"Yes, ma'am." Jed clicked his heels and saluted her.
She glowered at him. "Was that supposed to be funny?"
"Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's just no one would ever suspect that under that cover-girl beauty beats the heart of a commanding army general."
"Look, it's none of your business-"
"You've already made your point."
" Hudson thinks he's in love with me. I pretend not to know how he feels. But he also resents the fact that I took over for my father when he expected to be named permanent CEO. I want him as a friend. I need him as an executive. So I walk a fine line as far as our working relationship goes."
Jed nodded. "Are you trying to tell me that your Hitler routine was strictly for Prentice's benefit?"
"I'm a woman whose claim to fame prior to my father's death was being a prominent socialite. How do you think my employees would have reacted to me if I hadn't come in here on the first day with a hard-ass, I'm-the-boss-attitude?"
"I see your point."
"What is it with you, Mr. Tyree-do you have a problem with strong, aggressive females? If so, I suggest you get over it for the duration of this assignment, while you're working for me."
"I'll do my job, Ms. Beaumont, but there's one thing you should know-I don't jump through hoops for anybody, so don't expect it." Without giving her a chance for a rebuttal, he nodded toward the outer office. "I need to make some phone calls, get the ball rolling. My boss is supposed to have contacted the local authorities to see about getting me copies of the accident report and the file on the subsequent investigation into the wreck that killed your husband and father. We'll start there, see if there's anything that might indicate the hit-and-run wasn't accidental."
"Use Elsa's desk until Hudson can arrange for you to have your own office."
When Jed walked into the outer office, Grace followed him, then paused at his side when he sat down at the desk.
He glanced up at her. "Yeah?"
"For your information, I do not expect anyone to jump through hoops for me."
"If you say so."
Grace huffed. "Why begin with looking into information about the accident? Why not investigate the allegation that Governor Miller is involved with Booth Fortier?"
Should he be totally honest with her? Jed wondered. Should he tell her that Sawyer, Special Agent Moran and Sam Dundee had all agreed that Jed shouldn't start digging into the governor's supposed involvement with the syndicate until they had several Dundee agents on the job and a couple of Feds in place? Once they started the investigation, it was only a matter of time-hours or days-before both the governor and Fortier would learn about it. And when they discovered who was behind the probe into their affairs, Grace Beaumont's life would be in imminent danger.
"We've already started putting out feelers from Dundee 's headquarters in Atlanta," he told her. "Once our other agents, Domingo Shea and Kate Malone, arrive tomorrow, they'll be involved exclusively in that investigation."
With a somber expression on her face, Grace said, "It's going to get really ugly, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Real ugly, real fast."
"Do you earn double pay for double duty?"
"Double duty?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Tyree. It doesn't suit you. You and I both know that very soon you'll be acting as my bodyguard."
Jaron checked to make sure the door to his room was securely locked. He couldn't risk having one of Booth's people walk in on him while he was composing his second letter to Grace Beaumont. He didn't like living under the same roof with Booth, but agreeing to live here was the only way he could keep an eye on Charmaine and try to help her however he could. Booth treated him well, for an underling. The big man trusted him. And why shouldn't he? Jaron had bowed and scraped to Booth most of his adult life. If Booth said jump, Jaron asked how high?
Sitting down at his desk, he turned on his laptop computer and stared at the blank screen. He had already worked out the details of where, when and how she would have to deliver the money, but that information could wait for the next letter. This time, he would simply explain that he was in possession of evidence that would link Governor Miller to Booth Fortier and for five million dollars, he would put that evidence in Grace's hands. And as a bonus, he would add all the details he knew about the "hit" put out on Dean Beaumont and his father-in-law four years ago.
Jaron typed as fast as his hunt-and-peck technique allowed, being careful just how he worded the letter. As soon as he finished, he hit Print. The minute the sheet rose from the printer, he snatched it out and read it hurriedly, then immediately deleted the letter from his computer.
A noise outside his room alerted him to possible danger. He folded the letter and slipped it into the inside pocket of his sport coat. Sweat popped out on his upper lip. He listened. Heard nothing. He inserted a four-by-nine envelope into the slot in the printer, typed out Grace Beaumont's name and work address at Sheffield Media headquarters, then put the letter inside the envelope, added a stamp and returned the message to his inside coat pocket.
There was that noise again. Footsteps? Then his doorknob jiggled. Jaron swallowed. Perspiration dampened his palms.
Get a hold of yourself. There's no way Booth can suspect you of anything. You're letting your fear get the better of you. You've got to act like a man with nothing to hide.
Taking a deep breath, he stood, straightened his shoulders and crossed the room. He unlocked and opened his bedroom door, then glanced up and down the hall. Braced casually against the wall several feet away, one of Booth's devoted employees, Curt Poarch, grinned at Jaron.
"You want something?" Jaron asked.
"Hey, man, sorry if I disturbed you. With your door locked, I figured you were taking a nap or humping somebody or jacking off or-"
"What do you want?"
"As you know, Mr. Fortier just left for a couple of days in New Orleans," Curt said. "Before he left, he told me to take any questions or problems to you."
Inwardly Jaron sighed with relief, but outwardly his body language didn't change. "Yeah, so?"
"We got a big shipment coming in tonight and I'm gonna need some extra cash to pay the part-time guys. Mr. Fortier said you'd handle it since you got the combination to that safe."
"Yeah, sure. Just tell me how much you need and I'll see that you get it."
"Thanks, Mr. Vaden. And sorry I made a crack about why you had your door locked."
"No apology needed," Jaron told him. "When you get to know me better, you'll learn I like my privacy. That's all there is to it."
"Yes, sir."
Jaron put his hand on Curt's shoulder. "Let's go get ourselves a nice cool drink and you can tell me if any of the temporary boys you've got working at the warehouse are candidates for permanent jobs."
Curt grinned. "A cool drink on a hot day sounds good to me. And as far as promising workers, there's this one kid-reminds me of myself a bit when I was his age. Eager to please. Smart. Follows orders without question. Got himself an expensive playmate, if you know what I mean."
"Sounds like our kind of guy. What's his name?"
"Leone. Troy Leone."
Chapter 5
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?" Grace asked, wanting desperately to alleviate Elsa's pain.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm afraid there's nothing anyone can do at this point. I've talked to Troy until I'm blue in the face." Elsa's effort to smile failed miserably. "I would do absolutely anything to help him. You know that. But I can't help him if he fights me every inch of the way. He's damned and determined to do what he wants to do."