"I know you don't want to leave your guests alone for long."

"No, I don't." Now he could feel the throbbing pain radiating from the cut. Could feel the warm, wet slide of blood across his skin. He managed a smile that was almost normal for Audrey, helped on by the watchful stare of her powerful father a short distance away. "I won't be long."

As he turned away, he looked toward the bower. It was empty.

He waited until they were out of range to snap, "Find her."

"When You're in control."

Normally he'd hang on to these feelings, then take it to the red-light district and find a prostitute to pound on, but he couldn't do that right now either. Not with the glare of publicity shining on him. He had to hold it in, keep it all on a leash. He could do this. He could. He was in control. Not even his passions would master him. He was stronger than all of them. And Kerry Anne, or whoever the hell she was, would soon find out how dangerous it was to play games with him.

The kid-his name was Roger, but he carried ID that said his name was Kevin-cautiously opened the door to laundry room. Heated air that smelled of bleach surged into the stairwell. He heard the murmur of the dryer off to one side, broken by the occasional thump of something heavy hitting metal.

The sounds of pursuit had turned away at the first floor, heading out into the street. He slipped across the room, past the slowly spinning clothes and through the doorway to the storage area. He counted cages, stopping at the fourth one to insert a key into a padlock. It took only a moment to move the boxes within aside and expose the door just where Dewey had said it would be. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath as relief took the flight out of his legs.

He'd wanted to trust Dewey, wanted to believe his life could be different, but he'd been fed the "We'll keep you from your stepdad" line before. He'd gone through the system, done what he was told, then been delivered back to his mom by the same people who'd promised to help him. Each time they'd told him it would be better this time. And it just got worse. He'd run away once before, but they'd caught him.

Then he'd happened onto Phagan's web site, while cruising around on the school computer so he wouldn't have to go home. A few e-mails later, he had a bus ticket and a destination. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Phagan's gang to turn out to be some kind of male prostitution ring or something but Dewey hadn't laid a hand on him. Had given him a key to lock his bedroom, in fact.

So far, Dewey had been real cool. He'd almost begun to believe this could work. Then the Feds banged on the door. Well, first thing Dewey had taught him was where and how to retreat. He slipped through the door and pulled the boxes back into place behind him as best he could, feeling as clever as the fox he?d chosen to follow.

Bet the Feds didn't expect this, he gloated, his mind moving ahead to the next thing Dewey had told him to do if this happened. He'd taken careful mental notes because there was no way in hell he was ever going back home. He'd die first.

From where he sat, getting his hand bandaged by a doctor friend of Audrey?s father, Harding couldn't see the gathering, couldn't see Kerry Anne. She had to be flesh because he didn't believe in phantoms. He'd feel more at ease, though, when Stern got his hands on her. Not that Stern made any effort to do so. He?d been staring out that window since they came inside.

"Why don't you get back to the party? As you can see, I'm in good hands."

Stern turned to look at him, his gaze both assessing and probing. It was also annoyed, though only someone who knew him very well would know it. His normal expression was stone, cold rock.

"I have such a good view here, I thought I'd take a minute to look for our friend. So far no sign of her."

Was he telling the truth? Peter couldn't tell.

Stern Wasn't telling the truth, of course and he could tell from Harding?s expression that he suspected but didn't dare ask. Hadn't the asshole learned by now that it was always better to let the quarry come to you? Let her find what she was looking for, then pounce.

Stern didn't sigh as he turned back to the window, because it Wasn't his style. There was no question Harding was behaving oddly. What was it about this Nadine that pushed his buttons? She'd been clever so far, poking and prodding him from a safe distance, but she had made a mistake today. Never pull a tiger?s tail in person. Even the caged ones could be dangerous.

Behind him the doctor said, "There, that should hold, though you should go in and get a tetanus shot on Monday."

"Thank you."

Stern waited for Harding to join him, then heard his indrawn breath as they saw their "phantom" at the same moment. Approaching Audrey Dilmont. She'd chosen a good place to apply pressure. Clever girl but not clever enough.

"Get her." Harding started to clench his hands, but a sharp stab of pain reminded him why he shouldn't as he forcibly relaxed his fingers and waited for Stern to move to intercept. He had to keep her away from Audrey. And her beautiful little girls. He would not let the bitch ruin this for him. He needed their innocence like a junkie needed coke. It was his reality, his imperative, and his life-giving air. There was no fighting it; he could only postpone it for a time. That time was running out.

Instead of following Stern, he stepped out onto the balcony. He was right above them. He could see Audrey's smile, see the question in her eyes as "Kerry Anne" stopped her.

"These are your daughters?" she asked in a rich Southern accent he?d thought lost in time and the warm, wet ground of Georgia. The rich timbre of it carried him back to those sultry nights when she'd been his-

"Amy and Simone." Audrey's voice, filled with the pride of a mother, was a cold shower on his hot memories. He saw his girls give brief, shy curtseys. So polite. So obedient. Just the way he liked them.

If Audrey could see the phantom, then she was flesh and bone that could be bruised and broken. He spotted Stern trying to work his way through a sudden flow of people heading for the refreshment tables. Picked a hell of a time to start serving food.

"Getting a new stepfather. How exciting." Some damn tree obscured her. The branches hung between him and her, but he could see its leaves brush her cheek as she knelt in front of the little girls and smiled the smile he?d never thought to see again.

"Peter adores them, and they adore him," Audrey said.

"I'll bet he does," she said. "I heard he likes the young."

Kevin was relieved when the door opened under his hand, releasing him from the dark tunnel running between the buildings. It was only fear of what was behind him that had kept him walking forward in black darkness. He was surprised to find the matching storeroom dark, but it was lighter than the tunnel he?d left, thanks to a row of windows just at street level, and he moved forward without hesitation.

He eased around another set of boxes and unlocked this last gate. Once it was locked again, he turned to leave, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and a gun barrel was placed against his temple.

"Gotcha," a voice said.

Chapter 7.

When Jake brought a handcuffed Kevin out the door of the other building, he saw a worried-looking Matt lower his radio.

Matt glared at him, then raised his radio to say, "Jake's got him. Get a forensics team over here ASAP." He looked at his brother with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm as Bryn came out the front door. "How the hell did you do it?"

Before Jake could answer him, Bryn said, "Let me guess. Magic?"

Jake grinned. "Let's take him back inside while we secure the premises."

Bryn signaled to a couple of men, who hustled the kid inside.

"Don't feed me that magic shit," Matt said. "How did you do it?"

"Talked to the super while I was waiting for you." Jake shrugged. "Told me there used to be a tunnel between the buildings, so I checked it out. When the kid bolted, I figured That's where he was headed."

"In other words, pure dumb luck," Matt said with a big brother?s scorn.

"You wish." Jake held the door open before following him and Bryn inside.

Phoebe saw Barrett Stern pushing his way toward her. Above, Harding watched from the balcony, nursing his bandaged hand. Her work here was done. She blew Harding a kiss and saw him flinch. He'd always hated to be thwarted. It was his Achilles' heel, the pressure point they planned to jab over and over until he betrayed himself and gave them the game.

She'd have to gloat later though. The game would be over if Stern got his hands on her. He was covering ground quickly, despite the sudden surge toward the now-ready refreshment table. Phoebe picked up her pace, counting off the distance to the clubhouse in footsteps and heartbeats. There was always risk when you pulled the tigeR's tail, but she didn't intend to be counted out just yet.

She passed through the door with quick thanks and a smile to the someone who might have been the attorney general of the state-who held the door for her and let it swing in Stern's face. The combination of gallantry and rudeness gave her just enough time to duck into the ladies' room ahead of his reaching hand. A couple of shocked women kept Stern from following her inside.

She made a face at him over their shoulders before the door swung closed, then ducked into a stall and started shedding Kerry Anne. Under Kerry's drifting dress she wore a sleek beige number that hugged her body like another skin. Out of a pocket came a bag that she stuffed the dress into. The wig she tossed down behind the toilet. The blue contacts came out. She peeled the white surface off her shoes, turning them beige to match the dress. She made sure no sign of the dress was poking out of the bag, fluffed her hair, and stepped out.

Three chattering women preceded her out the door where Stern waited, his thinning patience apparent in the chilling of his eyes. He didn't give Phoebe a second glance as she passed. In a moment she was outside. The limo pulled forward and Dewey opened the door for her. She pulled the door closed behind her and answered the questioning lift of his brows with a shrug and a smile.

"Any problems?"