Catherine Coulter - The Target

"All right, how about this after she's played for you- how about telling her you love her? You are her father, and she needs you, although that's a concept that never really took root in your brain."

"You wanted her, I didn't. You were a lot more fun before you had a kid, Molly. Remember those photos you took of me that Rolling Stone featured? Now those could have made you, but what did you do? You just laughed and said they were okay, not all that great. The editor at Rolling Stone said you were terrific, but you wouldn't hear about doing any more work for them."

"Louey, you're not remembering quite right. I was pregnant with Emma at the time and puking my toenails up on a very regular basis. I've been getting back into it since Emma's older."

"No one has ever photographed me as well as you did."

So that was it. As usual, Louey was thinking about himself. She wanted to roll her eyes and smack him.

She did neither, just smiled at him. She really didn't hate him most of the time, actually; she really didn't even think of him except rarely, and even on those rare occasions she felt only mild dislike simply because she understood the bone-deep fears that always festered beneath the surface in him. They occasionally even overwhelmed his remarkable conceit and ego. Because she was sometimes so weak-headed, she forgot about the damage he could wreak. It was fear that was driving him now and so she said without rancor, "You're an excellent subject, Louey. You know how to mate with the camera.

Don't be impatient. There are lots of terrific photographers out there, but that's neither here nor there."

She stopped, then just shook her head. "Never mind. Sometimes I'm a fool. Now, tell me what you know about Emma's kidnapping, if you want me to help you before my father gets nasty. And he will, Louey, he'll get nastier than anything you can begin to imagine, nastier than he was to you in Denver three years ago."

"You weren't in Denver when he showed up three years ago, so just how would you know what your dear daddy does?"

"I remember one summer when I was here. I was twelve years old and I woke up late, probably about midnight, and walked downstairs to the kitchen. I saw a light under his study door and I could hear men's voices. I pushed the door open and looked inside." She shuddered from the force of the memory, but she said only, "Tell him, Louey. Don't be cute. When he sets a goal, his focus never falters. His patience is formidable, but when it's gone, it's well and truly gone. Tell him. Or tell me. How were you involved in this? Tell me the names of the men you owe money to."

Ramsey pulled back around the corner. He'd just come up the stairs to go to bed. It was late. There stood Molly and Louey Santera facing off like two gunslingers in the hallway outside his bedroom door.

He'd heard her last few words. He knew she didn't really think that Louey had had anything to do directly with Emma's kidnapping. But he was involved indirectly. She was covering all the bases, which was really smart. He wondered if Louey was buying it.

Louey cast a furtive look at Gunther, who hadn't moved a muscle, then leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "I sure made a big mistake marrying you, didn't I? You were Little Miss Sweet Innocence with a big crook for a father. But I found that out too late."

"What do you mean?"

"You want some truth? I'll give you some truth." He stared down at her, his mouth twisting. "I wanted to fuck you, Molly, not marry you. But your daddy found out about us. He left me no choice."

"That's not true, Louey, you know it's not. He didn't even know I was dating you until I told him we were going to get married. Stop looking at me like I'm an idiot. I tell you, he didn't know a thing until I told him.

I remember the surprise on his face. I'm not making it up. He was surprised."

He laughed, a nasty laugh that nearly froze Molly where she stood.

"It's not true," she said again. She was crumbling inside. Was nothing as it had seemed in her life? "You're making this up, after all these years, just to hurt me."

"Sure, Molly Dolly, sure I am. It turns out your old man had us followed-you didn't know that, did you?

Of course you didn't. Yeah, and he had me followed to protect his little girl from the scummy coke-snorting rock star. He probably knew to the minute when you lost your virginity to me. And I got a visit from him the very next day. That was the day I really understood who your daddy actually is."

"You're not lying? My father made you propose marriage to me?"

"You don't think it was because I could have possibly wanted a wife, do you? Come on, Molly, even you're not that stupid. I always liked fresh-faced eager girls. You looked at me like I was a god. I wasn't about to deny myself. So I had to be patient and play a few games with you so that you'd fall on your back for me. I wanted to take your virginity. I've always preferred virgins. And so I did, but then there was Daddy standing at my front door just after you left that morning." Louey shrugged. "I remember one of his goons-a guy who got his head shot off a while back-he had huge hands. He grabbed my neck between his hands and lifted me off the ground. Then your daddy told me how things would be. He told me I'd better be real sincere when I proposed to his daughter. He told me if I wasn't faithful to his daughter, he'd make my face so ugly nobody would want to see it. I believed him."

"You were very sincere," she said, and wondered how she could even form the words, much less get them out of her mouth. "I remember that evening very well. But you slept with lots of women."

Louey shrugged. "Yeah, well, what was I supposed to do when I was married to you? Finally, I called your daddy and confessed that I was having sex on the side. I told him you just weren't interested. What was I to do?"

Louey laughed, actually laughed. "Your daddy finally gave me his permission. He told me to be discreet."

Humiliation and rage mingled and flowed over. She drew back her arm and struck him as hard as she could with her fist in his belly. The air whooshed out of him. He gasped, clutching his stomach, bent over.

"You bastard," she said low. "You complete and utter bastard. You'd do anything, wouldn't you? It's true that you're the only man I've ever slept with so I have no comparisons, but let me tell you, Louey, it wasn't ever any fun at all. From what I hear from other women, you were a pig at sex, and I bought it because I didn't know any better.

"You have nothing in you but greed and ego. And you've got street smarts, enough anyway to keep you alive, enough to realize that my father would have annihilated you if you hadn't done what he told you to do. Did you have Emma kidnapped? You need money. You always need money. You knew Mason would be the one to pay for her release, but you didn't care where it came from." She paused, panting, then smacked her palm against her forehead. "How could I be so stupid? You didn't want my dad involved. You wanted me alone to pay the ransom. You viewed it as getting your money back.

"I really didn't think you'd done it, but I've changed my mind. You don't owe big bucks to anyone, do you? No, you're the one who had her kidnapped. You wanted your money back."

She hit him again in his stomach. "And you got a child molester to take her. You did that to your own daughter! What kind of a man are you?"

She punched him yet again. He was still bent over, gasping for air. "No," he managed to get out. "I didn't.

Don't hit me again, Molly, I mean it. Remember how I hit you three years ago? I'll do it again."

"You just try it, you worm, just try it." She started to say something else, then just shook her head and walked away.

Ramsey didn't move for some time. People did the most incredible things to each other. He, Judge Ramsey Hunt, without hesitation, walked quickly down the corridor to where Louey Santera was still standing, alternately looking at Gunther and at his own toes.