surprised by what she had sensed. Jeannie shivered. Within Sam Dundee there existed a suppressed violence, a deep remorse, a guilt so great that it created a physical ache in him.
Dear Lord, how had he survived for six years with so much pain? If he would let her, she could help him. The emotions buried within Sam were slowly killing him, destroying him as surely as any bullet could.
And now the anger and pain and, yes, even the guilt, extended to her. Because she had helped save his life six years ago, Jeannie was tied to his past, had become a part of his torment. He would never allow her to help him, to reach inside his tortured soul and give him peace. And yet he longed to repay his debt to her, to keep her safe, to protect her from all harm.
The limousine made its way slowly past the milling crowd. Jeannie sat beside Sam, looking neither to the right nor the left, wanting desperately to shut out the intruding world. The silence within the limousine was somehow comforting, as was Sam Dundee's presence. There was something so powerful about the man; he radiated strength and control.
Surely there was some way she could help him, some way she could save him from himself, without running the risk of falling in love with him. Loving Sam Dundee would be disastrous. His inability to return her love would destroy her. If she was smart, she would accept him on his terms, allow him to act as her bodyguard and repay the debt he owed her. She dared not give him more, nor expect more in return.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Jeannie opened the door at the side entrance of the Howell house and jerked away from Sam's hold on her arm. 'I'll be in the front parlor, if anyone needs me.'
'Dammit, there's no need to act this way,' Sam said. 'I couldn't allow you to go inside the school. The risk would have been far too great. Those idiots were throwing rocks at you, yelling, 'Stone the witch.' I told you before we left here that if anything went wrong, we'd do things my way.'
'And that's exactly what we did.' Jeannie stopped in the hallway, pivoted quickly and glared at Sam. 'No discussion. No compromise. The minute we arrived and a few people threw some pebbles at the limo, you ordered the driver to turn around.'
'A few pebbles, hell! I'll bet there are dents all over the limo. Those people meant business. Why do you suppose Marta McCorkle had called in the police?'
Gritting her teeth, Jeannie squinted her eyes and huffed, then turned around and marched down the hallway, the tap-tap-tap of her cane echoing in the stillness.
Sam followed her, although what he wanted to do was go to the airport, board his Cessna and fly home to Atlanta. 'We need to talk.'
'What is there to say?' Jeannie shoved back the panel door and entered the front parlor. 'You overstepped your authority. You are my employee. I'm supposed to give the orders.'
'You hired me to protect you, didn't you?' Sam stood in the doorway. 'If you won't listen to my advice, how the hell am I supposed to save you from your own stupidity?'
'My own stu— Oh! It is not stupid to want to go to work, to want to help the children I love so dearly, to want my life…' Jeannie slumped down on the sofa, clutching her cane in her trembling hands.
Damn, was she going to cry again? He hated it when she cried. Other women used tears like a weapon, wielding them to make a man do their bidding. But Jeannie wasn't like other women. And that was
'For the time being, you're going to have to stop worrying about everyone else and concentrate on yourself and your safety.' Crossing the room, Sam stood in front of her, neither looking at her nor touching her. 'I know you're upset because the media and the miracle seekers and Maynard Reeves have stolen your privacy.'
'They've stolen my life!' Jeannie yelled.
Julian Howell rushed into the front parlor. 'What happened? What's wrong? I could hear the two of you screaming at each other all the way upstairs.'
'We weren't screaming at each other,' Jeannie said. 'We were having a slight difference of opinion.'
Julian turned to Sam. 'Why have y'all come back to the house? What happened at the school?'
'Ms. McCorkle had to call in the police,' Sam said. 'The place was crawling with reporters, and a huge crowd of Righteous Light brethren were marching, chanting and throwing rocks. The grounds outside the school were a madhouse.'
'You didn't allow Jeannie to get out of the limousine, did you?'
'No! He most certainly didn't let me get out of the limousine!' Jeannie repeatedly tapped her cane on the floor.
'Oh, I see. So that's what this is all about.' Smiling, Julian sat down on the sofa beside Jeannie, then looked up at Sam. 'You see, Mr. Dundee, our Jeannie doesn't like to take orders. Give her a little time and she'll see that you did the right thing. She's too busy fuming over being told what to do to see the reason behind your actions.'
Jeannie rested her cane against the edge of the sofa, leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. 'What are the children going to think if I don't show up? They won't understand.'
'Marta will try to explain things to them, my dear,' Julian said. 'Until Maynard Reeves can be stopped, you must allow Mr. Dundee to take every precaution.'
Jeannie glanced at Sam, who was looking not at her, but at some point over her head. 'I'll allow Mr. Dundee to do his job. But in the future, I would appreciate his discussing his decisions with me, instead of issuing orders.'
'If the situation warrants a discussion, we'll discuss it,' Sam said. 'Otherwise, you'll do what I say, when I say. Your life might depend on your following my orders.'
'If you think—' The moment he looked at her, she couldn't speak. His cold, steel gray eyes issued a warning. 'We'll discuss this later. I want to call Marta and check on the situation at the school.'
The doorbell rang. Ollie, who had been dusting in the foyer, stuck her head just inside the open parlor door. 'There's no need to call Marta. That's her at the front door, with some gray-haired man. And there's a couple of policemen with them.'
'Let them in, Ollie,' Sam said.
'Show them in, please, Ollie,' Jeannie said, as if Sam hadn't already spoken.
Sam walked out into the hallway, standing just outside the front parlor and watching while Ollie opened the door. Marta hurried inside, not speaking to Ollie or acknowledging Sam in any way, and went straight to Jeannie.
'Are you all right? I've been so worried,' the plump, petite Marta said. 'I've never seen anything like it!'
'I'm fine. Just a little shaken. I had no idea it would be so bad,' Jeannie said.
The two uniformed policeman stayed in the foyer, by the front door; a heavyset middle-aged man in a lightweight cotton suit walked up to Sam.
'I'm Lieutenant Rufus Painter. We've taken care of things at the Howell School. I left several men there to make sure things are safe for the staff.' Painter held out his hand. 'Good thing you got Ms. Alverson out of there as quickly as you did. That crowd was getting mean.'
Sam shook the lieutenant's hand. 'Sam Dundee. We spoke over the phone recently. I'm Ms. Alverson's private bodyguard.'
'Well, Dundee, things are going to get worse before they get better. As long as Ms. Alverson is front-page news, people are going to hound her. She'd be better off if she stayed out of sight until things die down a little. And so would the whole town of Biloxi.'
'Please come into the parlor, Lieutenant,' Jeannie said, her voice a bit louder than usual.
Sam followed Lieutenant Painter, the two men coming to a standstill, side by side, in front of Jeannie. 'Glad to see you're all right, ma'am,' Painter said.
'How could I be otherwise, with Mr. Dundee taking such good care of me?' Jeannie smiled at Sam, then at the detective. 'Would you care for some coffee, Lieutenant?'
'No, thank you, ma'am. I just came by to check on you, and to let you know we arrested several of those Righteous Light people.'
'What about Reverend Reeves?' Julian asked.
'I'm afraid not,' Painter said. 'The reverend was gone by the time we arrived.'
