The person who had helped Booth destroy Dean Beaumont and Bryam Sheffield would still be under Booth's thumb. He or she would still be reporting to Booth. That meant what the informant knew, Booth knew. Not only would his uncle be aware of a traitor in his midst, he would know Grace was having his association with Governor Miller investigated. And he'd also know that Jed was working for Grace. "The Plan" had been set in motion. It was only a matter of time before he could have an excuse to go to his uncle, confront him and ask him to disprove the allegations against him, all a guise to put Jed in contact with the federal agent working in Booth's camp.
Jed stood at the windows, pulled back one curtain and looked down at the dark, sprawling backyard lawn. Glancing up he studied the few stars visible tonight. Partial cloud cover shielded a section of the moon and half the stars.
If Booth already knew that Grace was having him investigated, if he suspected a traitor in his midst, then Grace was in danger. And when Booth discovered the traitor's identity, he was a dead man. But if Booth knew, why hadn't he made a move? Why hadn't he issued a warning? It wasn't like his uncle to bide his time. Just as soon as the first threat against Grace occurred, Jed could put their plan into action. He would have an excuse to visit his uncle and find a way to make contact with the FBI's undercover agent who apparently was trapped within the organization and kept under such close scrutiny recently that he had no way to exchange information with his superiors within the Bureau.
"Jim Kelly is one of our top agents," Dante Moran had told Jed. "He infiltrated your uncle's organization over two years ago and up until six months ago was able to keep in touch on a regular basis, then his job duties changed and it has become increasingly difficult for him to get any word out to us."
Jed chuckled. Booth Fortier not only had a traitor in his midst, but he had a spy, too. And if either man was found out…
A telephone rang. He heard the echo coming from Grace's room. Jed picked up the portable phone he'd requested to be kept in his room, then rushed out the door and across the hall. Grace's door was closed, but he didn't think twice about entering without knocking. He'd given Grace orders to answer her own phone from now on, now that the trace had been placed on her telephones, both at home and at work.
When Grace looked up at him, she nodded, her cue to him that he should listen in. He put the phone to his ear.
"There's a gift waiting for you, Mrs. Beaumont," the disguised voice said. "It's been left at the front gate. You might want to send someone down to get it."
"Who is this? What sort of gift?"
The dial tone hummed in their ears. Damn! Jed thought. No way was the guy on the phone long enough to trace the call. Besides, it didn't really matter if he'd used a pay phone or a cell phone that could be traced only to the nearest tower.
Grace hung up the receiver. "What do you think?" she asked.
"I don't think this was our guy, the one who's expecting five million dollars tomorrow at noon. I think this is someone else."
Grace's blue eyes rounded in surprise. "Who do you think…" she gasped. "You think Booth Fortier already knows about-"
"I'm going to make a quick phone call and have someone check the front gate for your gift."
"Who are you going to call and why not just go get it-" Grace paused as realization dawned. "Do you think it's a bomb? Are you phoning the sheriff?"
"Do you want the local law involved?" he asked.
Her shoulders lifted and fell as she sighed deeply. "Not unless it's absolutely necessary. Since we have nothing but our suspicions to go on… no solid proof. Not yet."
Jed punched in a series of numbers, then lifted the portable phone to his ear.
"Who are you calling?" she repeated her question.
He held up his index finger in a signal for her to wait. She nodded agreement.
"This is Jed. Ms. Beaumont just received an interesting phone call. It seems someone has dropped off a gift for her at the front gates and I need you to pick it up. Understand?"
"Yeah, I understand," Rafe Devlin replied. "I'll get some of Moran's boys to check it out and if it's not lethal, I'll bring it up to the house."
"Thanks. I'll be waiting to hear from you."
"Will do."
Jed turned to Grace. "Why don't you stay up here and I'll go downstairs and wait. If there's a bomb or anything else, he'll call back. If not, he'll leave the package."
"Are you taking one of the Dundee agents away from guard duty at Sheffield Media to check out whatever was left at the gate?"
"No." He turned and walked away, hoping that would end it, at least for the time being.
Grace followed him into the hall. "Jed, what are you not telling me?"
Pausing, he kept his back to her. "There's a third Dundee agent working this case. I called him."
"A third person? Why didn't you mention this before? I swear to goodness, Jed Tyree, you're the most aggravating man I've ever met. Why all the secrets? If I'm paying for four Dundee agents, don't you think I'll find out when the bill comes in?"
"Yeah, sure. Sorry I didn't mention it." When her bill came in, she'd be charged for three agents-Dom, Kate and himself. He supposed you could say the others-Rafe and J.J.-were working pro bono, without pay, for the public good. Over the years, the Dundee agency had formed a cooperative relationship with the Bureau. As with all relationships it often resulted in a you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours policy. And now that the CEO of Dundee's was a former Fed himself, it cemented an already strong bond.
Jed left Grace standing in the hall, then galloped down the long, winding staircase and into the marble-floored foyer. He sat in one of the two antique armchairs flanking an ornately decorated chest that rested against the right entrance wall. He figured he'd be waiting no more than thirty minutes before he heard from Rafe, letting him know the package had been examined and either destroyed or was on its way up to the house.
While he waited, he went over several different scenarios. He was ninety-nine percent certain the "gift" was from Booth. And whatever it was, it would be an unpleasant surprise. If he could, he wanted to protect Grace as much as possible from the ugliness. She was a strong, brave woman, but she'd suffered more than enough for two lifetimes. He had no intention of letting her become another of Booth Fortier's victims.
"Want some company?" Grace asked as she floated down the staircase, her movements fluid and unhurried.
He glanced up and watched her as she descended, her yellow silk pajamas only a shade darker than her shoulder-length hair. Looking at her, he couldn't see a flaw. Not one tiny imperfection. But then, he hadn't explored every inch of her.
His sex reacted instantly to the thought of his hands caressing Grace's naked body. Down, boy, down! he ordered a particular part of his anatomy. Okay, so he was a red-blooded American male, and what guy in his right mind wouldn't be attracted to a woman as beautiful as Grace? But it wasn't like him to react so strongly to a woman he barely knew-one who'd put up No Trespassing signs all around her. Yes, he got as horny as the next guy, but he had never hurt for female companionship. If he wanted to get laid, he didn't figure he'd have a problem once this assignment was over and he was free to indulge in some extracurricular activity. But the problem was he didn't just want to get laid. He wanted Grace. He wanted to make love to her. Sweet, slow, all-night-long love.
"Jed?" she called to him when she reached the foot of the stairs.
"Huh?"
"Are you all right?"
No, honey, I'm not all right. I'm hurting in the worst way, but you don't want to hear it. "Yeah, sure, I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Mind if I wait with you?" she asked, but didn't pause long enough for him to reply before she sat in the matching armchair on the opposite side of the chest.