Secret Bodyguard. B.J. Daniels

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Secret Bodyguard - B.J. Daniels Mills & Boon Vintage Intrigue

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“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

      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

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