“I’m sorry about the accommodations,” he said. “You won’t be here too much longer. I’m going to take a—”

“You gonna hurt me?”

His eyebrows jumped in surprise, maybe anger, and he removed his hand.

“Why would you ask me a question like that?”

“Because I don’t know you—”

“I’m Paul.”

“—and because I don’t know where I am.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She stopped fighting, gave in, and shut them.

“That’s it—get some rest,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

She believed him. For some reason, she believed him.

The man named Paul stroked her head.

“I need to ask you a quick question,” he said, and Grace heard the smile in his voice as she drifted.

“Um-hum.”

“Any chance you know what time of the month you start ovulating?”

Grace didn’t hear him. Mercifully, she had fallen asleep.

CHAPTER 45

SINCE PAUL KNEW about the Jaguar and the other car in Sebastian’s garage, a Tesla that hadn’t been outfitted for security protection, Sebastian needed another ride. He called the company he had used to turn his Jaguar into a tank, got the owner on the phone, and told him he needed a new vehicle, best one he had, preferably an SUV, and the requirements he needed. Price wasn’t an issue, Sebastian said.

The owner said he had on the lot a Range Rover that would fit Sebastian’s needs. Sebastian didn’t balk at the price. He wired the money to the man’s account and then went to the garage, where the Jaguar was parked, and transferred the equipment he needed into the trunk.

Faye drove him to the real estate office, Sebastian thinking about Maya, what had happened to her. Everyone around him had left, and the ones who had stayed behind were getting picked off by Paul. It should have bothered him—should have sent him into a rage—but he had something far more important to focus his attention on, something to live for now.

Sebastian had come close to doing business with Wayne Dixon—close enough that they had gotten to the financial stage. He found Dixon’s information on the office computer. A property search revealed that Dixon was, in fact, the owner of a home in Santa Paula. Sebastian wrote down the addresses of all his properties, and all of Dixon’s phone numbers. He started with the private numbers, having to deal with secretaries who eventually got him in touch with Dixon’s personal assistant, a young-sounding guy named Hollis Little.

Sebastian explained who he was, told him he had to get in touch with Dixon regarding a property coming up for sale, one that Dixon had had his eye on for a long time. A property that wouldn’t remain on the market long.

“Mr. Dixon is unavailable at the moment,” Little said. “Does he have your number?”

“The reason why I’m calling is, I want to know if he’s up north, at his place in Santa Paula.” Sebastian gave him the address. “I need to drop off some information he asked for, and he’s not answering his phone.”