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Secret Bodyguard
B.J. Daniels
Amanda Crowe's baby girl had been kidnapped! In the shadowy world in which she lived, there was no one to trust except herself. She was going to get her baby back no matter the cost. But she hadn't counted on Jesse McCall getting in her way–a man who was more than he seemed….Posing as Amanda's driver, undercover cop Jesse McCall was assigned to watch the mobster's daughter. But he couldn't ignore Amanda's heart-wrenching effort to bring her child home, nor her siren's call luring him ever closer. As a cop, Jesse had a duty to fulfill. But as Amanda's lover, he would protect her and her baby from all harm–even if it meant breaking the law.
“You have to let me go!”
“So you can try to lamebrain me again? Not likely,” Jesse said, holding her down.
“If my father finds out what you’ve done—”
“What I’ve done? Something tells me kissing you would be way down on the list long after you breaking in to his office. Try again.”
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Why don’t you try to explain it to me.”
She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in tears. “Let me up and I’ll tell you everything.”
He let go of her arms. Suddenly she made a grab for the canvas shoulder bag she’d been carrying that was now lying within reach.
She’s going for a weapon.
He grabbed the strap of the bag before she could and tossed it onto the edge of the sidewalk. Something inside shattered. The sound made him start as if it had been a gunshot.
She let out an oath and attacked him like a hellcat. He braved releasing her with one hand to lean out and snag the bag; it left a wet trail in the grass.
No weapon.
Just what appeared to be a broken baby bottle…
Secret Bodyguard
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Houston, B.J. Daniels is a former Southern girl who grew up on the smell of gulf sea air and Southern cooking. But her home is now in Montana, not far from Big Sky, where she snowboards in the winters and boats in the summers with her husband and daughters. She does miss gumbo and Texas barbecue, though! Her first Harlequin Intrigue novel was nominated for the Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice Award for best first book and best Harlequin Intrigue. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Montana and Bozeman Writers group. B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Amanda Crowe—All she wanted was her baby daughter back and her freedom—until she met Jesse McCall. Then she wanted it all.
Jesse Brock McCall—The undercover cop set out to catch a mobster, but the mobster’s daughter had other ideas.
Susannah Crowe—The baby was missing, but had she really been kidnapped?
Gage Ferraro—Was he the grieving father he seemed to be?
J. B. Crowe—The mobster lived in a world where the only rule was to win. Even at the cost of his family?
Billy Kincaid—He left behind a legacy no one knew about.
Frank and Molly Pickett—They would have done anything for their only daughter.
Roxie Pickett—With everything she loved believed lost, she had nothing to live for.
Thomas Kincaid—The governor had his own reasons for wanting to eradicate mobster J. B. Crowe.
Mickie Ferraro—He lived by his only code of honor: greed and revenge.
Dylan Garrett—The former cop turned P.I. tried to warn Jesse what he was getting into, but Jesse wouldn’t listen.
To my Aunt Eleanor,
who took me to my first scary movie
and taught me what suspense was all about,
and to my Uncle Jack, the best of the Johnsons
and my first real hero.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
She’d sneak out tonight. He could feel it, the way he always could. A kind of static in the air. Something electric. Something both reckless and dangerous.
Jesse rubbed the cloth over the thin coat of wax on the hood of the black Lincoln town car. Reflections danced in the shine at his touch. He avoided his own reflection though, his gaze on the massive main house across the Texas tiled courtyard.
The curtains were closed in her window, but the air-conditioned breeze on the other side teased them coyly open allowing him to catch glimpses of her.
It was just like Amanda to have the window open in her wing of the air-conditioned hacienda. No wonder her scent moved restlessly through the hot, humid night. Tantalizing. Tempting. He breathed it in, holding it deep inside him as long as he could before reluctantly releasing it. Her music also drifted from her open window and hung in the thick air between the house and the chauffeur’s quarters above the garage. She had the radio on the local Latin station she listened to, the music as hot and spicy as the food she liked to eat.
He rubbed his large hand over the dark, slick hood, wondering if her skin felt like this. Smooth and cool to the touch.
When she came out, it was through the side door. He stepped back into the shadows, not wanting her to see him. At first he thought she’d take the new Mercedes her father had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday, but she headed for the separate garage on the far side of the house. He watched her stick to the shadows and climb into the older model BMW parked in the first stall.
Slumming it tonight?
He waited until she’d pulled away, her taillights disappearing down the long, circuitous, tree-arched drive of the Crowe estate before he climbed on his motorcycle and followed her at a discreet distance.
Hidden cameras recorded all movement in the house and on the grounds, which meant she couldn’t leave without being noticed. And yet the guard in the small stone building at the edge of the property that acted as the hub of the Crowes’ all-encompassing, high-tech security system wasn’t at his post as she and then Jesse breezed past.
Before she even got to the massive wrought-iron gate that kept the rest of the world out of the sequestered compound, the gate swung open wide as if she were the princess of the palace. Which, of course, she was.
He barely slipped through behind her before the gate slammed closed, staying just close enough on his bike as she headed for Dallas, that he didn’t lose her.
Night air rushed by thick and hot as he wove in and out of the traffic along the outskirts of the “Big D,” keeping her in sight ahead of him, just as he had all the other nights.
Only tonight felt different. Tonight, after all his waiting, something was going to happen. He sensed it, more aware of the woman he tailed than ever before. He couldn’t still the small thrill of secret pleasure that coursed through him. His heart beat a little faster.
Ahead, Amanda pulled over along a dark, nearly isolated street. He swung in behind a pickup parked at the curb and watched her get out. She glanced around as if worried she might have been followed. As if she had something to hide. He smiled to himself. Oh, she had something to hide all right.
Down the block bright red and yellow neon flashed in front of one of those late-night, out-of-the-way Tex-Mex cafés found in this part of Dallas. She walked toward it.
He waited until she was almost there before he pulled his bike back onto the street. As he cruised by, he saw her go to an outside table and sit down with a woman he’d never seen before.
At the end of the block, he turned down the alley and ditched the bike to work his way back toward the café on foot, running on adrenaline, anticipation and enough fear to know he hadn’t lost his mind.
He found a spot to watch her from the shadows, close enough he could see but not hear what was being said. She was crying. He could see that, crying and talking hurriedly, nervously. He’d give anything to hear what she was saying and wondered when his heart had grown so cold, so calculating. Mostly, why he believed that Amanda Crowe was lying.
Just over twenty-four hours ago, she’d called her father to tell him that her six-month-old baby, Susannah, had been kidnapped. Her story was that she and Susannah were alone in the ladies’ room of a large department store when a man burst in, knocked her out and grabbed the baby. No witnesses were in the room. Also no cops were called.
J. B. Crowe had insisted on handling the kidnapping himself and Amanda had gone along with him. In the Crowe compound, it was commonly believed that the kidnapping was part of some vendetta between Amanda’s father, J. B. Crowe, and Governor Thomas Kincaid. If you believed Kincaid capable of kidnapping. Crowe, on the other hand, was an altogether different animal, capable of anything. And, Jesse feared, so was his daughter.
Jesse watched her wipe her eyes as the waiter slid a steaming plate of food in front of her and thought about the man who’d fathered Amanda’s baby. Amanda hadn’t even kept him around long enough to give the baby his name. Not that Amanda needed a husband. She was a Crowe. She’d never want for anything. Nor would Susannah, for that matter, if she was ever found.
The other woman was talking now, squeezing Amanda’s arm, intent, leaning in so no one could hear even though there were few diners and no one at a nearby table.
Jesse wasn’t sure why or what exactly he didn’t believe. That Susannah Crowe had been kidnapped? Or that Amanda really was the grieving mother she appeared to be? Something just didn’t sit right. His gaze narrowed as he watched her. Amanda Crowe was lying. He’d stake his life on it. He smiled at that; he’d already risked more than his life just being here tonight.
She picked nervously at her food but the tears had stopped, her iron-clad control back, a steeliness in her that she shared with her father. Part determination. Part ruthlessness.
A baby began to cry. Amanda turned abruptly, almost spilling her water. A Mexican woman carrying an infant sat down two tables over from Amanda, pulled the baby from its carrier and rocked it, trying to still the shrill cry. Amanda turned back to her food, apparently mesmerized by what was on her plate.
A new thought struck him like a fist. Was it possible?
The waiter brought out an order to go for the woman with the baby. Amanda motioned for her check.
His pulse began to pound. The woman with the baby busily strapped the infant back into its carrier. He was too far away to see the baby’s face.
Amanda didn’t wait for her check. She got to her feet, tossed a bill on the table, hugged her dinner companion and rushed off toward her car.
But Jesse didn’t follow her. The woman with the baby started to leave as well. His mind roiled. What he was thinking didn’t make any sense, but with the Crowes, anything was possible.
He moved toward the café, not letting the woman with the baby out of his sight.
It was just some woman and her baby. No kidnapper in her right mind would bring the Crowe baby to a public restaurant. And wouldn’t Amanda have raced over to the table if she thought there was even a chance that the baby might be hers?
Unless the woman wasn’t the kidnapper. Unless Amanda Crowe had had her own baby abducted. But what kind of sense did that make?
The woman with the baby was leaving. He wove his way through the tables, his heart racing, as he hurried to cut her off.
She looked up, startled and a little frightened to see him. He glanced into the baby carrier, ready to grab both the woman and the child.
The baby was brown skinned, with a thick head of black hair and a pair of eyes to match. While close to the same age, the little boy looked nothing like Susannah Crowe.
He stumbled back, mumbling, “Sorry,” to the startled mother as she hugged the baby protectively to her. Whatever had made him think the infant would be Susannah? Because he was convinced Amanda had done something with her baby. Made it look like a kidnapping. But why?
Feeling foolish, he moved on through the café and out the back door to the alley. Amanda was gone. So was her companion. So much for his hunch. He was letting Amanda Crowe get to him. Letting her mess with his mind. A sliver of doubt worked its way under his skin, just as she had. What if he was wrong?
Amanda had almost raced from the café at the sight and sound of the baby. But wouldn’t that have been the reaction of any grieving mother whose baby had been kidnapped?
The voice in the darkness startled him. He spotted two figures at the end of the alley in the shadows, one large, one small. He flattened himself against the rough rock wall, hoping they hadn’t seen him.
“You have to do this,” the man said quietly, urgently. “We have to do this. There is no going back now.”
Jesse had heard the voice somewhere before but couldn’t place it.
“Don’t pressure me,” the woman snapped back.
“I’ll do it. I just need more time.”
