Grace Under Fire

Chapter 20

Aric met Jed at the door, but made no attempt to stop him as Jed shoved Aric out of the way and stormed down the hall toward Booth's office.

"Mr. Fortier has already retired for the evening," Aric said, his deep voice utterly calm.

Jed spun around and glared at Aric. "Does the old bastard still have the same bedroom upstairs?"

"Mr. Tyree, if it's urgent for you to see your uncle, perhaps it would be better if I announce you."

Jed slung back his jacket to reveal his Beretta. "Shall I give it to you or do you prefer to take it from me?"

Aric came over and removed the 9 mm from its holster. "Come with me. I'll show you to your uncle's room."

Jed nodded, then followed the chauffeur/bodyguard up the stairs. "Wait out here," Aric said, before disappearing inside the bedroom. When he returned a minute later, a frown wrinkled his forehead. "He's willing to see you." Aric's glare issued Jed a warning. "Mr. Fortier isn't feeling well. Please, keep that in mind when you see him."

"He'll see me now? I don't have to wait or beg or humble myself?" Seeing Booth was only an excuse for the real reason he'd come here and he didn't look forward to another confrontation with his uncle. Where's Jim Kelly? Jed wondered. Would he get a chance to make contact with the FBI agent or would this trip turn out to have been for nothing? "Is Booth alone?"

"Quite alone," Aric replied. "Alone and… not quite himself."

Jed opened the door and marched in, but stopped dead still when he saw his uncle sitting on the edge of his bed, stooped over the nightstand's inlaid wood surface, brushing away something from the top and sending white dust floating in the air. Booth looked up at Jed through bloodshot eyes and grinned.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Booth asked, as he tried to sit up and wound up falling backward into the bed. He chuckled softly, then righted himself and waved Jed forward with a sweeping hand gesture.

Jed realized that Booth was either drunk or drugged-maybe a deadly combination of both. An almost-empty glass of what appeared to be whiskey sat on the nightstand. His uncle had always been a heavy drinker, but hadn't been an alcoholic. And although he'd bought and sold drugs, he hadn't touched the stuff himself back when Jed had lived under his roof. Apparently all that had changed.

"You're a sorry sight, old man." Jed came around the foot of the bed and stood there staring at his uncle. "No wonder you have to beat the hell out of your wife in order to feel anything. You probably haven't been able to get it up in years."

Growling like a wounded bear, Booth tried to stand, but didn't manage to get to his feet before dropping back down on the bed. "You're treading on thin ice, boy." Booth stuck his index finger out toward Jed. "You may be my nephew and I might have loved you once, but that doesn't give you the right to-"

"And you don't have the right to murder people." Jed rushed right up to Booth and looked him square in the eyes. "Somebody tried to shoot Grace Beaumont today, but then you already know about it, don't you? Well, your guy missed. He shot a Dundee agent instead. Grace is alive and well and more determined than ever to nail your sorry ass."

"If you'd been more like me and less like your mama, you'd have had the guts to stay with me, to learn from me, to take over my empire." Booth reached out and grasped Jed's shoulder. "But you're weak, just like she was weak. I tried to help her, tried to fix her mistakes…"

"By killing the man she loved!"

Booth squeezed Jed's shoulder. "I take care of my own. I did what I thought was right. She never understood, never forgave me. I had no choice but to have her locked away and to keep her drugged so she wouldn't try to go to the police. Hell, boy, she was my sister. I couldn't kill her, could I?"

Jed stared at his uncle, who used Jed as a crutch to support himself as he stood. "Are you saying my mother wasn't crazy, that she didn't have mental problems?"

"Surely you understand why I did it? Why I kept her locked away from you and kept her from running her mouth off to the police. It was either keep her in that sanitarium or kill her. I made the right choice, didn't I, Jed?"

Bile rose to Jed's throat and for just a minute he thought he might throw up. All these years he'd thought his mother was crazy, when she'd actually been sane. God in heaven. What had it done to her being sane and locked up and held a prisoner in a mental hospital for most of Jed's life? Had the drugs she'd been forced to take been what had finally killed her?

Jed put his hands around his uncle's neck. Booth's head snapped up and he stared into Jed's eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, Jed tightened his hold. Booth gasped as Jed strangled him. He wanted to kill Booth. God, how he wanted to kill the man.

Suddenly Jed released his uncle, who dropped to his knees, coughing and spluttering.

"You aren't worth killing." No, he wouldn't murder his own uncle. He could wait for legal justice. The FBI was closing in on Booth; his days were numbered. Besides, there wasn't much left of the man Jed had once known. Apparently Booth Fortier had almost succeeded at self-destructing.

The door to the adjoining bedroom flew open and Ronnie Martine barged in, with Charmaine hovering in the doorway behind him.

"Mrs. Fortier heard loud voices and was concerned," Ronnie said. "Are you all right, Mr. Fortier?" Ronnie rushed over and helped Booth to his feet.

Booth cleared his throat, and through bleary eyes, glared at Jed. "If you were anybody else, I'd kill you."

"Don't you mean you'd have me killed, old man? You haven't got what it takes to do the job yourself and we both know it."

Booth clung to Ronnie's huge arm. "Get him out of my house. And issue an order to Aric and the others that Jed Tyree isn't welcome in my home." Booth focused on Jed. "You leave now, boy, while you still can. And if I ever see you again, I'll forget you're my nephew."

Ronnie eased Booth down on the side of the bed. Charmaine came running into the room, hovering about, fussing over Booth. Putting on a damn good show of concern. Ronnie walked over to Jed, grasped his arm and marched him out into the hall.

"Walk straight down the stairs," Ronnie said. "I'm seeing you to your car and making sure you're off Fortier property once and for all."

When they reached the front door, Aric blocked their path. They paused and watched while the big black man unloaded the clip from Jed's Beretta, then tossed the gun to him.

"Why did you throw it all away, man?" Aric asked. "He would have given you everything. Even after all these years, if you'd come back and told him you wanted in, he'd have given you a second chance."

"A second chance to turn out just like him? No thanks!"

"I'm seeing him to his car and making sure he leaves," Ronnie explained to Aric as he shoved Jed out the door.

Once outside, Jed began talking fast, keeping his voice low so that only Ronnie could hear him. He'd burned all his bridges tonight. He wouldn't be coming back here ever again.

"Tell Moran I know the combination to the safe here at the house," Ronnie said. "But most stuff is kept in safety deposit boxes, enough evidence to put Booth and other bigwigs in the syndicate away for life. And to have Governor Lew Miller impeached. Charmaine can and will help us once Booth is arrested and I get her away from here. Tell Moran I want immunity for her and we'll both need to go into the Witness Protection Program when this is all over."

Jed realized just how serious the undercover agent was about Charmaine Fortier. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"Yeah. And it's mutual," Ronnie said. "That lady has lived in hell for a long time. All I want is a chance to make her happy. I'd do just about anything to see that happens. Can you understand?"

Jed allowed Ronnie to shove him behind the wheel of his rental car. He looked up at the big, rugged FBI agent and said, "Yeah, I understand. There's a lady I feel the same way about."

"Don't tell me-it's Grace Beaumont?"

Ronnie grinned, then sobered instantly in case anyone was watching them closely. "Hell, Tyree, you're as big a fool as I am." Ronnie slammed the door, crossed his arms over his chest and watched while Jed drove away.

Yeah, Jed thought, he was a fool. A fool in love.

Troy Leone packed all his belongings into black plastic garbage bags, took them out to his pickup and dumped them into the truck bed. Just as he'd thought-once he told Josie he'd quit his job at the warehouse, she'd told him to get lost. Maybe he should have waited and told her after he'd talked to Elsa. After all, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure his sister would let him move back in with her. Not after the way he'd acted, after all the things he'd said. He wouldn't blame her if she'd washed her hands of him for good this time. But when he'd called her, she had agreed to see him tonight. That was a good sign, wasn't it? He checked his watch. Damn, he was running nearly two hours late. Josie had insisted he take all his things tonight. Screwy bitch!

As Troy dumped the last bag in the truck, he started rehearsing his speech, the one he'd give to Elsa. He'd have to be humble and not lose his temper no matter what she said to him. And he'd have to agree to pretty much anything she asked. She had already given him so many second chances that he'd lost count. But he bet she hadn't.

Just tell her you're sorry. Yeah, sure, like she hasn't heard that before. Promise her you'll get your act together for real this time. After all he wasn't doing drugs and that should please her. What the hell would he do if she turned him away? She won't do that, he told himself. She's your sister. She loves you.

Troy opened the door and started to hop up in the cab when a big hand clamped down on his shoulder. He froze, then glanced back to see Curt Poarch grinning at him. Troy 's heartbeat accelerated at an alarming speed.

"Mr. Poarch." Troy 's voice quivered. "What-what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"Me? About what? You know I appreciated the job at the warehouse, but-"

Curt jerked Troy backward and put his arm around his shoulder. "This isn't about the warehouse job. It's about something more important. My boss wants to see you. He thinks you're just the man we need."

"Me? But I'm not. I told you people already that I'm not the right guy for-"

"Why don't you let us be the judge of what you're the right man for."

Oh, God, help me, Troy thought. Who the hell are they going to want me to kill?

Jed drove around for a while before he returned to Belle Foret. He needed some time to cool off, to think about what he'd almost done. He'd come damn close to strangling his uncle tonight and that knowledge scared the hell out of him. Was he, like many of the Fortiers before him, a murdering bastard at heart?

Once he had himself under control, he'd called Moran and Sawyer MacNamara with updates from Jim Kelly. The FBI's main concern was that Booth would find a way to escape before he was arrested. Their second biggest concern was that Booth would find a way to get rid of any evidence against him. But Moran had been pleased to learn that Charmaine Fortier was willing to betray her husband.

"Kelly has promised her immunity from prosecution and a new identity under the Witness Protection Program," Jed had told Moran.

"If the lady can provide enough evidence to put her husband away for the rest of his life, we'll give her anything she wants."

Jed didn't bother telling Moran that Jim Kelly intended to disappear along with Charmaine, once Booth had been prosecuted and found guilty. He'd let Kelly tell his superiors that he'd fallen in love with the Mafia don's wife.

Jed pulled up in front of the gates that separated Belle Foret from the rest of the world. A little kingdom all to itself, once ruled over by a king and his princess, now held for posterity by the new queen. And Grace was a queen. Elegant. Refined. Cultured. All the things he wasn't and never would be. Hell, his mother had been a Fortier. Nothing could ever change that fact. Okay, so she'd been a Fortier, but she hadn't been insane the way Booth was. And he'd never heard anything about either of his grandparents being mentally deranged, despite his grandfather's mob ties. He'd heard the old man had been unscrupulous, devious and mean, but not certifiable. Apparently insanity didn't run in the family as Jed had thought… as he had feared all these years. He had been so afraid that one day he'd snap and go mad the way his mother had done. He'd kept that secret fear locked away inside him, refusing to deal with it, but he had never married, never fathered a child, in great part out of fear he would pass along defective genes.

When the gates opened, Jed drove the rental car up the driveway. There in the distance he saw the exterior and interior lights shining, welcoming him home. Home? Who was he trying to kid-Grace Beaumont might enjoy having him as a sex partner, but she knew as well as he did that at least six generations of Sheffields would roll over in their graves if she were to make a lifetime commitment to a man like him.

The minute he parked the car and got out, Rafe Devlin walked onto the veranda to wait for him. Instinctively Jed knew something was wrong. When he stepped up on the veranda, Rafe motioned him away from the front door. Not a good sign.

When they'd walked to the end of the sprawling porch, Rafe looked out at the vast front lawn, then stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. "We had a visitor earlier this evening."

Jed's heart lodged in his throat. "Grace-"

"Physically, she's fine," Rafe said.

"Just spit it out. What happened?"

"Before I got here, while J.J. and Ms. Beaumont were here alone, Hudson Prentice stopped by and dropped a bombshell on our client."

Jed's heart stopped for a split second. He knew what Rafe was about to say.

"He claims he received an anonymous phone call," Rafe said. "And he couldn't wait to get here to share the big news with his boss lady."

"Just say it, will you."

"He told her that you're Booth Fortier's nephew."

The whole world caved in on Jed, the weight resting heavily on his chest, making breathing impossible. Numbness set in. Then suddenly the air rushed into his lungs and he let out a long, shuddering breath. Feeling returned to his limbs and torso… and to his brain, and with it came excruciating pain.

"How did she take it?" Jed managed to say.

"I wasn't here, but J.J. said it hit her pretty hard. It seems she struck out at Prentice, called him a liar and ordered him to leave. But later, when she'd had time to calm down, she came right out and asked J.J. That happened about the same time I arrived."

"You told her the truth, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. I knew you wouldn't expect us to lie for you. After all, it was only a matter of time before she found out." Rafe cut his eyes in Jed's direction, then glanced away hurriedly. "Hell, man, you should have already told her."

"Where is she?"

"She went upstairs to her room, locked herself in and not even the old housekeeper can get her to come out or respond in any way."

"I have to talk to Grace, try to make her understand."

When Jed turned and headed for the front door, Rafe caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "Maybe you should wait until morning. Give her a chance to digest the information."

Jed shrugged off Rafe's grip, shook his head and kept walking. He heard his fellow Dundee agent huff loudly. Okay, so Rafe thought he was making a mistake. He got the message. What Rafe didn't understand was that he couldn't risk letting Grace decide she neither wanted nor needed him, as a bodyguard. If she rejected him personally, he'd find a way to live with it. But he couldn't allow her to fire him as her personal protector. He knew in his gut that Booth had pulled Hudson Prentice's strings. Booth wanted Jed off this case. He wanted Grace vulnerable and exposed.

Once inside, Jed took the stairs two at a time. When he reached Grace's bedroom door, he stood there, hesitant, and said the first real prayer he'd uttered in he couldn't remember when. Don't let her hate me. Please, let her understand.

Jed knocked on the door. No response.

"Grace?"

He knocked again.

"Grace, please, let me talk to you. Let me explain."

He leaned over and pressed his head against the door. Of all the women on earth, why did she have to be the one? Most women wouldn't give a damn that he was Booth Fortier's nephew. But Grace cared. It mattered to her in a way it couldn't matter to anyone else.

"Grace, I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Jed grabbed the crystal doorknob, and much to his surprise, it turned and the door opened. Had she unlocked it for him? He eased the door back a little bit at a time until he could see inside the dark room. She hadn't bothered turning on a light; only the pale, shadowy glow from the moonlight drifting through the windows saved the area from total darkness.

"Grace?"

Moving slowly and carefully, he entered the bedroom and began searching for Grace. Within moments he saw her sitting in one of the two chairs flanking the fireplace. All he could make out was her silhouette. He flipped the switch that activated the wall sconces on either side of the mantel and a soft, creamy blush washed over Grace. She sat staring off into nothingness, her hands folded neatly in her lap. When Jed approached, she didn't move or speak. He went down on his knees beside her chair, but didn't touch her.

"I didn't mean for you to find out the way you did. I'm sorry. I should have told you myself."

"Yes, you should have," she said in a soft, low whisper.

"I know you probably hate me." His hand hovered over her arm. He wanted to grab her, hold her, never let her go. "Hell, I hate myself. I've spent seventeen years trying to run away from the fact that I'm Booth Fortier's nephew and I thought I'd succeeded. Until this case. And even then, I had no idea how much it would cost me to be that monster's blood kin."

Grace turned to him, and when he saw her red, puffy eyes and the tears still clinging to her eyelashes, he felt as if his heart was being ripped from his body. He knew he didn't deserve this woman, knew he was all wrong for her, but knowing the facts didn't stop him from wanting her-wanting her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life.

"Hate me if you must," Jed said. "Don't forgive me for lying to you, for keeping a horrible secret from you, but do not fire me. Don't send me away. Please, Grace, allow me to remain your bodyguard. Keep me and the Dundee agents on the job."

Grace reached out and rubbed her fingertips across his cheekbones and it was only when she touched him that he realized he was crying. He didn't understand what was happening. He didn't cry. Not ever. Not since his mother died when he was a teenager. Nothing and no one had ever mattered that much to him. Not until Grace.

"I won't go," he told her. "Do you hear me? I won't leave you!"

"My poor Jed." Grace caressed his cheek.

Emotion choked him. He swallowed hard, then grabbed Grace's hand, brought it to his lips and turned it palm up to kiss. He was so overcome by her gentle touch, by her kind heart, that he couldn't speak.

Grace turned around, leaned over and pulled Jed to her. He pressed his head against her bosom as she wrapped her arms around him. When she laid her cheek against the top of his head, he slipped his arms around her and held on for dear life.

"How can you be so kind to me?" he asked, his voice harsh because he was trying so hard to conceal how emotionally vulnerable he was. "My uncle is the man who ordered your husband and father murdered."

"He ordered your father's murder, too," she reminded him. "It isn't your fault that your mother was Booth Fortier's sister. None of us chose our families."

Grace cupped Jed's face with her hands and urged him to look at her. When he did, what he saw surprised him beyond belief. Although crying, Grace smiled at him. Her face blurred quickly through the mist of tears in his eyes. She lowered her head and brushed her lips over his.

"I've had a couple of hours to think about you and me and why you didn't tell me about your relationship to Booth Fortier," she said. "My emotions have pretty much run the gamut. But I realized something a few minutes ago when I heard your voice outside my door." Holding his breath, he stared at her. Praying. Hoping beyond all reason. "When all is said and done, you're as much a victim of Booth Fortier's viciousness as I am. Perhaps even more so."

"Ah, Grace… Blondie-"

She kissed first one cheek, then the other. "I love you, Jed. Knowing who your uncle is doesn't change that fact."

"But do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, I trust you."

"Enough to put your life in my hands?"

"Yes. Now and forever." She kissed him with a passion born of desire and uncertainty.

Jed returned her kiss, deepened it, took it to its furthermost reaches. When she curled her arms around his neck, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed. And they made slow, sweet love to each other, savoring every moment, understanding how precarious and unpredictable life can be.