and Lew Miller are in cahoots."

"Grace…"

She signaled him to say no more. "Don't worry, I'm not sharing my theory with anyone else. I promise."

"Look, Blondie, you should go to bed. It's been a rough night." Jed stood, but made no move to go to her. "If you've got a sleeping pill, take it. You're the boss over at Sheffield Media. You can take the morning off if you want to. Stay home tomorrow. Before I leave for Beaulac, Dom and Kate will come over here and stay with you. They'll act as your bodyguards while I'm gone."

Grace nodded; then suddenly an odd look appeared in her eyes and her mouth opened on a surprised gasp. "Booth Fortier lives in Beaulac? Didn't you tell me that you're originally from Beaulac? Did you know Fortier years ago when you lived in the same town?"

The inevitable had arrived sooner than he'd expected. What are you going to tell her? he asked himself. The truth? Or a lie?

Troy Leone sat in a chair near the window where the old air conditioner chugged out cold air as it rattled and rumbled. He reached over and picked up a pack of cigarettes off the table, knocked a fresh one from the pack and lit it with the butt of the one he'd finished. Josie had fallen asleep right after they'd had sex. She was a wild thing in bed, but she wasn't one for cuddling afterward. Hell, neither was he. It wasn't like he was in love with Josie or anything. She was red-hot and couldn't get enough, which suited him just fine. But now that he'd decided not to return to the warehouse and wouldn't be making big bucks, he figured Josie would tell him to get lost. She liked pretty things; and without money, he couldn't buy her clothes and jewelry and whatever else she wanted. He knew what she wanted more than anything-to quit her waitress job.

Troy scratched his chest, then glanced over his shoulder, back into the bedroom where Josie slept. He sure wished she'd let him stay. He liked having a place of his own and a willing woman in his bed; but mostly he dreaded the thought of tucking his tail between his legs and crawling home to Elsa. Okay, so his sister cared about him, worried about him, wanted what was best for him. But God Almighty, she smothered him. Couldn't she get it through her head that he was a man now, not some snot-nosed kid? So he'd made a mistake taking the warehouse job. He'd thought he was tough, that working for the mob wasn't such a big deal. But after that guy had paid him a visit today and he'd found out he really was working for none other than Booth Fortier, Troy had known he was in way over his head. He wasn't interested in a life of crime, in becoming a career criminal. All he'd wanted was some easy money.

Puffing on his new cigarette, Troy leaned his head back against the wall as the front legs of the straight chair lifted off the floor. If he moved home-when he moved home-Elsa would be onto him again about his smoking. If it wasn't one thing with her, it was another.

So, don't go home, he told himself. Go back to the warehouse tomorrow night. But if he did that, he'd knowingly be working for Booth Fortier and that guy would show up again and ask him to do a job for the big boss. Fortier would expect him to kill somebody. He just didn't think he had it in him to be a murderer. Ask him to lie, cheat or steal and he'd do it. But kill another human being in cold blood? No way.

He took a last draw on his cigarette, ground it into a nearby ashtray and headed back to the bedroom. He stood over the bed and watched Josie sleeping. She wasn't pretty, but she was built good. He crawled into bed beside her, draped one arm over her and cuddled to her back.

She had no idea he'd quit his job at the warehouse. Tonight he'd stayed at a bar on East Sixth Street until the place closed down, then he'd come back to the apartment and told Josie he'd gotten off work early. He'd have to tell her the truth before tomorrow night, but he wasn't going to mention it until then. Since tomorrow was her off day, he figured they could spend most of the day in bed. If she needed a little incentive, he'd just show her the five hundred bucks Booth Fortier's man had given him.

Troy kissed Josie's ear. She grunted. He licked her neck. She slapped at him as if she were swatting a fly. He chuckled.

"Wake up, honey. Wake up just enough to say yes."

She growled, then flopped over, but kept her eyes closed. "What time is it?"

"Early. Not quite four."

Josie groaned. "I'm too sleepy to-"

He kissed her, stuck his tongue in her mouth while he whipped the covers off her. When he rubbed his erection against her belly, she started kissing him back. God, he was going to miss getting sex all the time like this. But as soon as Josie found out he didn't have any big money coming in, she'd sure as hell kick his ass out the door. Just get it while you can, man, he told himself. You'll miss it-miss her-but you can always find another woman. But if you let yourself get in too deep with Booth Fortier, you could wind up in the pen for life or end up dead. He didn't intend for either to be his fate. He loved money and he loved sex, but not enough to die for either.

Grace wondered why Jed didn't answer her, why he wouldn't allow his gaze to meet hers. There was something he didn't want to tell her, something too painful to share. Had, as she suspected, Jed lost someone to Booth Fortier's ruthlessness?

"Jed?" She took a few hesitant steps toward him, wanting to put her arms around him and offer him comfort.

He held up a restraining hand. She stopped immediately. Oh, her poor Jed. What could be so horrible that he couldn't tell her? And she knew from the pained expression on his face that his experience with the infamous Mr. Fortier had been horrible.

"Jed, whatever it is, you can tell me. I'll understand."

He took a deep breath, then faced her, his mossy hazel-brown eyes searching for the understanding she'd promised. "I knew Fortier." He paused. "I'd rather not go into too many details. Not tonight."

"All right." Grace kept her distance, despite the overwhelming desire to rush to Jed.

"He had my father murdered."

She could tell that the bold statement hadn't been intentional. It was as if Jed's very soul needed to make a confession, to share a painful secret.

When Jed turned his back on her, she wondered if he was crying. "Oh, Jed, I'm so sorry. I felt it was something like that. No wonder-"

"Don't!" He snapped around and glared at her, his face etched with anger. "I don't want or deserve your sympathy."

"Jed, please… what is it? What's wrong?" She rushed toward him, but when he backed away from her, she paused. "You're frightening me. What-?"

"My family…" He swallowed. "The people I come from were criminals, part of organized crime here in Louisiana. Don't you see, don't you understand-when I was eighteen, I ran away from Booth Fortier and his kind."

For a moment she didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond. What he'd told her was certainly a surprise; she'd never expected to hear that Jed's family had worked for the syndicate. No wonder he knew so much about Booth Fortier.

"You aren't your family," she told him. "You aren't responsible for what they did. You didn't choose that type of life. You chose to be different. You're a good man, Jed." She walked over to him, lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. "You have nothing to be ashamed of-nothing!"

He shoved her hand aside, then narrowed his gaze and focused on her eyes. "I knew Jaron Vaden, the man who was dumped outside your front gate."

Grace gasped.

"We were friends as teenagers."

"How terrible it must have been for you to see him tonight. Murdered."

"Stop being so damn understanding!"

She stared at him, totally puzzled by his attitude. "If you're trying to make me dislike you-"

"You should, you know. You should hate my guts."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a nice man, not a good man. And I've kept things from you. More things than you can imagine." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "I am the worst man on earth for you, but God help me, I want you so bad I ache with the wanting."

"Oh, Jed… I-I-"

"Get away from me." He released her. "And stay away from me."

"What if I don't want to… what if I can't?" Hearing herself say it made her realize it was true. She wanted Jed… the way he wanted her. The passion between them didn't make sense and they both knew it was crazy, knew they were all wrong for each other. And how was it that she could have such powerful feelings for a man she'd met only a few days ago?

"Damn it, Grace, you don't know me at all. I'm absolutely nothing like your rich, brilliant husband. I'm just a good old boy, without a college degree, who has a shady family history. All my edges are rough. I'm a crude, ornery ex-soldier who knows a hell of a lot more about danger and death than I do about living and loving."

He sounded as if he was warning her off, but her heart recognized his admission for what it was-a plea for her to want him despite all the reasons she shouldn't.

"I loved Dean Beaumont and thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. I know I'll never find another man like him." She sensed Jed's discomfort and noticed him wince at the mention of her husband. "I'm not saying I've fallen in love with you…" She smiled. "In lust maybe." He reacted with a halfway smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't expect you to be like Dean. I don't want you to be a replacement for Dean. I want you, Jed. I want you just the way you are."

He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms so fast he took her breath away. With his cheek pressed firmly against hers, he held her close and whispered hoarsely, "No past, no future. Just the here and now."

"Yes, just the here and now." She stood on tiptoe so that their mouths were perfectly aligned. She understood that for this moment in time, they had no yesterdays and no tomorrows. They were simply two people wanting and needing each other.

He kissed her. A million butterflies danced wildly in her stomach. He deepened the kiss. Skyrockets burst inside her head. His big hands cupped and lifted her buttocks, then yanked her up against him so that she could feel his arousal. Her nipples peaked; her femininity moistened. A maddening ache throbbed between her legs.

He kissed her again and again and again. Her mouth, her face, her neck. She ran her hands over his hard pectoral muscles, loving the feel of him. He tore off her robe and tossed it aside, then ripped the buttons from her silk pajama top as he jerked it off her. She unzipped his jeans, which he shrugged off and onto the floor, then she helped him remove her pajama bottoms. And all the while they kept kissing and touching. When they were both naked, Jed swung her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He flung her on the rumpled bedspread, then came down over her. They kissed wildly, passionately, as they tossed about on the bed. His lips were everywhere, tasting her skin from mouth to toes. Her hands grasped and plucked and explored. He pinched her nipples, then laved them with his tongue. While he tested her readiness, she circled his sex with her fingers and stroked him.

"I want you inside me," she told him. "I want you now."

He eased off her and got up. She reached for him.

"I'll be right back," he assured her. "The pack of condoms is in my shave kit." The pack of condoms Dom Shea picked up for him earlier today.

While he disappeared into the bathroom, she scooted the bedspread, blanket and sheet to the foot of the bed, then rested her head on one of the two huge goose down pillows. She stretched like a cat basking in the sun. Every fiber of her being was ready and waiting… and wanting. Jed had awakened her sleeping sensuality, making her feel brazen and sexy. And for one crazy moment, she wished Jed would make love to her without protection. Just for that one moment she wanted something she thought she'd never want again-to get pregnant. Pregnant with Jed's baby.

"Are you out of your mind calling me at this ungodly hour?" Oliver Neville yelled into the telephone.

"Too bad I woke you," he said. "But I was awakened by several phone calls myself. It seems that there was a news bulletin on our local Sheffield Media, Inc. owned station about a body being dumped in front of Belle Foret tonight. I've had four phone calls from Sheffield Media employees, all worried about Grace."

"You shouldn't have your phone number listed in the book," Oliver said.

"You promised me that nothing would happen to Grace. You swore to me that she'd be safe."

"No one has harmed a hair on Ms. Beaumont's head, have they?"

"Not yet, but-"

"Then stop worrying. And stop calling me."

"Swear to me that Fortier isn't planning to hurt Grace. If he hurts her, I'll-"

"You'll do what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not if you want to stay out of trouble."

"I should never have agreed to help you four years ago, when Fortier sent you to make me an offer. You swore to me then that Grace wouldn't be hurt, that Fortier wanted to kill only Dean and Byram."

"We had no idea Ms. Beaumont was in the car that night. Even you didn't know."

"Tell Fortier that if he hurts Grace, I'll go to the police and confess everything. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you, you fool. Talk like that will get you killed. Is Grace Beaumont's life worth more to you than your own?"

He gasped. "Oh, God! Oh, God! He does plan to kill Grace, doesn't he?"

"Calm down. Booth will do whatever he has to do to stop Ms. Beaumont. If you can't persuade her to let matters drop, then I can't be held responsible for what Booth does."

"If I'd known how things would turn out, I'd never have helped you," he mumbled. "She wasn't supposed to get hurt. I thought she'd turn to me for comfort, but she didn't."

"Well, from what I hear, she's found all the comfort she needs from her bodyguard," Oliver said.

"That's a damn lie! Grace would never stoop that low. The man is an uncouth lout."

"Maybe her taste in men has changed."

"Shut your damn mouth."

"Pull yourself together," Oliver advised. "If you keep acting like this, yours will be the next body dumped on Grace Beaumont's doorstep."