Guarding Jeannie tp-5

by Beverly Barton

  "Sam?"

  "Two things have been driving me crazy while you slept. I was worried sick that you'd suffered too much pain, that you might have permanently harmed yourself. And all the while I was worrying, I hated myself for wanting you so desperately, for thinking what might have been if—"

  "Once we're on Le Bijou Bleu, we'll have all our days and nights to make love."

  Sam swallowed hard. "When you're no longer in danger, I'm going back to Atlanta."

  Jeannie sighed. "Yes, I know. I understand."

  "Okay, then. I see no reason to delay our departure. We'll sail for your island today."

  "I'll go with you to Le Bijou Bleu day after tomorrow, when I've had a chance to put things in order around here and do what I feel is right and necessary."

  Dammit, he knew what she was planning to do. "I won't allow you to put yourself in any more danger."

  "Everything is going to be all right," she said, only half believing her own words. "Somehow we'll find a way to make it right."

  She slipped her arms around him, kissing him with a strength and passion that startled him. Within seconds, Sam had taken charge of the kiss, the power of his feelings ripping him apart inside. He needed to make love to Jeannie, and soon, or he was going to lose his mind. He'd never known desire so strong, passion so all-consuming, need so powerful. And somehow he knew Jeannie felt the same way, that even though sexual desire was a new experience for her, the desperation of her need matched his own.

  But he would have to wait until she was fully recovered from the ordeal following the bombing of the Royal Belle. When they made love for the first time, Jeannie would need all her strength. When they made love, she would experience sexual fulfillment—both his and hers.

  Chapter 10

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  Tapping the china rim with her fingernails, Jeannie stared into the teacup she held with both hands. She lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip of the warm, sweet liquid, then held the cup in front of her. Was she forgetting anything? She would go over her checklist again before she and Sam left in the morning. He had wanted to go to Le Bijou Bleu today, but she had insisted on waiting for tomorrow. That would give her enough time to get things in order around the house and make sure that, between Ollie and Marta, Julian would be taken care of properly. He insisted he could take care of himself, but Julian was one of those men who had always had a woman to handle life's daily annoyances.

  And Jeannie really had wanted to visit the hospitals to see those injured in the explosion aboard the Royal Belle. But upon further discussion, she and Sam had compromised. She wouldn't go to the hospitals if he agreed to stay in Biloxi one more day so that she could put things in order before their departure. After all, what difference could one day make?

  "There's no point in your worrying about things over which you have little or no control." Laying the medical journal he'd been reading in his lap, Julian looked at Jeannie. "What happened aboard the Royal Belle was an atrocity, but it could have been much worse. If you hadn't sensed that monster Reeves's emotions, everyone aboard the riverboat might have died. You did all you could to prevent the disaster and to ease the suffering of those who were injured."

  "Sam has told me the same thing, but I can't forget that if Reeves wasn't so determined to destroy me, he probably wouldn't have had bombs placed aboard the boat."

  "You don't know that for sure. The man has been preaching against gambling ever since it was legalized and the casinos went into business along the Gulf."

  "But he's never blown up one of the casinos before," Jeannie said. "He's never done anything violent, until now."

  Sam Dundee entered the room, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "The man is totally irrational when it comes to you."

  Jeannie's heart skipped a beat. Just the sound of his voice excited her, and one look into those steely gray eyes aroused her. She'd never known what it was like to want a man, to long for the feel of his hand in hers, the touch of his lips, the pleasure of his strong embrace.

  "Reeves believes I'm a witch, possessed with powers from Satan." She set her teacup in its saucer on the mahogany table beside her chair. "I know he isn't going to leave me alone. He wants to destroy me." She shivered; the feel of Reeves's evil lingered inside her like a tiny sprinkling of ashes from a fire which had long since died.

  "Reeves's obsession with destroying you is why it's imperative you leave Biloxi." Standing, Julian glanced down at the medical journal that had fallen from his lap. Grumbling under his breath, he reached down, picked up the magazine and laid it in the chair. "All the preparations have been made. I telephoned the Broadwater Marina. Your boat will be ready for your departure in the morning. And, you've contacted Manton to let him know when to expect you and Mr. Dundee."

  Jeannie nodded agreement. "I've packed a few things to take with me, but I keep so many things at the house there, I won't need much." She glanced across the room at Sam, who was standing by the windows, seemingly absorbed in reading the stapled sheets of paper in his hand. "And I've sent Ollie out to buy Sam a bathing suit and some shorts and stuff. The man brought nothing but business suits. Can you imagine? He came to Biloxi without a bathing suit."

  Sam grunted, glanced up from his reading and gave Jeannie one of his half smiles. Already she'd learned that that was the usual extent of his smile, an upward curve of his lips that didn't show any teeth.

  "I came to Biloxi to work," he said. "Not to play."

  "What are you so interested in?" Jeannie looked at the papers in his hand.

  "J.T. faxed me more information on Reeves." Sam walked over to where Jeannie sat and handed her the report. "There's only one new piece of information that might interest the police. Reeves is a known religious fanatic whose followers have been jailed time and again, but Reeves himself has a spotless record. He seems to always be on the fringes of anything his church does that's illegal. It's obvious someone else always does his dirty work and takes all the risks."

  Julian placed his bony hand on Sam's shoulder. "What piece of information is suspicious?"

  "It seems that when Reeves was sixteen, both of his parents died in a house fire. The fire inspector said it was out-and-out arson, but they never found the arsonists, never prosecuted anyone."

  "Where was Reeves when his parents' house burned?" Julian asked.

  "He had spent the night with a friend, a boy named Wayland Krenshaw. Krenshaw is a deacon in Reeves's Righteous Light Church, and the two are fast friends to this day."

  Jeannie read through the report quickly, then handed it back to Sam. "The police suspected young Maynard Reeves, but they had no proof, and he had an alibi."

  "Why would the police suspect Reeves?" Julian glanced from Jeannie to Sam.

  "Two weeks before the fire, a next-door neighbor had heard Reeves threaten his father, telling him that if he ever beat him again, he'd kill him," Sam said. "And the elder Reeves, a hellfire-and-brimstone preacher, told his son that the evil powers inside him would eventually destroy him. Then Reeves's father knocked him to the ground."

  "My guess is that his father caught young Maynard using his psychic abilities," Jeannie said. "Obviously the man didn't realize that his son probably had little control over those abilities."

  "And there are no other suspicious incidents in Reeves's past?" Julian pointed to the report in Sam's hand.

  "There are countless suspicious incidents." Sam shook the sheaf of papers. "But that was the only time Reeves was directly linked to the happening. Our good reverend possibly has been behind numerous fires, bombings and even a couple of shootings, but there's no proof to link him to any of the incidents. And not once has one of his followers accused Reeves of any wrongdoing, even if it meant serving prison time themselves."

  "Are you saying that this Righteous Light Church has members who are in prison because of—" Julian's dark eyes narrowed to mere slits. He slammed his hand down on the mahogany table beside Jeannie's chair, sending her empty teacup crashing to the floor.
>
  Jeannie lifted herself, bracing herself with her cane. She grabbed Julian's arm. "You musn't get upset like this. It isn't good for your heart."

  "Why can't the police do something to stop Reeves? It's obvious he's no man of God. If anyone is a child of the devil, he is!" Julian's swarthy olive complexion flushed with crimson. He knotted his hands into fists. "If I wasn't such an old man, I'd—"

  "Calm yourself." Jeannie slipped her arm around her foster father's waist. "Sam is taking me away to Le Bijou Bleu in the morning. You, Ollie and Marta will be the only people who'll known where we are. Reeves doesn't know about my island, and the few people who know aren't about to tell him."

  "I agree that the safest place for you is Le Bijou Bleu, but you can't hide out there for the rest of your life." Julian hugged Jeannie to his side. "If only the police could arrest the man. My God, he's threatened your life more than once."

  "Technically, he hasn't," Jeannie said. "There is no law that prevents him from calling me names, and we have no proof that he sent me the Bible with the blood-spotted marker, or that he was responsible for the bombing of the Royal Belle."

  Julian rubbed Jeannie's arm, then patted her tenderly on the shoulder. "If there's no other way to keep you safe, we'll leave Biloxi. We can go anywhere in the world. I'd do anything to protect you."

  Jeannie hugged Julian. "I know you would, but I'm hoping that if I leave Biloxi for a few weeks, the media coverage on me will die down and perhaps Reeves will return to New Orleans and find some other poor soul to persecute."

  When Sam grunted, Jeannie and Julian looked at him. Sam turned, picked up the report, folded it in half and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "In going to Le Bijou Bleu, we're taking Jeannie temporarily out of harm's way and buying us some time. If we can't legally nail Reeves's hide to the wall, then I'll have to find another way to handle him."

  "What do you mean?" Jeannie asked, but really didn't want to know.

  "There's no point in discussing alternatives until the present plan fails," Sam said.

  "What present plan?" Julian asked.

  "I've called in some favors." Sam tried not to look at Jeannie, who watched him closely. "I was a government agent for ten years. I know a lot of people. I have men on my payroll who are former CIA, former Green Berets and navy SEALS. My partner, J.T. Blackwood, left the Secret Service after he lost an eye and nearly died."

  "What does who you know have to do with this plan to stop Maynard Reeves from … from killing me?" Jeannie willed Sam to face her, knowing he couldn't lie to her if he looked her in the eye.

  Sensing her need for the complete truth, Sam made eye contact with Jeannie. "Since the bombing of the Royal Belle, the feds are involved. I've asked for and been promised one of their best men to head up the investigation. Dane Carmichael should be arriving today. He'll work directly with Lieutenant Painter. If there's any way to prove a connection between Reeves and the explosions aboard the Royal Belle, they'll find it. We just need to keep Jeannie out of harm's way until Reeves is behind bars. Painter and Carmichael are coming by to question us later this evening."

  "Let's pray this plan works," Jeannie said. "I don't know if I could live with the alternative."

  She tried to disguise her feelings, but they showed plainly on her face.

  Knowing her so well, and caring for her so deeply, Julian could read her like a book. "We'll hope and pray Reeves will be found out and the police discover the proof they need to put him away." Gripping Jeannie by the shoulder, Julian stared at Sam. "But if it comes to—" Julian cleared his throat. "You'll do what must be done, what I'd do if I could. Her life is in your hands, my boy. I trust you to keep her safe."

  "There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect her."

  * * *

  Sam couldn't sleep. If he hadn't been forced into a compromise with Jeannie, allowing her one extra day in Biloxi, he'd have taken her away today. Sam glanced at the bedside clock. Nearly midnight. They'd be out of the house before seven and on the gulf before eight.

  Their talk with Lieutenant Painter and Dane Carmichael had lasted over an hour, with Jeannie reconstructing the events of three nights ago, aboard the Royal Belle, and explaining again and again why she knew Reeves had been behind the bombing.

  Maybe, if they were lucky, Reeves had made a mistake, or perhaps someone in his organization would talk. Sam didn't know how long he'd have to keep Jeannie on Le Bijou Bleu, how long he'd have to act as her bodyguard, but he'd already asked J.T. to take control of Dundee Private Security. Sam hadn't had to tell J.T. that this case had become very personal. He'd just known. And J.T. was too astute to ask questions. Sam appreciated his friend and partner's keen perception. How the hell could he ever explain his feelings about Jeannie to someone else, when he didn't truly understand them himself?

  Le Bijou Bleu. The Blue Jewel. Out there somewhere in the gulf. Sam drew back the curtains at the window and looked up at the star-filled sky. Tomorrow night they would be together on Jeannie's island retreat. Alone. Except for Manton. Sam had only the vaguest memory of the huge man. Dark skin. Bald head. How would Manton feel about Jeannie bringing Sam to the island? Would Manton instinctively know what was happening between Jeannie and Sam? Would he approve or disapprove?

  Sam had no idea where Le Bijou Bleu was located. When he was tossed into the ocean six years ago, his body had washed ashore on Jeannie's uncharted island. Sam had checked and double-checked to make sure there was no way Reeves could discover the location of the island. Although Ollie and Marta knew about the island, as did the family lawyer, only Manton, Julian and Jeannie knew its exact location.

  Years ago, the only means of communication had been a shortwave radio. With generators providing electricity to the house, Jeannie had provided Manton with a computer and fax-modem and had installed a telephone. One of the first things Jeannie had done after waking from her twenty-four hour rest, was to fax Manton, something she did almost every day.

  "He'll be worried if more than a couple of days pass without hearing from me," she'd said.

  So like Jeannie, caring about others, worrying about the people in her life, loving wholeheartedly, giving freely, taking on suffering that was not hers.

  Sam didn't pretend to understand the depth of Jeannie's goodness, but the purity of her soul made him question his right to desire her. Of all the men in the world, why would she want him to be her first lover? She knew he could promise her nothing permanent, that he could offer her a physical relationship and nothing more. Why didn't she wait for some gentle, kind man whose soul would be in tune with hers? Why would she want a man who wasn't even sure he possessed a soul?

  Sam heard the distant beeping sound and couldn't quite identify what it was or where it was coming from. When he went out into the hall, he heard it more distinctly, a repetitive alert coming from somewhere downstairs.

  Jeannie cried out his name. The beeping continued. Sam listened carefully. A smoke detector!

  "Sam!" she cried again.

  "I'll check it out," he said, knowing she could hear the alarm, too. "It could be nothing. I'll be right back."

  He flew down the stairs, followed the warning signal into the smoky corridor leading to the kitchen and flung open the door. Growling at the sight before him, he swore loudly. Flames engulfed the kitchen, the curtains burning in seconds as he watched. Smoke filled the room.

  Ollie touched Sam on the shoulder. He jerked around to face her. "Get out of the house. Fast. I'll send Julian and bring Jeannie down."

  "Can't I help?" Ollie asked.

  "Don't argue. No time. Get out!"

  Sam slammed shut the door, raced back upstairs, calling Jeannie's name. Julian, wearing pajamas and a silk robe came out into the hall. "What's wrong? Is that the smoke detector?"

  Ignoring Julian, Sam rushed into his bedroom, retrieved his cellular phone from his jacket, went back into the hall and tossed the phone to Julian.

  "Go downstairs and out the front door quickly. I've sent Ollie out.
Dial 911. Get the fire department here before this old house burns to the ground."

  "Jeannie?" Julian hesitated, but then he saw the look in Sam Dundee's eyes and, clutching the phone in his trembling hand, hurried downstairs.

  Jeannie sat upright in bed, the lamp on the nightstand illuminating her frightened face. "The smoke alarm went off downstairs. Is there a fire?"

  Sam lifted her into his anus. "The whole kitchen's on fire." She had known somehow that the alarm hadn't gone off by accident, that it signaled a true danger. The moment she heard it, she'd called out to Sam, telepathically at first, but he hadn't responded.

  She saw the panic in his eyes and realized how afraid he was for her. She held out her arms, waiting for him to rescue her. Nothing could ever truly harm her as long as she had Sam.

  Although his mind functioned and he'd thought out every move in a reasonable fashion, one overriding emotion dictated Sam's actions—his concern for Jeannie. He had to get her to safety!

  Jeannie clung to him as he rushed out of her room, dashing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Billows of black smoke met them in the foyer. Fire licked at the walls. Jeannie closed her eyes against the destruction, coughing when the smoke filled her nostrils and crept into her throat. Ahead of them, the front door stood wide open. Sam didn't hesitate; he ran outside, down the steps and into the front yard, where Julian and Ollie stood huddled together.

  "The fire department is on the way." Julian touched Jeannie's face and smiled. "Maybe they'll make it here in time to save the old place."

  Jeannie knew how much Julian loved the house his grandfather had built, the home where he'd grown up, the house where he'd brought Miriam as a bride. To lose this magnificent old mansion would be like losing a part of himself.