When You Dare - Lori Foster [135]
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