Beverly Barton - Grace Under Fire

"What about Jed?"

"God help us, Grace, you've been harboring this man in your home, putting your trust in him to protect you, to help you unearth evidence against-"

"Damn, Hudson, whatever it is, just say it."

"Very well, I will. Jed Tyree is Booth Fortier's nephew."

Aric met Jed at the door, but made no attempt to stop him as Jed shoved Aric out of the way and stormed down the hall toward Booth's office.

"Mr. Fortier has already retired for the evening," Aric said, his deep voice utterly calm.

Jed spun around and glared at Aric. "Does the old bastard still have the same bedroom upstairs?"

"Mr. Tyree, if it's urgent for you to see your uncle, perhaps it would be better if I announce you."

Jed slung back his jacket to reveal his Beretta. "Shall I give it to you or do you prefer to take it from me?"

Aric came over and removed the 9 mm from its holster. "Come with me. I'll show you to your uncle's room."

Jed nodded, then followed the chauffeur/bodyguard up the stairs. "Wait out here," Aric said, before disappearing inside the bedroom. When he returned a minute later, a frown wrinkled his forehead. "He's willing to see you." Aric's glare issued Jed a warning. "Mr. Fortier isn't feeling well. Please, keep that in mind when you see him."

"He'll see me now? I don't have to wait or beg or humble myself?" Seeing Booth was only an excuse for the real reason he'd come here and he didn't look forward to another confrontation with his uncle. Where's Jim Kelly? Jed wondered. Would he get a chance to make contact with the FBI agent or would this trip turn out to have been for nothing? "Is Booth alone?"

"Quite alone," Aric replied. "Alone and… not quite himself."

Jed opened the door and marched in, but stopped dead still when he saw his uncle sitting on the edge of his bed, stooped over the nightstand's inlaid wood surface, brushing away something from the top and sending white dust floating in the air. Booth looked up at Jed through bloodshot eyes and grinned.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Booth asked, as he tried to sit up and wound up falling backward into the bed. He chuckled softly, then righted himself and waved Jed forward with a sweeping hand gesture.

Jed realized that Booth was either drunk or drugged-maybe a deadly combination of both. An almost-empty glass of what appeared to be whiskey sat on the nightstand. His uncle had always been a heavy drinker, but hadn't been an alcoholic. And although he'd bought and sold drugs, he hadn't touched the stuff himself back when Jed had lived under his roof. Apparently all that had changed.

"You're a sorry sight, old man." Jed came around the foot of the bed and stood there staring at his uncle. "No wonder you have to beat the hell out of your wife in order to feel anything. You probably haven't been able to get it up in years."

Growling like a wounded bear, Booth tried to stand, but didn't manage to get to his feet before dropping back down on the bed. "You're treading on thin ice, boy." Booth stuck his index finger out toward Jed. "You may be my nephew and I might have loved you once, but that doesn't give you the right to-"

"And you don't have the right to murder people." Jed rushed right up to Booth and looked him square in the eyes. "Somebody tried to shoot Grace Beaumont today, but then you already know about it, don't you? Well, your guy missed. He shot a Dundee agent instead. Grace is alive and well and more determined than ever to nail your sorry ass."

"If you'd been more like me and less like your mama, you'd have had the guts to stay with me, to learn from me, to take over my empire." Booth reached out and grasped Jed's shoulder. "But you're weak, just like she was weak. I tried to help her, tried to fix her mistakes…"

"By killing the man she loved!"

Booth squeezed Jed's shoulder. "I take care of my own. I did what I thought was right. She never understood, never forgave me. I had no choice but to have her locked away and to keep her drugged so she wouldn't try to go to the police. Hell, boy, she was my sister. I couldn't kill her, could I?"

Jed stared at his uncle, who used Jed as a crutch to support himself as he stood. "Are you saying my mother wasn't crazy, that she didn't have mental problems?"

"Surely you understand why I did it? Why I kept her locked away from you and kept her from running her mouth off to the police. It was either keep her in that sanitarium or kill her. I made the right choice, didn't I, Jed?"

Bile rose to Jed's throat and for just a minute he thought he might throw up. All these years he'd thought his mother was crazy, when she'd actually been sane. God in heaven. What had it done to her being sane and locked up and held a prisoner in a mental hospital for most of Jed's life? Had the drugs she'd been forced to take been what had finally killed her?

Jed put his hands around his uncle's neck. Booth's head snapped up and he stared into Jed's eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, Jed tightened his hold. Booth gasped as Jed strangled him. He wanted to kill Booth. God, how he wanted to kill the man.

Suddenly Jed released his uncle, who dropped to his knees, coughing and spluttering.

"You aren't worth killing." No, he wouldn't murder his own uncle. He could wait for legal justice. The FBI was closing in on Booth; his days were numbered. Besides, there wasn't much left of the man Jed had once known. Apparently Booth Fortier had almost succeeded at self-destructing.

The door to the adjoining bedroom flew open and Ronnie Martine barged in, with Charmaine hovering in the doorway behind him.

"Mrs. Fortier heard loud voices and was concerned," Ronnie said. "Are you all right, Mr. Fortier?" Ronnie rushed over and helped Booth to his feet.

Booth cleared his throat, and through bleary eyes, glared at Jed. "If you were anybody else, I'd kill you."

"Don't you mean you'd have me killed, old man? You haven't got what it takes to do the job yourself and we both know it."

Booth clung to Ronnie's huge arm. "Get him out of my house. And issue an order to Aric and the others that Jed Tyree isn't welcome in my home." Booth focused on Jed. "You leave now, boy, while you still can. And if I ever see you again, I'll forget you're my nephew."

Ronnie eased Booth down on the side of the bed. Charmaine came running into the room, hovering about, fussing over Booth. Putting on a damn good show of concern. Ronnie walked over to Jed, grasped his arm and marched him out into the hall.

"Walk straight down the stairs," Ronnie said. "I'm seeing you to your car and making sure you're off Fortier property once and for all."

When they reached the front door, Aric blocked their path. They paused and watched while the big black man unloaded the clip from Jed's Beretta, then tossed the gun to him.

"Why did you throw it all away, man?" Aric asked. "He would have given you everything. Even after all these years, if you'd come back and told him you wanted in, he'd have given you a second chance."

"A second chance to turn out just like him? No thanks!"

"I'm seeing him to his car and making sure he leaves," Ronnie explained to Aric as he shoved Jed out the door.

Once outside, Jed began talking fast, keeping his voice low so that only Ronnie could hear him. He'd burned all his bridges tonight. He wouldn't be coming back here ever again.

"Tell Moran I know the combination to the safe here at the house," Ronnie said. "But most stuff is kept in safety deposit boxes, enough evidence to put Booth and other bigwigs in the syndicate away for life. And to have Governor Lew Miller impeached. Charmaine can and will help us once Booth is arrested and I get her away from here. Tell Moran I want immunity for her and we'll both need to go into the Witness Protection Program when this is all over."