Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"I know we can't pretend it didn't happen," Grace said. "I don't want that. But maybe we should just get on with what has to be done today and let whatever's happening between us take care of itself."

"If that's what works for you, I can handle it." He turned around, walked to the door and opened it. Before he entered the hall, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Next time-if there is a next time-I'll be prepared."

By the expression on her face, he knew she understood his meaning. They both realized there would be a next time. Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after that. And when he took her to bed again, it would be to make love to her fully and completely.

Jaron removed the documents from the hiding place between the mattress and box springs, stuffed them into his briefcase and carried his briefcase outside to his car. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. Except for the servants, the household was still asleep. Everyone except Ronnie, with whom he'd shared breakfast in the kitchen around six. Booth coming home a day early complicated things, but since the boss slept late as a general rule, it should be simple enough to leave on some pretense of syndicate business before Booth awakened. During the past few years, Booth's addiction to drugs and alcohol had lengthened the hours he spent in bed. If not for the training and working precision of the team surrounding Booth, the demigod's crime empire would have already begun crumbling.

Before he left the house, Jaron knew he needed to see Charmaine. She'd sent him a message last night telling him they had to talk. He suspected she wanted to finally admit to him that she and Ronnie were lovers.

Jaron went upstairs, knocked softly on his sister's bedroom door and waited. Booth seldom stayed the night in Charmaine's room; he preferred for her to come to his, then would dismiss her when he'd finished with her. Jaron's stomach knotted. Charmaine had never confided in him, so he didn't really know the extent of Booth's brutality to her. But he had a good idea how bad it was.

The door eased opened and Charmaine, hidden behind the door, said, "Jaron?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Let me come in. I got your message and we do need to talk, but I've got business this morning and have to leave soon."

She backed up and turned away from him before he saw her face. Jaron came in and closed the door. When he walked up behind her and grasped her shoulders, she winced.

"Turn around," he said.

She did. And what he saw made him want to kill Booth. But it wasn't the first time that the sight of his sister's battered face had instilled murderous rage in him. God forgive him, he'd been such a coward all these years, so afraid of Booth that he'd let him get away with repeated brutish cruelty to Charmaine. But that was all about to change. Once he had Grace Beaumont's five million dollars safely tucked away in an island bank account, he would quickly move on to Stage Two of his plans. Setting up his and Charmaine's deaths. He'd already come up with a couple of possible scenarios he thought would work.

"Dear God, look at you." He lifted his hand to her bruised cheek, but didn't touch her. He stared at her cracked, swollen lip. "I'm going to get you out of this hell. I swear I will. If you can endure it just a few more days…"

"Don't do it," Charmaine whispered. "I know you're the one and if you follow through with your plans, he will find out. And when he does, he'll kill you."

Jaron's heartbeat stilled for a millisecond. Charmaine knew he was the traitor Booth was trying to find. But how did she know anything about what had been discussed in Booth's private office last evening, unless Booth himself told her.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, paying little heed when she whimpered in pain. "Did Booth tell you he suspected me of betrayal?" Jaron got up in her face, talking low so no one could overhear him. "Tell me, damn it, tell me what he said."

She jerked away from Jaron and sat on the edge of her bed. One bruised leg peeked out when her robe parted slightly. "Booth didn't tell me anything," she said softly. "I have no idea what he suspects, but I know you're the one who sent the letter to Grace Beaumont and called her asking for five million dollars. You're trying to get enough money so we can escape from Booth, aren't you?"

"How do you- Ronnie! Ronnie told you about what was said in the meeting."

"It doesn't matter how I know, I just know."

"Then Booth doesn't suspect me?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time before he finds out. Whatever you're planning, don't go through with it. You'll be signing your death warrant."

"I can get it done and we can be long gone, out of the country, before Booth figures it out. Neither of us can go on living this way. One of these days, when Booth beats the hell out of you, he's going to kill you."

"Yes, I know."

Jaron paced the room, guilt and regret riding heavily on his shoulders. "This is all my fault. Everything. I got you into this living hell and I'm going to get you out. You just sit tight and wait it out. A few more days. A week at most."

"Jaron… don't."

He kissed her forehead. "I've let you down over and over again, but this time I'm going to make it right. I promise."

She smiled weakly. "Can't I say anything to change your mind?"

"I've got to go. Wish me luck." He strode to the door, doing his best to appear far more confident than he actually was.

"You could go to Jed, ask for his help."

Jaron stopped abruptly and looked back at her. "You know about Jed, then, know he's working for Grace Beaumont."

Charmaine nodded. "Talk to Jed."

"Too late for that. Now you take it easy today and think good thoughts."

Jaron hadn't counted on Jed Tyree being Grace Beaumont's bodyguard, but he couldn't switch gears and change plans now. Jed was sure to recognize him when he showed up at the park, but maybe, for old times' sake, Jed wouldn't rat him out. Jed hated Booth, as much, if not more than he did, so he had to be wanting to get his hands on solid proof against his uncle. Why would Jed care that it cost Ms. Beaumont five mil? She'd have what she wanted-and so would Jed. Revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

When Jaron opened the door of Charmaine's bedroom, he nearly ran into Ronnie, who asked, "Is Mrs. Fortier up yet?"

Jaron closed the door before Ronnie could see inside the bedroom. "She's probably going to stay in her room all day today, so don't disturb her unless she calls for you."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Ronnie?"

"Sir?"

He wanted to ask Ronnie to take care of Charmaine if anything happened to him today. But he could hardly do that without making Ronnie suspicious.

"Nothing. Just take care of my sister the way you always do."

"Yes, sir. I intend to do just that."

Jaron made a beeline for the front door, then once outside breathed a sigh of relief. He'd make a few stops along the way just to give the appearance that the trip was on the up-and-up. But he wanted to arrive at Terrebonne Park no later than eleven-thirty, grab a bite to eat and be on the lookout for any sign of trouble.

He realized that a lot of things could go wrong, that he was taking a big risk, that Booth might find out or Jed might turn him in once he recognized him. But if he succeeded, he and Charmaine would be free. That alone was worth any risk.

The satchels containing five million dollars rested in Jed's lap. He sat in the passenger seat of Grace's Mercedes as she drove them along the road leading out of town toward Terrebonne Park. Dom and Kate followed at a discreet distance. Rafe and J.J. had arrived at the park before eleven and by now had thoroughly inspected the place. Dante Moran had been given the details of the exchange so that he could put his men in place. The Feds wanted to know the identity of the guy who had betrayed Booth and get their hands on the proof of the governor's involvement with the syndicate. But for the most part, the federal and Dundee security at Terrebonne Park wasn't set in place to capture one of Booth's underlings, but to protect Grace and retrieve any evidence that would incriminate the head of the Louisiana Mafia. The traitor could be useful to the Bureau, only if he was willing to testify against Booth.