Page 34 of The Plan

Ward leaned in, resting his elbows on the desk. “So what are you going to do about it, Judge?”

Holland’s mouth was dry. “I— I’ll talk to him.”

Ward chuckled. “Talk to him? What are you going to say? ‘Hey, Hiller, maybe mind your own business before something bad happens to that pretty little girlfriend of yours?’”

Holland stiffened. “Leave that girl out of this.”

Ward’s grin stretched wide again. “Relax, Holland. I’m just saying, you’ve got options. Hiller’s not the only one who can make people uncomfortable.”

Holland swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. He hated this. Hated feeling trapped like an animal, hated being forced to play these games just to keep his secrets buried.

Ward stood, adjusting his belt. “I suggest you figure something out. Soon. Because if you don’t, I will.”

Holland watched him leave, the sound of the door clicking shut feeling like a coffin lid closing.

He slumped back in his chair and let out a shaky breath. His fingers trembled as he reached for the whiskey again, this time not bothering with the glass.

He had to end this. Before Ward did something he couldn’t take back.

22

The leather chairbehind her creaked. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her right down into George's lap before she could protest. Not that she would have. She was too tired to move after a day of herding testosterone-addled males away from each other while they debated the merits of crown molding. And one thing was very clear—her baby came from two families of very opinionated people. Even Greer had had a very clear opinion about a great variety of things. She was a very passionate, but articulate child, that one.

Of course, Cam had been egging the girl on.

Ronnie had pulled him aside and explained to him what Giavonna had told her about what had happened to Greer when she’d been nine.

That was all it had taken for Cam. Greer now had a big shaggy best buddy for life.

Kidnapped kids would always be a trigger for her brother. Always.

Giavonna had spent most of her time helping Ronnie deal with all the rest of them. And giving Murdoch chiding looks. After about an hour of that, Murdoch had started looking back.And saying things. There was about the same age difference between her and George as there was between her brother and George’s little sister…

It had Ronnie doing some plotting of her own.

Murdoch and Giavonna would look very pretty together, once Giavonna was a little older—and Murdoch was a lot more mature. He always had liked dark-haired, taller girls, too.

But… maybe someday.

Giavonna had plans for her life first. She was adamant that romance didn’t factor in just yet.

If Murdoch ever grew up, anyway. Giavonna was far too mature for him now.

And probably would be for a very long time. Maybe forever. Murdoch would need a woman capable of wrangling him on a daily basis—that was one thing Ronnie was absolutely certain of. And one who could make him laugh again, too.

But for now… there was another Hiller causing Ronnie problems. She turned. “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

"Hello, sweetheart. I have been waiting all day to get you alone." He used that voice again. That one that gave her shivers straight through.

Dangerous. She tried to focus on the wallpaper samples instead of how perfectly she fit against him. Focus on anything except the way his hands settled on her hips like he had every right to touch her. Which… he had touched her throughout the day, almost as if he was unaware of it, and she hadn’t stopped him then, either. Because Ronnie liked it.

"You're supposed to be icing that jaw. Guthrie and Anthony both told you to.” His brother and hers had been responsible for cleaning everybody up after that little ridiculousness this morning. George and Murdoch had taken the worst of the blows.

"Worth it." His arms tightened. "Though watching you make Snarly replant roses was better than any ice pack."

Her brother had done it, too. After Giavonna had told him what an asshole he was being, and she hoped her niece didn’t act like his side of the family as it would be downright embarrassing. Murdoch’s cheeks had been so red after that.

She touched the bruise darkening his jaw, then caught herself and pulled back. No touching. Touching led to thinking, and thinking led to remembering that night in his office. "At least nothing's broken.”

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