by Diana Palmer
They all laughed, breaking the tension.
Just then, her phone rang.
She answered it, still buoyed up by her delight at not having to face a furious Bailey. “Hello?”
“Where the hell are you? Are you all right? If that weasel has hurt a hair on your head, I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp and feed him to Wolf...!”
That was her husband, and he was raving mad. “It’s okay, Jake,” she said softly. “I’m here with Fred and Mr. Garrison, from my attorney’s office. Fred’s going to testify against Bailey. Bailey had his mother,” she added quickly. “But he couldn’t go through with taking me to Bailey.” There was a pregnant silence. “He’s the best driver we’ll ever get,” she added, a faint plea in her voice.
“Where are you?” he repeated.
She looked around. “Where are we?” she asked the two men.
Garrison told her with an amused smile. She told Jake.
“I’m in the air. We’ll land at the Rimrocks. Can you meet me there?” He gave her the ETA.
She gave it, in turn, to the men and asked if they could get her to the airport.
“We’ll get you there...” He paused, because his own phone was ringing. He got out of the car to answer it.
“If anything had happened to you,” Jake began through his teeth.
Elation filled her like cake. “I’m fine. Really.”
He relaxed. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
She hung up. “It’s okay,” she assured Fred, who was still tormented.
Garrison got back into the car. “That was your sheriff, Cody Banks. He’s been in touch with the Denver authorities. They sent a US marshal to pick up your ex-husband. He’s in custody.”
Ida and Fred both let out sighs of relief.
“We’re safe, Fred,” Ida told the driver.
He laughed. Then he grimaced. “Well, until your husband gets here, at least,” he said sheepishly.
“I wouldn’t worry,” Garrison chuckled. “I expect he’ll be too relieved that his wife is safe to go looking for a big bat.”
Ida hoped that was the case.
* * *
JAKE’S FACE WAS drawn and pale, and he strode toward her so quickly that before she could even say hello, he had her up in his arms off the ground, and he was kissing her, blind and deaf to the comings and goings of amused travelers around them.
“My sweetheart,” he groaned into her ear as his arms tightened. “I thought the plane would never get here! Are you sure you’re all right?” he added, putting her down gently.
“I am, thanks to Fred and Mr. Garrison,” she added, indicating the two men.
Fred moved forward, hunched and miserable. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McGuire. I’ve got a record. I was a wheelman for the mob and I’ve served time. Mr. Trent had my mom. She’s all I’ve got. He said he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he said.” He looked up at Jake. “I won’t mind going back to jail. My mom’s safe...”
“Your mom and you,” Jake said quietly. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did. It took guts.”
“How do you know?” Fred asked.
Jake indicated Garrison, who was grinning. “He phoned me.”
“Oh.” Fred looked up at him. “I’m not fired?”
“Good drivers are hard to find, Fred,” Jake murmured, smiling.
Fred averted his face to hide his very bright eyes. “Thanks,” he choked. “I’ll be the best driver you ever had, and I’ll never let anything happen to Mrs. McGuire. I swear it!”
“I’d better get back,” Garrison said. He’d driven his own car to the Rimrocks to meet the plane. “We’ll be in touch with Fred after the bail hearing, or at least the district attorney will be. And we’ll make sure that bail is set high enough that Mr. Trent won’t be getting out anytime soon.”
“Thanks, Mr. Garrison,” Ida said, shaking hands.
“That goes double for me,” Jake added, doing the same.
“All in a day’s work.” Garrison patted Fred on the shoulder. “You should call your mom. She’s got her cell phone. She was worried about you.”
Fred chuckled. “Yeah. I was worried about her, too. Thanks.”
The other man shrugged, waved and went toward the parking lot.
“Fred, you’ll have to drive the car back to Catelow,” Jake said. “I’m taking Ida on the jet.”
“No problem, Mr. McGuire.” He pursed his lips. “Want to bet on who gets there first?”
Jake gave him a cold stare.
Fred held up both hands. “Just kidding. Honest.”
Jake burst out laughing.
* * *
JAKE HAD IDA in his lap all the way back, kissing her softly from time to time as they discussed a lot of things, mostly her almost-kidnapping and Fred’s surprising turnaround.
“Were you scared?” he asked.
“Only at first. Poor Fred. He loves his mother. He loves animals, too. He was furious about what Bailey had done to my horses and Butler, but he was afraid for his mother’s life. I still don’t know how Mr. Garrison managed to find her and rescue her.”
“I believe he had a little help.”
Ida’s arms contracted around his neck. “What sort of help?”
“Mina called her guys,” he said, and his eyes were soft on her face.
“Oh.” Mina again. She sighed without realizing it.
He tilted her face back up to his. “I was infatuated with Mina. You know that.” His silver eyes narrowed. “But I love you.”
Her whole face went red. She couldn’t manage a single word. It was like having every sweet dream of her life come true, all at once.
“Not bad news, I expect?” he teased gently.
She buried her face in his throat. “I love you, too,” she whispered brokenly. “But I thought you just wanted us to be friends.”
He laughed softly and kissed her hair. “I want us to be everything to each other, all the time. My God, I didn’t even realize how I felt, until I knew what danger you were in.” His arms tightened. “I went crazy.”
She smiled at his throat. “I’m sorry you worried. But I’m glad that it’s not Mina anymore, if you see what I mean.”
He bent and kissed her tenderly. “It was you from the day you had the flat tire,” he said simply. “It just took me a while to realize it.”
“Me, too.” She nuzzled her face against his broad chest. “It was when we were getting married. I looked up at you in the church and I knew, right then. It was like...like...”
“Like a bolt of electricity,” he finished for her. “Yes.”
She leaned back in his arms and studied his lean, handsome face. “I hope we have a son who looks like you.”
“I hope we have a daughter who looks like you.”
They smiled at each other. She didn’t tell him about the queasiness. She didn’t quite connect it. Until a week after they were back home.
* * *
SHE WENT TO the doctor two weeks after that, when she was more certain of her symptoms, and was told what she’d wanted so badly to hear.
Fred broke speed limits getting her back home, because he’d already guessed what was going on.
She ran into the house, into the den where Jake was on the phone. Her expression caused him to end the phone call at once and go to her.
“What is it?” he asked worriedly. “Are you all right?”
“I’m pregnant!” she blurted out.
His face went white. Then red. Then he burst out laughing and whirled her around and around. “Pregnant,” he said, his voice breathlessly tender. “Well, there goes that business meeting I planned for tomorrow. We have to talk about colleges!”
“Jake, that’s years away!” she protested, laughing.
“The years will fly by. You’ll see. But not too quickly, I
hope,” he added, kissing her tenderly. “I want to savor every minute of every hour of every day. Especially now.”
She sighed and kissed him back. “So do I. Especially now.”
Fred and Maude were standing in the kitchen, both having guessed what was going on. They grinned at each other.
“Job security,” Fred whispered.
Maude nodded fiercely.
* * *
BY THE TIME their newborn daughter was six months old, and their son was two, the court case had ended, and Bailey Trent was back in prison on charges of attempted kidnapping and conspiracy to commit extortion. Sadly for him, he ran afoul of a gang leader in prison and ended up in the morgue. Ida felt sorry for him, in a way, but his demise left her with fewer worries about the future now that she and Jake were parents.
“You know,” Jake mused as they watched their little boy putting together a colorful giant puzzle on the floor, “of all the things I’ve ever done in my life, I think being a family man is far and away the best.” He drew her close and kissed her, then dropped his head to put a kiss on the head of his little daughter, who was nursing.
“I never dreamed I’d ever be so happy,” Ida confessed. “And it’s nice to have Fred back,” she added with a smile. “Even nicer of the governor to grant him a full pardon.”
He pursed his lips. “I did make a few phone calls.”
“You devil,” she teased.
“Well, he’s a great driver. And he does have some great stories about his former profession,” he added with a twinkle in his silver eyes.
“I think we might not let the kids hear those stories right away,” she replied with a laugh. “At least, not until they’re teenagers.”
“One day at a time, sweetheart.”
She pressed close to him, watching her daughter nurse. “One day at a time,” she whispered and sighed. The face she lifted to her husband’s was almost luminous with joy.
* * *
Eager to escape her family, heiress Gaby Dupont finds a career for herself working for powerful lawyer
Nicholas Chandler. But soon, she butts heads with her sexy boss. Ultimately, it will be up to Nicholas to save Gaby’s life—and both of their hearts...
Read on for a sneak preview of Notorious, part of the Long, Tall Texans series from New York Times
bestselling author Diana Palmer.
Notorious
by Diana Palmer
CHAPTER ONE
GABY DUPONT GLANCED again at the paper in her hand. She hesitated to do this, but her grandmother had pleaded with her. They needed to know something about this noted Chicago criminal attorney, Nicholas Chandler, and his very famous law firm, Chandler, Morse and Souillard. Gaby was the only one of the family who lived permanently in Chicago, where he did. If her grandmother hadn’t been so upset, and so insistent, perhaps Gaby could have found another solution. But this might be her best option.
She pushed the doorbell and stood nervously waiting for someone to open the door. This apartment was in a swanky area of Chicago, overlooking the lake. It was as expensive as the place where Gaby lived. She knew this man by reputation, and also because the law firm he headed had represented her grandfather in a criminal action that still made her sick to her stomach to remember. There was an appeal being threatened in the case, and Gaby’s grandmother wanted to know if this attorney was going to consider representing her ex-husband again. She needed to know. So did Gaby.
Gaby had done masquerades before, mostly in an attempt to avoid a greedy cousin who was stalking her relentlessly for some property willed to her by a mutual great-aunt, which she wasn’t willing to give him. She’d never understood the passion some people had for the almighty dollar. Gaby would have been happy poor. It was attitude, she considered, more than what happened to you. But poverty was something she’d never known.
Gaby was twenty-four and she didn’t want to get married. Her grandfather, Charles Dupont, had sold her like a prize mare without her knowledge when she was sixteen. Her innocence had a monetary value, and without Gaby’s knowledge—or his wife’s—he’d arranged a private party and left Gaby alone with a foreign businessman to whom he owed a lot of money, and three of the businessman’s friends. Gaby was to be his payoff, since Madame Dupont had refused to pay his gambling debts.
But Gaby’s screams had brought her grandmother running. Two men at the party, Madame’s chauffeur and bodyguard, had busted the lock on the door and saved the teenager from assault at the hands of her grandfather’s colleague. One of the men had taken photos with his cell phone just as Madame Dupont went in the door and saw the horror. The photos were used in a criminal complaint. There were a few assorted bruises and lacerations before the assaulting parties had managed to escape before the police arrived.
Gaby had been transported to the hospital, her grandfather to jail. Gaby’s grandmother had filed for divorce the very next day, leaving her immoral husband penniless and furious at his changed circumstances. Sadly, Gaby’s assailant was a foreign diplomat, and he used his diplomatic immunity to escape any charges. His three friends vanished like smoke. Gaby’s grandmother had been furious, but her attorney had been forced to relinquish the criminal charges against the diplomat. Gaby’s grandfather, however, had been arrested and tried and convicted. Thanks to a friend, an influential and rather shady judge, his sentence had been lessened and the penalty also reduced. Now a mutual acquaintance had told Madame that Charles Dupont was planning to demand a retrial due to new evidence. What it was, the acquaintance didn’t know. It was enough to panic Gaby’s grandmother, nevertheless.
Her grandfather’s nephew, Robert Mercer, a business colleague, had also been left out in the cold financially as a consequence of his uncle’s arrest. He was claiming that property given to Gaby in a will from their mutual great-aunt was actually his and he was planning legal action. The property was Gaby’s only real means of support. Well, her grandmother would never have let her starve, of course, but the property was rented to a large corporation, which established an agricultural operation on it, and the profits were enormous.
So the two of them, Gaby’s grandfather and her cousin, posed a danger to Gaby and her grandmother. In fact, Madame Dupont had hired a new bodyguard, a former mercenary named Tanner Everett, just for Gaby. She was that afraid for her. Gaby had insisted that her bodyguard be invisible, especially when she went to see the attorney. She had more trouble than she could handle already. He agreed, but he had that amused smirk that made her want to hit him.
She’d never really liked her grandfather, whose obsession with material things had left her nauseated. Her grandmother, Melissandra Lafitte Dupont, came from titled French aristocrats, although she’d lived in Chicago since she was a girl. When Gaby’s adventurous parents, Jean Dupont and Nicole Dupont, had died while on an archaeological dig in Africa, Gaby had come to live with her grandparents at the age of thirteen. She’d always loved her grandmother. But her grandfather had been a different story. She had more to fear from him now. He was asking for a retrial, charging that the evidence was sketchy at best, and that some of it had been manufactured to convict him. He had an attorney, a small-time one who was just starting out in the business and, therefore, less expensive. But gossip was that he was going to ask Nicholas Chandler’s firm to represent him once more. Since Chandler was the best criminal attorney in the city, Gaby had a great deal to lose if he took the case. But he wasn’t, from reputation, the sort of man who could be approached about a potential client. He was incorruptible, arrogant and afraid of nothing on earth. So Gaby was going to try a soft approach. Perhaps he could be reasoned with by the victim of a client he might be considering.
* * *
GABY WAITED OUTSIDE the apartment after she rang the bell. She hoped that she could get Mr. Chandler to speak to her about his firm’s involvement in her grandfather’s case. She wanted a private chat, hence her trip to his apartme
nt rather than to his office. It took a long time before the door finally opened.
A girl of about fifteen with spiky, purple-dyed hair and piercings everywhere, dressed in a short skirt and slinky blouse with overdone mascara and popping bubble gum, just stared at her.
“Well, what do you want?” the girl asked insolently. She gave Gaby’s gray pantsuit with its pink camisole and her unmade-up face in its frame of upswept thick, red-highlighted brown hair an insulting scrutiny.
Gaby’s pale blue eyes twinkled. “My goodness, I thought an attorney lived here,” she said. “Is it an agency? You know, for call girls?” She added a speaking glance of her own at the girl’s attire.
The younger woman’s eyes almost popped.
“Who’s at the door, Jackie?” a deep, curt voice called.
“I have no idea!” the girl said, dripping sarcasm. “Maybe she’s selling magazines or something.”
“Not likely. I don’t read those sorts of magazines,” Gaby returned pleasantly.
The girl’s indrawn breath was interrupted by the arrival of a big, husky man. He looked like a wrestler. He had wavy black hair with a few threads of silver, a leonine face with deep-set, dark eyes and a sexy, chiseled mouth. He was wearing slacks and a designer shirt in a shade of beige that emphasized his olive complexion.
“You’re late,” he said abruptly and looked at his watch. “I specifically told the agency no later than one p.m.” He glared at her. “Do you want this job or not?”
She was at a loss for words. She’d come to ask him a delicate question and he was apparently offering her a job. Her heart jumped at the unexpected opportunity.
“I thought it was for one thirty,” she improvised.
“One,” he returned curtly.
She almost gasped. “You are a very rude man,” she said.
His eyebrows arched. “And you are one step away from the unemployment line,” he shot back. “I need someone to organize my library and catalog my books again.” He gave the young girl an angry glance as he spoke.