The Target

in any way at all. Good-bye, Dad. A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Eve. You're a knockout stepmom."

    "Just stop it. What do you think you're doing? Where do you think you're going?"

    He'd used that cold harsh voice with her countless times when she was growing up. She turned, saying easily, "We're out of here, Dad. It's obvious that only one of us is welcome and that isn't your daughter or your granddaughter."

    "Damn you, I just want to find out what's happened, what his plans are."

    "Anything that's happened, any plans made, we've made them together. I'm sorry, Dad, but just because you're men doesn't mean you rule my world."

    "Yeah, well, if a man hadn't been around, Louey would still be beating the crap out of you."

    Molly knew Emma had heard that. "Be quiet," she said as calmly as she could manage. "Just be quiet."

    Mason watched the little girl turn, obviously puzzled, and stare at him. He saw she didn't understand, but she would soon. He saw she was gripping both their hands. Had

    Molly already taken Ramsey Hunt as a lover? Despite her daughter's presence?

    He said to Judge Ramsey Hunt, "Damn you, come back here. There's no way you're leaving my house now and taking them with you. Besides, given who you are, your chances of getting away unrecognized are about zip."

    Suddenly, Eve uncurled from her chair and rose. She smiled at all of them indiscriminately and said in a charming hostess voice, "How about some more lemonade? It will make everyone feel better."

    IT had been a long day, too long a day without Ingrid. Louey Santera rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the painful knots. The performance had hurled him to the heights, the crowd's applause still rang in his ears, as always, but now that it was over, he'd fallen into the pits. He needed Ingrid's clever hands on him.

    But he'd given Ingrid the day off. She was with her parents in Frankfurt. Maybe one of his groupie girls could rub him down. He walked to the door and pulled it open.

    "Alenon! Get in here!"

    A skinny young guy with acne and stringy blond hair stuck his head around the corner. "Yes, boss?" Even the kid's voice was stringy, with little substance.

    "Get me one of the girls, one who just might know how to unknot my neck and shoulders."

    Alenon was back in under five minutes towing a small black-haired girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen. She looked like a baby. Was she one of the groupies who trailed after him like a pack of puppies? He didn't recognize her.

    "This is Karolina, sir. She says her mother's a masseuse. She says she knows what to do."

    Louey looked into the girl's eyes. She might be sixteen in years, but not in experience. He nodded. "Hello, Karolina. Can you help me?"

    She said in excellent English, "It is my pleasure to help you, Mr. Santera. Is your daughter all right? I read in the newspaper that she was kidnapped."

    What the hell was this? "What newspaper?"

    "The Berliner Zeitung. There was an article about you. At the bottom, there was a sentence about your daughter being kidnapped. The reporter wrote it happened somewhere out in America's Wild West. I'm very sorry."

    How had the reporter known? Hell, when she wasn't listening to him speak or writing down what he said or wrapping her legs around him, there hadn't been any time for her to find out anything. He'd just muttered something about Emma, not even a complete sentence. She must have called Denver. He turned to Karolina. "You speak English better than that reporter did."

    "My mother is American."

    "Oh," Louey said, rubbing his neck. He watched as Karolina efficiently covered the massage table with its soft flannel sheet. She stood back. Louey smiled. Slowly, he undressed for her. She didn't say a word. When he started to pull down his jockey shorts, she stepped forward, holding a towel out wide in front of him.

    When she was rubbing his feet, she said, "I'm in Al-Anon. It's for children whose parents are alcoholics. Why do you use it as a name for Rudy?"

    Rudy. That was the kid's name? He shrugged, a small movement because he was lying flat on his stomach. "Because it amuses me."

    "I see," Karolina said as she moved up the table. He felt her hands dig into his shoulders. He closed his eyes.

    It was the best massage of his life. When he woke up two hours later, Karolina was gone.

    Alenon was standing there, watching him. For how long? Had he snored? Drooled? "What do you want?"

    "I have a message from Mr. Lord for