The Target

28

RAMSEY BRUSHED HIS teeth, put the cap back on the toothpaste, and rinsed out his toothbrush, standing it bristles-up in a glass on the sink. He was leaning into the small shower stall to turn on the water. He heard something, straightened, and turned back toward the bathroom door.

Molly was standing there in her cotton nightgown, her hair tousled from sleeping, and her eyes were remarkably bright and focused. She was staring right at his cock.

"Molly?"

"Uh? Oh, Ramsey, I'm sorry. I wanted to go to the bathroom, I wasn't listening, I didn't realize you were in here and I-" Her voice fell like a rock off a cliff.

She continued to stare at him. Even when she'd spoken, she hadn't looked at his face. She hadn't even gotten as high as his chest.

She said now, still not looking at his face, "I guess I'd better leave now."

"I'll be out in just a few minutes."

"I can hold it." She was out the door in a flash. He looked down at himself. He was getting erect, fast.

Well, damn, he was a man and a man didn't have any say over that. It was the only completely independent organ of his entire body. Actually, given all the time they'd spent together, it was surprising this hadn't happened before. Actually, he rather wished, as he lathered soap on his chest and belly, that he'd been the one to walk in on Molly. He wondered how she'd have reacted if he'd just stood there staring at her body, his eyes not getting above her neck. He also found himself wondering what she'd thought of his body. She'd seen him with a hard-on before, particularly in the mornings when they'd slept in the same room. But he hadn't been naked.

He hadn't worked out in a month except for that session with Savich in Mason Lord's state-of-the art gym. Sure he'd walked a lot, kept his cardiovascular system going at a fast clip through sheer stress, but it wasn't the same thing. He needed to work out. His body missed it. He flexed and stretched. He wondered if there were any gyms in Ireland. He'd just have to hike more, maybe carry Emma on his shoulders as a free weight.

He was whistling as he thought: So what'd you think, Molly? Did you like what you saw? He was whistling when he came out of the bathroom, completely dressed. "All yours," he said, and smiled at her.

She forced herself to look him straight in the eye and said, "Thank you."

LATE that afternoon, sitting on the Cliffs of Moher, waiting for that huge brilliant sun to sink down into the Atlantic, Ramsey took Molly's hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed her fingers, one at a time. She became instantly as still as a deer in the glare of headlights. He said quietly, still holding her hand, "Emma's not looking right now. I think she wants us to buy her another Celtic ring from that vendor over there. She's looking at every piece of jewelry he has. I've got my left eye on her. Don't worry. So, Molly, I think we should get married. What do you say?"

Molly jumped to her feet and took three quick steps back. Ramsey didn't move, just twisted around and looked up at her. Then he looked at Emma, who was now strolling not ten feet away from them, hovering near a man and a woman and their two young girl children.

Molly wrapped her arms around herself. She was shaking her head, her red hair a wild halo, corking out in all directions, simply beautiful. The sun, stark against her, turned her hair molten. She didn't look at him as she said, her voice low and strained, "Just because I saw you naked this morning and just stood there and stared at you, my little heart filled with lust, you think you've got to marry me? That doesn't make any sense, Ramsey. I know what men look like. I'll admit that you look the best of all the men I've ever seen-"

"And how many does that make exactly?" "Two."

"You've made my day." "Two, counting you." "I take it back."

"Don't be ridiculous. I've seen lots of pictures, movies with men very nearly nude. You're as good-looking as the best of them, and you surely know it, you're not blind." She stopped suddenly, as if aware in that instant of what was coming unbidden out of her mouth. She pursed her lips, like a pissed-off grade-school teacher. "Just because I can still see you clearly in my head, it won't do to speak about you at any more length. No, I didn't mean to use that exact word. It was just a slip of the tongue.

Yes, enough about your body."

That was probably a good thing since he was getting hard and they were in public, and he wanted to laugh. "Okay, that's fine, at least for now. Incidentally, I didn't ask you to marry me just because you happened to walk in on me. I was thinking it's kind of surprising that it hadn't happened before. Do you think if the shoe had been on the other foot, so to speak, you would have felt compelled to propose to me?"

"Oh, goodness. I would have sunk into the floor. I'm not beautiful like you, Ramsey. I'm so skinny."

He looked at her face, at her glorious hair, and said, "Don't you ever speak ill of yourself again. It really pisses me off."

She swallowed, looked down at her feet. "It's just the truth."

"Bullshit." He looked back at the sun, getting lower now. He said, not looking at her, "Sit down. I don't want you to miss this."

"Then you shouldn't have said what you said at such a precious moment. It beat out the setting sun for sheer drama."

"I thought putting the two precious moments together was a bang-up idea."

Molly looked at Emma, who was playing now with the two children, the parents looking on. Molly waved to them. The woman waved back.

She sat back down, slowly, carefully, as if she were wearing a dress that he could look up if she wasn't careful. She sat Indian style, her palms flattened on her thighs. Her fingernails were short, blunt, like his.

She was wearing black jeans and black half-boots. Her vivid yellow wind-breaker was billowing out behind her as the stiff offshore early-evening winds swept in.

She didn't look at him, just stared at that bright red sun that was close enough to the water now to turn it a gleaming golden red. "Have you ever been married before, Ramsey?"

Getting down to it now, he thought. "Yes, when I was twenty-two and just starting law school."

Her voice cynical, she said, "You knocked her up?"

"Nope. She was a marine, had just finished her basic training and was going to be shipped out to some god-awful place in Africa. We wanted to be married just before she left."

"What happened?"

"We did well together. She was the one always on the road, off to someplace I'd never heard of, but it worked out okay. She wanted to wait on kids and I was agreeable. Then it was all over." He found his body tensing, becoming clammy, just as it had that day he'd walked out of the courtroom, elated because he'd just won an important case, only to have one man and one woman, both in uniform, waiting for him.

He'd known, oh yes, he'd known in that instant that Susan was dead.

"She was killed when her helicopter crashed in the Kuwaiti desert at the end of the Gulf War in ninety-one. She would have shipped home the very next week." "I'm sorry," Molly said, "I'm so very sorry." "Shit happens."

She laid her hand on his arm. "No, don't act like a man about it."

There was clean anger in his voice as he turned to her. "Why not? At least now I can sound all flippant and macho, but for a very long time I couldn't even say her name without stuttering or bawling. And you, of all people, Molly, know that shit does happen."

She didn't understand how he'd felt, given her own experience with marriage. She said, "You must have loved her very much."

"Yes, but Susan died a long time ago, Molly. Fact of the matter was that we didn't really know each other all that well. She was gone too much of the time. When she was home, it was nonstop sex until it was time for her to leave again. We talked, sure, but for the life of me, I can't remember many conversations. And, as I said, I know more about you than I did her. For example, I don't remember how she squeezed a tube of toothpaste, whereas I know that you flatten the tube in the middle. I don't know what kind of nightwear Susan really preferred. You love floaty silk nightgowns. I saw you rubbing the one you couldn't help but pack, you loved it so much. But with me around you wear only those cotton jobs that start at your throat and end at your toes. I never knew what her favorite breakfast was. You like to eat Grape-Nuts unless you're on the ran- and I do mean that literally. She liked my body, she told me that whenever we were together, but I can't remember that she ever looked at me the way you did this morning. You licked your chops, Molly. I don't think you once got up to my face. I felt like a sex god. It was great.

"Isn't that strange? To be married for nearly three years and not really know your mate very well?"

He stared at the sun again, then over at Emma. He saw her laugh at something one of the kids said. After the man had taken her off the beach nearly right under his nose, he automatically checked on her every fifteen seconds, or less. Usually it was less, especially after San Francisco.

"Maybe, but I never knew Louey all that well either. Like Susan, he was gone most of the time. Unlike Susan, when he was home, he was usually a jerk." She sighed. "Louey's dead. It's just over a week. It seems much longer. Goodness, it feels as if I've known you forever."

"That's because we got thrown together in the same pot with the lid plunked down and lots of heat. No time-outs."

"I guess so." She studied his face in that special way she had, as if she were going to photograph him.

"You're really meticulous with the toothpaste. You roll it up carefully from the bottom. When you're alone, do you sleep nude?" "Most of the time."

"Listen, Ramsey, my father's a big-time crook and you're a federal judge."

"I deal all right with your father. I prefer dealing with your stepmama, but hey, I can make do."

She grinned at him. "Eve's something else, isn't she?" "Yeah. Most of the time when I was around her, I would have sworn that she married your dad for his big bucks and power. Then, at other times, I'd be willing to swear that it was something else entirely." He shrugged. "Maybe we'll find out someday just what she's all about." "My father treats her like dirt." "He does have that problem with women. But again, I have this gut feeling things are going to change." He looked over at Emma. She had started rigging up a kite with the other kids, the father showing them what to do. He smiled. Emma knew exactly what to do.

Molly had taught her and done a really good job of it. He saw her then, flying her dragon kite in the meadow by the cabin. And then those men had come with their guns. It seemed an eon ago, another Ramsey Hunt. He shook himself. "Let's get back to us, Molly. There's nothing either of us can do about our families. We'll cope."

"Tell me about yours."

"My father's a dentist. First thing he'll do when he meets you is check your mouth, just the way they do with horses. Because you've got great teeth, he'll probably fall in love with you on the spot. My old man's easy that way. Give him a beautiful tooth and he's in ecstasy.

"As for my mom, she's a retired schoolteacher, high-school history. I remember she cried when I announced I was going to law school. She believes all lawyers are pond scum. She only forgave me when I told her I wanted to be one of the good guys. She approved of the U.S. Attorney's office. She still tells me all the lawyer jokes though."

"What about when you went back out to be a trial lawyer."

He ducked his head. "It was only for a year and a half. I hated it."

"So?"

"I didn't tell her. Since I'm a judge now, she treats me like I'm on the Supreme Court and asks me all sorts of questions about Sandra Day O'Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, both of whom I've met only once, but that's about all. A neat woman, my mom. Uh, she doesn't look a thing like Eve. I also have two older brothers. One's career army, a two-star general, three kids. The other brother, Tony, is a political speechwriter. Tony's an okay guy, lives in Washington, D.C., nice wife, two kids, neither of whom takes drugs or is in jail."

He looked over at Emma at exactly the same time Molly did. Their eyes met. They smiled at each other.

"It will probably be a habit of a lifetime," Molly said, "checking on Emma. I'll probably have my antennae up when she's a little old lady."

"Do you want more kids, Molly?"

"Maybe. Two would be nice, maybe three. I like kids."

He realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out and laughed. "Just the number I had in mind. I'm thirty-four. That's really young to be appointed to a judgeship, but as for my biological clock, it's running out fast. I heard it isn't good for a guy to father kids after he's forty. The risks are too great."

She poked his leg. "You mean you'll be too paunchy and too run-down to keep up with them?"

He leaned over, took her chin in his hand, and kissed her mouth. He pulled back, studying her face.

"You've also got beautiful eyes. They're a bit on the vague side right now and I do like that."

They heard applause. They both jerked around to see Emma running away from the cliffs, her leprechaun kite high in the air. She was letting out the string perfectly, just as Molly had taught her. She was laughing, the wind whipping her hair, just as the crimson shadow of the sun floated above the water before disappearing.

He looked at Molly then back at Emma. The look on his face was tender, filled with quiet joy. He said, not looking back at her, "We're both smart. We can work out any problems. Let's do it."

"Could you kiss me again, Ramsey?"

"My pleasure." He kissed her a bit longer this time, but he didn't let it get out of hand. He tasted her, nibbled on her bottom lip, wished she'd open her mouth, just a little bit. On the other hand, it probably wouldn't be smart to have his tongue in her mouth here on the Cliffs of Moher with Emma flying a leprechaun kite not thirty feet away. He pulled back. He wanted her a whole lot, maybe more than he'd ever wanted any woman before. The fact was, he really couldn't remember now what he'd felt like when he'd been with Susan. She was in the past, a past that held dear memories, a past that was becoming more blurred each day that passed with Molly and Emma. He'd found a new focus, new feelings that were sometimes overwhelming they were so rich and powerful. He kissed her again, lightly, just a recognition kiss, and it was there, this knowing of each other. He smiled at her and said nothing, wondering what she was thinking.

Molly knew why he wanted to marry her, knew it, and accepted it. He wanted Emma. To get her, he had to make Mom part of the deal. She licked her bottom lip where he'd nipped her, saying, "You just want to keep feeling like a sex god."

He loved the humor in her, coming so seldom because life was so excessively grim. It made it all the more precious. He could look forward to her laughter for the rest of his life, he hoped, if she married him.

"How'd you know?"

She looked at him a long time, studying his face, again as if she were setting her camera shot. She cocked her head to one side. "Sex is part of things. I know you like my hair, you even like my eyes. But I'm skinny, you know that. Will you mind having sex with me?"

He said, never looking away from those very nice eyes of hers, "I know it's expected, so I'll try."

She wanted to run her hand up his thigh but instead, she just laughed, then almost immediately sobered.

"What about Emma?"

"I guess at first we'll have to sneak around, that, or abstain for the time being. I spoke to Dr. Loo about Emma needing to sleep in the same room with either or both of us, that or in the same bed, and she said not to worry. She said of course it wasn't a good idea to have kids sleeping with their parents as a regular thing, but this was different. She said Emma would probably be the one to break away when she was ready. So, Molly, will you marry me?"

Molly got to her feet, dusting off her bottom with her hands. "It looks like the family is about ready to leave. Let's go get Emma and tell her she's going to have a new daddy." She started walking away, then said over her shoulder, a big grin on her face, "Yeah, I'll put you out of your misery, Judge Hunt."

"Say it," he called after her, raising his deep voice loud enough for several people to hear him and turn to look at Molly. "I want to hear you say the words."

She knew people were staring and listening and she laughed, shaking her head. She called out, "I'll marry you. It would be my pleasure to marry you."

There was some applause and a couple of groans from some men, who got punched by their wives.

"That sounds wonderful," he said, walking to stand beside her. "It sounds more than wonderful. We'll be a family for real now. Yes, I quite like that." He looked over at Emma and her new friends. "I think that man is going to give Emma the leprechaun kite. Let's go thank them for watching her." He stopped then, turned, and brought her against him. "Did I ever tell you that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known? That you've even gotten more beautiful each added day I know you?"

"No. You just told me I had beautiful hair."

"That, too. That's your crowning glory, I'll admit it." He raised his hand and curled a thick strand around his finger. He smiled at her. "Feels like springy silk. Yeah, you're beautiful. I think every skinny little bone in your body is beautiful."

He looked over at Emma, who was panting from her run, dragging the kite behind her, looking tired and pleased. "You're sure you like me enough, Molly?"

"I like you enough." She looked down, scuffing the toe of her black boot in the dirt. She said then, making his eyes nearly cross, as she looked back up at him through her lashes, "I particularly like your body."

She thought for a moment that he was going to grab her, and she wouldn't have minded, but he didn't. He just smiled and said, "Excellent. That's a really good start. Let's get married, Molly, as soon as we get back home. We can stop off in Nevada. Let's have the honeymoon before the wedding. What do you think?"

What was love anyway? she thought, as she slowly nodded.

They didn't have the opportunity either to honeymoon in Ireland or to tell Emma that she was getting a new daddy. Waiting for them at the reception desk at Dromoland Castle were two phone messages and a fax from Savich.

THEY flew from Shannon to Chicago O'Hare in Business Class, in the middle section that holds three seats, putting Emma between them. She slept most of the way, propped up on three pillows on Ramsey's armrest, covered with a blanket, holding her piano close, the top keys sticking out from beneath the blanket. The piano had sat in the corner of their suite, seemingly forgotten by Emma, until the phone call had come, her mother had paled, Ramsey had cursed quietly, and they'd started packing quickly.

Molly saw that the shoelace from one of her Nike sneakers was dangling. She stared at it, then finally reached down and simply pulled the sneaker off. She had a plaid sock on her small foot. Molly had washed out the pair the night before.

They'd said very little. Life had spun out of control again. Molly felt numb, nothing else, just a numb blankness that had taken over both her brain and her body. She supposed she should be grateful for it.

Finally, Molly said quietly, so as not to awaken Emma, "I'm having a hard time accepting it. I keep thinking it's a mistake, that someone really screwed up, that Eve was utterly wrong."

"I know."

"Will they get Rule Shaker now?"

"I don't know. We'll find out exactly what happened when we get to Chicago. Listen, your father's not dead yet. God knows how he's managed to survive so far, but he has. That's a good sign."

"Maybe he's already been able to tell the cops who shot him." She stopped, staring at the blank movie screen directly in front of them. "Or maybe by now it's over and he's dead."

Ramsey started to pick up the phone on the armrest. "No," she said, placing her hand over his. "No. I don't want to know, not just yet. For the moment, I want to think you're right. He's told the cops who shot him. It will all be over by the time we arrive at O'Hare."

But Ramsey knew this wasn't likely. In fact it was well nigh impossible. He said quietly, "Remember I told you it was a distance shot, from a good seventy-five yards away, given the trajectory. The assassin probably fired from the roof of the four-story building just across the street. Mason never saw his attacker. Savich said the preliminary ballistics report was that the bullet, a heavy 7.62 mm, was from a sniping rifle, like a SIG-Sauer SSG2000. That's a popular military rifle." He didn't tell her that the bullet had ripped through Mason Lord's chest, hurling him into a car parked at the curb. The impact had smashed the driver's-side window of a new blue Buick Riviera.

"Gunther was just a single step in front of your father. He wasn't touched."

Emma groaned in her sleep. Ramsey reached over and gently began to rub her shoulders and back. She pushed against his hand, then quieted.

"We had to tell her. She's not stupid."

"Yes, I know. This is her escape," Ramsey said, his voice pitched even lower than before. "First chance we have, let's call Dr. Loo again."

"He's not dead, Ramsey."

Ramsey didn't say anything. He kept lightly rubbing Emma's back. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. They'd just gotten over the jet lag of flying to Ireland when they'd gotten word. Now they'd get to do it all over again.

He wanted to get married.

He wanted Emma to know he'd always be with her, as in forever, as in she was his now. The woman who would be his wife as soon as it could be managed was two feet away from him. He didn't know what to say to her either. He wondered what the hell was going to happen now.

"Ramsey?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"We're going to have to wait until things are sorted out."

He looked over at her and said, "Well, hell."