Elsa called loudly, "You promised me that if I delivered Grace, you'd free Troy."
"Free Troy?" Grace went into her astonished act. "What do you mean, free Troy? What's going on here?"
"You may leave now, Ms. Leone. Your brother will be returned to you safely in a few hours."
"No, that wasn't the deal," Elsa said, the nervous strain in her voice all too real.
"I demand to know what's going on?" Grace planted her hands on her hips.
"Unless you want to die with Ms. Beaumont, then I suggest you leave, Ms. Leone."
"Die?" Grace gasped, then turned to Elsa and slapped her. "You ungrateful little bitch! After all I've done for you, you hand me over to—whoever you are, you're working for Booth Fortier, aren't you?" Grace stumbled around in the eerily dark building as she searched for the source of the voice; then she whirled around and glowered at Elsa. "Go ahead and leave. Do it now, unless you're having second thoughts and are willing to die with me."
Go, damn it, Elsa. Leave while you still can. Grace issued the silent warning. She didn't want Elsa to try to do anything heroic. If Troy Leone was still alive, these people could hardly let him go, not if he could identify them later. Elsa knew, as Grace did, that Troy's only hope was being rescued when Grace was rescued. Hopefully, they were holding Troy here at the warehouse. Otherwise… Grace didn't want to think of the alternative.
"I want my brother!" Elsa held up her hand in a tight fist.
"Leave now and we'll send him to you. If you stay, you and he will both die with Ms. Beaumont."
Elsa spun around and hurried to the door. Once Elsa was outside, Grace sighed with relief. But before she could say a prayer of thanks, a tall, hawk-nosed man came from out of the shadows; a short, stocky man, with an acne-scarred face followed him. Instinctively Grace began backing up. Hawk-nose grabbed her by the arm. She thought about protesting, but knew it would be futile. Are they planning on killing me now? Grace wondered. Or will they wait for Booth Fortier to come and watch?
The man dragged her into motion, taking her through the warehouse, as the stocky guy guided their way with a flashlight. When they reached the rear entrance, Grace balked, realizing they were going to take her away. But where?
"Strip," Hawk-nose said.
"What?"
"Strip down to your slip," he told her.
"I'll do no such thing."
"Either you do it or I'll do it for you."
Reluctantly Grace removed her jacket, blouse and skirt, leaving her body covered by a beige silk slip. The cameo rested on her bosom, atop the heavy lace adorning the bodice of her slip. Oh, Jed, please be close by. I'm being as brave as I can be, but I don't know for how long. I'm scared. I'm really, really scared.
"The shoes, too," he told her.
She took off her leather pumps.
"All your jewelry."
"Why can't I keep on my—"
He ripped the necklace off her and threw it on the ground. "Want me to take off your earrings, too?"
Grace quickly divested herself of her earrings, watch and heavy gold bangle bracelet. The stocky guy opened the back door. Hawk-nose lifted Grace off her feet, tossed her over his shoulder, carried her outside and down to the loading dock. Within minutes Grace realized their intent. They placed her in a speedboat, tied her hands behind her back, gagged her with a foul-smelling rag and while Hawk-nose sat beside her, the other one started the boat's motor.
How would Jed ever find her now? The homing device was back at the warehouse, and she was being taken away to only God knew where.
* * *
Chapter 22
« ^ »
Jed and Rafe slipped into the warehouse, a silent, deadly operation to rescue Grace—and Troy Leone, if the boy was still alive. With the precision of trained soldiers, they moved about inside the dark cavern, searching for any sign of life. After a thorough survey of the entire place, they ended up with two flunkies who'd been left behind as guards to protect the illegal contents of the building. With both men tied up and left for the Feds, Jed and Rafe made their way to the doors that opened onto the loading dock at the back of the warehouse.
Jed spotted the pile of clothing lying just inside the door. He reached down and grasped Grace's blouse in his hand. "God damn it! They made her strip out of her clothes."
Rafe pointed to several shiny gold objects on the sidewalk, a few feet outside the door. "That looks like Grace's jewelry, including the cameo Special Agent Taylor gave her."
"That means she's not wearing the homing device." Anger and frustration surged through Jed. And fear. Fear like nothing he'd ever known in his life. Not even in battle. "They're taking her to Booth."
"You can't be sure—"
"I'm sure. Booth enjoys playing games. He'll want to toy with Grace first." Jed balled his hands into tight fists, the thought of Grace in Booth's hands unbearable to him.
"Don't go off half-cocked," Rafe said. "We'll find her. I'll call in Moran now and—"
"If we don't find her soon, it'll be too late." Jed stormed off toward the river, mumbling to himself. "I knew this wouldn't work. I tried to tell them. I begged her not to go through with it. But would they listen? No! Would she listen? Damn it, Grace, don't you dare die. Do you hear me? Don't you dare die!"
Within five minutes the entire block was swarming with FBI agents, covering every inch of the warehouse and the surrounding area, including the pier. Dante Moran sent a team down river in case Grace's captors had spirited her away by boat, as Jed suspected.
When Jed tried to get away, slip off so he could head for Booth's place in Beaulac, Elsa Leone ran up to him. "Where are they? Is Grace all right? Is Troy alive?"
"Neither of them are here," Jed told her. "Troy was probably never here, at least not in the past few hours. And I have no idea if he's alive. Maybe. And Grace—Grace is gone. Taken away. And we have no idea where."
"Oh, God, no!"
"If y'all had listened to me, this wouldn't have happened. At least Grace would be safe, but no, you and Grace were so eager to do what the FBI wanted that you didn't consider their scheme might get Grace killed." Jed glowered at Elsa.
Elsa gasped; her face paled. "I'm sorry … I … er … I—"
"Take it easy on her, will you. This isn't Ms. Leone's fault." Rafe came up behind Jed and gripped his shoulder. "She didn't want anything to happen to Ms. Beaumont anymore than you did."
Jed heaved a deep sigh. "Cover for me, will you? I'm going to the source. If Booth isn't holding Grace at his house, then somebody there will know where they are."
"You can't go in there alone," Rafe said. "From what you've told me that place is overrun with guards. They'll shoot you before you get ten feet beyond the gate."
"I know the place like the back of my hand. I can probably get inside and make it to the house without being detected. Once I'm there, I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."
"I'll go with you," Rafe said. "And we'll call Dom and J.J. and have them meet up with us—"
A familiar voice called out to them, "Where do you two think you're going?" Dante Moran joined their threesome. Completely ignoring Elsa, he glanced from Rafe to Jed. "Look, Tyree, I know you're pissed about the screwup, but we'll find Ms. Beaumont. We have teams closing in on Booth Fortier right now. It's only a matter of time before we arrest him."
"Time isn't on Grace's side," Jed said. "If we don't find her soon, it'll be too late."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Finding Grace."
"You and Devlin were thinking about going to Fortier's home, weren't you?" When neither Jed nor Rafe replied, Moran continued, "Drive out there with me. By the time we get there, one of our teams will already be there and have cleaned out the place. If Fortier is there, we'll take him into custody. And either he or one of his employees will tell us where Grace Beaumont is being held."
Jed laughed sarcastically. "You don't know Booth Fortier if you think he won't kill Grace before you people take over his private domain. If she's in
Booth's home, then you've signed her death warrant."
* * *
By the time the FBI team entered the Fortier home, Ronnie Martine had hurriedly told Charmaine about his true identity and enlisted her help in securing the house. The domestic servants surrendered without a fight and lined up in the hallway to wait for the Feds.
No one else was inside the house, except Charlie Dupree who had shown up early this morning and gone straight to bed. Aric had driven Booth away over an hour ago, without informing anyone of where he was going. But Charmaine knew. When Booth had informed Aric of his plans, she'd listened at the door connecting her bedroom to her husband's.
As Ronnie and Charmaine waited for the federal agents, Charlie Dupree came bounding downstairs, barefoot and wearing only his jeans and gun holster. Apparently he'd been asleep when he'd heard the ruckus outside.
"What the hell is going on?" Charlie asked as he noticed the servants lined up in the hallway. "Sounds like all hell has broken loose outside. Are we being raided or what?"
"The FBI has stormed the compound," Ronnie said. "They're arresting anyone who doesn't resist and killing those who do."
"Sons of bitches! What the hell are you doing holed up in here?" Charlie ran toward the front door. "Are you coming with me or not?"
"Don't open that door," Ronnie ordered.
Charlie glanced over his shoulder and noted that Ronnie's 9 mm was aimed directly at his back. "What's this? You turning traitor?"
"I'm giving you a chance to surrender," Ronnie told him. "Toss your gun aside, put your hands over your head and—"
Charlie whirled around and opened fire. Ronnie shoved Charmaine behind him, and as Charlie's bullets splintered the door facing to their right, Ronnie took aim and fired. His shot struck Charlie's hand, sending his gun flying. But that didn't stop Charlie, who hit the floor and rolled through the living room doorway, then snatched a knife from his jeans pocket, flipped it open and slung it toward Ronnie. When the blade pierced Ronnie's shoulder, he winced in pain and dropped his weapon, Charlie jumped up and came barreling toward him. Just as he pounced, Charmaine grabbed Ronnie's gun off the floor. She didn't give Charlie any warning. She just shot him. He staggered around and looked at her, his gaze plainly saying he couldn't believe she'd done it. Charlie slumped to the floor.
Just as Charmaine ripped open Ronnie's shirt to inspect the knife wound, the front door burst open and half a dozen FBI agents burst into the foyer.
* * *
Half an hour later, Jim Kelly, aka Ronnie Martine, was being treated by the paramedics. Jed paced the floor outside on the front porch shortly after he and Rafe arrived with Dante Moran. With each passing minute, the chances of finding Grace alive grew slimmer and slimmer. Although the Feds had rounded up a couple of dozen underlings, five household staff and a badly wounded Charlie Dupree, Booth was nowhere to be found.
When the paramedics carried Jim to the waiting ambulance, Charmaine followed them, then paused and looked at Jed. "Wait just a minute," she called out, "I'm riding in the ambulance with Ron—with Special Agent Kelly." She grabbed Jed's arm, leaned over and whispered, "Booth's at the old mill. There's no one there except him and Aric. I heard him tell Aric that he wanted to take care of Grace Beaumont personally."
"Thanks, Charmaine. You just might have saved Grace's life."
"I hope so." She kissed Jed's cheek. "Good luck."
Before the ambulance was out of sight, Jed pulled Rafe aside. "I know where Booth is holding Grace. Give me a fifteen-minute head start, then tell Moran."
"Don't go in there alone," Rafe said.
"I think I can handle Booth and Aric. Charmaine told me it's just the two of them." Jed gripped Rafe's arm fiercely. "I need to do this alone. If the Feds swarm the place, he'll kill Grace for sure."
"Ten minutes, but that's it," Rafe said. "Now, tell me where you're going?"
* * *
Booth Fortier was a sadistic monster. Grace clenched her teeth tightly as he struck her again, pain shooting through her stomach as his hand connected with her face. She couldn't believe that such an evil man was Jed's uncle.
"You're trying to be a brave lady, aren't you," Booth said snidely. "But I'll have you begging for mercy soon enough." He slapped her again. For the fifth time or the sixth? Grace didn't know. She'd lost count. She did know that the right side of her face was numb. If only the rest of her was, too, then she wouldn't be able to feel the pain. She hadn't cried, but she was screaming inside. How much longer could she resist the urge to scream aloud?
"Maybe you'd like to see me kill the kid first," Booth said. "Would that scare you enough to make you yell?"
Booth walked over to where Troy Leone lay on the floor, his hands and feet securely tied, his mouth gagged. Grinning with apparent delight, Booth kicked the boy in the ribs. Grace winced.
Booth rushed back to her and put his face down in front of hers where she sat strapped to a rickety wooden chair. "I can make you scream." He removed a small pocketknife from his pants, flipped it open and ran the tip across Grace's slip, from one breast to the other. "Talk to me, Grace. Tell me what you fear the most."
Grace swallowed hard and looked the devil in the eyes, doing her level best to show no fear. He was going to kill her. But he wanted to torture her fist. Torture her for his own sadistic pleasure.
"You know that I could kill you quickly," he told her. "But what's the fun in that?"
The big black man standing guard at the door called out, "I hear a car."
"Go check it out," Booth ordered. "I don't want anyone interrupting my fun. You hear me, Aric?"
Aric opened the door and went outside, while Booth continued to toy with Grace. Using his pocketknife, he sliced Grace's slip from bodice to hem. A couple of times the blade's tip nicked her flesh. One nick on her belly, the other on her thigh. When Booth pulled apart the silk garment and saw the two bloodstains on her flesh, he smiled, then wiped off the blood and licked his finger.
The door swung open and someone shoved Aric inside, then came in behind him. Grace blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes. Then she saw Jed. Jed! Oh, God, Jed had found her.
"Well, well, look here at what the cat's dragged in," Booth said, turning his attention to Jed. "How the hell did you find me, boy?"
"Let her go," Jed said.
"Now, why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'm going to kill you."
Booth laughed as he glanced from Jed to the gun he held on Aric. "You can't kill both of us. If you shoot me, Aric will jump you. If you shoot Aric, I'll have my Ruger out of its holster before you get off a second shot." Booth eyed his shoulder holster, the rich brown leather gleaming against his sweat-stained, white shirt.
"Are you willing to bet your life on that, old man?" Jed asked.
"I could kill her right now." Booth held the knife under Grace's throat.
Jed growled. Booth eyed him speculatively.
"I know you'd hate to lose a client. Wouldn't look good on your record," Booth said. "Or is it more than that? You haven't been screwing Ms. Beaumont, have you?" Booth laughed. "Was she good, boy? Did she purr for you? Hell, I can't get her to say anything."
Jed glanced from Grace's badly bruised face to her eyes. She gazed at the boy lying in a pathetic heap on the floor. That's when Jed noticed Troy Leone. He cursed softly under his breath.
"I know you probably don't have the stomach to watch," Booth said. "You being weak like your mama, but if you leave now, you won't have to see her die."
Jed aimed his Beretta straight at his uncle. "Let her go or I'll shoot you."
"No you won't. I'm your mama's brother. Your uncle. That good guy conscience you inherited from your old man would torment you until the day you died if you kill me. I know you, Jed. You might want to kill me, but you won't."
"I will, if that's what it takes to save Grace."
"Grace, is it? You call her Grace and not Mrs. Beaumont. Then I was right. You did have her, didn't yo
u?" Booth glared at her. "Did you think just because he screwed you, he loved you? We Fortier men don't love women, we use them. And if you think he'll kill me to save you, you're wrong."
"No, you're wrong," Grace said, finally speaking to the loathsome creature.
Just as Booth prepared to slit Grace's throat, two gunshots rang out within seconds of each other. One bullet hit Fortier between the eyes, the other entered his heart. The pocketknife in his hand fell into Grace's lap. Aric cried out and rushed toward his boss, as Rafe Devlin and several other men stormed into the old mill. Jed dropped his gun and ran toward Grace. He squatted beside her and gently cupped her bruised face. Two men, whom Grace assumed were FBI agents, apprehended the big black man, then the tall, lanky agent in a dark suit who seemed to be in charge walked over and inspected Booth Fortier's body.
He glanced at Jed and said, "My bullet killed him. He was already dead when yours hit him."
"How can you be so sure it was your bullet that killed him, Moran?" Jed asked.
"Take my word for it. You didn't kill your uncle. I did."
"Yeah, sure." Jed hurriedly untied Grace and lifted her into his arms. "I'm getting you to the hospital as fast as I can."
She draped her arm around his neck. "I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm all right. Just a few bruises. Please, Jed, take me home." As Jed carried her toward the door, she called to the one Jed had referred to as Moran. "Please, take care of Troy." She glanced down at Elsa's bound brother lying in a heap on the floor. "I don't think he's badly hurt."
Jed carried her out the door and to his car. With such tenderness that his loving care broke her heart, Jed placed her in the front seat, then gently kissed her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Grace. God, I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she told him. "Don't you know that? You're my white knight, my protector, my hero."
Rafe Devlin herded a dirty, tattered and slightly bruised Troy Leone outside and over to Jed's car. "Mind if we catch a ride with y'all? You could drop me and the boy off at his sister's on the way to Belle Foret. Moran said the kid and Ms. Beaumont can answer questions tomorrow."
Grace Under Fire Page 26