Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

Jed wondered if Grace truly had any idea how much danger she was in? Once this deal went down and she had the proof against Booth she needed, that wouldn't be the end of it. Not by a long shot. Even if Booth were arrested, he could and would issue orders from his jail cell-and one of his first commands would be to eliminate Grace Beaumont. But Jed had no intention of letting that happen. When he'd taken this assignment and had agreed to work with the FBI, his main objective had been to find a way to bring his uncle down. Working for Grace had simply been a means to an end. But in a few short days, a great deal had changed. He hadn't expected to get personally involved with the client, hadn't thought her welfare would matter more than anything else.

"You're awfully quiet." Grace stole a quick glance in his direction.

"I was just thinking." Thinking about how I'm going to keep you safe, and why the hell you mean so much to me.

"Having the other two Dundee agents at the park won't cause a problem, will it?" she asked. "I mean, what happens if he suspects we didn't come alone?"

"Take my word for it-he won't be aware that we have any type of backup. Dom and Kate are professionals. They know what they're doing."

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "We're so close to getting our hands on the evidence that Dean and Daddy paid for with their lives."

"You have every right to be nervous. We don't know who we're dealing with, and there's every likelihood that this man is dangerous. He's probably one of Booth's henchmen. And all we have is his word that he's got the documents he claims he has."

"If he doesn't have the documents, I'm not giving him the money. Right?"

"Right. Just demand to see the evidence first."

"Yes, of course."

"I'll be where I can see you at all times and if I think you're in trouble, I'll either come in after you or I'll take him out."

"You'll kill him," Grace said.

"If it's necessary to protect you."

She grasped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He knew how difficult this was for her. The ugly, sordid, sinister side of life had been alien to her, but now she was getting a hefty dose of harsh reality.

"Doing the dirty work isn't easy and it's not pleasant," Jed told her. "But the fact is that in order to keep a balance between the right and wrong side of the law-between good and evil, if you want to put it in those terms-then someone has to enforce the law. Despite the fact that I have killed people in the line of duty, in the army and as a Dundee agent, I consider myself one of the good guys."

Yeah, Tyree, just how much of a good guy would she consider you if she knew Booth Fortier was your uncle? How would she feel about you if the truth ever came out about your family history? A crazy mother who died in a mental hospital and her deranged mob boss brother. He had tried numerous times to convince himself that there wasn't a hereditary mental defect in the Fortier family, that environment had played a major role in warping his uncle and in driving his mother insane.

"I know you're one of the good guys," Grace said. "You don't have to convince me of that fact. If I implied otherwise, I'm sorry."

What was wrong with him? He'd never thought it necessary to explain himself to anyone. Yeah, but Grace wasn't just anyone. She was a Dundee client who was depending on his protection, on his expertise. And she had become important to him personally in a very brief period of time. What she thought of him mattered. It mattered a whole hell of a lot more than it should.

"No matter what happens out there today, believe one thing-I'm going to take care of you. That's my number one objective."

Grace breathed in and out on an internal sigh. "I think someone up there was watching out for me and sent you into my life right when I needed my own personal guardian angel."

Jed chuckled. "Blondie, you're the first person who's ever thought of me as an angel of any kind."

She smiled. "I suppose most women consider you a real devil, huh?"

"Now that would be kissing and telling, wouldn't it? And that's something I don't do."

"Jed?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything."

Their conversation ended on that last comment. What could he say in response? She saw him as her guardian angel, her knight in shining armor; but that was only temporary. Once she learned the truth-the whole truth-how would she feel then? When she discovered that the Dundee agency was working with the Feds to bring down Booth Fortier and that Booth was his uncle, she wouldn't be thanking him. She wouldn't see him as a hero. The best he could hope for was that she'd try to understand… and that she wouldn't judge him.

Fifteen minutes later, Grace drove her Mercedes into Terrebonne Park, coming in on the south side, as instructed. The park had been built around a small lake, fed by an underground spring, and over the years had evolved into a picnic area, playground and a miniature amusement park. On any given day during the spring and summer months, the place was filled with people… anywhere from a couple of dozen to a couple of hundred. And on holidays, like the Fourth of July and Labor Day, the park swelled beyond capacity, sometimes recording nearly a thousand people.

As they emerged from the car, Jed noted it was a slow day, maybe twenty-five or thirty people stirring about, most of them picnicking from baskets brought from home or lunches purchased at the dairy bar. Dom and Kate pulled up and parked several slots down from them, then waited inside the car.

Grace glanced at her wristwatch; Jed took a look at his. Eleven-forty. A twenty-minute wait, if their man showed up on time. As they made their way toward the carousel, Jed surveyed the area, seeing if he could spot Dante Moran's men. He picked out a couple of guys, but wasn't a hundred percent sure about them.

"Isn't that the Dundee agent who came by the house last night?" Grace whispered as she nervously shifted the briefcase she carried from one hand to the other.

Jed followed her line of vision to where Rafe Devlin and Jenifer "J.J." Blair were frolicking about on a nearby set of swings, for all intents and purposes nothing more than a young couple having fun.

"Yeah, that's Rafe," Jed replied, keeping his voice low. "And the woman with him is an agent, too."

"That's two extra Dundee agents. The number seems to be growing, doesn't it?"

"It takes as many as it takes. Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you, Jed. If you think we need a dozen of Dundee 's finest, then it's all right with me."

A pang of guilt hit him square in the gut. She trusted him. And just by being who he was, he was betraying her trust. Nothing could ever change the fact that he was Booth Fortier's nephew, that they shared a gene pool and an ancestry of cutthroats and criminals. His pedigree-or lack of one-had never mattered to him or to any of the women in his life. But it would matter to Grace. She might be able to deal with him being a mongrel, but she'd never be able to accept the fact that his mother had been a Fortier.

"Do I wait until noon to get on the carousel?" she asked.

"Yeah. No need putting yourself on display until the very last minute." He nodded to the dairy bar. "How about something to drink? A cola? Iced tea?"

"Come to think of it, my mouth is as dry as cotton. Besides, I suppose getting something to drink will kill some time, won't it? I need something to do while we wait. I'm so nervous." Jittery laughter bubbled from her lips. "I said that already, didn't I?"

"Take a few deep breaths," he said. She did. "Now, let's see what's on the drink menu."

They bought iced tea, sat together at one of the concrete picnic tables and waited. The minutes seemed like hours, each one longer than the one before, until finally twelve noon arrived. Jed scanned the area around the carousel and noticed J.J. and Rafe paying their fares and hopping up on a couple of side-by-side wooden horses. They were laughing and playing around, nothing the least bit suspicious about them. In his peripheral vision he saw Dom and Kate eating ice-cream cones about twenty-five feet away. There was a guy picking up trash and another trimming hedges, both not more than thirty feet from the carousel. He pegged them for Feds, but only because he knew Moran had people here.