Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

had an eight-inch grouping.
    Teddy moved the target to five feet. “From here,” he said, “go for a head shot. When he’s this close, you’ve got to stop him, and the head is the quickest way.”
    She fired two more magazines from that range and did well. Teddy took the little gun into the shop, cleaned and reloaded it, and gave it back to her. “Keep it in your bag, or better yet, in a pocket, if you have a pocket. Women seem never to have pockets.”
    “Only when wearing jeans,” Betsy replied, making sure the gun was on safety before dropping it into her bag. “And they would be too tight to accommodate a gun.”
    •   •   •
    They went to dinner that night, and their table was well placed. Teddy looked at the group; they seemed very happy, and he wanted the evening to end that way. The two agents were at another conveniently located table.
    “Why aren’t you looking at me?” Betsy asked. “It’s creepy talking to someone who isn’t looking at you.”
    “I’m looking at the people I’m protecting,” he said, keeping his gaze past her. “I’m watching their backs. You watch mine.”
    “Okay,” she said, putting her handbag on the table.
    “Just watch,” he said, “don’t fire. If you fired six rounds in this restaurant, you’d hit four diners and me.”
    “But I did well today—you said so!”
    “You did, but you weren’t under any pressure, and you didn’t have to act quickly. That’s shooting we can do at another training session on the range, but not at Spago.”
    “Oh, all right, but if I can’t shoot, why am I watching your back?”
    “If you see the Viper, tell me, and I’ll do the shooting.”
    •   •   •
    After dinner, Teddy said, “I’ll take you back to the hangar, then I want to borrow your car. I’ll be out all night.”
    “Who is she?” Betsy asked, archly.
    “Don’t ask. And if anybody else asks, I slept next to you all night.”
    “I want to clean out the rest of our things from the apartment,” she said. “Why don’t I do that tonight?”
    “Not tonight,” Teddy said. “Tomorrow night, if we’re lucky.”
    “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.
    “Lots of things,” he said, “but none of them tonight.”
    He caught Stone Barrington’s eye as they waited for their cars from the valet, and they exchanged a nod. It was on.

Stone and Emma renewed their acquaintance in bed after dinner.
    “Stone,” Emma said, when they were done but still lying in each other’s arms, “Tessa doesn’t want to go back to London, but I’m making her. Am I doing the right thing?”
    “How do you make her go back?” Stone asked. “She seems like a self-operating adult to me.”
    “A mother has ways.”
    “Guilt?”
    “Guilt is very helpful with Tessa,” Emma said, “but I try to rely on logic and appeal to her better nature.”
    “And that works?” Stone asked, surprised.
    “She’s a
responsible
adult.”
    “So, if she’s so responsible, what’s the problem with leaving her in L.A.?”
    “She’s half in love with Ben. I’m afraid they’ll marry.”
    “Emma, you need to look into your own psyche, not into what you imagine are Tessa’s inclinations. But if you want to look at marriage as a worst-case scenario, Ben Bacchetti is a very worthwhile young man. Anyway, kids live together these days, instead of marrying.”
    “But
Hollywood
?
She could have a grand career on the London stage.”
    “Making Hollywood movies—good ones—is no bar to appearing on the London stage. You’ve got to learn to trust your daughter’s judgment.”
    “I do, but . . .”
    “It’s the ‘but’ you’ve got to deal with.”
    “I know.”
    “I think the problem is not where Tessa lives, but where she lives in relation to you. Why don’t you open an office out here and spend some time running it?”
    “I already have a small office here.”
    “Enlarge it—move some of your operations here from New York. I’ll bet a lot of your employees here would jump at the chance to move to the Coast.”
    “You really think so? New Yorkers?”
    “I really think so. A lot of Londoners would, too, and you’re a Londoner. It’s not like you have to spend
all
your time here.”
    “I’ll think about that.”
    “What time is your airplane tomorrow?”
    “Two PM .”
    “Sleep on it, and make a decision in the morning.”
    She burrowed into his shoulder. “Good idea.”
    •   •   •
    Stone tried to sleep but