"Booth always was a man who looked after his own."
Robust laughter echoed from the open French doors. Jed glanced over his shoulder and saw his uncle, smartly dressed in white slacks and navy shirt, standing in the doorway. Charmaine blanched when she saw her husband, then forced a smile.
"Booth, darling, come see who's paying us a visit. He-he's here in Louisiana on business and heard about Jaron." Although Charmaine's voice was syrupy sweet, the look in her eyes told Jed of her true feelings. Anger. Bitterness. Hatred. But above all else, fear.
Head high, shoulders straight, Booth Fortier marched toward Jed, then when he drew near, he sized up his nephew and said, "It's been a long time, boy."
"Yes, sir, it has. Seventeen years." Jed stood to greet his uncle, showing the respect Booth demanded.
"You're looking well."
"So are you," Jed lied. Even though his uncle appeared quite fit, there was something not quite right about his appearance. It was in the eyes. Just a hint of illness. What plagued the old buzzard? Jed wondered.
Booth walked over and stood behind Charmaine's chair. Jed noticed how she tensed when Booth placed his hand on her shoulder. "Our Charmaine is still a beauty, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is." Jed glanced behind Booth to where Ronnie stood in the background, his stance rigid, as if he were struggling to keep himself in check. If Ronnie-Jim Kelly-cared about Charmaine, it must have killed him seeing the results of Booth's handiwork on her body.
"Guess you never figured when you left us that Charmaine would wind up being mine." Booth caressed her throat, his fingers circling her windpipe as his thumb stroked the side of her neck. "Yeah, our girl moved right to the top. She went from being the heir apparent's woman to become the king's wife."
"And what did Jaron become, other than your brother-in-law? Was he the new heir apparent?" Jed asked.
Charmaine gasped.
Booth frowned. "Jaron was my right-hand man, always at my side to do my bidding. But he was never in line to inherit my throne." Booth released his hold on his wife, then motioned with a sweeping hand gesture toward the house. "Come into my study for a drink and you can tell me why you're really here."
Jed nodded, got up, walked over to Charmaine and said, "I really am very sorry about Jaron." With his uncle watching closely, he leaned over and kissed Charmaine's cheek.
"Thank you." She swallowed her tears.
Jed followed Booth into the house, down the hall and straight into his study. Booth closed the doors behind them, then went to the liquor cabinet. "Whiskey for me. What will you have?"
"The same," Jed replied.
"Neat or on the rocks?"
"Neat."
Booth served as bartender, something Jed couldn't remember his uncle doing in the past. He held a glass in each hand as he approached Jed. Booth held one out to him, which he took.
"Sit."
Jed sat in an overstuffed chair to the right of Booth's desk. Booth braced his hips on the edge of his desk, lifted his glass to his lips and downed a hefty swig.
"Why are you here?" Booth asked. "And don't tell me it's simply to tell us how sorry you are about Jaron." Booth grinned. "By the way, how did you hear about Jaron's death?"
Jed took a sip of whiskey, then eyed his uncle over the rim of the glass. "I guess you already know Jaron's body was dumped at the front gates of Belle Foret, Grace Beaumont's home."
"So I was told."
"I'm Ms. Beaumont's bodyguard. She hired the agency I work for to investigate an allegation she received in a mysterious letter." When Booth didn't respond, simply sat there sipping his liquor, Jed continued. "Why don't I cut to the chase and just ask you out right-did you put out a hit on Dean Beaumont and Byram Sheffield four years ago?"
Booth finished his drink, set the glass down on his desk and looked right at Jed. "Now why would I have done something like that?"
"Because Dean Beaumont was gathering evidence against Lew Miller… evidence that would have proved you controlled the governor."
Booth laughed. "Hell, boy, I've been friends with every governor for the past thirty years and my daddy before that. But I don't control Lew Miller and there's no way Dean Beaumont could have come up with any evidence proving I do."
"Then you're saying you didn't order a hit on-"
"You go back to Ms. Beaumont and tell her that Booth Fortier gives her his word that he had nothing-absolutely nothing-to do with her husband's and father's deaths."
Jed stood, set his glass beside Booth's on the desk, then stared into his uncle's cold, black eyes. "I'll tell her, but you should know she probably won't believe you. I'm sure she'll expect us to continue the investigation. She's determined to prove the allegations to be either true or false."
"Let me give you some advice." Booth grinned, his expression pure evil. "Do what you can to persuade Ms. Beaumont that it's in her best interest to let the matter drop. It's not healthy for a young widow to dwell on her husband's death. Who knows, an obsession like that could kill her."
Jed barely restrained himself. He wanted to grab Booth by the throat and choke the life out of him. How dare he threaten Grace right to Jed's face! He wanted to warn his uncle that if he tried to harm Grace, he'd have to answer to him personally. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that Booth was on the verge of being arrested by the FBI.
"My job is to protect Ms. Beaumont. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure no harm comes to her."
"Yes, I'm sure you will. But I'd hate to see the two of us on opposite sides. After all, you are my nephew. Your rightful place is here with me. Don't you ever regret having given up the chance to inherit my empire?"
"I regret a lot of things."
"It's never too late to right the wrongs of the past." Booth eased off the edge of the desk, reached out and placed his hand on Jed's shoulder. "But before I could trust you again, you'd have to prove yourself."
Jed glared at his uncle's hand resting on his shoulder. Booth squeezed his shoulder, then released it. "You're in a unique position to be of service to me."
"How is that?"
"You're Grace Beaumont's bodyguard."
"You want me to kill her, is that it?"
Booth smiled. "Just persuade the lady, by whatever means necessary, that digging into the past is dangerous."
"You made two mistakes," Jed said and chuckled when his uncle's smile vanished. "First, you assumed that I might be interested in inheriting your crime empire. I'm not. Second, you assumed I'd be willing to kill an innocent woman. I'm not." And what Booth didn't know was that Grace Beaumont's life was worth more to Jed than his own.
"Headstrong and stubborn as always," Booth said. "And just a bit weak. Like your mama. I thought maybe you'd gotten tougher, but I see you haven't."
Jed walked to the pocket doors, opened them, then said, "I'll say goodbye to Charmaine and let her know I'll be at Jaron's funeral."
"If you have any ideas of renewing your relationship with my wife, I advise against it. You must remember how possessive I am of my personal property."
Yes. Jed remembered all too well the beating he'd taken at the age of ten when he'd dared to borrow one of Booth's diamond rings. Booth had caught him taking it from the jewelry case in his bedroom. It had been the one and only time his uncle had physically abused him, but Booth had beaten him so badly that he'd learned a lesson he never forgot. Never steal from Booth. Never lie to Booth. Never double-cross Booth.
"Take care of yourself, Uncle Booth," Jed said sarcastically. "And enjoy what you've got… because you never know when it's all going to come tumbling down around you."