The Target

all. No one is going to kill anyone. You try to harm Eve or Rule Shaker and I'm going to turn you in. It's true that I don't have much hard proof, but I know enough to make things excessively uncomfortable for you. If you refuse to end it, I also promise you will never see Emma or me again. I will not take the chance of Emma getting between you and Shaker.

    "There will be no more attempts on your life or anyone connected with you, including me and Emma. Eve and her father have agreed to it. You took one of his daughters and you're giving the other one back. Louey is dead and you were nearly killed twice. They both know I could bring them down, because, you see, I taped my conversation with Eve and played it for them. One copy is with Dillon Savich of the FBI and the other is with the San Francisco District Attorney's office. I've got it all and I'll keep it safe. It's over. Believe me on this."

    He slowly raised his hand. In an instant, Molly thought he was going to strike her. She stood her ground, waiting.

    Slowly, Mason Lord lowered his arm. His voice was nearly a whisper as he said, "You're my daughter and you're threatening me with this?"

    "Yes, I am. It's my only way to protect both Emma and you. I don't ever want to have to worry that Emma could be the next victim in your war with Rule Shaker. What's more, I don't want him or his daughter to kill you. Now, I want your word that you'll leave the Shakers alone."

    Mason stared at the daughter who looked so much like her grandmother, who hadn't wanted Alicia to marry him, who'd looked at him like he was some sort of back alley scum. She'd looked at him and known what he was to his very soul. He'd seen the knowledge in those gray-green eyes of hers-Molly's eyes-and he'd hated her with everything in him. Now here was Molly, more her blood than she was his, telling him what to do. What was wrong with him? She was just a woman, nothing more.

    He wanted to straighten her out but good, but instead, what came out of his mouth was, "I eliminated the scum who hurt Emma."

    His voice was defensive, with maybe even a hint of a whine. It amazed her and heartened her. "Yes, I know. That's why I haven't already called the cops. Do you know something, Dad? I don't think you're all bad. You tried to protect family. That's something in your favor. A very big something. Do you agree, Dad? It stops here and now?"

    Mason Lord looked down at his long white fingers. The flesh looked loose on the back of his hands. Slowly, he raised his head. Molly was standing quietly in front of him, her wild red hair pulled back and fastened with a gold clip against her nape.

    Her ears, he thought, her ears were Alicia's. He'd always thought Alicia had beautiful ears. He heard her say again, her voice calm and low, "Do you agree, Dad?"

    The phone rang sharp and loud beside his left hand.

    "Answer it," Molly said, looking at her watch. "It's Rule Shaker, right on time. End it, Dad."

    Maybe it was time to end it all. She had guts, his guts, to come in here and face him down.

    Well, what the hell. He picked up the phone and said to a man he hadn't spoken to in twenty years, "Rule. It's Mason Lord."

Epilogue

    "IT'S A BOY," Ramsey called out. Both Molly and Emma came running into his study from the kitchen. He pressed the speaker button and put the phone down.

    "Congratulations!" Molly and Emma shouted in unison. Emma's Dalmatian, six-month-old Kenny, barked madly, and jumped against Ramsey's leg. "When? How long? What's his name?"

    Sherlock laughed, raucous and full-bodied, loud on the speaker. "His name is Sean Franklin Savich and he wailed his lungs out as he slid into Dillon's hands. He's big and healthy and everything's just great. Dillon came through like a champ, kept me up and walking around until I finally told him I'd punch his lights out if he didn't let me lie down and yell at him."

    Emma wanted to know when they'd bring Sean out so she could play with him. Soon, Sherlock told her, very soon.

    When Ramsey hung up the phone, he sat down in his dark brown leather chair and pulled Molly onto his lap. Then he brought Emma down on Molly's lap, wrapping his arms around both of them. It was a routine all of them were used to. He looked at the wall across from his chair. There were three neoimpressionist paintings hanging there, selected by him and Molly together over the past several months.

    "I got a request from my law clerks and my secretary today, all three of them, that they