Beverly Barton - Guarding Jeannie

"There's no point in discussing alternatives until the present plan fails," Sam said.

"What present plan?" Julian asked.

"I've called in some favors." Sam tried not to look at Jeannie, who watched him closely. "I was a government agent for ten years. I know a lot of people. I have men on my payroll who are former CIA, former Green Berets and navy SEALS. My partner, J.T. Blackwood, left the Secret Service after he lost an eye and nearly died."

"What does who you know have to do with this plan to stop Maynard Reeves from … from killing me?" Jeannie willed Sam to face her, knowing he couldn't lie to her if he looked her in the eye.

Sensing her need for the complete truth, Sam made eye contact with Jeannie. "Since the bombing of the Royal Belle, the feds are involved. I've asked for and been promised one of their best men to head up the investigation. Dane Carmichael should be arriving today. He'll work directly with Lieutenant Painter. If there's any way to prove a connection between Reeves and the explosions aboard the Royal Belle, they'll find it. We just need to keep Jeannie out of harm's way until Reeves is behind bars. Painter and Carmichael are coming by to question us later this evening."

"Let's pray this plan works," Jeannie said. "I don't know if I could live with the alternative."

She tried to disguise her feelings, but they showed plainly on her face.

Knowing her so well, and caring for her so deeply, Julian could read her like a book. "We'll hope and pray Reeves will be found out and the police discover the proof they need to put him away." Gripping Jeannie by the shoulder, Julian stared at Sam. "But if it comes to—" Julian cleared his throat. "You'll do what must be done, what I'd do if I could. Her life is in your hands, my boy. I trust you to keep her safe."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect her."

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep. If he hadn't been forced into a compromise with Jeannie, allowing her one extra day in Biloxi, he'd have taken her away today. Sam glanced at the bedside clock. Nearly midnight. They'd be out of the house before seven and on the gulf before eight.

Their talk with Lieutenant Painter and Dane Carmichael had lasted over an hour, with Jeannie reconstructing the events of three nights ago, aboard the Royal Belle, and explaining again and again why she knew Reeves had been behind the bombing.

Maybe, if they were lucky, Reeves had made a mistake, or perhaps someone in his organization would talk. Sam didn't know how long he'd have to keep Jeannie on Le Bijou Bleu, how long he'd have to act as her bodyguard, but he'd already asked J.T. to take control of Dundee Private Security. Sam hadn't had to tell J.T. that this case had become very personal. He'd just known. And J.T. was too astute to ask questions. Sam appreciated his friend and partner's keen perception. How the hell could he ever explain his feelings about Jeannie to someone else, when he didn't truly understand them himself?

Le Bijou Bleu. The Blue Jewel. Out there somewhere in the gulf. Sam drew back the curtains at the window and looked up at the star-filled sky. Tomorrow night they would be together on Jeannie's island retreat. Alone. Except for Manton. Sam had only the vaguest memory of the huge man. Dark skin. Bald head. How would Manton feel about Jeannie bringing Sam to the island? Would Manton instinctively know what was happening between Jeannie and Sam? Would he approve or disapprove?

Sam had no idea where Le Bijou Bleu was located. When he was tossed into the ocean six years ago, his body had washed ashore on Jeannie's uncharted island. Sam had checked and double-checked to make sure there was no way Reeves could discover the location of the island. Although Ollie and Marta knew about the island, as did the family lawyer, only Manton, Julian and Jeannie knew its exact location.

Years ago, the only means of communication had been a shortwave radio. With generators providing electricity to the house, Jeannie had provided Manton with a computer and fax-modem and had installed a telephone. One of the first things Jeannie had done after waking from her twenty-four hour rest, was to fax Manton, something she did almost every day.

"He'll be worried if more than a couple of days pass without hearing from me," she'd said.

So like Jeannie, caring about others, worrying about the people in her life, loving wholeheartedly, giving freely, taking on suffering that was not hers.

Sam didn't pretend to understand the depth of Jeannie's goodness, but the purity of her soul made him question his right to desire her. Of all the men in the world, why would she want him to be her first lover? She knew he could promise her nothing permanent, that he could offer her a physical relationship and nothing more. Why didn't she wait for some gentle, kind man whose soul would be in tune with hers? Why would she want a man who wasn't even sure he possessed a soul?

Sam heard the distant beeping sound and couldn't quite identify what it was or where it was coming from. When he went out into the hall, he heard it more distinctly, a repetitive alert coming from somewhere downstairs.

Jeannie cried out his name. The beeping continued. Sam listened carefully. A smoke detector!

"Sam!" she cried again.

"I'll check it out," he said, knowing she could hear the alarm, too. "It could be nothing. I'll be right back."

He flew down the stairs, followed the warning signal into the smoky corridor leading to the kitchen and flung open the door. Growling at the sight before him, he swore loudly. Flames engulfed the kitchen, the curtains burning in seconds as he watched. Smoke filled the room.

Ollie touched Sam on the shoulder. He jerked around to face her. "Get out of the house. Fast. I'll send Julian and bring Jeannie down."

"Can't I help?" Ollie asked.

"Don't argue. No time. Get out!"

Sam slammed shut the door, raced back upstairs, calling Jeannie's name. Julian, wearing pajamas and a silk robe came out into the hall. "What's wrong? Is that the smoke detector?"

Ignoring Julian, Sam rushed into his bedroom, retrieved his cellular phone from his jacket, went back into the hall and tossed the phone to Julian.

"Go downstairs and out the front door quickly. I've sent Ollie out. Dial 911. Get the fire department here before this old house burns to the ground."

"Jeannie?" Julian hesitated, but then he saw the look in Sam Dundee's eyes and, clutching the phone in his trembling hand, hurried downstairs.

Jeannie sat upright in bed, the lamp on the nightstand illuminating her frightened face. "The smoke alarm went off downstairs. Is there a fire?"

Sam lifted her into his anus. "The whole kitchen's on fire." She had known somehow that the alarm hadn't gone off by accident, that it signaled a true danger. The moment she heard it, she'd called out to Sam, telepathically at first, but he hadn't responded.

She saw the panic in his eyes and realized how afraid he was for her. She held out her arms, waiting for him to rescue her. Nothing could ever truly harm her as long as she had Sam.

Although his mind functioned and he'd thought out every move in a reasonable fashion, one overriding emotion dictated Sam's actions—his concern for Jeannie. He had to get her to safety!

Jeannie clung to him as he rushed out of her room, dashing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Billows of black smoke met them in the foyer. Fire licked at the walls. Jeannie closed her eyes against the destruction, coughing when the smoke filled her nostrils and crept into her throat. Ahead of them, the front door stood wide open. Sam didn't hesitate; he ran outside, down the steps and into the front yard, where Julian and Ollie stood huddled together.

"The fire department is on the way." Julian touched Jeannie's face and smiled. "Maybe they'll make it here in time to save the old place."