Grace Under Fire

by Beverly Barton

  A soft rap on the door gained Grace's attention. "Yes?"

  Laverna eased open the door. "Mr. Prentice is here to see you, Miss Grace. Shall I have him wait in the parlor or would you like for him to come to the den?"

  "Ask him to come back here, please."

  "Very well."

  Grace turned to J.J. "I can't imagine what brings Hudson out here tonight." She wondered if he'd been upset because she'd left the hospital without saying goodbye. "I've never seen him in the condition he was in right after Kate was shot. But then, we were all half out of our minds."

  "Seeing someone shot like that isn't easy for anyone," J.J. said. "But it had to have been more difficult for you, since you knew you were the intended victim."

  "Kate saved my life. How do you ever repay someone for that?"

  "It's our job," J.J. said. "Although it isn't that often we actually get wounded in the line of duty, we're always aware that it's a possibility."

  Hudson cleared his throat as he stopped in the doorway. "Excuse me. Grace, may I see you alone, please."

  "Sorry, but that won't be possible." J.J. rose to her feet and glared at Hudson. "Whatever you have to say to Ms. Beaumont, you'll have to say with me present."

  "Grace, really … is it necessary for her to be here?" Hudson tilted his nose haughtily.

  Grace glanced at J.J., then smiled at Hudson. "Please, come in and have a seat. And don't mind J.J. Just pretend she isn't here. I'm afraid Jed left specific instructions for me not to be alone until he returns." Well, that wasn't exactly true, but Grace understood that J.J. had no intention of leaving, so to avoid a ruckus, a little white lie was in order.

  "Very well, but … I have something to tell you. Something you're not going to like."

  Grace watched the peculiar expressions on Hudson's face, changing from indignation to excitement to concern. She had the oddest feeling that the concern was fake. "Mercy, you're being awfully mysterious. Whatever is it?"

  "I received an anonymous phone call … at the hospital. If you'll recall, I went to the men's room to take the call."

  "And…" Grace prompted.

  "And what I was told is terribly upsetting. I hate to be the one to tell you, but you have every right to know. You should have been informed before you took Jed Tyree into your home and put your trust in him."

  J.J. tensed as she scrutinized Hudson, her narrowed gaze and rigid stance a warning.

  "Be specific," Grace said. "What are you talking about?"

  "Jed Tyree!" Hudson's cheeks flushed bright pink.

  "What about Jed?"

  "God help us, Grace, you've been harboring this man in your home, putting your trust in him to protect you, to help you unearth evidence against—"

  "Damn, Hudson, whatever it is, just say it."

  "Very well, I will. Jed Tyree is Booth Fortier's nephew."

  * * *

  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 s
prawling 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."