“I can’t believe you thought this was okay. You were all right with the idea of being Daniel’s temporary wife?”

“Yes. No.” A shudder passed through her, and she took a deep breath. “I don’t know. At the time . . . the way Daniel explained everything . . . it didn’t seem wrong.”

“It seems like a way for Daniel Henson to provide himself with an endless stream of young, pretty woman. Who the hell does he think he is?”

Molly’s eyes welled. She jerked a Kleenex out of her satchel and dabbed her eyes. “I hate him.”

Skye’s gaze swung across the console. “Are you sure you hate him, Molly? Or are you still in love with him?”

Molly started sobbing.

Skye eased the sports car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. She reached down and took hold of Molly’s hand.

“Whatever your feelings are for Daniel, none of this is your fault. He took advantage of a vulnerable young woman. That’s apparently what he does. He targets women who need help of some kind, then offers it to them. In the end, the only person he’s helping is himself.”

Molly wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “Thank you for saying that. In my heart, I know it’s true. I feel like such a fool.”

“It’ll take some time, but eventually, that’ll change. You’re going to get a fresh start, and once you do, you’ll be able to step back and see things more clearly.”

Molly glanced away.

Skye started the engine and pulled back onto the road. They had almost reached Jefferson Depot, a meeting spot that was close to the halfway point between Blancha Springs and Denver. There was a burger and ice cream stand called the Hungry Moose Caboose where people could stop and buy food.

Skye pulled into the parking lot to wait for Trace, whose drive, with city traffic and collecting the gear Edge wanted, would take longer. They ordered a burger and a shake and sat at a wire-mesh table outside to eat. The air was chilly, but the sky was azure blue, and the sun was shining, warming them through their clothes.

Trace pulled into the parking lot not long after they’d finished their meals. Skye dumped her trash, Molly did the same, and they walked over to his black GMC Yukon.

Tall, dark-haired, and handsome, Trace climbed out of the SUV and started toward them. He was charming and kind, with a wonderful smile. He was also a very dangerous man when the need arose. Most women felt an instant attraction to Trace. Molly shrank away from him. Even her physical stature seemed to shrink.

Extremely perceptive, Trace noticed Molly’s reluctance and didn’t move too fast or too close, treating her as he would a frightened child.

“Molly, this is Trace Elliott,” Skye said. “He’s a very good friend and someone you can trust.”

Trace smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Molly.”

“You, as well, Trace,” she said, but the words didn’t sound sincere. Molly didn’t trust men—not anymore. And Trace was definitely all man.