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Either way, she didn’t like it.
A light knock at her bedroom door made her jump. She stood perfectly still, not making a sound. Go away.
“Miss?” Eunice Fox called through the closed door.
Hurriedly Amanda climbed into her huge poster bed, having long outgrown the frilly decor her father had insisted on, and pulled the covers over her to hide the fact that she was still fully clothed.
“Miss?” the housekeeper persisted.
Amanda didn’t answer. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning.
“Miss, it’s your father,” Eunice said more forcefully. “He insists on speaking to you. Even if I have to wake you.”
Amanda heard Eunice start to open the door and swore under her breath. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She waited until she heard Eunice’s retreating steps on the tile hallway, before she flung back the covers.
Her father didn’t allow locks in the house, except for his wing, which was off-limits to everyone, including staff and Amanda.
Her father’s security system allowed little privacy, something she only recently had come to hate. The irony of her father’s idea of security didn’t elude her. For all the house’s hidden cameras and state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, the place made her feel anything but secure and yet allowed secrets. More secrets than even her father knew. She hoped.
Hurriedly she stripped, then dressed in a nightgown, robe and slippers. As she stepped to the door, she wondered what could be so important that he would have her awakened at this time of the night. Her footsteps slowed. News of Susannah? Her heart drummed heavy in her chest. Dear God.
She braced herself for bad news. Very bad news.
THE MOMENT Jesse walked into the late-night coffee shop and spotted Dylan Garrett, he saw the former cop’s concerned expression.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked before Jesse could sit down.
Jesse slid the now bagged copy of the newspaper article across the scarred Formica table and motioned for the waitress to bring him a cup of coffee. As Dylan read the short news article, Jesse studied the man across from him. They were about the same age but as different as night and day in both looks and temperament.
Dylan Garrett was a cowboy, rugged, muscular and tanned from hours spent on his ranch. His light-brown hair was sun streaked and he had laugh lines around his blue eyes and a dimple when he smiled, which was often.
But as Dylan looked up from the article, he wasn’t smiling, let alone laughing. “Who gave you this?”
Jesse shook his head. The coffee shop was empty except for a male cook in the back and the waitress. Both looked tired and distracted. Neither was within earshot. “I found it under my door.”
Dylan frowned. He’d been one hell of a cop before he quit the force to return home to the ranch and Jesse trusted him with his life. “Then someone on the Crowe compound gave it to you?”
Jesse’s nodded. “It has to have something to do with the Crowe baby.”
The waitress put a cup of coffee as black and thick as mud in front of him. The pot must have been on the burner for hours, turning the brew to sludge. He picked it up and took a swallow. It was god-awful stuff but he noticed that Dylan had already downed his and was working on a second cup. The man was as tough as he looked.
“Why would someone give it to you?” Dylan asked. “Unless your cover is blown.”
“Amanda caught me following her tonight.” He hated to admit it.
Dylan looked worried. “She’ll go straight to her father,” he said with certainty. No one knew more about J. B. Crowe than Dylan. He’d spent a year of his life working undercover for the mob.
“Yeah, I figure she will.” At the very least, she’d try to get him fired. At the most… “What if the newspaper article is her way of telling me she did something with the baby?”
“Good Lord,” Dylan said and shook his head.
“Pull out now. I know J. B. Crowe. You’re as good as dead if he finds out who you are and what you’re up to.”
That wasn’t exactly news to Jesse but he was too close to back out now. “There is a chance that she’ll slip up and make a mistake now that she suspects I’m on to her.”
“Don’t forget who you’re dealing with here,” Dylan said with obvious distaste. “On the surface, J.B. might seem like any other successful businessman. But believe me, he’s into a lot more than just running numbers and racketeering. I saw and heard things—” He looked away. “Pretending to be one of them, I got to the point where I didn’t know who I was. Or where the real me began or that other Dylan ended. These people are more dangerous than you think. Before they kill you, they expose you to a way of life that leaves you empty inside, without hope. If people like this can thrive around us and we can’t stop them—”
“We can stop them.” But he knew what Dylan was saying. For men like J. B. Crowe there were no rules. And no consequences. He called the shots; there was no higher power. And sometimes Jesse did wonder if there was any way to bring down a man like J. B. Crowe. Or his daughter.
“We will stop them.”
Dylan smiled. “I once believed that.”
Jesse changed the subject to something more pleasant. “Tell me about your ranch. The Double G, right? I heard about the business you started there with your sister. How is Lily, anyway?”
“Bossy as ever.”
“And Finders Keepers?” Jesse asked, more than a little interested in the detective agency Dylan and Lily had opened last fall.
“Keeps us busy,” Dylan said modestly. Jesse had heard it was very successful.
“I was hoping you’d do a little investigating into this,” he said, picking up the bagged article again. “I’d do it myself but I can’t leave right now. Even if this baby isn’t Susannah, there has to be some connection.”
Dylan looked skeptical as he picked up the bagged newspaper clipping. “I should be able to track down the article and find out whether or not the baby is the missing Crowe infant. Anything else?”
“See if there are any other fingerprints on the copy other than mine. I’d like to know who gave it to me.” He hesitated. “One more thing, I overheard Amanda talking to Gage Ferraro in the alley tonight. I think the two of them are working together. Maybe trying to ransom the baby.”
“Just when you think things can’t get any worse.” He shook his head. He looked tired and worried.
“Any news on that friend of yours from college?” Jesse asked, remembering hearing about Julie Cooper’s disappearance.
Dylan shook his head.
Jesse felt the clock was ticking. Since he’d gone undercover only a few weeks before, the Crowe grandchild had been kidnapped. He felt as if he were sitting on a powder keg that was about to blow.
Dylan finished his coffee and got to his feet. “I’ll get back to you on the newspaper article by tomorrow afternoon.”
Jesse rose and shook his hand. “Thanks.”
The cowboy just nodded. “In the meantime, mind what I say about watching your back. J. B. Crowe loves money and power but family means everything to him. When Amanda tells him you’ve been tailing her, you’re a dead man. And she will tell him.”
Chapter Three
The moment Amanda saw her father, she knew it wasn’t going to be good. He stood in the main room amid the heavy masculine western decor, his back to her and the door, his stance rigid, anxious. She knew he wouldn’t have called her down this late unless something was terribly wrong.
She braced herself, glad at least that her stepmother Olivia, distraught over Susannah’s kidnapping, had taken off on a shopping spree in New York. Olivia only seemed to make matters worse when J.B. was in one of his moods.
“Daddy?” Amanda asked, the childhood endearment now sounding all wrong, as if she’d aged overnight and everything had changed. The realization surprised her: she was no longer J.B.’s little girl. Had he realized that yet?
J. B. Crowe wasn’t a tall man, just barely five foot ten inches, but he was extremely fit, trim and athletic, making him appear much larger, much more powerful. She’d never feared her father. Until recently.
He turned, his dark eyes warming only slightly at the sight of her. He wore one of his favorite tailored suits as he always did when he went into Dallas for dinner. She suspected he’d gone because he knew the governor was in town, probably had known where the governor would dine just so he could run into him.
She felt a shiver, aware that he believed Governor Thomas Kincaid had kidnapped Susannah. She was glad she’d begged off dinner. She hated scenes.
But she also couldn’t keep kidding herself. Time was running out. It might have already run out.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked frowning.
She surfaced from her thoughts, pasting a smile on her face as she stepped to him, hurriedly giving him the perfunctory kiss on the cheek before moving behind the bar to make herself a drink, putting as much distance as she could between them. The realization surprised her. Saddened her. They had once been so close.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, filling a glass with ice. “I was worried about you since Eunice said you wanted to see me. It’s so late.”
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No.” He knew he hadn’t awakened her. She suspected he knew a lot more than that.
She looked down at the array of liquor bottles. Her hand suddenly shook, the ice in her glass rattling faintly.
“Here, let me do that.” He took the glass from her and stepped behind the bar, forcing a closeness that made her feel trapped, his intent gaze unnerving. Did he know what she’d done? Worse, what she planned to do next?
Her heart drummed. “Maybe just a club soda,” she said, moving out of his way. “My stomach is a little upset.” At least that wasn’t a lie but then lying came as naturally as breathing for Crowes, didn’t it? Unfortunately, she wasn’t half as good as her father and she knew it.
“You’re feeling well, I mean, as well as can be expected under the circumstances?” he enquired still studying her.
She’d always been his pride and joy. His precious princess. The thought turned her stomach because it had been a role she’d been happy to play. Until recently.
She met his gaze and felt tears rush into her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to think about all that she’d lost. Or how much more she stood to lose. She nodded, unable to speak.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then handing her the glass of club soda, he led her over to the dark leather couch and motioned for her to sit down.
She cupped the cold sweating glass in her hands, her heart a drum in her chest, and waited for him to tell her that he knew everything.
“Gage is back in town,” he said at last.
Her head jerked up. She’d anticipated the worst. But this completely threw her. He knew that Gage Ferraro, the son of her father’s sworn enemy and Susannah’s natural father, was back in town? Part of Gage’s attraction had been his good looks. And the fact that her father despised him even more than he did Gage’s father, Mickie Ferraro. But Gage, it appeared, had had his own agenda. She knew now that he had never cared anything for her and suspected the seduction had been to get at J.B. in some way. She’d been played for a fool and put her father in a very precarious situation. But she believed Gage did care about his daughter, Susannah. She had to believe that.
She’d only seen Gage a few times. A few times too many, she thought, unable still to remember the night she’d conceived Susannah. Gage told her later that she’d drunk too much. But she’d suspected he had put something in her drink. Otherwise she was sure she never would have slept with the man.
But she had Susannah, and Gage was gone from her life as if he’d never existed, so she had no regrets. She would just be much more careful in the future. Had she told her father, Amanda had no doubt he would have killed Gage. She suspected all that stopped him when he found out about the pregnancy was rumor of an investigation into some of his so-called business deals. Also, the Organization wouldn’t have liked it. At first J.B. had threatened a shotgun wedding, but Amanda had known her father wasn’t about to let Gage become his son-in-law. Gage’s loyalties were to his father, a competing mobster boss who had been trying to take over some of J.B.’s territories. He’d never let a man he didn’t trust marry into the family.
So with the promise of peace, her father had seen that Gage was given a job in Chicago and literally escorted out of town within hours. No one had asked Amanda what she wanted. J.B. always knew what was best for her and the baby.
She said nothing now, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Gage believes he can find Susannah and bring down Kincaid,” her father said, a note of grudging respect in his voice.
She stared at him, dumbstruck. Why hadn’t Gage told her this? And yet it was so like Gage. Pretending to get into her father’s good graces by bringing Susannah home safely—and seeing that Kincaid took the rap for the kidnapping. Why hadn’t she thought that Gage might pull something like this?
“While Gage is in town,” J.B. said, “I want you to stay away from him.”
There was a severity to her father’s voice that surprised her. He thought she’d go to Gage. Probably already knew she had, thanks to Jesse.
“You’re not to see him under any circumstances.” Her father smiled, lightening his tone.
“As a favor to me. And only because it’s for your own good.”
As if he knew what was good for her. She would have reminded him that she was twenty-five, of legal age, and that she would decide who she saw and what she did. But she’d only dated Gage Ferraro to show her father that he couldn’t tell her what to do, a childish, stupid thing to have done. She’d underestimated Gage and paid the price.
The truth was, she had never known independence, having lived her entire life under her father’s roof, under his rules, and she never would, if he had his way.
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, not feeling in the least bit guilty for lying to him. “It’s not a problem.”
He returned her smile but she noticed it never reached his eyes. He hadn’t forgiven her for Gage. He saw it as a betrayal and her father did not forgive easily. Even his own daughter. Especially his own daughter.
“Good,” he said. “Then there is nothing to worry about. Soon Susannah will be home, Kincaid will be neutralized and we can put all of this behind us.” His eyes narrowed. He knew her too well. “Are you ill, my dear? Maybe it was something you ate? I understand you went out tonight and only recently returned. I do hope you’re getting enough rest.”
She felt shaken. She’d taken care of the guard at the gate—and the cameras. She’d even waited until Eunice and the other hired help had gone to bed. The only way her father could have known that she’d left and gone to a café was if Jesse had already reported to her father.
The bastard. “I met a friend,” she said and waited for J.B. to ask the friend’s name and if he knew her. When he didn’t, she knew he’d had the chauffeur, of all people, follow her. That was a new low, even for her father.
“I hope you had Jesse take you in the car,” he said, killing any question in her mind. Why did anything her father do still shock her?
“No, actually, I drove the BMW.”
He raised a brow. “Not the Mercedes convertible I got you for your birthday?”
She felt her heart rate quicken. Why did he care which car she took unless— She felt sick. Had he put some sort of tracking device on the Mercedes? Or had he wanted her to use it because it was parked in the garage near the chauffeur’s quarters?
“I just felt like driving the BMW,” she managed to reply. “For old times’ sake.”
He nodded, still watching her, reminding her of when she was a child and he suspected she was lying. “I don’t like the idea of you going out alone. Not after what happened with Susannah—” He stopped, his gaze boring into her. “I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.”
She felt a chill, his words a warning she couldn’t ignore. She had betrayed him once. She was not to do it again.
“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I am always very careful.” Now she would be even more careful. “But if it makes you feel better, I will have Jesse drive me.”
That seemed to satisfy him. At least temporarily. He patted her shoulder. He didn’t ask her anything else about tonight. Obviously he already knew. Damn Jesse Brock.
“You didn’t ask if I’d received a ransom note yet,” he said, catching her off guard.
“Have you?” she asked, sounding breathless, sounding scared.
“No,” he said studying her. “Odd isn’t it? Unless Susannah has been kidnapped for some other reason.”
“What other reasons are there besides money and power?” she asked.
He smiled at that. “None, that I can think of. But don’t you worry, my dear, I will get my granddaughter back. One way or the other.”
Trembling at the certainty she heard in his voice, she kissed her father’s cheek and left him to finish his drink alone, acutely aware that he was suspicious of her comings and goings. Hopefully he just thought she was meeting Gage Ferraro behind his back. That was much safer than the truth.
She hurried up to her room, not turning on the light as she went to the window. The darkness smelled of hyacinths, the air sweet and sweltering. She closed the curtains and went into the bathroom where she’d long ago disabled the surveillance camera.
Still shaking, she pulled out the equipment she would need, then pushed it back into its hiding place. Not tonight. No matter what Gage said. It was too dangerous. Tomorrow night. Her last chance. She’d do it then.
Her heart beat faster. If she failed tomorrow night—
She refused to consider that possibility. Too much was at stake. Tomorrow night. Come hell or high water. Or even Jesse Brock.
Across the courtyard, the light glowed in his apartment and she could see him moving behind the curtains, a shadow as dark as the man himself.
With a lot of luck and every ounce of deceitful Crowe blood that ran through her veins, she would see that no one ever found out what had really happened to her baby, especially her father. Jesse Brock didn’t know it yet, but he was going to help her. It would be his last good deed.
THE PHONE RANG, making Jesse jump. He stopped pacing and reached for it, expecting the worst.
“Bring my car around,” J.B. ordered and hung up.
Jesse looked at the clock, instantly uneasy. J.B. seldom went out this late. And yet, Jesse had been expecting trouble. Amanda had obviously told her father that he’d followed her tonight and now the old man wanted to go for a ride. Great.
Jesse figured he had two options: Run. Or stay and tough it out. In which case, he wanted to take a weapon. But he knew that would be the wrong thing to do. If one of J.B.’s goons frisked him…No, it would be better to play it straight. Even when the old man got around to asking Jesse about earlier tonight.
He took a breath and let it out slowly, then he went to get the car.
As he pulled up in front of the house, J.B. came out with his two bodyguards, two big bruisers with pug faces and bad attitudes whom Jesse had nicknamed Death and Destruction. It was no secret that neither man liked him. Probably because Jesse had been able to gain J.B.’s trust so quickly.
It had been a simple setup. Wait until Amanda and her father got out of their car at J.B.’s favorite restaurant. Add one speeding, out-of-control car and a chauffeur waiting by his boss’s car who just happened to be able to jump in at the right moment and save the damsel in distress.
Shocked and grateful, Crowe had played right into his hands. He’d hired Jesse away from his “former” boss with a substantial raise and the rest was history. The almost hit-and-run had happened so fast Death and Destruction hadn’t even had a chance to move, something Crowe had never let them forget. They’d hated Jesse ever since.
Jesse got out of the large, freshly waxed and polished Lincoln to open the back door for his boss. Death, the slimmer of the two, slid in, followed by J.B., then Destruction. Not one of them even gave Jesse a second glance.
As he closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat, he wondered if that was a bad sign. With men who would kill him without a moment’s hesitation behind him, he began to sweat as he waited for instructions.
“Johnson Park,” J.B. ordered.
Jesse shifted into gear and got the car moving, not liking the sound of this. Johnson Park was an old industrial area outside of Dallas that had been closed for a good twenty years, maybe more. Not a good place to go this time of the night. It was the kind of place you could dispose of a body too easily.
Prolonging the trip was out of the question. Traffic was light and Johnson Park wasn’t far. He drove, acutely aware of the men in the back seat and the position he’d put himself in.
When he slowed for the park, he glanced in his rearview mirror and wished he hadn’t. The old man met his gaze and what Jesse saw there turned his blood to block ice.
He pulled into the park. The night was black, no stars, no moon, only an occasional unbroken street-light along the long rows of abandoned warehouses. He drove to the end of the row J.B. indicated and stopped, turned off the lights and killed the engine, unconsciously holding his breath, waiting for the distinct sound of the slide on a weapon being readied.
“Stay here,” the mobster ordered him as the two goons opened their doors and J.B. slid out of the car.
Inside the dark stillness of the car, Jesse released the breath he’d been holding, his relief so intense he felt sick to his stomach. He took a few long breaths and tried to quiet his banging heart. That had felt too close. And he still wasn’t out of the woods.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A single bulb burned in a building off to his right, in the same direction J.B. and the two bodyguards had gone. A dark-colored Cadillac was parked at the edge of the building.
What the hell were they doing out here at this time of the night? And, although he didn’t recognize the Cadillac, he had a bad feeling it had something to do with him.
After a few moments, he cautiously popped open his door and slipped out, closing it quietly behind him. As he moved through the darkness toward the light, he heard J.B.’s voice raised in anger. He crept along the side of the building, following the sound. Above him he could see a broken, dirty window. Cautiously, he climbed up onto a pile of old crates and peered in through the opening in the glass. He could see nothing but shadows and dark shapes off to the left but he could hear J.B. still talking.
“You’re telling me that you didn’t know this guy you saw her with?” J.B. demanded, his tone hard enough to crack concrete.
“I told you, I didn’t get a good look at him. It was dark. It was an alley for hell’s sake and I had to get out of there or Amanda would have seen me watching her.” The voice had a distinct whine to it. A very familiar whine.
“What I don’t understand is what you were doing there in the first place,” J.B. said evenly.
“Look, I leveled with you. I’m going to find your granddaughter for you. Nothing’s changed. The only reason I called you was to let you know what I’d seen. As a favor. So what is this all about, getting me down here tonight, interrogating me like this?” Gage Ferraro demanded.
Gage had seen Jesse and Amanda in the alley earlier. That much was clear. But if Amanda had told her father about her encounter with Jesse, this should have been old news. Unless she hadn’t told him. Yet.
“I just want to make sure your plans don’t change,” the mobster warned. “I don’t want you having anything to do with my daughter. Or my granddaughter.”
“Hey, we’re talking about my daughter, here,” Gage said. The soft scuff of soles on the concrete drowned out whatever J.B. said back to him.