The Target
Page 27
"Ramsey, two guys just came in. They're looking over here. One of them has a rifle."
* * *
MELISSA Shaker watched her father move smoothly and steadily on the rowing machine. She wanted to tell him that he looked really good for a guy his age, that he should hang around in jock T-shirts and shorts. The minute he dressed in one of his expensive Savile Row suits, he looked faintly ridiculous. The bottom line was, he looked like a thug, really. The more expensive the clothes, the more they seemed to reduce him to a stereotype of a Hollywood movie Mafia character. But strip her old man down, and he looked just fine.
She said, "I noticed that you've stopped taking Eleanor around to the clubs."
He grunted, never missing his rhythmic pull, release, pull, release. "Yeah, she's so classy she makes me look like a bodyguard."
She blinked at that. She didn't realize he'd known. Eleanor, classy?
He continued after a moment, his voice smooth and calm, despite his exertion, "The younger, the more beautiful the girl, the more like a gargoyle I look."
Melissa laughed. "You're right, but I wouldn't have said it out loud. I saw you with a really beautiful girl out by the swimming pool the other day. You were wearing a bikini and so was she. You looked better than she did. Just wear shorts, Dad, and you'll look great."
He grunted, slowly easing down on his speed. This was his cooldown. He'd been on the rowing machine for forty minutes. Sweat was dripping off him and his muscles were pumped and glistening. If he hadn't been her father, she would have at least looked him over.
The phone rang. He said without looking up, "Answer it, but don't say anything."
She did. When she handed him the phone, he'd finally come to a halt. He was breathing just a bit on the fast side. He listened, then said, "What's the status?"
He listened. Melissa wished she could pick up the extension. She walked over to the weight rack and picked up two five-pound free weights. She began to do bicep curls.
She turned only when she heard him place the phone back into the cradle. He said, "It shouldn't be long now. We'll get three for the price of one."
"I wish it could be different."
He looked at her closely, doing the slow bicep curls, like pulling through water, just as he'd taught her. "No you don't. You enjoy all this crap. But I promised you. You know I always keep my promises."
She put down the free weights and walked to him. She hugged him close, not caring that he was sweaty. "Thanks, Daddy. I know. I appreciate it."
He lightly pushed her away and toweled himself off. "You're a good girl, Mellie, but sometimes you get strange ideas." He raised his hand. "No, it's okay. It keeps life interesting."
Rule Shaker was whistling when he walked into the huge shower stall in the marble bath off his private gym.
8
"EMMA, KEEP YOUR head down and eat your French fries. Molly, don't go for your gun, listen to me. I want you and Emma to go through that doorway that says TELEPHONES & TOILETS. If there's an exit, go on out to the Jeep, otherwise, stay in the bathroom. If you get to the Jeep, lock yourselves in. I'll be out as soon as I pay the bill. Go. Act as naturally as you can. Don't look back."
Molly didn't move. "Em, did you see the two men that came to the cabin?"
"Not really."
"So you wouldn't recognize them?"
"No, Mama, but Ramsey would."
"That's right, I would. Go, Molly. There's no time for any more discussion. If they're the guys I'll be out as soon as I can, probably walking really fast."
"You made a joke, just like Mama does."
"Maybe."
Molly gave him a final long look, grabbed her purse, kept her attention on Emma, and walked with her to the back of the small restaurant, through the doorway. Slowly, Ramsey turned around just as he raised his hand to the waitress. They were standing with their backs to him. One was tall and thin, the other short. He couldn't tell if he was bow-legged or not. He didn't think they were the same guys who'd come to the cabin. How could they be? He'd shot both the bastards. He didn't have his Smith & Wesson. The restaurant was pretty crowded. He prayed the men wouldn't do anything stupid.
The waitress smiled down at him. He said without looking at her, "Is there a back way out of here?"
"Yeah, there's a back door just beside the men's room."
"Good. How much do I owe you?"
She wrote down a couple of more things, frowned as she added, then ripped off the paper and handed it to him, saying, "You guys didn't eat all that much so I took a bit off the bill."
* * *
MELISSA Shaker watched her father move smoothly and steadily on the rowing machine. She wanted to tell him that he looked really good for a guy his age, that he should hang around in jock T-shirts and shorts. The minute he dressed in one of his expensive Savile Row suits, he looked faintly ridiculous. The bottom line was, he looked like a thug, really. The more expensive the clothes, the more they seemed to reduce him to a stereotype of a Hollywood movie Mafia character. But strip her old man down, and he looked just fine.
She said, "I noticed that you've stopped taking Eleanor around to the clubs."
He grunted, never missing his rhythmic pull, release, pull, release. "Yeah, she's so classy she makes me look like a bodyguard."
She blinked at that. She didn't realize he'd known. Eleanor, classy?
He continued after a moment, his voice smooth and calm, despite his exertion, "The younger, the more beautiful the girl, the more like a gargoyle I look."
Melissa laughed. "You're right, but I wouldn't have said it out loud. I saw you with a really beautiful girl out by the swimming pool the other day. You were wearing a bikini and so was she. You looked better than she did. Just wear shorts, Dad, and you'll look great."
He grunted, slowly easing down on his speed. This was his cooldown. He'd been on the rowing machine for forty minutes. Sweat was dripping off him and his muscles were pumped and glistening. If he hadn't been her father, she would have at least looked him over.
The phone rang. He said without looking up, "Answer it, but don't say anything."
She did. When she handed him the phone, he'd finally come to a halt. He was breathing just a bit on the fast side. He listened, then said, "What's the status?"
He listened. Melissa wished she could pick up the extension. She walked over to the weight rack and picked up two five-pound free weights. She began to do bicep curls.
She turned only when she heard him place the phone back into the cradle. He said, "It shouldn't be long now. We'll get three for the price of one."
"I wish it could be different."
He looked at her closely, doing the slow bicep curls, like pulling through water, just as he'd taught her. "No you don't. You enjoy all this crap. But I promised you. You know I always keep my promises."
She put down the free weights and walked to him. She hugged him close, not caring that he was sweaty. "Thanks, Daddy. I know. I appreciate it."
He lightly pushed her away and toweled himself off. "You're a good girl, Mellie, but sometimes you get strange ideas." He raised his hand. "No, it's okay. It keeps life interesting."
Rule Shaker was whistling when he walked into the huge shower stall in the marble bath off his private gym.
8
"EMMA, KEEP YOUR head down and eat your French fries. Molly, don't go for your gun, listen to me. I want you and Emma to go through that doorway that says TELEPHONES & TOILETS. If there's an exit, go on out to the Jeep, otherwise, stay in the bathroom. If you get to the Jeep, lock yourselves in. I'll be out as soon as I pay the bill. Go. Act as naturally as you can. Don't look back."
Molly didn't move. "Em, did you see the two men that came to the cabin?"
"Not really."
"So you wouldn't recognize them?"
"No, Mama, but Ramsey would."
"That's right, I would. Go, Molly. There's no time for any more discussion. If they're the guys I'll be out as soon as I can, probably walking really fast."
"You made a joke, just like Mama does."
"Maybe."
Molly gave him a final long look, grabbed her purse, kept her attention on Emma, and walked with her to the back of the small restaurant, through the doorway. Slowly, Ramsey turned around just as he raised his hand to the waitress. They were standing with their backs to him. One was tall and thin, the other short. He couldn't tell if he was bow-legged or not. He didn't think they were the same guys who'd come to the cabin. How could they be? He'd shot both the bastards. He didn't have his Smith & Wesson. The restaurant was pretty crowded. He prayed the men wouldn't do anything stupid.
The waitress smiled down at him. He said without looking at her, "Is there a back way out of here?"
"Yeah, there's a back door just beside the men's room."
"Good. How much do I owe you?"
She wrote down a couple of more things, frowned as she added, then ripped off the paper and handed it to him, saying, "You guys didn't eat all that much so I took a bit off the bill."
