by B. J Daniels
His kiss left her breathless, the taste of him on her lips, the scent of him branded in her memory. She watched as he cupped the cool water in his hands and poured it over her breasts, letting it run down her belly to her navel, to the golden V between her legs. His mouth followed the path of the water.
Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the blanket beside the river. He made love to her, slowly, deliberately, passionately. She opened to him, surrendering to his touch, giving herself to him in a way she knew she would never give to another man.
He took her to dizzying heights, and finally crying out, she reached the zenith with him. She clung to him, tears blurring her vision at the realization that she would never see Jesse again after tonight.
He left her sated, sensuously serene, his body lying next to hers, the air around them cooling as he drifted off, holding her in his arms.
She waited, listening to his soft, steady breathing, the sound of the sighing boughs overhead and the murmur of the river. Then she looked over on the blanket to where the ledger had fallen out of his pocket.
She felt the serenity evaporate the way the water had on her skin, the way the sweat from their lovemaking had. She checked her watch. Earlier, while Jesse had been in the old Duncan place, she’d called Gage. The trade was set for tonight at an old bridge outside of Dallas. She could take off now, hide out and make the trade. Without Jesse. Just as she’d planned.
Carefully, she slipped from his arms and crawled over to the ledger. In the shade of the tree, she opened the small bound pages, her father’s handwriting filling her with conflicting emotions. Through her tears, she saw that handwriting on all the cards he’d given her over the years, all the presents with loving notes attached, all the checks signed to her, gifts he’d given from the heart. And in this book, she saw his other life, the illegal, dishonest, deceitful, horrible one. She’d known some of his business dealings were illegal. She just hadn’t known the extent of it.
She closed the book and sat looking down at it, remembering her plan to take the ledger and leave without Jesse, her plan to do this alone. Then she looked over at him. He was still sleeping, his dark eyes closed, his chest rising and falling. She felt a catch in her throat—in her heart. She thought of the little baby left beside the road. Of the man who’d saved her life last night. Of their lovemaking.
She couldn’t fall for a cop. Let alone a Kincaid. Could she?
With a silent curse, she put the ledger back where she’d found it and, fighting the urge to curl up again in his arms, headed for the river to bathe before they had to leave.
* * *
JESSE OPENED one eye and watched her. He smiled to himself as he saw her change her mind and put the ledger back and walk into the cool water of the river. He had never seen a more beautiful woman. His heart convulsed at the sight of her, at her trust in him. They would make the trade together. But then she would take Susannah and leave the country. He’d lied to himself, believing making love to her once would be enough. Not one time, one day or one lifetime would be enough of this woman.
He watched her glide through the water, her naked body glistening in the sunlight, then he rose and followed her into the river. They still had a little time before they had to leave.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun left the sky infused with color as it sank into the horizon. Amanda changed the plates on the van from Texas plates to the Louisiana ones she had in the back. She stuck a couple of bumper stickers on the back: Proud to Be a Grandma and This Van Stops at Garage Sales, then she slapped up some gaudy stick-on blinds at the windows.
“Looks like a different van, doesn’t it?” she said as she considered her handiwork. “I figured Sheriff Wilson called in the plates. Anyone looking for us will be searching for a tan van with Texas plates.”
Jesse had to agree the van looked entirely different.
“Who do you think is looking for us?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe no one. But there’s no reason to take a chance. Not when I’m this close to making the trade for my daughter.”
Jesse didn’t buy it. He wondered who had her worried. Probably her father. Maybe Gage. Or whoever owned that dark car with the knocking engine.
“At least I know the van is clean,” she said. “I checked it myself for tracking devices before we left Dallas.” She produced a small box from the glove compartment. “This detects any kind of bug or foreign electronic device, including a G.P.S.”
He nodded and smiled. “Electrical engineering, huh?”
She shrugged. “I always liked gadgets. I rewired the intercom in the house when I was a teenager so my father couldn’t spy on me. Getting around Daddy’s expensive security system is child’s play.”
He doubted that.
On the edge of Dallas, he glanced in his rearview mirror, something he’d done so many times without incident that he almost dismissed the car coming up fast behind them.
“Get down!” he ordered, reaching for Amanda before going for the gun at his waist.
He pushed her to the floorboard as a dark-colored, expensive car closed the distance between them.
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice cracking.
He could see the fear in her eyes and knew she was worried that J.B.’s goons would find her and keep her from making the trade. “I don’t know yet.”
Jesse flipped up the rearview mirror and leaned back so his reflection couldn’t be seen in the side mirror, either. “Just stay down.” The car looked familiar. He laid the gun on his thigh, being careful to keep his speed the same.
The car following him swung out into the passing lane, then sped by as if Jesse were standing still. Jesse sat back as it zoomed past. There were at least three guys in the car.
“They’re gone,” he said and looked over. Amanda had moved to the back of the van and must have been looking out the tinted side window.
“I recognized one of them,” she said as she climbed back into the front seat.
“One of Mickie Ferraro’s men, right?” He’d heard the engine’s distinctive knock as the car sped past. “It was the same vehicle that tried to run you down just last night in Dallas.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“For the ledger, I would imagine.”
“But how—I know what you’re thinking. Gage wouldn’t—”
“The hell he wouldn’t,” Jesse snapped. “Who else knew about the trade?”
“The kidnapper.”
“You really don’t believe Mickie Ferraro is working with the Governor now?” he asked.
She fell silent. “It can’t be Gage. He’s determined to make the trade.”
“But he doesn’t need you. In fact, if you were dead, he would get Susannah, right?”
“He’d have to fight my father,” she said.
“There would be bloodshed but—” She seemed to hesitate. “It would put Mickie right where he wants to be with the Organization.”
Jesse’s head snapped around as he looked over at her, his eyes widening. “If something happened to you, your father would go to war with whoever he thought was behind your murder, right?”
She nodded.
“But wouldn’t he suspect Kincaid rather than Mickie Ferraro?”
She seemed to pale. “You’re worried about the trade tonight, aren’t you?”
“Damned right, I am. I’ve been worried since the cops showed up at the last one. Dirty cops, I’d wager. Except I don’t believe they were your father’s.”
“What can we do?” she asked quietly.
We. Making love to Amanda had done nothing to exorcize the desire he’d felt for her. Instead, the desire had become a force to be reckoned with as if it had taken on a life of its own. He wanted more than ever to be her gallant knight and slay all her dragons. Especially that big, ugly one, Gage Ferraro and his hoodlum father.
He watched the road ahead, still worried that the car with the men might be waiting for them.
“I
think Gage is too smart to try to pull something like that again,” she said. “He wants the ledger too badly.”
And why was that, Jesse wondered. To save his daughter? That didn’t sound like the Gage Ferraro he knew. Nor did Jesse believe Gage was trying to get into J. B. Crowe’s good graces. What was going on?
Whatever it was, Amanda and her baby’s life hung in the balance.
He found a side road, one that would skirt around Dallas, and took it.
“Where are we going?” Amanda asked.
“I have to talk to Kincaid,” he said, knowing she wasn’t going to like it.
“Kincaid? You have to be kidding. Do you really think he’ll even let you in the door?”
“I think he will, once he sees me,” Jesse said.
“I have a feeling I resemble my father.”
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
“Your father’s initial reaction to me,” he said.
“I misunderstood it that day I first met him.”
“I assume my near accident was a setup?” she asked.
He didn’t like the edge to her voice. “I’m a cop.”
“So all is fair in the fight of good to overcome evil?” she asked.
He shot her a look, realizing that the lines had blurred considerably for him over the last few days. “I won’t apologize for trying to bring down your father, but I was wrong to paint you with the same dirty brush.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “If you don’t want to see Kincaid—”
“No,” she said. “I do.” Her voice broke. “I want to make a plea for my baby.”
“What if he didn’t take her?” Jesse had to ask.
She said nothing, just stared out the windshield, as he drove south to Austin and the capitol.
* * *
IT TOOK SEVERAL phone calls to find the governor once they reached Austin, then the person who answered the call refused to put Jesse through.
“Tell the governor it’s about a close relative of his,” Jesse said. A few moments later, Governor Thomas Kincaid came on the line. Jesse was sure the call was being traced.
“Yes?” Kincaid said, sounding old and tired and scared.
“I need to talk to you in person,” Jesse said.
“What is this about?” Kincaid asked.
“You’ll know when you see me,” Jesse said.
Kincaid didn’t hesitate long. “You know where I live?”
Everyone knew where the governor’s mansion was. “I’m just around the corner. I can be there in two minutes. I think it’s best if we come in through the back.”
“We?” Kincaid asked.
Jesse felt an arrow of guilt pierce his heart. Kincaid thought this was about his daughter Diana.
“Two minutes.” He hung up and looked at Amanda. She looked scared. She still believed that Kincaid was behind the kidnapping of her daughter. She must feel as if they were going into the lion’s den.
He took her hand. “We’re in.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “I hope you’re right about this.”
“Me, too,” he said. “But I’ll get us back out of there if I’m not. One way or another.”
* * *
KINCAID MET THEM at the back door, just as Jesse figured he would. Several “suits” stood in the shadows, obviously armed.
The governor looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. Jesse knew he probably hadn’t. The older man’s gaze went first to Amanda, his eyes widening in surprise. Then he looked at Jesse. For a moment Jesse thought he might faint.
“Can we come in?” Jesse said. “We need to talk to you.”
Kincaid stumbled back, motioning to the men that everything was fine, when Jesse knew it wasn’t. All the color had gone out of the governor’s face and his hand trembled as he opened a door and ushered them into what appeared to be a TV room, furnished with comfortable chairs and a large-screen television.
“Who are you?” Kincaid asked dropping into a chair, his gaze never leaving Jesse’s face.
Jesse sat down next to Amanda on the love seat. He took her hand. Now that he was here, he didn’t know where to begin. But Kincaid’s reaction resolved any questions he might have had about his resemblance to his father.
“I believe I’m your nephew,” he said. “Billy’s son.”
Kincaid leaned back in his chair and glanced at Amanda, distrust in his expression.
“Let me explain,” Jesse said, realizing he had to lay all of his cards on the table. “My name is Jesse McCall. I’m a cop. An undercover cop. I’ve been working as J. B. Crowe’s chauffeur the last couple of weeks.” He filled Kincaid in on everything, including what he’d learned in Red River.
Kincaid shook his head as if in shock. “I’ll admit the resemblance is uncanny but—”
Jesse pulled the gold heart from his jeans pocket and held it out to the governor. The older man’s reaction erased any doubt.
“Oh, my God,” Kincaid said, tears filling his eyes.
“My adoptive parents found this heart in my baby blanket,” Jesse said. “I need to know who my mother is. I need to know what happened and how I ended up beside that dirt road.”
“I didn’t know she was pregnant. Billy never told me. But I did know how he felt about her. I never met her. Billy and I…well we were at odds over his involvement with—” He glanced toward Amanda.
“Billy and my father were best friends,” she said haughtily. “Billy’s death changed my father’s life.”
Kincaid nodded, no doubt thinking how his little brother’s death had changed his, as well. He looked to Jesse. “If I had known about you, I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”
Jesse believed him. “What was my mother’s name?”
“Roxie. Roxie Pickett.”
“Is she still alive?” Jesse asked.
Kincaid shook his head. “She died two days after my brother. She killed herself.”
Jesse felt as if the floor had fallen out from under him. For a moment he couldn’t speak. “Her parents?”
“I think they still live in the old neighborhood,” Kincaid said, his tone implying it was the same one where he and Billy and J.B. were raised. “I think the father’s name was Frank. Frank Pickett. It’s been so long. I can’t remember the wife’s name.”
Kincaid stared at him, obviously in shock. “You look so much like Billy.” He looked ill, not powerful, not frightening.
Jesse could see that Amanda had lost some of the anger in her expression. She just looked scared for her baby.
“I need to ask you about another child,” Jesse said. “Susannah Crowe, Amanda’s six-month-old baby.”
Kincaid’s gaze flicked to Amanda. “Your daughter is missing?”
“I wouldn’t think that comes as a surprise.”
Kincaid looked back to Jesse. “It does make things clearer though.”
Jesse nodded. “Like her father, Amanda believes you’re behind the kidnapping because the kidnapper is demanding evidence against J. B. Crowe.”
Kincaid closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they swam in tears. “I understand your frustration, Ms. Crowe. My daughter and her unborn baby are also missing. But I did not have your baby kidnapped. I wish there was some way I could make you believe that. Make your father believe that, if it is not too late for my daughter. I pray it is not too late for your daughter, as well.”
Amanda stared at him, looking numb.
Jesse couldn’t tell if she believed the governor or not. It didn’t matter really what any of them believed. “I plan to find out who kidnapped Susannah Crowe,” Jesse warned Kincaid. “If you’re involved I will bring you down no matter who you are.”
Kincaid nodded solemnly.
Jesse and Amanda rose. Kincaid pushed himself to his feet. He seemed awkward as if he didn’t know what to say but didn’t want Jesse to leave either. He held out his hand. Jesse shook it, feeling a strength that assured him his uncle would be fine. His uncle. That would take some
getting used to.
“Will I see you again?” Kincaid said.
“Yes.” Jesse followed Amanda to the door.
“When this is all over, we’ll both come back.”
* * *
FRANK AND MOLLY Pickett lived in a neighborhood of Dallas that had seen better days. Rusted-out cars balanced wheelless on blocks, garbage cluttered the gutters and graffiti defiled the faces of the weathered buildings.
Amanda tried to imagine her father growing up here, let alone Kincaid. She shivered at the thought of the children who still grew up here and thought of Kincaid’s programs to replace these neighborhoods with homes for the poor. She’d always thought his plan was political. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“The van probably won’t be here when we get back,” Amanda noted as Jesse parked in front of the address he’d found in the phone book.
“Do you have some money?” he asked her. “A twenty and a fifty?”
She gave him a questioning look, but dug out the bills and handed them to him, then climbed out of the van after him.
Jesse approached one of the young men sitting on a stoop in the shade. “See this twenty?” he said to the man. “I have a fifty for you as well if I come back and that van hasn’t been touched. It’s better than what you’re going to get from the guys who steal or strip these cars.”
The man smiled at that and took the twenty. “Don’t be long.”
Amanda knew Jesse had no intention of being any longer than necessary. She could feel his tension when he put his hand on her back and led her up the stairs. She felt uneasy and knew it wasn’t just the neighborhood that was making her feel that way.
Jesse rang the buzzer on the apartment marked Pickett. The sun beat down in waves of heat while a putrid stench rose from the rainwater and garbage lying stagnant in the gutter.
“Yes?” came an older female voice.
“Mrs. Pickett?” Jesse asked.
“Yes?” came the hesitant answer.
