‘Hey, baby.’ Frederick kissed the top of Taylor’s head when she let him in through Clay’s front door. ‘How’s your sister?’
‘Happy as a clam,’ Taylor reported. ‘Ford and I took her riding in the cart this morning and she loved it.’ She grinned. ‘She even held the reins for a little while.’ She smacked his arm lightly when he frowned at her. ‘Relax. It was with Gracie. She’s the best-trained horse here on the farm. I control her with verbal commands and Ford had a secondary set of training reins. Do you really think we’d do anything dangerous with Julie? With anyone here on the farm?’
Chastised, he shook his head. ‘Sorry. You’re right. Thank you for taking such good care of her.’ He looked around. ‘Where is she?’
‘In the kitchen with Cordelia and her aunt. Izzy’s making cookies with them.’ She gestured with her head toward the study. ‘Pops is waiting for you.’
She entered with him, taking one of the two leather chairs in front of Clay’s desk where her ‘bio-dad’ – her words, not his – sat studying his monitor, one hand absently patting the infant resting in the sling he wore strapped to his body. Something about the sight of the big man cradling the tiny baby made Frederick’s chest tight. He missed those days. Missed the times he’d cuddled his girls.
Someday he’d have grandchildren, but not any time soon. Both Taylor and Daisy had had their adolescence stolen from them by his na?vety and stupidity. They deserved the chance to live their lives before taking on the responsibility of families of their own.
Taylor cleared her throat meaningfully, making Clay look up. He motioned to the other chair. ‘Sit,’ he said distractedly to Frederick.
‘Please,’ Taylor inserted, as if rebuking a child.
Clay rolled his eyes. ‘Please,’ he repeated.
‘Am I in trouble?’ Frederick asked lightly.
Clay scrubbed his free hand down his face. ‘No. I’m just watching Stevie. She and Paige are calling on the elite.’ He pitched his voice to sound snooty.
‘Stevie’s wired for audio and video,’ Taylor explained. ‘She and Paige have gone to talk to the women from Patricia’s fund-raising group, trying to find out more about her husband and possibly the boy she was . . .’ Her forehead crinkled. ‘“Affair” sounds wrong. If he’s that young, it’s assault. But I’m not sure what to call it until we figure out who the kid is.’
‘Have they found anything so far?’
Clay rolled his eyes. ‘Only that most of these women have way too much time on their hands.’
‘Not fair,’ Taylor chided. ‘Several of them do amazing work for the community. But a few play a lot of tennis and get a lot of mani-pedis,’ she allowed.
‘What’s a mani-pedi?’ Frederick asked.
Clay cut Taylor off with a look when she started to explain. ‘That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,’ he said.
Because Clay had asked him to come over as soon as he’d dropped Jamie off to see Phil.
‘Sorry if I made you wait,’ Frederick said. ‘Jamie finally got to sleep, so I wanted to let him rest before I had to wake him up to go back to the hospital.’
And then he’d stopped to check on Sally Brewster, who was just fine. He’d been extra worried about her after all the violence the night before.
Clay waved his hand. ‘That’s okay. That’s more important, actually. What I want to discuss will take a few days anyway.’ He nodded at Taylor. ‘Tell him. I can’t talk and watch Stevie at the same time.’
It was Taylor’s turn to roll her eyes. ‘Not like she’s a former cop, or that Paige is a world martial arts champion, or that both of them shoot as well as you do,’ she said sarcastically, earning her a faux glare from Clay.
‘Don’t be disrespectful,’ he said, and Taylor laughed.
‘Okay, Pops,’ she said cheerily, laughing again when Clay’s eyes narrowed. Every time Frederick heard her laugh, he knew he’d made the right call in selling his ranch in Northern California and moving his household to Maryland. ‘So,’ Taylor said, her expression growing serious. ‘Clay and Stevie are going to postpone the baby’s christening.’
He wanted to say no, don’t do that, but he didn’t, because he knew that Clay and Stevie were being prudent. So many of their friends were also friends of Thorne. Having the christening meant they’d all be in the same place at the same time, and Tavilla’s man had already proven he could get onto Clay’s property – in broad daylight.
‘It’d be like shooting fish in a barrel,’ he murmured.
‘Exactly,’ Clay said grimly.
‘But they don’t want Tavilla or any of his cohorts to know the christening is cancelled. Stevie’s taking the baby to Chicago. Clay’s old partner Ethan lives there with his wife. They can protect them there. They want the bad guys to come here. They want them to think that we are happy and helpless.’
Frederick nodded, liking the plan. ‘And the rest of the women and children?’
‘Are all being evacuated for the weekend, including Julie,’ Taylor said.
Clay looked up from the monitor, his expression fierce. ‘Tavilla is playing with Thorne and we’re caught in the crossfire. Chad Ingram is still fighting for his life. Sam is out of commission for several weeks, as is Phil, meaning both Ruby and Jamie are distracted, which is completely understandable. Hell, I’m distracted, which is completely understandable. I don’t want to worry about my wife and children getting shot at every time they leave the house. I don’t want you to have to worry that someone is going to get to Julie, or for JD to be constantly worried about Lucy and his kids. We can’t sustain this level of vigilance for that long.’
‘I think Thorne plans to offer himself up if it continues,’ Frederick said grimly. ‘Jamie’s terrified that he will.’
‘I thought the same thing,’ Clay said. ‘We can’t let him do that. It won’t matter anyway. Tavilla doesn’t seem to want Thorne. He wants to hurt Thorne.’
‘So all the women and children are shipping out. I like that.’ Frederick glanced at Taylor. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going with them. I have to protect Julie, at least until they get there. Once they arrive, I can fly back. Apparently Ethan’s wife knows some nurses, volunteers at a local women’s shelter that she runs. They’ve offered to help out. I can be back by Saturday morning.’
‘I told her to stay up there,’ Clay said, and Frederick wondered if the man knew he’d wrapped one big hand around the baby he cradled against his chest. ‘She doesn’t listen to me. So I thought you could tell her.’
Frederick laughed at that. ‘You think she’ll listen to me? You must have a much higher opinion of me than you should.’
‘Told you,’ Taylor said smugly.
Clay shot her a real glare. ‘Brat.’
‘That’s fair,’ she allowed. ‘I’m still coming back. I’m one of your best shots. JD might be better than me, but only if he’s having a really good day.’
‘Brash brat,’ Clay amended.
‘Brash genes,’ she said with a smile, then reached over to grab Frederick’s hand. ‘And super-brash training.’
Because Frederick had trained her well. He’d had her practice both her shooting and martial arts every single day. She’d have earned a black belt had she trained in a traditional dojo. She was a fierce fighter, one he’d have been proud to have on his own team back in his army days. Except that she was Clay’s daughter too.
‘You should listen to your father,’ he said quietly, and meant it.