Secret Bodyguard. B.J. Daniels
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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.
“No,” he said studying her. “Odd isn’t it? Unless Susannah has been kidnapped for some other reason.”
“What other reasons are there besides money and power?” she asked.
He smiled at that. “None, that I can think of. But don’t you worry, my dear, I will get my granddaughter back. One way or the other.”
Trembling at the certainty she heard in his voice, she kissed her father’s cheek and left him to finish his drink alone, acutely aware that he was suspicious of her comings and goings. Hopefully he just thought she was meeting Gage Ferraro behind his back. That was much safer than the truth.
She hurried up to her room, not turning on the light as she went to the window. The darkness smelled of hyacinths, the air sweet and sweltering. She closed the curtains and went into the bathroom where she’d long ago disabled the surveillance camera.
Still shaking, she pulled out the equipment she would need, then pushed it back into its hiding place. Not tonight. No matter what Gage said. It was too dangerous. Tomorrow night. Her last chance. She’d do it then.
Her heart beat faster. If she failed tomorrow night—
She refused to consider that possibility. Too much was at stake. Tomorrow night. Come hell or high water. Or even Jesse Brock.
Across the courtyard, the light glowed in his apartment and she could see him moving behind the curtains, a shadow as dark as the man himself.
With a lot of luck and every ounce of deceitful Crowe blood that ran through her veins, she would see that no one ever found out what had really happened to her baby, especially her father. Jesse Brock didn’t know it yet, but he was going to help her. It would be his last good deed.
THE PHONE RANG, making Jesse jump. He stopped pacing and reached for it, expecting the worst.
“Bring my car around,” J.B. ordered and hung up.
Jesse looked at the clock, instantly uneasy. J.B. seldom went out this late. And yet, Jesse had been expecting trouble. Amanda had obviously told her father that he’d followed her tonight and now the old man wanted to go for a ride. Great.
Jesse figured he had two options: Run. Or stay and tough it out. In which case, he wanted to take a weapon. But he knew that would be the wrong thing to do. If one of J.B.’s goons frisked him…No, it would be better to play it straight. Even when the old man got around to asking Jesse about earlier tonight.
He took a breath and let it out slowly, then he went to get the car.
As he pulled up in front of the house, J.B. came out with his two bodyguards, two big bruisers with pug faces and bad attitudes whom Jesse had nicknamed Death and Destruction. It was no secret that neither man liked him. Probably because Jesse had been able to gain J.B.’s trust so quickly.
It had been a simple setup. Wait until Amanda and her father got out of their car at J.B.’s favorite restaurant. Add one speeding, out-of-control car and a chauffeur waiting by his boss’s car who just happened to be able to jump in at the right moment and save the damsel in distress.
Shocked and grateful, Crowe had played right into his hands. He’d hired Jesse away from his “former” boss with a substantial raise and the rest was history. The almost hit-and-run had happened so fast Death and Destruction hadn’t even had a chance to move, something Crowe had never let them forget. They’d hated Jesse ever since.
Jesse got out of the large, freshly waxed and polished Lincoln to open the back door for his boss. Death, the slimmer of the two, slid in, followed by J.B., then Destruction. Not one of them even gave Jesse a second glance.
As he closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat, he wondered if that was a bad sign. With men who would kill him without a moment’s hesitation behind him, he began to sweat as he waited for instructions.
“Johnson Park,” J.B. ordered.
Jesse shifted into gear and got the car moving, not liking the sound of this. Johnson Park was an old industrial area outside of Dallas that had been closed for a good twenty years, maybe more. Not a good place to go this time of the night. It was the kind of place you could dispose of a body too easily.
Prolonging the trip was out of the question. Traffic was light and Johnson Park wasn’t far. He drove, acutely aware of the men in the back seat and the position he’d put himself in.
When he slowed for the park, he glanced in his rearview mirror and wished he hadn’t. The old man met his gaze and what Jesse saw there turned his blood to block ice.
He pulled into the park. The night was black, no stars, no moon, only an occasional unbroken street-light along the long rows of abandoned warehouses. He drove to the end of the row J.B. indicated and stopped, turned off the lights and killed the engine, unconsciously holding his breath, waiting for the distinct sound of the slide on a weapon being readied.
“Stay here,” the mobster ordered him as the two goons opened their doors and J.B. slid out of the car.
Inside the dark stillness of the car, Jesse released the breath he’d been holding, his relief so intense he felt sick to his stomach. He took a few long breaths and tried to quiet his banging heart. That had felt too close. And he still wasn’t out of the woods.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A single bulb burned in a building off to his right, in the same direction J.B. and the two bodyguards had gone. A dark-colored Cadillac was parked at the edge of the building.
What the hell were they doing out here at this time of the night? And, although he didn’t recognize the Cadillac, he had a bad feeling it had something to do with him.
After a few moments, he cautiously popped open his door and slipped out, closing it quietly behind him. As he moved through the darkness toward the light, he heard J.B.’s voice raised in anger. He crept along the side of the building, following the sound. Above him he could see a broken, dirty window. Cautiously, he climbed