The Pregnant Heiress

“Emma.” Miranda spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “If this Steven Shaw is violent, the last thing you should do is take off on your own.” She touched Emma’s arm. “There’s more than your own safety at stake now.”

Even from here, Flynn could see how she tensed at her mother’s touch. “I know that.”

Miranda sighed. “Whatever you do, you’re going to need money. Maybe this is the time to tell you that I intend to settle funds directly on you, not on my grandchild. It—it should have been yours, anyway. My father would have left you and Justin provided for if he’d known.”

“No.” Emma shook her head. “No, I’ve told you and told you—a trust fund to pay for the baby’s college is fine. And I haven’t had much choice except to accept a small allowance from you, since I gave up my job to come here. No one wants to hire a woman who’s seven months’ pregnant—especially when they see this address on my application. They don’t believe I really need the work. But I can’t and won’t accept more than that.”

Miranda smiled sadly. “Oh, Emma. What makes you think you have a choice?”

Emma’s mouth opened and closed twice before she managed to say, “You can’t just make me rich whether I like it or not!”

Kane broke in impatiently. “Mother doesn’t need your permission. She’s already spoken to her lawyer.”

“But I don’t have any right to her money! It should go to you, eventually. You’re her son, her—” Emma closed her mouth suddenly.

Her real child. The last words might have gone unspoken, but every person in the room heard them anyway.

Miranda’s voice was as quiet as always when she answered. But there was no missing the determination that lay behind her words. “You can do whatever you like with the money—set up a trust fund for the baby, give everything away, whatever. But it will be yours.”

Poor waif, Flynn thought. Most people would be delirious with joy to learn they were about to be rich. Emma looked like she’d been sucker-punched.

He decided to distract the others to give her a few minutes to pull herself together. “If she does stay here, you’re going to need extra security.”

“What do you recommend?” Miranda asked.

“You’d need a team. Five men should do it.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “So many?”

“Four to take the outside in shifts, with two on duty at all times, one in front and one out back. Plus someone who can stick with her 24-7.”

“Sounds like you’re arranging security for a head of state.” Kane drew his eyebrows together. “Is Shaw really that dangerous?”

“He’s good. Damn good, from what I hear. Sam says he’s got quite a reputation on the West Coast for always bringing in his man.”

Miranda gave a delicate shudder. “A bounty hunter. I suppose his job made him seem dangerous and…interesting.” Her tone of voice made it obvious what she thought.

Flynn glanced at Emma. She looked a hundred miles away, her brow pleated, her arms hugging her middle. He’d give her a little more time to make up her mind, he decided. She might be a flake, and stubborn as hell, but she wasn’t stupid. “Not all bounty hunters are like Shaw. I’ve worked with some decent ones.”

“I didn’t even know they existed,” Miranda admitted. “I thought that sort of thing went out with the old West.”

“Most bounty hunters work directly for one or two bail bondsmen. Shaw’s an exception. He freelances up and down the California coast. He’s got a name for taking the hard cases, the skips no one can find—or wants to find, because they’re too dangerous.”

“Maybe we should have him followed,” Kane said, “instead of mounting guard on Emma. That’s a temporary solution, at best.”