Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"And if Neville was the source, then Neville could be our letter writer."

"Bingo."

"It's worth checking into," Jed said.

"I'm already on it."

"Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I will. I'm not stupid. I know what I'm dealing with here. I won't take any chances and I won't make any mistakes. You're the one who's in the most danger. You'll soon be walking into the lion's den."

"I'm familiar with the territory."

"Familiarity doesn't make it any less dangerous."

"Right." Jed paused for a split second as long-ago memories flashed through his mind. Memories he'd spent a life-time trying to erase. "Just let me know about the warehouse ASAP. Okay?"

"Sure."

Charmaine Fortier had made a decision, one that might put her life in danger. But she didn't care. Not anymore. For months now she had pretended she wasn't falling in love with Ronnie Martine; she'd tried with all her might to resist her feelings. And even though Ronnie hadn't made an overt move or said anything that indicated he felt the same way, she knew he cared about her, too. Of course he was loyal to Booth, as were all Booth's employees. But unlike most of Booth's other boys, Ronnie didn't seem to be afraid of him. Not the way Jaron was. Her brother practically quaked in his boots every time Booth entered a room. And with good reason. Booth had a reputation of eliminating anyone who displeased him. She didn't know it for a fact, of course, but she didn't doubt for a minute that her husband had ordered the deaths of countless people. And whenever he took his vile temper out on her, she wondered how many people he had murdered personally. There was an evil in Booth that fed off other people's suffering. Off humiliation. And death.

If he ever finds out about you and Ronnie, he'll kill you both , she reminded herself.

"Turn off at the next right," Charmaine said. "I want to take a ride by the river before we go home."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ronnie acted as her chauffeur and bodyguard, a position Booth had assigned him six months ago. Booth always chose a bodyguard for her within the ranks of his personal staff, the boys he kept around him, the ones who lived in the house with them. During the fifteen years they'd been married, he had rotated her bodyguards on a yearly basis, which meant Ronnie had only six more months to be at her side.

They'd taken Charmaine's silver BMW convertible, a car Booth had given her on her birthday two months ago-her thirty-fifth-when she'd decided to run into town. She was thirty-five goddamn years old. One day she'd been Booth's twenty-year-old bride and the next thing she knew she was his middle-aged prisoner. Yeah, that's exactly what she was-a prisoner. He had never allowed her to go anywhere without an escort, not in fifteen years. She was watched over day and night. Guarded, but from what she didn't know. Or maybe she did know. Wasn't Booth afraid she would betray him, that given the chance she'd turn to another man for the love he was incapable of giving her?

Jealousy was one of Booth's personality disorders-only one of many. When he'd married her, he'd known she still had feelings for someone else, but he had been so sure he could make her forget her first love. Whenever her performance in the bedroom had been less than he expected, he'd throw up the fact that she had been soiled goods, that she hadn't come to him a virgin. And she would never forget what he'd said to her the first time he hit her.

"So help me, I'll get Jed Tyree out of your system even if I have to beat him out of you."

As the late springtime wind whipped through her hair while Ronnie drove her along the bumpy gravel road, Charmaine let her mind drift back to her teenage years, to when she'd first met Jed. They'd been sixteen, both of them a little wild and looking for fun. Jaron had just gone to work for Booth a few months earlier and was in awe of his boss and encouraged Charmaine to cozy up to Booth's nephew. Jed had been her first love, in every sense of the word. And she'd thought he loved her, too, during their teenage affair. But after Jed had left so suddenly at eighteen and hadn't asked her to go with him, she'd hated him. Hated him enough to marry his uncle two years later. What a fool she'd been. Not a fool for having loved Jed, but to have believed marrying his uncle would be a sweet revenge.

"Do you want to stop anywhere, Mrs. Fortier?" Ronnie asked. "Or do you just want me to keep driving?"

"There's a little house not far from here, about a half mile down the road." She and Jaron had grown up in that shack by the river, just the two of them fending for themselves after their mother died when Charmaine was twelve. They'd never known their father. Hell, they didn't even know if they had the same father.

"You planning to visit somebody?" Ronnie glanced at her quickly then returned his gaze to the road.

"I'm going to pay a visit on some old memories."

"Pardon?"

"I used to live in the house," she told him. "Back before I married Booth."

"Yes, ma'am."

She tossed back her head, closed her eyes and let the afternoon sun warm her skin while the humid breeze caressed it. Right this minute, she was free. Gloriously free. Booth was in New Orleans. And she was alone with Ronnie. Away from the house. No prying eyes to spy on them.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked.

"What?"

"I said have you ever been in love?"

"Yeah, sure I have."

"Was it wonderful and passionate and-"

"We were young. Got married. Had problems. Got a divorce."

"Are you still in love with her?" Please, say no , Charmaine prayed. Say that you don't love anybody but me.

"It was a long time ago," Ronnie said. "So long ago I barely remember."

"Then it wasn't real love. I remember Jed, you know. Even though Booth thinks he's erased his nephew from my memory. He hasn't."

"Mrs. Fortier, I don't think you should be-"

"There it is!" She squealed with delight, then sighed when she noticed the dilapidated state of the old house. "Lord, what a pitiful sight."

Ronnie pulled up in the weed-infested driveway, the dirt path almost totally obscured by vegetation of various varieties. "Do you want to get out? Looks a bit shaky to me. Might not be safe."

Charmaine flung open the door and stepped out. "I was a lot safer in this house than I am in the one where I live now."

Ronnie got out and joined her as she walked toward the ramshackle front porch with rotting floorboards and a sagging roof. He came up beside her, his gaze scoping out the area, his open palm hovering over the small of her back. Hovering but not touching.

She paused before she reached the rickety front steps, turned slowly and smiled at him. "I came here for another reason. Other than to visit some old and very pleasant memories." He waited for her to continue, his gaze downcast as if he didn't want to make direct eye contact with her. "I brought you here for a reason."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't you want to know what that reason is?"

"If you want to tell me."

"The first time I made love, it was in this house. One cold winter night when I was seventeen. Jed Tyree was the sweetest, most tender lover."

Ronnie cleared his throat, then shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't still love Jed, if that's what's bothering you. I just love the memory of him."

"Mrs. Fortier-"

"It's just the two of us. Call me Charmaine." When she reached out and laid her hand on his chest, she felt the hard, steady beat of his heart.

He stood there, stiff as a board, unmoving, except for his eyes. His eyes devoured her.

"I brought you here because I want to make some new memories," she told him. "New sweet memories to add to the old ones."

"Ma'am, I don't… you shouldn't-"