Be very careful, Grace, a warning voice inside her head cautioned. An innocent flirtation could easily turn into something serious, something you aren't prepared to handle.

Why was she entertaining man-woman thoughts about Jed? She wasn't sure she even liked the guy. Okay, so she might not like him, but she was attracted to him. No use in denying the truth. There was something unique about Jed Tyree, something undeniably appealing.

Jed dialed the digital phone number for one of the two undercover Dundee agents already in place-the two Grace Beaumont didn't and wouldn't know anything about. Not yet. Rafe Devlin answered on the second ring.

"I need for you to check out some warehouses down by the river," Jed said. "This isn't directly connected to the case, but it just might have ties to Fortier. Check the warehouses owned by Garland, Inc. first. Garland, Inc. is controlled by Fortier. See if you can find out what comes in and out during the nighttime hours. And see if a kid named Troy Leone is working part-time there."

"Leone? Isn't Grace Beaumont's personal assistant named-"

"He's Elsa Leone's little brother. Probably getting in over his head, thinking about nothing but making some big money the easy way."

"Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it," Devlin said, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Call me on my cell phone when you find out something."

"Will do." A slight pause. "Hey, did you know that when Dean Beaumont passed the bar and went into private practice, back when he was a green kid, he briefly worked for Oliver Neville?"

"And Neville is?"

"He's been Fortier's lawyer for the past fifteen years. An odd coincidence, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but it could be just that-a coincidence."

"Maybe. But then again it's possible the evidence Beaumont was so close to getting on Fortier and Governor Miller was going to come from Neville."

"And if Neville was the source, then Neville could be our letter writer."

"Bingo."

"It's worth checking into," Jed said.

"I'm already on it."

"Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I will. I'm not stupid. I know what I'm dealing with here. I won't take any chances and I won't make any mistakes. You're the one who's in the most danger. You'll soon be walking into the lion's den."

"I'm familiar with the territory."

"Familiarity doesn't make it any less dangerous."

"Right." Jed paused for a split second as long-ago memories flashed through his mind. Memories he'd spent a life-time trying to erase. "Just let me know about the warehouse ASAP. Okay?"

"Sure."

Charmaine Fortier had made a decision, one that might put her life in danger. But she didn't care. Not anymore. For months now she had pretended she wasn't falling in love with Ronnie Martine; she'd tried with all her might to resist her feelings. And even though Ronnie hadn't made an overt move or said anything that indicated he felt the same way, she knew he cared about her, too. Of course he was loyal to Booth, as were all Booth's employees. But unlike most of Booth's other boys, Ronnie didn't seem to be afraid of him. Not the way Jaron was. Her brother practically quaked in his boots every time Booth entered a room. And with good reason. Booth had a reputation of eliminating anyone who displeased him. She didn't know it for a fact, of course, but she didn't doubt for a minute that her husband had ordered the deaths of countless people. And whenever he took his vile temper out on her, she wondered how many people he had murdered personally. There was an evil in Booth that fed off other people's suffering. Off humiliation. And death.

If he ever finds out about you and Ronnie, he'll kill you both, she reminded herself.

"Turn off at the next right," Charmaine said. "I want to take a ride by the river before we go home."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ronnie acted as her chauffeur and bodyguard, a position Booth had assigned him six months ago. Booth always chose a bodyguard for her within the ranks of his personal staff, the boys he kept around him, the ones who lived in the house with them. During the fifteen years they'd been married, he had rotated her bodyguards on a yearly basis, which meant Ronnie had only six more months to be at her side.

They'd taken Charmaine's silver BMW convertible, a car Booth had given her on her birthday two months ago-her thirty-fifth-when she'd decided to run into town. She was thirty-five goddamn years old. One day she'd been Booth's twenty-year-old bride and the next thing she knew she was his middle-aged prisoner. Yeah, that's exactly what she was-a prisoner. He had never allowed her to go anywhere without an escort, not in fifteen years. She was watched over day and night. Guarded, but from what she didn't know. Or maybe she did know. Wasn't Booth afraid she would betray him, that given the chance she'd turn to another man for the love he was incapable of giving her?

Jealousy was one of Booth's personality disorders-only one of many. When he'd married her, he'd known she still had feelings for someone else, but he had been so sure he could make her forget her first love. Whenever her performance in the bedroom had been less than he expected, he'd throw up the fact that she had been soiled goods, that she hadn't come to him a virgin. And she would never forget what he'd said to her the first time he hit her.

"So help me, I'll get Jed Tyree out of your system even if I have to beat him out of you."

As the late springtime wind whipped through her hair while Ronnie drove her along the bumpy gravel road, Charmaine let her mind drift back to her teenage years, to when she'd first met Jed. They'd been sixteen, both of them a little wild and looking for fun. Jaron had just gone to work for Booth a few months earlier and was in awe of his boss and encouraged Charmaine to cozy up to Booth's nephew. Jed had been her first love, in every sense of the word. And she'd thought he loved her, too, during their teenage affair. But after Jed had left so suddenly at eighteen and hadn't asked her to go with him, she'd hated him. Hated him enough to marry his uncle two years later. What a fool she'd been. Not a fool for having loved Jed, but to have believed marrying his uncle would be a sweet revenge.

"Do you want to stop anywhere, Mrs. Fortier?" Ronnie asked. "Or do you just want me to keep driving?"

"There's a little house not far from here, about a half mile down the road." She and Jaron had grown up in that shack by the river, just the two of them fending for themselves after their mother died when Charmaine was twelve. They'd never known their father. Hell, they didn't even know if they had the same father.

"You planning to visit somebody?" Ronnie glanced at her quickly then returned his gaze to the road.

"I'm going to pay a visit on some old memories."

"Pardon?"

"I used to live in the house," she told him. "Back before I married Booth."

"Yes, ma'am."

She tossed back her head, closed her eyes and let the afternoon sun warm her skin while the humid breeze caressed it. Right this minute, she was free. Gloriously free. Booth was in New Orleans. And she was alone with Ronnie. Away from the house. No prying eyes to spy on them.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked.

"What?"

"I said have you ever been in love?"

"Yeah, sure I have."

"Was it wonderful and passionate and-"

"We were young. Got married. Had problems. Got a divorce."

"Are you still in love with her?" Please, say no, Charmaine prayed. Say that you don't love anybody but me.