"Grace…"
She signaled him to say no more. "Don't worry, I'm not sharing my theory with anyone else. I promise."
"Look, Blondie, you should go to bed. It's been a rough night." Jed stood, but made no move to go to her. "If you've got a sleeping pill, take it. You're the boss over at Sheffield Media. You can take the morning off if you want to. Stay home tomorrow. Before I leave for Beaulac, Dom and Kate will come over here and stay with you. They'll act as your bodyguards while I'm gone."
Grace nodded; then suddenly an odd look appeared in her eyes and her mouth opened on a surprised gasp. "Booth Fortier lives in Beaulac? Didn't you tell me that you're originally from Beaulac? Did you know Fortier years ago when you lived in the same town?"
The inevitable had arrived sooner than he'd expected. What are you going to tell her? he asked himself. The truth? Or a lie?
Troy Leone sat in a chair near the window where the old air conditioner chugged out cold air as it rattled and rumbled. He reached over and picked up a pack of cigarettes off the table, knocked a fresh one from the pack and lit it with the butt of the one he'd finished. Josie had fallen asleep right after they'd had sex. She was a wild thing in bed, but she wasn't one for cuddling afterward. Hell, neither was he. It wasn't like he was in love with Josie or anything. She was red-hot and couldn't get enough, which suited him just fine. But now that he'd decided not to return to the warehouse and wouldn't be making big bucks, he figured Josie would tell him to get lost. She liked pretty things; and without money, he couldn't buy her clothes and jewelry and whatever else she wanted. He knew what she wanted more than anything-to quit her waitress job.
Troy scratched his chest, then glanced over his shoulder, back into the bedroom where Josie slept. He sure wished she'd let him stay. He liked having a place of his own and a willing woman in his bed; but mostly he dreaded the thought of tucking his tail between his legs and crawling home to Elsa. Okay, so his sister cared about him, worried about him, wanted what was best for him. But God Almighty, she smothered him. Couldn't she get it through her head that he was a man now, not some snot-nosed kid? So he'd made a mistake taking the warehouse job. He'd thought he was tough, that working for the mob wasn't such a big deal. But after that guy had paid him a visit today and he'd found out he really was working for none other than Booth Fortier, Troy had known he was in way over his head. He wasn't interested in a life of crime, in becoming a career criminal. All he'd wanted was some easy money.
Puffing on his new cigarette, Troy leaned his head back against the wall as the front legs of the straight chair lifted off the floor. If he moved home-when he moved home-Elsa would be onto him again about his smoking. If it wasn't one thing with her, it was another.
So, don't go home, he told himself. Go back to the warehouse tomorrow night. But if he did that, he'd knowingly be working for Booth Fortier and that guy would show up again and ask him to do a job for the big boss. Fortier would expect him to kill somebody. He just didn't think he had it in him to be a murderer. Ask him to lie, cheat or steal and he'd do it. But kill another human being in cold blood? No way.
He took a last draw on his cigarette, ground it into a nearby ashtray and headed back to the bedroom. He stood over the bed and watched Josie sleeping. She wasn't pretty, but she was built good. He crawled into bed beside her, draped one arm over her and cuddled to her back.
She had no idea he'd quit his job at the warehouse. Tonight he'd stayed at a bar on East Sixth Street until the place closed down, then he'd come back to the apartment and told Josie he'd gotten off work early. He'd have to tell her the truth before tomorrow night, but he wasn't going to mention it until then. Since tomorrow was her off day, he figured they could spend most of the day in bed. If she needed a little incentive, he'd just show her the five hundred bucks Booth Fortier's man had given him.
Troy kissed Josie's ear. She grunted. He licked her neck. She slapped at him as if she were swatting a fly. He chuckled.
"Wake up, honey. Wake up just enough to say yes."
She growled, then flopped over, but kept her eyes closed. "What time is it?"
"Early. Not quite four."
Josie groaned. "I'm too sleepy to-"
He kissed her, stuck his tongue in her mouth while he whipped the covers off her. When he rubbed his erection against her belly, she started kissing him back. God, he was going to miss getting sex all the time like this. But as soon as Josie found out he didn't have any big money coming in, she'd sure as hell kick his ass out the door. Just get it while you can, man, he told himself. You'll miss it-miss her-but you can always find another woman. But if you let yourself get in too deep with Booth Fortier, you could wind up in the pen for life or end up dead. He didn't intend for either to be his fate. He loved money and he loved sex, but not enough to die for either.
Grace wondered why Jed didn't answer her, why he wouldn't allow his gaze to meet hers. There was something he didn't want to tell her, something too painful to share. Had, as she suspected, Jed lost someone to Booth Fortier's ruthlessness?
"Jed?" She took a few hesitant steps toward him, wanting to put her arms around him and offer him comfort.
He held up a restraining hand. She stopped immediately. Oh, her poor Jed. What could be so horrible that he couldn't tell her? And she knew from the pained expression on his face that his experience with the infamous Mr. Fortier had been horrible.
"Jed, whatever it is, you can tell me. I'll understand."
He took a deep breath, then faced her, his mossy hazel-brown eyes searching for the understanding she'd promised. "I knew Fortier." He paused. "I'd rather not go into too many details. Not tonight."
"All right." Grace kept her distance, despite the overwhelming desire to rush to Jed.
"He had my father murdered."
She could tell that the bold statement hadn't been intentional. It was as if Jed's very soul needed to make a confession, to share a painful secret.
When Jed turned his back on her, she wondered if he was crying. "Oh, Jed, I'm so sorry. I felt it was something like that. No wonder-"
"Don't!" He snapped around and glared at her, his face etched with anger. "I don't want or deserve your sympathy."
"Jed, please… what is it? What's wrong?" She rushed toward him, but when he backed away from her, she paused. "You're frightening me. What-?"
"My family…" He swallowed. "The people I come from were criminals, part of organized crime here in Louisiana. Don't you see, don't you understand-when I was eighteen, I ran away from Booth Fortier and his kind."
For a moment she didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond. What he'd told her was certainly a surprise; she'd never expected to hear that Jed's family had worked for the syndicate. No wonder he knew so much about Booth Fortier.
"You aren't your family," she told him. "You aren't responsible for what they did. You didn't choose that type of life. You chose to be different. You're a good man, Jed." She walked over to him, lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. "You have nothing to be ashamed of-nothing!"
He shoved her hand aside, then narrowed his gaze and focused on her eyes. "I knew Jaron Vaden, the man who was dumped outside your front gate."
Grace gasped.
"We were friends as teenagers."
"How terrible it must have been for you to see him tonight. Murdered."
"Stop being so damn understanding!"
She stared at him, totally puzzled by his attitude. "If you're trying to make me dislike you-"
"You should, you know. You should hate my guts."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not a nice man, not a good man. And I've kept things from you. More things than you can imagine." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "I am the worst man on earth for you, but God help me, I want you so bad I ache with the wanting."