by B. J Daniels
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 conseq
uences. 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.
