Silver Sparks (5 page)

She lit into him as soon as he closed the door. “You purposely provoked him!”

She was pissed as hell, but he couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah. Wasn’t it fun?”

“No!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. It seemed like her hands were always moving when she talked. “I want him to go away! Now he’s going to try even harder to ruin me.”

“Maggie.”

He waited until she huffed impatiently, stuck her hands on her hips, and snapped, “What.”

“He was going to ruin you anyway. You’re the one who decided not to give him what he wants—to look good in the press. To be the suave Romeo they always make him out to be. So, yes, he’ll try to punish you for that. He’s vindictive. It’s part of his killer mentality. And it’s why you should go along with him.”

She didn’t look the least bit appeased. “Why do I keep forgetting that you aren’t here to help me? You have your own agenda. So what’s your plan—provoke Rafe into killing me to prove he’s a murderer? Thanks a lot.”

It was just sarcasm, but the thought of Rafe harming her sobered him fast. “Hell, no! That’s what I’m trying to prevent. I don’t believe in taking unnecessary risks.” Apparently he was just attracted to women who did. Once was enough on that crazy carnival ride, but it seemed he hadn’t learned his lesson. Secretly, he admired Maggie’s refusal to take shit from anyone, making him all the more irritated with himself.

“Then what’s the point?” she demanded. “Because it felt a lot like some macho strutting contest with me in the middle.”

“The point is to find his trigger.” He moved away from the door, forcing her to follow. He could only imagine what would happen if someone overheard his theory about Rafe De Luca murdering women. Those three women shoppers might be straining to overhear the conversation in the back room if they weren’t already on the sidewalk, selling their version of what they’d seen to the press.

Maggie refused to sit at her desk—did the woman ever relax?—so they stood as he explained. “I need to know what makes him kill. Rafe’s not like a serial killer who plans and stalks and prepares for each kill. Most of the time he’s just your average, everyday asshole, with too much money and power for his own good. But every once in a while something sets him off. He doesn’t plan to kill, at least I don’t think he has yet. He does it impulsively, in an outburst of temper.”

She thought it over, pursing her lips as she did, which he found highly distracting. He tried to focus instead on her eyes. They usually snapped with enough anger to make him forget about demented fantasies like kissing her. She’d probably bite him if he tried it, anyway. “You mean he’s like the guy who kills his ex-wife because she leaves him for someone else? If he can’t have her, no one can?”

“Not exactly. The kind of guy you’re describing tends to zero in on one woman exclusively, maybe for years at a time. Rafe picks up and disposes of lovers on a regular basis, and doesn’t care who they go to next. But he does care about controlling them while they’re with him. I suspect he has an image of himself that’s nearly godlike. He can’t tolerate a woman who defies him.”

She finally looked cautious. “Like me.”

“Like you.”

“Are you saying if I don’t go along with his lovers’ quarrel scenario he’ll try to
kill
me?” Her voice went up at the end; at least she took it seriously enough to be horrified.

“I think you’re safe for now because everything has been so public. But nothing’s certain, and I need to know what triggers his uncontrolled bursts of temper.”

“You
think
I’m safe?”

“What do you want, a guarantee? I can’t give you that.” She raised her eyebrows. He hadn’t meant to spit it out so forcefully, but her determination to control the situation was exasperating; it was the reason she was in this mess. He could imagine Julie doing the same thing, and she’d ended up dead. “The man’s dangerous and unpredictable, Maggie. If you’re afraid of him—and you should be—then for God’s sake, give him what he wants. How many times do I have to say it? Pose for the press, pretend to like him for a couple days, then break up.”

She glared at him, more angry than he’d expected. “Never. I refuse to be associated with that lecherous moron, even as a pretense. I already take enough flack for being one of the Larkin girls; I don’t need to add further proof by dating some Hollywood man-whore.”

Ah, there was that reference to the Larkin girls again. “What does that mean, being one of the Larkin girls?”

She gave him a bitter smile. “That’s right, you aren’t from around here. I guess I should be glad our reputation hasn’t spread all the way to Oklahoma.” When he just waited, she blew out a breath in a resigned manner. “Let’s just say it’s nothing I’m proud of. I’d prefer to keep it in the past.”

“Well, obviously you haven’t been able to, so I want to know.” At her stubborn look, he added, “Or should I just ask around?”

He was pushing hard against a sore spot, and was relieved when all she did was turn away until she got her resentment under control. Every muscle in her body was taut, and he half expected her to whirl around and spit out a string of nasty words but, in a minor miracle, reason won out. She shook back her hair and found her determined expression. He was beginning to suspect she met a lot of life with that look on her face.

“My upbringing was sort of . . . unconventional,” she said. Starting at the beginning. That was okay with him; he hadn’t expected it to be a simple story. “My mom’s an original hippie. No psychedelic drugs, but she did have flowers in her hair, communal living, free love lifestyle, the whole thing. Especially the free love part.”

He nodded, making sure not to look judgmental. He knew he was getting as few facts as she could get away with telling, and he didn’t want her to censor the story too much. When she seemed to be waiting for a response, he said helpfully, “Like Woodstock.”

Her smile was bitter. “Yeah, like that, only about a decade later. And more organized—she and her friends started a commune on Two Bears Mountain. My two sisters and I lived there until my grandma took us in. Hippie kids.” She said it as if it were in quotes, and he knew it was the name other people had given them.

He imagined three girls growing up in the small town of Barringer’s Pass, where everyone would have known about their mother’s unorthodox lifestyle. “So people just assumed, like mother, like daughters? That the Larkin girls slept around?”

She gave a rueful smile. “Mostly because we did. Well, Zoe and I did. Not Sophie—she’s been smart enough to escape that trap. She’s eight years younger than me, six years younger than Zoe. When Zoe and I turned into wild teenagers, acting out and generally living up to expectations, my grandma stuck Sophie in a private school in another town and kept her sheltered from those rumors. Poor kid was practically wrapped in cotton because of us,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “But it worked. No one ever looked down on her, and she never had to prove she was as good as everyone else. Or refuse to prove it, and just live up to it. That was my brilliant choice. Not the brightest move, but I was pretty headstrong when I was a teenager, and kind of made my own rules.”

He choked back a laugh. “What a surprise.”

She allowed a tiny smile. “Maybe I still do. But I don’t sleep with every guy I go out with. Anymore,” she added with an embarrassed look. “Unfortunately, what you do at sixteen or seventeen isn’t forgotten just because you’re thirty-two and you’ve become a responsible member of the community.”

His age. He would have thought she was in her mid-twenties. Maybe that fiery spirit made her seem younger. “So to everyone else, you’re still one of those wild Larkin girls?”

“Yeah, except the term they use isn’t that polite.”

“How did Rafe find out?”

“I don’t know. I like hanging out at the resorts because I meet people who aren’t from here. They don’t judge me by my name, and don’t hit on me because they think I’m easy. Up there, the past never happened. It’s like getting a fresh start.”

He knew all about that need from his own childhood. “You fit in.”

She gave him a surprised look, but didn’t question him. “That’s right. But when he threw the past in my face the other night, I kind of lost it.”

“It’s your trigger.”

She sighed. “I guess it is.”

Cal didn’t want to upset her further, but she might as well be prepared. “You should know that those reporters are going to be asking around about you. They’ll use your past in their stories, if they haven’t already.”

She winced. “I know. I should probably warn Zoe.”

“You think she’ll be okay with them starting up those rumors again?”

“Of course not, but she won’t run and hide from it. She’s a fighter.” She set her jaw and thrust it forward. “We both are.”

“And what about Sophie?”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “What about her? This has nothing to do with Sophie. She’s not even here, she’s in grad school at CU—Boulder, just finishing up her semester. The tabloids don’t know she exists.”

“Right. And how long do you think that will last?”

He hated to be the cause of the sudden, stunned look of fear in her eyes. She licked her lips nervously and said, “You think they’ll find out?”

He’d have given anything to reassure her, but it wouldn’t be the truth and would only hurt her more in the long run, so he pinned her with a hard look. “Maggie, I think they’ll find out the name of the first boy you slept with and ask him how good you were. I think they’ll find out what other celebrities you’ve been seen with this past year. I think they’ll track down your first-grade teacher. Hell, they’ll find out the name of your dog and do an interview with his veterinarian.” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a disgusted sigh. “Yeah, I think they’ll find Sophie.”

She finally dropped into the chair at her desk. “Shit.”

He gave her enough time to imagine the repercussions, then pushed again. “Does that mean you want to back off and do it Rafe’s way?”

“No, I . . .” She shook her head, her hair partially shielding her confused expression. “I don’t know.”

“Then prepare for things to get worse.”

She looked up. “Worse how?”

“Exaggerations, even outright lies, about your past. Suggestions that you’re mentally unstable. Maybe more hints about run-ins with the law. The De Lucas will see that it gets to the press.”

She rallied at that. “But that’s ridiculous! My run-in with the law amounts to one speeding ticket when I was nineteen. They can’t make anything of that.”

“You’d be surprised. All they need to say is, ‘confidential sources report’ or ‘a friend of the family revealed,’ and add anything they want.”

As the magnitude of it registered, she paled. He watched her closely, determined to convince her to go along with Rafe’s cover story and avoid the virtual bloodshed sure to come.

“I need to think about it.”

Not good enough. “There’s another consideration, Maggie. Your store.”

She frowned, and he saw the concern behind it. “What about it?”

“The De Lucas have a home here in Barringer’s Pass. They probably have friends—or people who are afraid to cross them, which is just as good as far as they’re concerned. All they have to do is let it be known you’re on their blacklist, and people will stop shopping here. How much of your business is local?”

She pressed her mouth into a tight line. “Maybe half.”

“And how many of your customers from out of town are from the Hollywood crowd or the music industry?”

She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.” Her voice had lost its steely quality. “I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She muttered a few swear words under her breath, then looked up with renewed fire in her eyes. “Can I get back at him? Hit him first and distract the reporters? If they focus on him, they might leave Sophie alone.”

Damn—he was torn between cheering her fighting spirit and warning her to back off. How could he encourage someone not to stand up to an injustice, not to defend the innocent?

By remembering that some people preferred to live in the midst of chaos, and were more than happy to drag you into it with them. He’d seen it up close. His fault. It didn’t have to happen again.

Frustrated, he said, “I don’t recommend it, but I’m not sure that makes any difference to you. You know, this wasn’t supposed to be my fight. I’m just trying to keep De Luca from killing you while I figure out how to prove he killed Julie.”

Any camaraderie she might have felt toward him disappeared in a flash. She shot to her feet. “Well, excuse me for dragging you into it and involving you in my personal issues. Oh wait, that was your idea, wasn’t it,
boyfriend
?”

He couldn’t argue, which made it all the more irritating. Everything about Maggie Larkin was irritating. How had he gotten this mixed up in the problems of a stranger? Maybe he needed to let her handle things on her own. She’d been right about one thing—Rafe probably wouldn’t hurt her, at least not physically. Maggie was under too much scrutiny now. And anything else De Luca did to her, like shredding her reputation, was not Cal’s concern. Julie was. It was time to remember that.

“You’re right, I chose to get involved,” he told her. He walked to the back door, then turned with one hand on the knob. “But I don’t have to stay involved. You want my advice? Here it is: Stay out of dark alleys and don’t accept rides from strangers. And if Rafe threatens to kill you, call the cops. See you around.”