WHO ARE YOU and what the hell are you trying to pull? Joseph’s question pulsed between us. It was merely rude on the surface, but I sensed a more disturbing undercurrent, and my body was sending subtle, visceral read-outs from some database deep in the subterranean regions of my brain.

I pushed back from the Larimers’ dining room table and stood to face the militant massage therapist. No need for him to know that my knees were a little unsteady.

I was intimidated; Joseph was maybe thirty and very fit, and even though I’d practiced on Bert, I hadn’t mastered the techniques from The Damn Fool’s Guide to Self-Defense for Women to the degree that I could fend off anybody who really wanted to hurt me.

My m.o. in situations like that was simple and to the point: bluff to the big dogs.

“Who are you?” I retorted. “And what gives you the right to talk to me like that?”

Joseph flushed, not with embarrassment, but with rage. He had a buzz cut, and the skin underneath turned pink. “I’m the senator’s personal assistant,” he answered, “and bodyguard.”

“And you perceive me as a threat?” I asked, with a lightness I didn’t feel.

“I’ve worked for Senator and Mrs. Larimer for five years,” Joseph replied, “and in all that time, he’s never mentioned having a niece. Now, all of a sudden, when he’s about to declare his candidacy for governor, you turn up, out of nowhere.”

“Either you’re not a local, or you didn’t do your homework,” I said mildly, but with an edge.

Joseph cast a glance toward the great arched doorway leading into the entryway and lowered his voice a notch. “I know about the Mayhugh murders, if that’s what you’re talking about. Senator Larimer’s sister and her husband were killed. I also know that you—if you really are his niece, that is—disappeared twenty-three years ago. My question is, what brings you back now, after all this time?”

“My answer is, it’s really none of your damn business, and if you want to pursue the subject further, you’d better ask my uncle.”

Joseph glared at me.

The faint mechanical sound came again, and it was a good bet Clive was riding the elevator back down to the main floor.

I smiled a little. I could see that Joseph had no intention of asking his employer about me in the immediate future; he turned, without another word, and disappeared into the kitchen.

I’d won the skirmish, but I hadn’t seen the last of the senator’s personal assistant and bodyguard. That was a given.