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“Molly’s smart. She may be an amateur, but she’s smart.”

“I thought she was like your wife.”

He stared at her, then laughed. “Like Alicia? Molly thinks of herself as the ugly duckling compared to my former wife. No, Molly might look like a railroad tie, but she’s smart.” He frowned a bit. “I suppose she’s like me in that. I wish she’d just admit she needs me and get over here. She knows I can protect her and Emma.”

“I’ll bet this guy who’s with them is calling the shots. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t even have an idea yet who he is.” He took her arm. “Let’s have one of Miles’s margaritas.”

It was during that first delicious margarita that Miles said from the doorway, “Sir, Molly’s here. Emma too, and a man I don’t know.”

“It took her long enough to come,” Mason Lord said, rising slowly. He set his glass on the marble tabletop as Miles went back out. Then he heard a child’s voice, soft, high, not frightened, but wary?

“This is a very big house, Mr. Miles.”

“Yes, Emma, it is.”

“It’s even bigger than the one we had with Daddy. This ceiling just goes up and up.”

Then the three of them were standing in the open doorway, Miles behind them, his look questioning. “It’s all right, Miles. I’ll call if I need you.”

Then his daughter turned, her hand on Miles’s arm. “Can Emma have a glass of water, Miles?”

Miles looked down at the little girl, who was standing very close to her mother, her hand now held by the big man on her other side. “How about some lemonade instead?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Miles, that would be wonderful.”

The three of them turned back to face Mason Lord. Three years since he’d seen Molly or her daughter. The little girl was the picture of Alicia, but her dark brown hair was her father’s, that low-life runty little scum sucker who’d always reminded him of Mick Jagger when he’d been younger. She was six now, tall and skinny, her skin that pearly white that only children seemed to have. She’d be at least as beautiful as Alicia when she grew up.

He’d wanted Molly to come here. He’d told her to come here. Yet now that she was here, her child with her, and that man, whoever the hell he was, he didn’t know how to respond. What was he to say to her? Three years. It had been a long time and she’d been the one who wanted to keep a goodly distance between them. But now things were different. Things had changed, irrevocably.

“Hello, Molly.”

“Hello, Dad. You’re looking well.” She looked beyond at Eve, who was sitting elegant as a Parisian model on a soft yellow brocade love seat. She was wearing tight black jeans and a white blouse tied in a knot over her smooth midriff. “Hello, Eve. I presume you’re Eve? I believe we spoke once on the telephone a long time ago.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. How delightful to finally meet you in the flesh. And you are Molly, I presume?”

“Yes. Dad, Eve, this is Ramsey Hunt. He’s the one who saved Emma. Then I came along. There are maybe five men after us, and they’re very good at tracking us. We don’t know why they’re after us, but we wanted you to know this right away.”

The man cleared his throat and said, “We decided to come here, Mr. Lord, because they know who I am now. We just couldn’t keep Emma safe. The people hunting us are good, too good. We trust you to keep Emma safe better than the authorities can.”

Mason Lord walked to the man and extended his hand. “This is an honor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Judge Hunt.”

Ramsey shook the man’s hand. “Thank you. We’re here because we believe you’re our best shot at keeping Emma safe.”

“I didn’t imagine for a moment that you were here to visit me, Judge Hunt. Yes, yes, I know who you are. You’re a famous man. It’s quite a surprise that you’re the one who found Emma.”

Molly could only stare at them, all civilized on the outside, but she could see each sizing up the other, weighing, assessing. She gathered Emma closer to her. She hadn’t wanted to be here, hadn’t wanted her daughter exposed to her father, but it was the safest place for Emma.

Mason Lord wouldn’t allow anyone to get close to his granddaughter, even