by Lori Foster
Face paling, Kathi looked between the two men. “It’s incomprehensible that Bishop would do such a thing.” She glared at Molly. “I can’t credit this. You little fool. You would dare to accuse your father?”
Dare said, “I’m accusing him.”
“Then you go too far.” Angry color tinged her cheeks and made her eyes glassy. “Bishop is a highly respected businessman, an icon in society! He is above reproach.”
“Yeah, right.” Dare didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “He’s a social climber who enjoys leisure time with the bottom-feeders as long as they have something of interest to give to him.”
Kathi stiffened. “You make him sound like a…an opportunist!”
“Dead-on.” And then, tiring of the game, Dare said, “Face up to the real life, will you? Your husband spends his time with a white separatist who sports a laundry list of criminal activity, not the least of which is murder. Sagan is the worst kind of phony. He’s festering on the inside, then acts like he can hide it beneath the suits and ties he always wears.”
No doubt hoping to disprove Dare’s claim, Kathi shook her head. “That’s not true. Mark doesn’t always wear a suit. Sometimes he plays tennis, and he swims—”
In wide-eyed incredulity, Bishop swung around to stare at Kathi. “Shut up.”
Breathing hard, Kathi frowned at him.
“I mean it.” He looked at her as if she had two heads, as if he’d never really seen her before. Finally he turned back to Dare. “Enough of this nonsense. I know nothing about what you’re saying. I wouldn’t even know how to get such a thing done.”
“Bullshit. With Sagan’s muscle and Warwick’s contacts in Mexico, you have everything you need.”
Bishop didn’t blink. “I would never risk the scandal of having my daughter kidnapped to some godforsaken place.”
“No.” Kathi put her hands on Bishop’s shoulders. “He wouldn’t. He doesn’t even approve of her writing.”
“I heard. And I figured that might be the motive.” Dare stared at Bishop. “With the movie deal in the works, her name is really going to be out there. Folks will be making the connection, and soon you’ll be known less for your own accomplishments and more as Molly Alexander’s father.”
Bishop narrowed his gaze on Molly. “It’s absurd, all of it. You, at least, have to realize that.”
Trembling, Kathi curled her lips in an unbecoming smile. “Speaking of your work, Molly, I presume you haven’t had much opportunity for writing lately, have you?”
Molly sent a tight smile right back at her. “Actually, I’ve written quite a bit. Dare has a computer that he lets me use. At present, I’m only a little behind schedule.”
Dumbfounded, Kathi lost her smile. “After your…ordeal, you still took time to write?”
Molly shrugged. “Writing has always been my entertainment, and my escape.” She gave her father a defiant look. “It’s always been my way of coping with the uglier things in life.”
With a critical sneer, Kathi looked her over. “Then you obviously weren’t hurt all that badly, were you?”
“Bad enough,” Molly told her, and she never faltered from holding Kathi’s gaze. “But I wasn’t about to let those creeps, or anyone else, ruin me.” She sniffed, and said as if it made perfect sense, “I do have a deadline, you know.”
Dare wanted to intercede, but it seemed important to let this little exchange play out, so he kept silent. He had a feeling that before now, Molly had never really told her father or stepmother how she felt about their mistreatment of her.
Fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater, Kathi asked, “What about your…controversy?”
“What controversy do you mean?”
Dare gave Molly points for pricking Kathi’s already crumbling façade. The older woman barely held herself together. She looked like she wanted to sob, or perhaps fly at Molly for bodily harm—all in defense of her asshole husband.
Interesting.
Dare stayed alert. The verbal abuse was difficult enough. No way in hell would he let either of these monsters lay a finger on Molly.
Before anything more could be said, Kathi noticed Bishop giving her the oddest look, and she drew in a long, deep breath. “Forgive me. Bishop prefers that I not speak of her books in his presence. In the middle of all the turmoil, I forgot myself.”
Bishop worked his jaw. “Exactly. This is hardly the time for chatting about her outrageous career choice.” In clear recrimination, he watched Kathi a moment longer before turning back to Dare. “I say again, I would never get involved in such a thing.”
“Stick with that story if you want. My goal now is to keep Molly and Natalie safe, whatever it takes.”
Kathi made a rude sound. “Why ever would Natalie be in any danger?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
Kathi waved a hand at Molly. “You said whoever took her wanted Molly.”
“No, I didn’t.” Softly, Dare told her, “We don’t yet know why she was taken. If it wasn’t Bishop, then the threat could be to any or all of you. But I promise I’m going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what it takes.”
“Fine.” She dismissed his warning as unimportant. “As long as you accept that Bishop wasn’t involved.”
She wanted verification that her husband was in the clear. She wouldn’t get it from Dare.
Molly stayed rigid beside him; for her sake, he needed to end this and soon. “I think my next course of action is to go to the law. This wasn’t done by one person. Whoever arranged it had help. Once the story breaks, someone will talk.” He leveled a look on Bishop. “Someone always does. And then we’ll know the truth.”
Putting his head in his hands, Bishop whispered, “I’ll be ridiculed, ruined…”
“A little useless gossip is all you care about, right?” Dare tugged Molly into his side. She was too silent, and it worried him. But when he looked at her, she appeared more thoughtful than hurt. “The fact that Molly was taken doesn’t even factor in?”
Sighing, Bishop lifted his head and looked up at his daughter. A flicker of genuine emotion showed. “I can still see the bruising,” he said quietly. And then, “You’ll be okay?”
“Yes.” Molly positioned her chin as she always did when on the defensive. “Thanks to Dare, I’m fine now.”
“She was damn near dead when I found her,” Dare said. “Drugged. Tortured. Dehydrated and starved.”
Molly gave him a sideways glance at how he played up her mistreatment. She had been tortured, but probably not in the way her father and Kathi now assumed.
“Molested?” Kathi asked.
Molly shook her head. “Don’t sound so broken up over it, Kathi. They spared me that humiliation.”
Her sarcasm was wasted. “Well, I would assume…that is, if you were truly treated so badly, why would they not have raped you?”
“Goddamn it, Kathi! Shut up.”
Startled by Bishop’s rebuke, she was quick to say, “I’m glad you weren’t subjected to that.”
Sitting back in his seat, Bishop ran both hands through his hair. He took a steadying breath, and locked gazes with Molly. “You might not believe me, but I’m truly sorry for what you’ve suffered, and you need to know that I had nothing to do with it.”
Molly said nothing.
“If you go public, no one will believe that you weren’t used sexually. You realize that, I’m sure.” Bishop shook his head. “Your life will be under a microscope, Molly. Not only will you damage me, but your sister’s livelihood as a teacher could be at stake, and you’ll ruin yourself, as well.”
“Natalie only wants what is best for me,” Molly told him.
Dare admired her aplomb under fire. “And, you know, I think it’d work as publicity for Molly’s novels.” No way in hell would Dare let that happen, but Bishop couldn’t know that. His opinion of Dare was not favorable.
And that suited Dare’s purpose just fine.
“Think about it,” Dare said. “Every newspa
per and magazine out there will be talking about her and, by association, her books. Her sales are already through the roof with the movie deal, but this would bring a real focus to her and her work.”
Incredulity widened Kathi’s eyes. “Monster,” she whispered with venom. “You would destroy my husband and all he’s worked for to promote her?”
Dare lifted a shoulder in negligent disregard. Molly, God bless her, held her own council. “It’d be a by-product of finding the truth, but what the hell? All publicity is good publicity. Isn’t that what they say?”
“I can’t stop you,” Bishop announced, and when Kathi started to protest, he warned, “That’s enough from you.”
She subsided.
Coming around the desk to face Molly, Bishop studied her. “I’ve always credited you with being a smart girl.”
She gave him a yeah, right look.
“No, I don’t approve of what you write, but you’ve made it a profitable enterprise. You knew what you wanted, and you stuck to it, worked at it, and you’ve gained your own success. Unlike many young people—”
“Dad, I’m thirty years old. Not a child.”
His expression softened in sadness. “To someone pushing sixty, thirty is still young, believe me. My point is that you’ve avoided the pitfalls of drugs, alcohol or lack of initiative. I think you could have done more, something truly worthwhile with your talent—”
“Entertaining others is worthwhile,” she insisted. “Not everything in life has to be a lesson.”
Bishop let out a long-suffering sigh. “Debating it now is futile. What I’m attempting to say is that I want you to think long and hard about this. Don’t make yourself a matter of public gossip just to hurt me.”
Indulgent, more understanding than Dare could believe, Molly huffed a small breath. “Oh, Dad, don’t you see? Not everything is about you. This happened to me, and I need to know who wanted me hurt, and why.”
Bishop didn’t touch her, not to embrace her in comfort, not to exert his paternal will and not to vent his anger. To Dare, the two feet between them felt like miles.
He was willing to bet it felt even wider to Molly, a chasm that would never be bridged. Even as a child, she’d learned to live with that emotional distance.
Bishop nodded his acceptance of her decision and looked at Dare. “When do you plan to go public?”
“Soon.” Remaining noncommittal, Dare scooped up the photos of Mark Sagan and Ed Warwick and tapped them against his thigh. “First I think I’ll get in touch with your buddies, maybe squeeze them a little.”
“Your many connections, I suppose?”
“I have ways of getting to the truth, yes. Both men have a jaded history that they’ll want to protect. If you’re a party to this, they’ll eventually let something slip. You know that, right?”
Bishop gestured in resignation. “Do your worst. There’s nothing they can tell you about me, because I have never engaged in kidnapping, and I never would.”
For once, Kathi held silent. She kept her gaze on her hands, and Dare almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“I’m taking Molly back to my home with me.”
“Where?” Bishop asked.
“Kentucky. A good four hours from here—well out of your reach.”
Bishop gave a slow nod of compliance. “She’ll be safe with you?”
“A hell of a lot safer than she ever was without me.”
“Then I suppose that’s for the best.”
After a timid glance at Bishop, Kathi interrupted. “What about your contracts, Molly? The movie negotiations, your agent, your editor…” She dampened dry lips. “You could stay with us, here. You’d be safe, and then you could finish conducting your business.”
Again Bishop looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Not happening,” Dare said before Molly or her father could respond. “She goes where I go.”
“You could both stay, then.”
“No. I have dogs at home that need my attention.”
Bishop said, “Dogs?” while Kathi blinked at him in clear confusion.
“My girls,” Dare said, knowing how they probably felt about pets that were, in all the important ways, a part of his family. “I don’t like to leave them for long.”
“You jest,” Kathi said. “You’re putting animals above Molly’s safety?”
Molly put a hand on his arm. He understood, and let her handle it her way.
“Since most everything is done on computers, I can conduct my business dealings wherever I’m at. Dare’s home is a very calming place. I’ll be able to work on my deadline, and as soon as I let my agent and my editor know how to reach me, I’ll be able to catch up on the legal end of things. There’s no reason for Dare not to be with his dogs.”
Bishop was impatient. “Can’t they already contact you on your cell?”
“My phone, along with my purse, went missing after I was…taken.” She steadied herself. “Dare has agreed to stop long enough for me to pick up a new cell today. If you want, I can call and give you the number after I know it.”
Kathi nodded. “Your father and I would appreciate that, thank you.”
Personally, Dare didn’t give a shit what they’d appreciate. He saw no reason to give them the means to torment her further, but he’d leave that decision up to Molly.
“Time for us to go.” Dare put his arm around Molly and started from the room.
Before he got far, Bishop said, “Wait.”
Dare looked back at him. Indecision held Bishop in stony silence for several beats until his face pinched in reluctant decision. “I need a moment to speak with you. Alone.”
Dare didn’t trust him. “Molly stays with me.”
Kathi had already hooked an arm around her. “She’ll be fine with me. We’ll wait just outside the room.”
“No.”
Bishop chewed over alternatives, and settled on saying to Kathi, “Step out, leave the goddamned door open and stay in view.” And then to Dare, “Good enough?”
Not really, but Molly said to him, “I’ll be fine, Dare. I promise.”
Kathi rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake. She’s safe with her family.”
Yeah, right. From what he’d seen, her family was worse than a hated enemy.
Dare pointed at Molly. “Stay where I can see you.”
She smiled agreement.
Bishop moved to the farthest end of the room and waited for Dare to join him. Molly stepped out into the hall with Kathi. Dare heard her remark on a new painting and knew she was talking with Kathi to keep her stepmother from eavesdropping on whatever Bishop wanted to say to him.
So damn smart. And cunning. She put up with more shit than any woman ever should, and somehow, against all odds, she remained kind and open and honest. In and out of bed.
Dare accepted that he was fast falling in love with her. And little by little, the idea grew on him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MOLLY WAITED FOR Dare to tell her what her father had wanted.
He didn’t.
She knew he had his own way of doing things, a way proven effective. But it hurt her to be shut out, enough so that she didn’t want to have to ask. For the longest time, they rode in strained silence.
But Molly knew she had to direct him to her bank, so she was the first to speak. She kept it curt and to the point. Dare had to know that she was annoyed.
And still he didn’t volunteer the information.
At the bank, with Dare frowning at her, Molly deposited her checks, keeping a thousand dollars in cash. The bundle of money created a nice wad within a zippered compartment in her purse. While at the bank she also cancelled her two credit cards.
Next she directed Dare to the post office, where she found yet another pile of mail waiting for her in her post-office box.
“You don’t have all your mail delivered to your apartment?”
Molly shook her head as she flipped through a dozen or more envelopes. “Not f
rom readers, no.” She glanced up at him. “It’s safer to keep my residence private. I’m sure the majority of readers are lovely people, but reactions to fictional work can be very subjective. Why take a chance?”
“Agreed.”
She paused over one letter in particular. There was no return address. She stuck it back into the pile for now. The post office wasn’t busy yet, so she was able to finish in a short time. Dare was quick to get her back out to his SUV, and all the while he looked around as if expecting someone to jump out at them.
His gaze went past the car dealership across the street—and then snapped back for a suspended moment before casually looking away again.
Trying to be discreet, Molly peeked up, hoping to see what Dare had seen. All she noticed was nice, shiny new automobiles and a few well-kept used cars.
They were still in the parking lot, so Molly asked, “Do we need to leave quickly?”
He looked at her curiously. “No, why?”
So he wasn’t going to tell her whatever he’d seen across the street, either? She rolled her eyes and handed him the letter.
“What is it?”
“From my most critical reader.”
Brows lifted, he opened the envelope and read the scrawling text with a judicious eye. “Interesting.”
“Repetitive,” she countered.
“You didn’t read it yet.”
Shrugging, she again looked across the street—and noticed a shadow in the front driver’s seat of a black car. “It’s always the same thing from that reader,” she said without really thinking. All her attention focused on that shadow.
Were they being followed? Was there any immediate danger involved?
Uneasiness raced up her spine.
“Let’s go.”
“Just a minute.” He turned over the envelope to check the front.
“There’s no return address.” There never was. And she really wanted to go.
Still Dare studied it. Without a word he folded the envelope, put it in his pocket and finally started the SUV.
Molly hooked her seat belt. Striving for some sense of normalcy, resenting the return intrusion of fear, she turned to Dare. “Is there a reason you’re keeping my mail?”