Secret Bodyguard

Crowes never let themselves be vulnerable. Ever.

She’d have to do something about him. Something drastic. After all, she was her father’s daughter. And he’d taught her that the world revolved around her. She could have anything she wanted. Do anything she wanted. It was the unlimited credit card that came with being his only child—and a daughter, at that. And she’d never needed that credit line more than she did right now.

She forced all thoughts of Jesse Brock from her mind and concentrated on a much more pressing problem. Her father. If he had ordered the chauffeur to follow her, then did he know something or was he just being protective?

Either way, she didn’t like it.

A light knock at her bedroom door made her jump. She stood perfectly still, not making a sound. Go away.

“Miss?” Eunice Fox called through the closed door.

Hurriedly Amanda climbed into her huge poster bed, having long outgrown the frilly decor her father had insisted on, and pulled the covers over her to hide the fact that she was still fully clothed.

“Miss?” the housekeeper persisted.

Amanda didn’t answer. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning.

“Miss, it’s your father,” Eunice said more forcefully. “He insists on speaking to you. Even if I have to wake you.”

Amanda heard Eunice start to open the door and swore under her breath. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She waited until she heard Eunice’s retreating steps on the tile hallway, before she flung back the covers.

Her father didn’t allow locks in the house, except for his wing, which was off-limits to everyone, including staff and Amanda.

Her father’s security system allowed little privacy, something she only recently had come to hate. The irony of her father’s idea of security didn’t elude her. For all the house’s hidden cameras and state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, the place made her feel anything but secure and yet allowed secrets. More secrets than even her father knew. She hoped.

Hurriedly she stripped, then dressed in a nightgown, robe and slippers. As she stepped to the door, she wondered what could be so important that he would have her awakened at this time of the night. Her footsteps slowed. News of Susannah? Her heart drummed heavy in her chest. Dear God.

She braced herself for bad news. Very bad news.

THE MOMENT Jesse walked into the late-night coffee shop and spotted Dylan Garrett, he saw the former cop’s concerned expression.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked before Jesse could sit down.

Jesse slid the now bagged copy of the newspaper article across the scarred Formica table and motioned for the waitress to bring him a cup of coffee. As Dylan read the short news article, Jesse studied the man across from him. They were about the same age but as different as night and day in both looks and temperament.

Dylan Garrett was a cowboy, rugged, muscular and tanned from hours spent on his ranch. His light-brown hair was sun streaked and he had laugh lines around his blue eyes and a dimple when he smiled, which was often.

But as Dylan looked up from the article, he wasn’t smiling, let alone laughing. “Who gave you this?”

Jesse shook his head. The coffee shop was empty except for a male cook in the back and the waitress. Both looked tired and distracted. Neither was within earshot. “I found it under my door.”

Dylan frowned. He’d been one hell of a cop before he quit the force to return home to the ranch and Jesse trusted him with his life. “Then someone on the Crowe compound gave it to you?”

Jesse’s nodded. “It has to have something to do with the Crowe baby.”

The waitress put a cup of coffee as black and thick as mud in front of him. The pot must have been on the burner for hours, turning the brew to sludge. He picked it up and took a swallow. It was god-awful stuff but he noticed that Dylan had already downed his and was working on a second cup. The man was as tough as he looked.

“Why would someone give it to you?” Dylan asked. “Unless your cover is blown.”

“Amanda caught me following her tonight.” He hated to admit it.

Dylan looked worried. “She’ll go straight to her father,” he said with certainty. No one knew more about J. B. Crowe than Dylan. He’d spent a year of his life working undercover for the mob.

“Yeah, I figure she will.” At the very least, she’d try to get him fired. At the most… “What if the newspaper article is her way of telling me she did something with the baby?”

“Good Lord,” Dylan said and shook his head.

“Pull out now. I know J. B. Crowe. You’re as good as dead if he finds out who you are and what you’re up to.”

That wasn’t exactly news to Jesse but he was too close to back out now. “There is a chance that she’ll slip up and make a mistake now that she suspects I’m on to her.”

“Don’t forget who you’re dealing with here,” Dylan said with obvious distaste. “On the surface, J.B. might seem like any other successful businessman. But believe me, he’s into a lot more than just running numbers and racketeering. I saw and heard things—” He looked away. “Pretending to be one of them, I got to the point where I didn’t know who I was. Or where the real me began or that other Dylan ended. These people are more dangerous than you think. Before they kill you, they expose you to a way of life that leaves you empty inside, without hope. If people like this can thrive around us and we can’t stop them—”

“We can stop them.” But he knew what Dylan was saying. For men like J. B. Crowe there were no rules. And no consequences. He called the shots; there was no higher power. And sometimes Jesse did wonder if there was any way to bring down a man like J. B. Crowe. Or his daughter.

“We will stop them.”

Dylan smiled. “I once believed that.”

Jesse changed the subject to something more pleasant. “Tell me about your ranch. The Double G, right? I heard about the business you started there with your sister. How is Lily, anyway?”

“Bossy as ever.”

“And Finders Keepers?” Jesse asked, more than a little interested in the detective agency Dylan and Lily had opened last fall.

“Keeps us busy,” Dylan said modestly. Jesse had heard it was very successful.

“I was hoping you’d do a little investigating into this,” he said, picking up the bagged article again. “I’d do it myself but I can’t leave right now. Even if this baby isn’t Susannah, there has to be some connection.”

Dylan looked skeptical as he picked up the bagged newspaper clipping. “I should be able to track down the article and find out whether or not the baby is the missing Crowe infant. Anything else?”

“See if there are any other fingerprints on the copy other than mine. I’d like to know who gave it to me.” He hesitated. “One more thing, I overheard Amanda talking to Gage Ferraro in the alley tonight. I think the two of them are working together. Maybe trying to ransom the baby.”

“Just when you think things can’t get any worse.” He shook his head. He looked tired and worried.

“Any news on that friend of yours from college?” Jesse asked, remembering hearing about Julie Cooper’s disappearance.

Dylan shook his head.

Jesse felt the clock was ticking. Since he’d gone undercover only a few weeks before, the Crowe grandchild had been kidnapped. He felt as if he were sitting on a powder keg that was about to blow.

Dylan finished his coffee and got to his feet. “I’ll get back to you on the newspaper article by tomorrow afternoon.”

Jesse rose and shook his hand. “Thanks.”

The cowboy just nodded. “In the meantime, mind what I say about watching your back. J. B. Crowe loves money and power but family means everything to him. When Amanda tells him you’ve been tailing her, you’re a dead man. And she will tell him.”

Chapter Three