Where There's Smoke (78 page)

Lara didn't even stop to consider what that statement implied.

She lunged for the camera bag.
 
It was on her desk, where she had left it, undisturbed, since the day she returned from Montesangre.

Under the concealment of darkness, she plunged her hand into the bag.

Her fingers closed around the butt of the revolver.
 
She withdrew it and swung around, aiming the barrel at the center of Randall's chest.

"This is your last chance to change your mind."

Janellen smiled at Bowie.
 
"I'm not going to change my mind.
 
I'm absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure of my decision.

Besides, you were the one with cold feet, the one dead set against it. l finally wore you down, so I'm not about to back out or let you, either."
 
She linked her arm with his and nestled her head on his shoulder.
 
"Just drive, Mr.
 
Cato.
 
I'm anxious to get there."

"If anybody sees me driving your car "It's dark.
 
Nobody's going to see us.
 
If someone does, they'll probably think that Key asked you to protect me from reporters again."

"Yeah, I saw them all over town today."

"They were hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Porter."
 
The reminder intruded on Janellen's happiness and caused her to frown.

"Mama watched him on the news.
 
Seeing him really upset her."

"Why should it?"

"Because it calls to mind the scandal, Clark, all that.
 
She skipped supper and went upstairs to her room."

"You waited until Maydale got there before you left?"

As prearranged, he and Janelien had met at the Tackett Oil office.

"Yes.
 
She came to spend the night.
 
I told her I was going to Longview to attend a self-improvement seminar."

"What about Key?"

"Key never gets home before noon, sometimes not even then.
 
He claims he's playing poker till dawn with Balky out at the landing strip.
 
It's easier to sleep out there than to drive home, he says.

Anyway, he'll never know I'm gone."

Bowie glanced nervously at every car that passed.
 
"This sneaking around doesn't feel right.
 
Something terrible is bound to happen."

"Honestly, Bowie."
 
She sighed with affectionate exasperation.

"You're the most pessimistic, fatalistic person I've ever met.
 
A few months ago you were the one with the record, but I was living in a kind of prison.
 
Both our fortunes have changed."

"Yours will if you stick with me long enough," he said glumly.

"You'll lose your fortune."

"I've told you a million times that I don't care if I do.
 
My family had lots of money, but we weren't happy.
 
There was no love between my parents.
 
That antagonism affected my brothers and me.
 
We felt it even before we were old enough to understand it.

"It made Clark an overachiever who couldn't forgive himself even the most insignificant mistake.
 
Key went too far the other way and lives like he doesn't give a damn about anything, although I believe that's a defense mechanism.
 
He doesn't want anyone to guess how deeply he was hurt by our father's death and Mama's rejection.

"And I became a shy, introverted dullard, afraid to voice an opposing opinion on anything.
 
Believe me, Bowie money doesn't buy happiness and love.
 
I'd rather have your love than all the riches in the world."

"That's 'cause you've never had to do without the riches."

They'd been over this ground so many times they'd trampled it to death.

She was determined not to let an argument cast a pall over the happiest night of her life.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Bowie.
 
I'm beyond the age of consent.

I love you to distraction, and I think you love me the same.

He glanced at her and answered with deadpan seriousness.
 
"You know I do."

"That gives us the strength to face anything.
 
What can possibly happen to us that we can't combat?"

"Oh, damn," he groaned.
 
"You've just tempted Fate to show us."

"Bowie," she said, laughing and nuzzling his neck, "you're a sight."

Darcy spotted Key the moment she entered The Palm.
 
He sat alone at the end of the bar, hunched over his drink like a stingy dog with a bone.

She was in a buoyant mood.
 
Fergus was at a school board meeting, which traditionally dragged on for hours.
 
She loved school board meetings.

They liberated her for an evening out.

Heather was on desk duty at the motel.
 
Odds were highly in favor of her taking home the crown of homecoming queen this coming Friday night.

Darcy had spent over seven hundred dollars to outfit Heather for the occasion.
 
Fergus would have a fit if he knew, but she considered the expenditure a good investment.
 
If Heather won homecoming queen, it would boost her chances of getting into the best sorority when she went to college.
 
Fergus might not appreciate the subtle way these things worked, but Darcy did.

Although she drove a new car every other year, belonged to the country club, wore expensive clothes, and lived in the largest house in Eden Pass, she still was excluded from the inner social circles.

She was determined that Heather would reverse that.
 
Heather would be her ticket into every tight clique even if she would have to enter through the back door.

Key's posture smacked of potential danger, but she decided to approach him anyway.
 
So what if the last time she'd seen him she'd spat in his face and he'd threatened to murder her?
 
Things weren't going so well for him these days.
 
Having been brought to heel, he might be in a more receptive mood.

She slid onto the barstool next to his.
 
"Hi, Hap.
 
White wine, please.

Put some ice cubes in it."
 
The bartender turned to get her drink.

She glanced at Key.
 
"Still mad at me?"

"Oh?
 
You've learned how to forgive and forget?"

"No.
 
In order to be mad, you have to give a shit.
 
I don't."

She quelled her anger, smiled at Hap as he served her wine, and took a sip.
 
"I'm not surprised that you're in such a bear of a mood."

As she turned toward him, she brushed his knee with hers.
 
"Must've been quite a shock to discover the dead husband was alive."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I guess not.
 
It's a touchy subject.
 
Did you at least get to screw her before Ambassador Porter got dumped in her bathtub?"

Key's muscles tensed, telling Darcy he had.
 
She was treading on thin ice, but the one thing she couldn't tolerate from a man was indifference.
 
She'd rather be verbally or physically abused than ignored.
 
Besides, she was curious.

"Was she as good as you expected?
 
Not as good?
 
Better?"

Better, she would guess by the way he tossed back the remainder of his drink and signaled for Hap to pour him another.
 
Gossip around town was that you'd have to be real stupid to cross Key Tackett these days.
 
He was truculent.
 
Testy.
 
Spoiling for a fight.

Just yesterday, at noon, right in the middle of Texas Street, he'd threatened to shove a journalist's camera up the guy's ass if he didn't get it out of his face.
 
Later, he'd gotten into a fight at Barbecue Bobby's with a redneck from out of town who'd parked his pickup too close to the Lincoln to suit Key.
 
Witnesses said it'd be a while before the redneck ventured into Eden Pass again.

Reputedly, he was on the brink of drunkenness at any time of the day or night, and he spent hours at the county airstrip with that dimwit Balky Willis.
 
Someone said he was taking target practice at 4:00 A. M. on the lights at the football stadium, but that was unsubstantiated.

If Lara Mallory's performance in bed had disappointed him, he wouldn't care that her husband had turned up alive and well.
 
On the contrary, the better he liked her, the angrier he'd be over the turn of events.

From what Darcy had heard and could now see for herself, Key was good and pissed.

Jealousy made her reckless.
 
She dared to probe another tender spot.

"Guess you know now why your brother was willing to risk his career for her."
 
His jaw flexed.
 
"Wonder how she compared the two of you and which one earned the most points.
 
Did y'all discuss your merits?"

"Shut the fuck up, Darcy."

She laughed.
 
"You did, then.
 
Hmm.
 
Interesting.
 
Three people in one bed can get awfully crowded."

Key turned his head and fixed a heavy-lidded, bloodshot stare on her.

"From what I hear, you've been one of a trio more than a few times."

Darcy's temper flared, then instantly subsided.
 
Her laugh was low, seductive.
 
She leaned closer, mashing her breast against his arm.

"Damn straight.
 
Had quite a time for myself, too.
 
You ought to try it sometime.
 
Or have you?"

"Not on this continent."

Again she laughed.
 
"Sounds fascinating."
 
She trailed her finger up his arm.
 
"I'm dying to hear all the slippery details."

He didn't dismiss the suggestion out of hand.
 
Encouraged, Darcy reached for her handbag and took out a latchkey.
 
She dangled it inches beyond his nose.

"There are distinct advantages to being a motel proprietor's wife.

Like having a skeleton key that'll open the door to every room."
 
She ran her tongue along her lower lip.
 
"What do you say?"

She leaned back a fraction so he'd be certain to see that contact with his biceps had aggravated her nipples to stiff points.
 
"Come on, Key.

It was good between us, wasn't it?
 
What else have you got going?"

He finished his drink in a single draft.
 
After tossing enough money on the bar to cover his drinks and Darcy's wine, he pushed her toward the door.

He said nothing until they were outside.
 
"Your car or mine?"

"Mine.
 
You can spot that yellow submarine of yours a mile away.

Besides, if my car's seen at the motel, nobody thinks twice about it."

As soon as they were seated in the El Dorado, she leaned across the console and brushed a light kiss across his lips.
 
It was an appetizer, a teaser for good things yet to come.
 
"You've missed me.
 
I know you have."

He remained slumped in his seat, staring balefully through the windshield.

Darcy smiled with feline complacency.
 
He was sulking, but she'd have him revved up in no time.
 
If it was the last thing she did, she'd prove that Lara Mallory was forgettable.