He shrugged. "I wasn't a very photogenic child."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe what you wish."

"You're an only child, right? That's what the press reports, and what the book said."

"That's right."

"Was it lonely growing up?"

Lawrence chuckled. "I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may tend to incriminate me."

She'd struck a chord, but she wouldn't press. If she did, he might never open up again. And there could come a time when she would have to get beneath his surface to find out something she desperately needed to know. "Your father made it huge in software."

Lawrence took a swallow of wine. "That's right, Angela. Billions and billions and billions from a tiny little investment. Tiny for Dad anyway. All those billions, and he didn't even have to lift a finger. A programming nerd he met at a Harvard symposium took Dad's two hundred grand in return for a big chunk of a fledgling software company, and the rest is history. Literally. Now that fledgling software company is one of the most powerful juggernauts in the world. Its operating systems control almost every personal computer in the world. What a country America is, huh?"

She'd spent two hours perusing the family history book, fascinated. She'd been tempted to take it with her, but in the end, she'd put it back where she'd found it before getting off the plane. "But your family was already wealthy at that point."

Lawrence glanced up. "Very."

She could tell the wine was getting to Lawrence. His dark eyes were developing a gla.s.sy sheen. "Your family owned huge timber tracts in the West."

"That's true. Large areas of Montana and Wyoming. The ranch outside Jackson is a leftover piece of one of those tracts."

"But the family's start in the timber business didn't begin in the West."

Lawrence turned his head to one side. "Right," he agreed slowly.

"It actually started in the South," she continued. "In Georgia in the early 1800s. But your great-great-great-grandfather saw the Civil War coming and sold the business, worried that if the North won, he might lose everything. After he sold the business, he took the proceeds and bought all that timberland out West."

"Mmm."

"Or was it Alabama where your family got its start?"

Lawrence reached for his gla.s.s.

"Jake?"

"What?"

"I can't remember what the book said, Jake. Was your family originally from Georgia or Alabama?"

"Georgia. Near Atlanta."

"Do you still have family down there?"

"On the Callaghan side, as the book says. My mother's side, G.o.d rest her soul." For a moment, Lawrence's eyes took on a distant look.

"Your father was-"

"Do you think Carter Hill could run Sumter Bank?" Lawrence asked. "Would he be an effective chairman?"

She hesitated. "I suppose, but I don't think my opinion is worth much. I've only met the man twice."

"Your opinion is worth a great deal." Lawrence pushed a small b.u.t.ton embedded in the edge of the table. "How do the rank and file feel?"

Angela considered the question carefully. "Bob Dudley is feared. People think he's a dictator. It's my impression that most of the bank's employees think the other senior executives are nothing more than puppets. Including Carter Hill. I do think Hill is viewed as much more approachable, more of a consensus builder. But all of that is based on hearsay."

"Perhaps Carter Hill is a man who is better suited to run a bank in this day and age," Lawrence observed. "Particularly a bank with the lion's share of its operations in the South."

"Perhaps, but I don't-"

"Take a look at your menu, Angela," Lawrence suggested. "Please."

Moments later the dining room door opened. One of Colby's men entered first, followed by a nervous-looking waiter dressed in a white dinner jacket and black pants, then Colby. Colby's aide quickly scooped up both silverware settings, then the waiter was allowed to take the dinner order. First Angela's, then Lawrence's. When the waiter had exited, the aide replaced the silverware in front of Angela and Lawrence and also exited the room, just ahead of Colby, who closed the door.

Angela relaxed only when the men were gone, aware that she had been as uneasy as the waiter the entire time the other men were in the room. She glanced across the table at Lawrence. He was fiddling with his steak knife, tracing tiny circles on the linen tablecloth with it.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly. She wondered if it was difficult to be constantly reminded that you could be a target at any moment, that even a waiter couldn't be trusted.

"Fine," he answered loudly, putting the knife down.

Too loudly, she realized. She smiled at him. "I've read on the Internet that you are supposed to be somewhat of a thrill-seeker. What kinds of things do you do?"

Lawrence finished what was left in his gla.s.s, then leaned over the table and smiled a sinister smile back at her. "Angela, I'm like the girl with a tattoo on her a.s.s. I'll do anything."

Just coincidence, or did Jake Lawrence somehow know about her tattoo? As John Tucker guided the Town Car through the deserted downtown streets toward the Fan, she replayed Lawrence's comment. The dead eyes had momentarily come alive as he'd spoken, dancing in the candlelight. She thought about how he'd been wrong about his family being from Atlanta. The book indicated that the Lawrences were originally from Birmingham. But maybe he had been trying to throw her off track for some reason.

"You okay, Angela?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"I have to be honest with you."

"About what?"

"I'm surprised you were willing to meet Lawrence again after what he did to you in Wyoming. Even with me there."

Angela put her elbow on the door and rubbed her forehead. "Everything is so complicated at this point, John."

"Things must bevery complicated. All of this must have something to do with that takeover you were talking about."

"Well . . . " She stopped herself when Tucker turned off the boulevard onto a side street. They were out of downtown now and getting into the Fan. "You could have just kept going straight there."

"Oh, okay," he said quietly, checking his side mirror again. "These are nice big houses," he commented.

"Yeah, I like it here."

"So are you going to give me a hint about the name of the company?" he asked. "Give me a little heads-up on the takeover?"

"No. I told you in Wyoming. I can't do that."

"Figures," he muttered glumly.

"John, I can't."

"Whatever."

"Telling you anything about that would be against the law. It would const.i.tute insider trading if Jake announced a takeover." She hesitated. "But you will find out what company it is before any transaction is announced, and then you can do what you want. You can make your own decision."

"What do you mean?"

"I told Jake that I wanted you around. You aren't going back to Wyoming-not any time soon anyway."

Tucker glanced over at her. "Really?"

"Really."

He chuckled. "Angela, I don't know what to say. I didn't know you cared."

"I want you around to protect me, John," she replied quickly, watching his expression turn to one of disappointment. "That's all. Don't flatter yourself," she continued, aware that his sad face was probably just a charade. "I took your warning about my son to heart. And I figure that if someone might want to kidnap my son to get to Jake Lawrence, they might do something to me, too."

"Angela, I'm crushed," he said dejectedly. "I thought maybe this was the start of something."

She stole a quick glance at him, trying to see if he was serious. She liked him. There was no denying that. But a relationship with him would be too dangerous. "Nope. Sorry."

Tucker pulled out onto the next boulevard. "How am I going to find out the target company's name if you don't tell me?" he asked.

"Oh, you'll find out all right."

Tucker turned left onto the next side street.

"What are you doing?" Angela asked.

"Heading back to the boulevard we were on before. I thought you said I was supposed to go straight on it."

"Okay, okay. Don't get upset."

"I'm not upset," he muttered. "Just disappointed. You had me on cloud nine for a minute. Now I'm in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

She gazed over at him in the dashboard lights, still wondering if there was any shred of sincerity in the hurt-puppy-dog act, or if he was just having fun. "What happened to you after you left me in the cave up there on the mountain?"

He shrugged. "I went looking for whoever shot at us. I found tracks and two spent cartridge casings but that was it. Whoever it was got out of there."

"You didn't say good-bye. Didn't come to dinner or take me back to the airport the next day."

"Colby's orders. He runs the show unless Lawrence overrides. I guess with everything that happened Colby wanted to be the one to monitor you. See how you were handling it all. I asked to speak with you, but he said no."

"I was disappointed not to see you again," she admitted, watching Tucker check the rearview mirror once more.

"How close are we to your place?"

"Pretty close," she answered, wondering if he had heard her. He wasn't acting as if he had. "A half mile or so."

"Then let's walk," he suggested loudly, swinging the Town Car into an open spot.

"What? Are you out of your mind? I've got to be at work early tomorrow."

"Ah, you'll be all right." He jumped out of the car and hurried to her side, yanking open the pa.s.senger door. "Come on!"

"John!"

Tucker reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her from her seat. "It'll be nice. It isn't cold."

"But-"

"Hey, I'm a spontaneous guy," he said, laughing. "What can I say?"

She was laughing too as he led her across a yard and toward a waist-high white picket fence. "You're insane."

"You got that right." He picked her up quickly and put her down on the other side of the fence, then hopped over, grabbed her by the hand and took off, leading her through a garden.

"We're going to be arrested." She laughed as they jogged. "I'm going to end up in jail."

"At least you'll be alive," he muttered.

A few minutes later they had made it to Angela's apartment.

"Well, good night," Tucker said, standing on the landing outside her apartment door. They were both still breathing hard from the run.

"Do you want to come in?"

He shuffled his feet. "Well, I-"

"To call a cab, I mean. Or maybe for a gla.s.s of water."

Tucker started to say something, then thought better of it. "I'd better not. I mean, no, that's all right."

Angela reached out and took his hand. "I felt safe tonight because I knew you were there, John."

"I know."

"And I'm glad you're going to be around for a while."

"Me, too."

Angela squeezed his thick fingers. "Do you really think someone would go after Hunter?"