Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

scorn cracked like a whip in the quiet library. “Fat chance, Kathi, because I would never take anything from him.”

      Bishop held up a hand to quiet any rebuttal from Kathi. “Then what are you doing here?” He joined the women on their feet. “If he’s not after some sort of payoff, what do the two of you want?”

      Dare looked from one person to the next, and he sighed. “So, we’re to do this standing, huh?” He shook his head and rose from the couch.

      Withdrawing two photos, Dare went to the desk and laid them down, then slid them around for Bishop to see. “You’re friends with Ed Warwick and Mark Sagan.”

      Confused, Bishop shook his head. “Friends? No. We’re associates. We’ve done business together on occasion. What of it? They’re reputable men.”

      “Sagan is a white separatist.”

      “Nonsense.” Genuinely perturbed, Bishop huffed—and stared at those photos. “You can’t prove that.”

      “Wanna bet?” Dare pointed to the other photo. “Warwick was busted on sliding illegal immigrants through the system to get them ready to vote for a senator that you backed, likely in exchange for favors.”

      Through his teeth, Bishop said, “Warwick was cleared of that.”

      “Not even close. He was never prosecuted, no, but not because he was innocent. Your good buddy Sagan took care of the evidence. A dead body has a way of spooking anyone else who might want to testify against his client.”

      “That man died in a hit-and-run!”

      Ah, so Bishop knew of all that. Of course he did. Dare shook his head in loathing. “Sagan has plenty of muscle to go around. He staged that hit-and-run, and you know it.” Dare shoved the photos closer to Bishop. “The people hoping to emigrate here were cheated of a chance at a better life because of Warwick’s bullshit. They were all sent home with their papers revoked. Warwick and Sagan have hurt more people than you and I can count.”

      Mulling that over, Bishop shook his head. “It’s not like that. They’ve shared inside tips on property. A restaurant, a hotel … That’s all.”

      “Properties that you bought under market value?”

      He shrugged. “They were good deals for me, and they’ve proven lucrative. I stay in touch with many different people for just such business advantages.” Sounding more subdued, he again insisted, “All of them are only associates.”

      Dare wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “Lie to yourself if you want, but you can’t fob that story off on me.” He pointed a finger at the photos where Bishop and Kathi were socializing with the men, well outside of business. “A man who lies with dogs always ends up with fleas.”

      Chin up, Bishop skewered Dare with a hate-filled look. “So I’m guilty by association?”

      “Damn right. What’s really telling, though,” Dare continued, “is that your friendship with those fucks gives you opportunity.”

      Appearing ill, Kathi sank back into her seat.

      Showing uncharacteristic discomposure, Bishop demanded, “Opportunity for what?”

      Dare drew Molly closer to him. “To have your daughter kidnapped and smuggled into Tijuana.”

      With visible effort, Bishop drew himself together. “Why the hell would I want to do that? She’s my daughter.”

      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