Secret Bodyguard

The moment Amanda saw her father, she knew it wasn’t going to be good. He stood in the main room amid the heavy masculine western decor, his back to her and the door, his stance rigid, anxious. She knew he wouldn’t have called her down this late unless something was terribly wrong.

She braced herself, glad at least that her stepmother Olivia, distraught over Susannah’s kidnapping, had taken off on a shopping spree in New York. Olivia only seemed to make matters worse when J.B. was in one of his moods.

“Daddy?” Amanda asked, the childhood endearment now sounding all wrong, as if she’d aged overnight and everything had changed. The realization surprised her: she was no longer J.B.’s little girl. Had he realized that yet?

J. B. Crowe wasn’t a tall man, just barely five foot ten inches, but he was extremely fit, trim and athletic, making him appear much larger, much more powerful. She’d never feared her father. Until recently.

He turned, his dark eyes warming only slightly at the sight of her. He wore one of his favorite tailored suits as he always did when he went into Dallas for dinner. She suspected he’d gone because he knew the governor was in town, probably had known where the governor would dine just so he could run into him.

She felt a shiver, aware that he believed Governor Thomas Kincaid had kidnapped Susannah. She was glad she’d begged off dinner. She hated scenes.

But she also couldn’t keep kidding herself. Time was running out. It might have already run out.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked frowning.

She surfaced from her thoughts, pasting a smile on her face as she stepped to him, hurriedly giving him the perfunctory kiss on the cheek before moving behind the bar to make herself a drink, putting as much distance as she could between them. The realization surprised her. Saddened her. They had once been so close.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, filling a glass with ice. “I was worried about you since Eunice said you wanted to see me. It’s so late.”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No.” He knew he hadn’t awakened her. She suspected he knew a lot more than that.

She looked down at the array of liquor bottles. Her hand suddenly shook, the ice in her glass rattling faintly.

“Here, let me do that.” He took the glass from her and stepped behind the bar, forcing a closeness that made her feel trapped, his intent gaze unnerving. Did he know what she’d done? Worse, what she planned to do next?

Her heart drummed. “Maybe just a club soda,” she said, moving out of his way. “My stomach is a little upset.” At least that wasn’t a lie but then lying came as naturally as breathing for Crowes, didn’t it? Unfortunately, she wasn’t half as good as her father and she knew it.

“You’re feeling well, I mean, as well as can be expected under the circumstances?” he enquired still studying her.

She’d always been his pride and joy. His precious princess. The thought turned her stomach because it had been a role she’d been happy to play. Until recently.

She met his gaze and felt tears rush into her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to think about all that she’d lost. Or how much more she stood to lose. She nodded, unable to speak.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then handing her the glass of club soda, he led her over to the dark leather couch and motioned for her to sit down.

She cupped the cold sweating glass in her hands, her heart a drum in her chest, and waited for him to tell her that he knew everything.

“Gage is back in town,” he said at last.

Her head jerked up. She’d anticipated the worst. But this completely threw her. He knew that Gage Ferraro, the son of her father’s sworn enemy and Susannah’s natural father, was back in town? Part of Gage’s attraction had been his good looks. And the fact that her father despised him even more than he did Gage’s father, Mickie Ferraro. But Gage, it appeared, had had his own agenda. She knew now that he had never cared anything for her and suspected the seduction had been to get at J.B. in some way. She’d been played for a fool and put her father in a very precarious situation. But she believed Gage did care about his daughter, Susannah. She had to believe that.

She’d only seen Gage a few times. A few times too many, she thought, unable still to remember the night she’d conceived Susannah. Gage told her later that she’d drunk too much. But she’d suspected he had put something in her drink. Otherwise she was sure she never would have slept with the man.

But she had Susannah, and Gage was gone from her life as if he’d never existed, so she had no regrets. She would just be much more careful in the future. Had she told her father, Amanda had no doubt he would have killed Gage. She suspected all that stopped him when he found out about the pregnancy was rumor of an investigation into some of his so-called business deals. Also, the Organization wouldn’t have liked it. At first J.B. had threatened a shotgun wedding, but Amanda had known her father wasn’t about to let Gage become his son-in-law. Gage’s loyalties were to his father, a competing mobster boss who had been trying to take over some of J.B.’s territories. He’d never let a man he didn’t trust marry into the family.

So with the promise of peace, her father had seen that Gage was given a job in Chicago and literally escorted out of town within hours. No one had asked Amanda what she wanted. J.B. always knew what was best for her and the baby.

She said nothing now, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Gage believes he can find Susannah and bring down Kincaid,” her father said, a note of grudging respect in his voice.

She stared at him, dumbstruck. Why hadn’t Gage told her this? And yet it was so like Gage. Pretending to get into her father’s good graces by bringing Susannah home safely—and seeing that Kincaid took the rap for the kidnapping. Why hadn’t she thought that Gage might pull something like this?

“While Gage is in town,” J.B. said, “I want you to stay away from him.”

There was a severity to her father’s voice that surprised her. He thought she’d go to Gage. Probably already knew she had, thanks to Jesse.

“You’re not to see him under any circumstances.” Her father smiled, lightening his tone.

“As a favor to me. And only because it’s for your own good.”

As if he knew what was good for her. She would have reminded him that she was twenty-five, of legal age, and that she would decide who she saw and what she did. But she’d only dated Gage Ferraro to show her father that he couldn’t tell her what to do, a childish, stupid thing to have done. She’d underestimated Gage and paid the price.

The truth was, she had never known independence, having lived her entire life under her father’s roof, under his rules, and she never would, if he had his way.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, not feeling in the least bit guilty for lying to him. “It’s not a problem.”

He returned her smile but she noticed it never reached his eyes. He hadn’t forgiven her for Gage. He saw it as a betrayal and her father did not forgive easily. Even his own daughter. Especially his own daughter.

“Good,” he said. “Then there is nothing to worry about. Soon Susannah will be home, Kincaid will be neutralized and we can put all of this behind us.” His eyes narrowed. He knew her too well. “Are you ill, my dear? Maybe it was something you ate? I understand you went out tonight and only recently returned. I do hope you’re getting enough rest.”

She felt shaken. She’d taken care of the guard at the gate—and the cameras. She’d even waited until Eunice and the other hired help had gone to bed. The only way her father could have known that she’d left and gone to a café was if Jesse had already reported to her father.

The bastard. “I met a friend,” she said and waited for J.B. to ask the friend’s name and if he knew her. When he didn’t, she knew he’d had the chauffeur, of all people, follow her. That was a new low, even for her father.

“I hope you had Jesse take you in the car,” he said, killing any question in her mind. Why did anything her father do still shock her?

“No, actually, I drove the BMW.”

He raised a brow. “Not the Mercedes convertible I got you for your birthday?”

She felt her heart rate quicken. Why did he care which car she took unless— She felt sick. Had he put some sort of tracking device on the Mercedes? Or had he wanted her to use it because it was parked in the garage near the chauffeur’s quarters?

“I just felt like driving the BMW,” she managed to reply. “For old times’ sake.”

He nodded, still watching her, reminding her of when she was a child and he suspected she was lying. “I don’t like the idea of you going out alone. Not after what happened with Susannah—” He stopped, his gaze boring into her. “I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.”

She felt a chill, his words a warning she couldn’t ignore. She had betrayed him once. She was not to do it again.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I am always very careful.” Now she would be even more careful. “But if it makes you feel better, I will have Jesse drive me.”

That seemed to satisfy him. At least temporarily. He patted her shoulder. He didn’t ask her anything else about tonight. Obviously he already knew. Damn Jesse Brock.

“You didn’t ask if I’d received a ransom note yet,” he said, catching her off guard.

“Have you?” she asked, sounding breathless, sounding scared.