“You have to let me go!”

“So you can try to lamebrain me again? Not likely,” Jesse said, holding her down.

“If my father finds out what you’ve done—”

“What I’ve done? Something tells me kissing you would be way down on the list long after you breaking in to his office. Try again.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you try to explain it to me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in tears. “Let me up and I’ll tell you everything.”

He let go of her arms. Suddenly she made a grab for the canvas shoulder bag she’d been carrying that was now lying within reach.

She’s going for a weapon.

He grabbed the strap of the bag before she could and tossed it onto the edge of the sidewalk. Something inside shattered. The sound made him start as if it had been a gunshot.

She let out an oath and attacked him like a hellcat. He braved releasing her with one hand to lean out and snag the bag; it left a wet trail in the grass.

No weapon.

Just what appeared to be a broken baby bottle…

Secret Bodyguard
B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in Houston, B.J. Daniels is a former Southern girl who grew up on the smell of gulf sea air and Southern cooking. But her home is now in Montana, not far from Big Sky, where she snowboards in the winters and boats in the summers with her husband and daughters. She does miss gumbo and Texas barbecue, though! Her first Harlequin Intrigue novel was nominated for the Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice Award for best first book and best Harlequin Intrigue. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Montana and Bozeman Writers group. B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Amanda Crowe—All she wanted was her baby daughter back and her freedom—until she met Jesse McCall. Then she wanted it all.

Jesse Brock McCall—The undercover cop set out to catch a mobster, but the mobster’s daughter had other ideas.

Susannah Crowe—The baby was missing, but had she really been kidnapped?

Gage Ferraro—Was he the grieving father he seemed to be?

J. B. Crowe—The mobster lived in a world where the only rule was to win. Even at the cost of his family?

Billy Kincaid—He left behind a legacy no one knew about.

Frank and Molly Pickett—They would have done anything for their only daughter.

Roxie Pickett—With everything she loved believed lost, she had nothing to live for.

Thomas Kincaid—The governor had his own reasons for wanting to eradicate mobster J. B. Crowe.

Mickie Ferraro—He lived by his only code of honor: greed and revenge.

Dylan Garrett—The former cop turned P.I. tried to warn Jesse what he was getting into, but Jesse wouldn’t listen.

To my Aunt Eleanor,

who took me to my first scary movie

and taught me what suspense was all about,

and to my Uncle Jack, the best of the Johnsons

and my first real hero.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

She’d sneak out tonight. He could feel it, the way he always could. A kind of static in the air. Something electric. Something both reckless and dangerous.

Jesse rubbed the cloth over the thin coat of wax on the hood of the black Lincoln town car. Reflections danced in the shine at his touch. He avoided his own reflection though, his gaze on the massive main house across the Texas tiled courtyard.

The curtains were closed in her window, but the air-conditioned breeze on the other side teased them coyly open allowing him to catch glimpses of her.

It was just like Amanda to have the window open in her wing of the air-conditioned hacienda. No wonder her scent moved restlessly through the hot, humid night. Tantalizing. Tempting. He breathed it in, holding it deep inside him as long as he could before reluctantly releasing it. Her music also drifted from her open window and hung in the thick air between the house and the chauffeur’s quarters above the garage. She had the radio on the local Latin station she listened to, the music as hot and spicy as the food she liked to eat.

He rubbed his large hand over the dark, slick hood, wondering if her skin felt like this. Smooth and cool to the touch.

When she came out, it was through the side door. He stepped back into the shadows, not wanting her to see him. At first he thought she’d take the new Mercedes her father had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday, but she headed for the separate garage on the far side of the house. He watched her stick to the shadows and climb into the older model BMW parked in the first stall.

Slumming it tonight?

He waited until she’d pulled away, her taillights disappearing down the long, circuitous, tree-arched drive of the Crowe estate before he climbed on his motorcycle and followed her at a discreet distance.

Hidden cameras recorded all movement in the house and on the grounds, which meant she couldn’t leave without being noticed. And yet the guard in the small stone building at the edge of the property that acted as the hub of the Crowes’ all-encompassing, high-tech security system wasn’t at his post as she and then Jesse breezed past.

Before she even got to the massive wrought-iron gate that kept the rest of the world out of the sequestered compound, the gate swung open wide as if she were the princess of the palace. Which, of course, she was.

He barely slipped through behind her before the gate slammed closed, staying just close enough on his bike as she headed for Dallas, that he didn’t lose her.

Night air rushed by thick and hot as he wove in and out of the traffic along the outskirts of the “Big D,” keeping her in sight ahead of him, just as he had all the other nights.

Only tonight felt different. Tonight, after all his waiting, something was going to happen. He sensed it, more aware of the woman he tailed than ever before. He couldn’t still the small thrill of secret pleasure that coursed through him. His heart beat a little faster.

Ahead, Amanda pulled over along a dark, nearly isolated street. He swung in behind a pickup parked at the curb and watched her get out. She glanced around as if worried she might have been followed. As if she had something to hide. He smiled to himself. Oh, she had something to hide all right.

Down the block bright red and yellow neon flashed in front of one of those late-night, out-of-the-way Tex-Mex cafés found in this part of Dallas. She walked toward it.

He waited until she was almost there before he pulled his bike back onto the street. As he cruised by, he saw her go to an outside table and sit down with a woman he’d never seen before.

At the end of the block, he turned down the alley and ditched the bike to work his way back toward the café on foot, running on adrenaline, anticipation and enough fear to know he hadn’t lost his mind.

He found a spot to watch her from the shadows, close enough he could see but not hear what was being said. She was crying. He could see that, crying and talking hurriedly, nervously. He’d give anything to hear what she was saying and wondered when his heart had grown so cold, so calculating. Mostly, why he believed that Amanda Crowe was lying.

Just over twenty-four hours ago, she’d called her father to tell him that her six-month-old baby, Susannah, had been kidnapped. Her story was that she and Susannah were alone in the ladies’ room of a large department store when a man burst in, knocked her out and grabbed the baby. No witnesses were in the room. Also no cops were called.

J. B. Crowe had insisted on handling the kidnapping himself and Amanda had gone along with him. In the Crowe compound, it was commonly believed that the kidnapping was part of some vendetta between Amanda’s father, J. B. Crowe, and Governor Thomas Kincaid. If you believed Kincaid capable of kidnapping. Crowe, on the other hand, was an altogether different animal, capable of anything. And, Jesse feared, so was his daughter.

Jesse watched her wipe her eyes as the waiter slid a steaming plate of food in front of her and thought about the man who’d fathered Amanda’s baby. Amanda hadn’t even kept him around long enough to give the baby his name. Not that Amanda needed a husband. She was a Crowe. She’d never want for anything. Nor would Susannah, for that matter, if she was ever found.

The other woman was talking now, squeezing Amanda’s arm, intent, leaning in so no one could hear even though there were few diners and no one at a nearby table.

Jesse wasn’t sure why or what exactly he didn’t believe. That Susannah Crowe had been kidnapped? Or that Amanda really was the grieving mother she appeared to be? Something just didn’t sit right. His gaze narrowed as he watched her. Amanda Crowe was lying. He’d stake his life on it. He smiled at that; he’d already risked more than his life just being here tonight.

She picked nervously at her food but the tears had stopped, her iron-clad control back, a steeliness in her that she shared with her father. Part determination. Part ruthlessness.

A baby began to cry. Amanda turned abruptly, almost spilling her water. A Mexican woman carrying an infant sat down two tables over from Amanda, pulled the baby from its carrier and rocked it, trying to still the shrill cry. Amanda turned back to her food, apparently mesmerized by what was on her plate.

A new thought struck him like a fist. Was it possible?

The waiter brought out an order to go for the woman with the baby. Amanda motioned for her check.

His pulse began to pound. The woman with the baby busily strapped the infant back into its carrier. He was too far away to see the baby’s face.

Amanda didn’t wait for her check. She got to her feet, tossed a bill on the table, hugged her dinner companion and rushed off toward her car.

But Jesse didn’t follow her. The woman with the baby started to leave as well. His mind roiled. What he was thinking didn’t make any sense, but with the Crowes, anything was possible.

He moved toward the café, not letting the woman with the baby out of his sight.

It was just some woman and her baby. No kidnapper in her right mind would bring the Crowe baby to a public restaurant. And wouldn’t Amanda have raced over to the table if she thought there was even a chance that the baby might be hers?

Unless the woman wasn’t the kidnapper. Unless Amanda Crowe had had her own baby abducted. But what kind of sense did that make?

The woman with the baby was leaving. He wove his way through the tables, his heart racing, as he hurried to cut her off.

She looked up, startled and a little frightened to see him. He glanced into the baby carrier, ready to grab both the woman and the child.

The baby was brown skinned, with a thick head of black hair and a pair of eyes to match. While close to the same age, the little boy looked nothing like Susannah Crowe.

He stumbled back, mumbling, “Sorry,” to the startled mother as she hugged the baby protectively to her. Whatever had made him think the infant would be Susannah? Because he was convinced Amanda had done something with her baby. Made it look like a kidnapping. But why?

Feeling foolish, he moved on through the café and out the back door to the alley. Amanda was gone. So was her companion. So much for his hunch. He was letting Amanda Crowe get to him. Letting her mess with his mind. A sliver of doubt worked its way under his skin, just as she had. What if he was wrong?

Amanda had almost raced from the café at the sight and sound of the baby. But wouldn’t that have been the reaction of any grieving mother whose baby had been kidnapped?

The voice in the darkness startled him. He spotted two figures at the end of the alley in the shadows, one large, one small. He flattened himself against the rough rock wall, hoping they hadn’t seen him.

“You have to do this,” the man said quietly, urgently. “We have to do this. There is no going back now.”

Jesse had heard the voice somewhere before but couldn’t place it.

“Don’t pressure me,” the woman snapped back.

“I’ll do it. I just need more time.”

This voice Jesse recognized immediately. Amanda Crowe. But who had she met in the alley? And what did she need more time to do?

“We don’t have time,” the man said, sounding frustrated and angry with her. “Stop stalling. You know what’s at stake. Just do it. Get it over with. Tonight.”

Jesse heard the sound of hurried footfalls headed in his direction. He held his breath as the man stomped past him. In the light bleeding out into the alley from one of the open doorways, Jesse got a look at him. Even from the back, he recognized Gage Ferraro, the man who’d fathered Amanda’s baby.

He swore under his breath and waited, pressed to the rock wall, expecting Amanda to follow her former lover. After a few minutes when she didn’t appear, he glanced down the alley only to find she was gone.

He stood for a moment longer, thinking about what he’d overheard. What was Gage Ferraro doing back in town? The answer was obvious. The kidnapping. Gage and Amanda must have cooked up a plot to fleece her father. Jesse couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous. Or lucrative.

He headed down the alley to where he’d left his bike, amazed at this woman. Amazed even more that he still found her intriguing. And, against his better judgment, incredibly desirable. It defied logic.

A figure suddenly stepped out of a doorway a few feet in front of him, snapping him out of his troubling thoughts. Startled, he almost pulled the piece he kept at his back before he recognized the silhouette.

Five feet four inches of spitfire, Amanda Crowe stood with her hands cocked on her hips, her feet apart, her body language nothing short of enraged.

Physically, he could have taken her with one hand tied behind him. And lord knows he wanted to take her, all right. However, Jesse was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. If he touched her, he’d be dead before daylight.

Nor was he about to underestimate her. Quite frankly, he thought her as ruthless as her father. More so, after what he’d heard tonight. As she stepped closer, he could see her hair, thick and wheat-colored, cropped to her arrogant chin and her eyes, light brown with an edge to them that could cut like the shattered glass of a beer bottle.

Even if she hadn’t been J.B.’s daughter he’d have taken her seriously. But she was the pride and joy of the biggest mobster this side of the Rio Grande and messing with her was messing with more than trouble.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing spying on me?” she demanded.

Oh, she was something. Righteous and raging. He gave her his best grin, one that had gotten him out of a lot of tight spots. He might as well have spit in her eye for all the good it did.

“Does my father know you’re spying on me?” she demanded, raising one fine brow.

He wiped the grin off his face and glared at her. “What do you think?”

She regarded him, taking his measure and making it clear she found him wanting. Some people thought his dark looks intimidating, even dangerous. But it was obvious, she wasn’t one of those people.

“I think,” she said dragging out each word, “that Daddy made a mistake. Surely he can do better than sending a chauffeur.” She brushed past him, one soft, full breast grazing his bare arm, her scent lingering on his skin long after she was gone.

He stood, his back to her as she retreated down the alley. Slowly he released the breath he’d been holding, his body vibrating with a combination of lust and disgust. How the hell could he want a woman he so despised?

Had she known what she was doing just now when she’d brushed against him? Had she known the effect it would have on him? He shook his head and smiled wryly. If he was right about her, they were both playing dangerous games, risking everything. The difference was, she was a Crowe and the odds were always stacked in their favor.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stopped smiling, suddenly aware of that distinctive prickle along his spine, the one that warned him someone was behind him, watching him.

Had she stopped up the alley to look back? Not likely. The woman hadn’t given him the time of day since he went to work for her father several weeks before. No, he thought, as he quickly turned, his hand going to the small of his back and his piece.

But the alley was empty. And yet he’d have sworn someone had been there just a few moments before. Gage?

Paranoia. It went with the job. He walked to his bike, swung his leg over and started the motor. It purred in the hot darkness. He considered for a moment what J.B. would do if his precious daughter told him the chauffeur had been spying on her, lusting after her. But worse, if Jesse’s instincts had been right a few moments ago, then someone had been spying on him as well. Might even suspect what he was up to. That thought was enough to give him nightmares.

He cruised back to the Crowe estate, jumpy and irritable. The guard buzzed him in. He took the service road through the trees and went straight up to his apartment over the garage. On the way home, he’d invented a plausible story just in case he needed one, although in that case, he doubted he’d live long enough to tell it. But J.B. wasn’t waiting for him. Nor any of the mobster’s henchmen.

As he slipped his key into the lock, he noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under his door. Cautiously, he turned the key.

The piece of paper appeared to be a photocopy of a newspaper article. Frowning, he picked it up, pushed open his door and reached for the light switch. The headline leapt off the page: Infant Abandoned Beside Road.

He stepped into the apartment, locking the door behind him and read the story.

A baby had been discovered in the wee hours of the morning north of Dallas along a dirt road. The abandoned infant’s parents hadn’t been found yet. Police were making enquiries.

Could the baby be Susannah Crowe? Had Amanda and Gage abandoned the baby beside a road and pretended the infant had been kidnapped?

He tried to imagine a woman that cold-blooded. Amanda Crowe, he reminded himself, was a mobster’s daughter. This mystery baby could be Susannah.

He glanced at the name of the town in the article. Red River, Texas? He’d never heard of it. There was no date on the article. Nor any way of knowing in what paper the story had run.

Why had someone put it under his door unless they wanted him to know what had happened to Susannah?

A thought rattled past like a freight train. If someone really did have information about Susannah Crowe, why tell the chauffeur? Unless—

His heart jackhammered and he felt oddly light-headed. Unless someone knew why he’d followed Amanda tonight. The same someone he’d sensed in the alley earlier? Someone who knew exactly what Jesse was doing here.

He moved to the window and parted the curtains, startled. Amanda’s light was on in her room and she was standing at the window, staring in his direction as if waiting for him to look out. Had she put the article under his door? A cry for help. Or a dare? Catch me if you can. Was she that sure he couldn’t?

Her light snapped off.

He stared at the dark window, wondering what the hell was going on, suddenly terrified of the answer.

Chapter Two

Amanda stood in the dark, telling herself Jesse couldn’t possibly know. But he’d been in the alley. He might have overheard her and Gage. She tried to remember exactly what had been said. Nothing about Susannah. At least not by name.

And even if Jesse did suspect something, what could he do about it? Go to her father with his vague suspicions? She realized with a start, that was exactly what he would do. Her father’s men would do anything for him, including spy on her. Jesse was no different.

In his simmering dark-eyed look she’d seen more than raw hunger. She’d seen contempt. His look said he knew her. Knew her every secret. Her every thought. Could see into her heart and see things that repulsed him.

Damn the man! She tried to calm herself, but couldn’t still the shaking inside her. How dare he judge her, let alone track her down like a dog? Did he hope to get something on her he could use to get closer to her father? Or something to use as leverage to get her into his bed?

She understood men like him only too well. He’d take advantage of any opportunity. Had she given him the one he needed? She’d been so careful. Everything so deliberate, so calculated. She had tried to think like her father. The thought made her shudder. But she was her father’s daughter, wasn’t she?

Her father, she thought grimly. It would be like him to tell the chauffeur to follow her and report where she’d gone, whom she’d met. But why the chauffeur when J.B. had an assortment of trained thugs?

It definitely raised the question: had her father asked Jesse to follow her tonight? Or had Jesse done it on his own?

She hugged herself, fear making her weak at the thought that her father might know what she’d done. Had she messed up somehow, left a trail that would lead back to her and eventually destroy her?

Worse, she knew she’d passed the point of no return. She couldn’t turn back now. It was too late. She had to go through with it. To the end.

She shuddered at the thought of how it could end. Especially now that she had Jesse after her. Across the courtyard she could see the window of the chauffeur’s quarters clearly from her room. He’d turned out his lights as she had. Was he looking out just as she was? Staring at her as she’d often caught him doing before?

She trembled, aware that more than fear and anger coursed through her veins tonight. As she pressed her fingers to the cool glass, her body ached for something she knew she’d never had, something she couldn’t even put words to. This ache had nothing to do with her baby daughter or the trouble she was in and everything to do with the sultry Texas night and the man across the courtyard. How stupid she’d been to brush against him. Taunting him had been a very big mistake.

She hadn’t expected to feel anything when she touched him but revulsion. But he’d made her long for release, a powerful, purely physical need that ignored what also simmered between them, mutual contempt and mistrust. Worse, he made her feel vulnerable.

Crowes never let themselves be vulnerable. Ever.

She’d have to do something about him. Something drastic. After all, she was her father’s daughter. And he’d taught her that the world revolved around her. She could have anything she wanted. Do anything she wanted. It was the unlimited credit card that came with being his only child—and a daughter, at that. And she’d never needed that credit line more than she did right now.

She forced all thoughts of Jesse Brock from her mind and concentrated on a much more pressing problem. Her father. If he had ordered the chauffeur to follow her, then did he know something or was he just being protective?

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.

Suddenly all four men came into view beneath the stark light of the single bulb hanging from the rafters.

Destruction had Gage in a headlock and J.B. was close enough to Gage to steal his breath.

“You have no rights to that child,” J.B. said in a tone that curdled Jesse’s blood. “I thought we agreed to that?”

Gage was trying to nod.

“As far as I’m concerned,” J.B. was saying, his voice low and as dangerous as Jesse had ever heard it, “you have no daughter and you don’t know mine, either. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, J.B.,” Gage croaked.

Destruction released him.

Gage rubbed his throat. “I told you,” he said, sounding hoarse. “I’m going to do this for you. As a favor. That’s all.”

J.B. nodded. “Let’s hope for your sake you’re telling me the truth.”

Gage looked worried.

J.B. patted Gage on the face. “Find my granddaughter.” The mobster turned and walked toward the door, but stopped at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He motioned for Death and Destruction to go on ahead of him with Gage, then reached in his pocket and pulled out the phone.

“Yes?” he barked, then listened. “You got Diana? Does Kincaid know yet? Good.” He smiled as he snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. “So now Governor, I have your daughter and soon to be born grandchild. How does it feel?”

Jesse winced as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. Crowe had kidnapped the governor’s daughter, Diana. The governor’s pregnant daughter.

He swore under his breath and he jumped down from the crate and ran along the edge of the building. He knew how dangerous it would be for Diana and her unborn baby to be taken in retaliation for Susannah’s kidnapping.

There was no love lost between J. B. Crowe and Governor Thomas Kincaid, not since the governor had declared war on the mob in Texas. But Jesse suspected there was something else between J.B. and Thomas, something more personal.

Hurriedly, Jesse ran along the edge of the building. He could see the Lincoln and knew he couldn’t reach it in time. Nor could he let Gage see him again.

Jesse stopped at the corner of the building, caught. He watched as Gage went straight to the dark-colored Caddy. The driver hopped out as if surprised to see Gage back so soon. It was obvious he’d been asleep, Jesse realized with silent thanks. There was a good chance the driver hadn’t seen Jesse get out of the Lincoln then.

Gage climbed into the back of his Cadillac and the driver closed the door.

J.B. stood with Death and Destruction as if waiting for Gage to leave. Gage looked as if he couldn’t wait to get away as his driver climbed back into the front of the car and started it.

Forgetting about Gage, Jesse considered the spot he found himself in. There wasn’t any way he could get to the Lincoln without J.B. seeing him. For a moment, he actually considered just taking off and not looking back.

But blowing his own cover now, when he was so close, wasn’t his style. He’d bluffed his way into the chauffeur job, he could bluff his way through this. He hoped.

Gage’s driver gave the Caddy a little too much gas as he left. Jesse saw J.B. smile in the glare of the Cadillac’s headlights. About then, however, J.B. seemed to notice that his own driver wasn’t at his post, and the smile faded.

Jesse ambled out from the dark edge of the building and walked leisurely toward the Lincoln.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car?” J.B.’s voice sounded at once suspicious and furious.

“I had to take a leak,” Jesse snapped and moved ahead of the mobster to open his door. He could feel J.B.’s gaze on him and looked up to meet the man’s dark eyes without flinching. It took all his nerve.

J.B. held his gaze for a long heart-stopping moment, then he shook his head as if in disgust or disbelief, and slid into the back seat. It’s so hard to get good help these days, Jesse thought sarcastically.

Death slid in beside the mobster and Destruction strutted around to the other side, giving Jesse a smug grin that hinted that he was looking forward to the day that he got to kill Jesse.

Jesse had made it a point to never be cowed by J.B., but it was getting harder and harder not to let the mobster see him sweat.

“Home,” J.B. ordered the moment Jesse slipped into the driver’s seat.

Still shaking inside, he gripped the wheel and drove. He didn’t dare look in the rearview mirror again. No one said a word from the back seat.

Jesse tried to relax but he couldn’t forget how close he’d come to having his cover blown. Gage Ferraro had seen him talking to Amanda in the alley earlier. Fortunately, Gage hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

But now Jesse wasn’t sure how long his luck would hold. It seemed he and Gage were looking for the same thing. Amanda’s baby, Susannah. And even if, as Jesse suspected, Gage was lying through his teeth to Crowe, their paths were bound to cross again. And it was just a matter of time before Gage recognized Jesse as the cop who’d arrested him for drug possession three years ago.

Chapter Four

The phone rang early the next morning, jerking Jesse from a not so sound sleep.

J.B.’s deep voice filled the line. “I won’t be needing your services today but should Amanda want to go anywhere, I want you to take her. I don’t want her driving herself. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, heart pounding.

“By the way, I appreciate you keeping an eye on my daughter last night when she went out again.”

He swore softly under his breath and sat up, suddenly wide awake. “Yes?”

But J.B. hung up without another word, leaving Jesse off balance. Had Amanda told him just as Jesse and Dylan had known she would? Or had J.B. just figured it out from what Gage had reported to him? The guard at the gate hadn’t been at his post but the surveillance cameras would have picked up both Amanda—and Jesse right behind her. Still, Crowe couldn’t know that Jesse had followed Amanda to the café.

Either way, it did not bode well. But why would J.B. order him to drive Amanda? Why didn’t J.B. fire him? Or have him killed? And why hadn’t he asked him to report back on where Amanda went? Maybe J.B. had Gage for that. Or at least J.B. thought he did.

One false move, Jesse knew, and he was toast. Who was he kidding? His cover could already be blown wide-open. He could be living on borrowed time and just not know it. J.B. was probably setting him up. Giving him enough rope to hang himself.

He shook his head, amazed at the spot he found himself in this morning. Right between Amanda and her old man, a very dangerous place to be.

But in the meantime… He tried to still his racing heart. Amanda couldn’t leave the Crowe estate without him. He couldn’t help but grin, thinking how furious that must make her. Would she be angry enough to finally show her hand? He could only hope.

While he knew he could be walking into a trap J.B. had laid for him, Jesse still felt pretty cocky as he headed for the shower. This might prove to be just the break he’d been waiting for. If he was right, and Amanda and Gage had done something with the baby, then she must be running scared now that her father had people spying on her. She’d try to cover her tracks. She’d slip up. And when she did, Jesse would be there to nail her. So to speak.

He drowned that thought in a cold shower, disgusted with himself because of his body’s reaction to the woman. Afterward, he called the main house to let Amanda know he’d be available to drive her and maybe to rub it in a little. He could only assume that she’d tried to get him fired. Or killed. And had failed. At least temporarily. He was feeling pretty pleased about that.

But he couldn’t get his call past the housekeeper. Ms. Crowe, Eunice said, wasn’t up yet.

He polished several of J. B. Crowe’s fleet of expensive cars, watching for any sign of life behind Amanda’s closed curtains. None.

As he worked, he found his thoughts divided between worrying that Amanda might have found a way to sneak out without him noticing, and trying to make sense of the newspaper clipping that had been slipped under his door last night. It had to have been someone inside the estate who’d given it to him. He ticked off the few hired help who lived on the premises.

Not the tiny, gray-haired Eunice Fox who’d been with the Crowe family for years. Nor Consuela Ruiz, the family cook. Nor the gardener, a withered, little old man named Malcolm Hines, who had been one of J.B.’s first bodyguards.

Jesse couldn’t imagine any of them being disloyal to J.B. or any member of his family. And not just for fear of their lives. That left only Death and Destruction, but Jesse doubted either of them even knew how to read.

So who did that leave? J.B. Not likely. And Amanda.

Jesse called the house again after lunch.

“Ms. Crowe isn’t up,” Eunice informed him in a tone that dared him to insinuate that it wasn’t Amanda’s right to sleep all day if she so desired. He knew the housekeeper had been up for hours working and wondered how she could be so protective of such a spoiled, young woman who had never worked a day in her life and no doubt ever would.

“Should she get up—”

“I’ll let her know you’re available,” the elderly woman cut him off icily. “I’m sure she will appreciate knowing that.” She hung up, convincing Jesse that Eunice definitely hadn’t been the one who’d put the copy of the newspaper clipping under his door.

While he polished J.B.’s fancy fleet and waited for Dylan to call with news on the baby, Jesse found himself thinking about Gage Ferraro and wondering what Amanda saw in the man. Obviously, there was no accounting for taste, but it did make Jesse wonder. Why had J.B. taken his daughter’s dishonor so lightly? The J. B. Crowe Jesse had come to know would have had Gage swimming with the fish in cement shoes at the bottom of White Rock Lake.

Jesse wondered what J.B. would do if he found out that Amanda was consorting with the enemy again? If Gage and Amanda had kidnapped Susannah as some sort of scam, Jesse didn’t want to be around when J.B. found out.

Meanwhile, he wondered how Gage’s father, Mickie Ferraro, had taken losing his first grandchild. Especially considering that he and J.B. were rumored to be fighting for control inside the Organization. Mickie and J.B. had reportedly started with the mob as little more than kids.

Gage was a two-bit hoodlum who was trying to work his way up in the mob. If he really could find Susannah and bring down Kincaid, J.B. would owe him. But somehow Jesse didn’t believe that was Gage’s game.

Gage Ferraro was a wild card and one Jesse didn’t like seeing in the deck. And Amanda… It was just a matter of getting her in a compromising position. The thought had too much appeal—and was damn dangerous.

He just wished he could figure out how all the pieces fit together, especially how the newspaper clipping fit into the mix.

Dylan, true to his word, contacted him a little after two. “We should meet,” the cowboy said.

Jesse picked a meeting place nearby and called the main house a third time, only to be told that Ms. Crowe had finally gotten out of bed and planned to spend the day beside the pool. Mr. Crowe would be home soon. The two would be spending the rest of the afternoon and evening together. Jesse wouldn’t be needed.

Anxious to hear what Dylan had discovered, he left, confident Amanda couldn’t leave with her father expected home any minute.

THE SMALL Texas barbecue joint served cold beer and chipped pork sandwiches with hot sauce. Because of the time of day, the place wasn’t busy. He took a table at the back so he could watch the door.

Dylan joined him ten minutes later.

“So is the baby Susannah?” Jesse asked without preamble.

To Jesse’s disappointment, Dylan shook his head.

“The baby found beside the road was a boy, a newborn,” Dylan said.

Jesse frowned. “Then how could the clipping be connected to Susannah Crowe’s disappearance?”

“I don’t think it is,” Dylan said. “The baby boy left beside Woodland Lake Road just outside of Red River, Texas, had dark hair and dark eyes. He was only a few hours old, leading police to believe he was born on June 5.” He paused.

Jesse felt a jolt. The baby had been born on his birthday?

“June 5,” Dylan continued, “thirty years ago, 1971.”

Jesse’s heart took off at a sprint. He stared at the cowboy for a long moment. “June 5 is my birthday.”

Dylan nodded. “I had a feeling it was. That’s why I did some more checking. I couldn’t find out who adopted the baby. Texas adoption laws won’t allow that. So I went from the other direction.” Dylan seemed to hesitate. “I checked your birth certificate.”

Jesse was already shaking his head.

“I don’t know how to say this, Jesse. I checked with the hospital listed as your place of birth. You weren’t born in Dallas, at least not to Pete and Marie McCall.”

Jesse could barely find breath to ask, “What are you saying? That you think I’m that abandoned baby?” He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was the middle son, with two brothers and three younger sisters, the perfect family. I had this great childhood. If anything, I was my parents’ favorite—” He stopped and shook his head again, all the little things now making him doubt who he was and everything he’d once believed. “There is no way I was adopted. There has to be some sort of mistake. Of course I was born in Dallas, just like my brothers and sisters. Why would my parents lie about where I was born?”

The answer was obvious. If he was that abandoned baby, his parents would have lied to protect him from the truth. They wouldn’t want him to know that his birth mother had cared so little that she’d left him beside a dirt road in a cardboard box.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Dylan said.

He looked past Dylan to the bartender punching up numbers on the jukebox. A Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys song filled the air, Texas swing. He felt sick. And scared. “Who the hell am I, then?”

“You’re still Jesse McCall, the man you’ve always been,” Dylan said.

Jesse shook his head. He’d been Jesse Brock since he’d become Crowe’s chauffeur two weeks ago. And now he had a bad feeling he wasn’t even Jesse McCall, the person he thought he’d been for thirty years. “I have to know.”

Dylan nodded almost sadly but didn’t seem surprised. “You realize you’re probably not going to like what you uncover, if you’re even able to dig up anything after all these years.”

He nodded, trying to think of a good reason a mother would abandon her baby.

“Do you want me to keep digging?” Dylan asked. “I have another case that’s going to tie me up for a while but after that—”

Jesse nodded. He couldn’t leave the Crowe case, not now. And after thirty years, what was a few more days?

“Then you’re going to stay on the Crowe estate?” Dylan asked.

He nodded, his thoughts torn between this shocking news and Amanda Crowe. “The old man called me this morning and told me he wants me to drive her wherever Amanda wants to go. He thanked me for keeping an eye on her. And obviously someone on the Crowe estate thinks they know who I am or they wouldn’t have put the newspaper clipping under my door.”

Dylan looked uneasy and Jesse nodded in agreement.

“I know I’m walking a tightrope here,” Jesse acknowledged and told him about Gage Ferraro.

“Now everyone is looking for Susannah, including Gage, if he isn’t just stringing J.B. along. But I overheard him prodding her to make her move. I intend to be there when she does.”

Dylan studied him for a long moment and Jesse wondered if the cowboy realized just how involved Jesse had gotten in this case.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Dylan said quietly.

Jesse laughed. “She’s also a Crowe and she’d cut your throat in a heartbeat.”

“Just don’t forget that. Jesse, I know this news about the newspaper clipping comes as a shock to you,” Dylan said.

“Yeah.” He loved his parents, his family and he’d always felt a part of them. This was more than a shock. He felt as if the earth under him was no longer solid. As if nothing was as it seemed.

“Take it slow, okay?” Dylan advised. “Give it a little time.”

Time. Right. Too bad that wasn’t his nature.

Jesse called the Crowe compound at a little after three. Mr. Crowe was with his daughter. Both had asked not to be disturbed. Nor had they changed their minds about needing Jesse’s services, Eunice assured him. They would be dining in tonight together.

After he left the compound, he called his boss at the Dallas P.D. and told him what he’d overheard J.B. Crowe say the night before about the governor’s daughter Diana. His boss said he’d handle it and hung up.

He had time. Enough time he could drive up to his parents’ house in Pilot Point and back. It wasn’t but a couple of hours. Amanda wouldn’t dare try to sneak out with her father home and dinner planned for the two of them. Would she?

MARIE MCCALL MET HIM at the door, excitedly kissed him on the cheek then noticed something was wrong. “What is it, honey?”

His mother. She knew him as no one else did. Her hand went to his forehead, just as it had when he was a child.

“Are you feeling ill?” she enquired, regarding him with concern as she ushered him in.

“Stop fussing over him,” Pete McCall called jovially from the kitchen. “You’re just in time,” he said to Jesse. “How about a beer before dinner? We were getting ready to throw some steaks on the grill.”

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