Sparking Sara (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “It’s important, Sara. Just go in another room or in the back yard or something. Somewhere you can speak freely without anyone hearing. You and Oliver aren’t alone there, are you?”

  My heart starts beating wildly. “Denver, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  “Are you and Oliver alone?”

  “No. His parents and little sister are home.”

  I hear his sigh of relief come through the phone. “Good. Just go somewhere and call me right back.”

  “Okay.”

  What can I tell Oliver when he’s expecting me naked in bed? And what could possibly be so important, and secret, that Denver needs to speak to me privately?

  I walk to the bathroom and crack the door. “Ollie, I’ve decided I need a shower myself. I’m going to use the guest bathroom. Give me twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, luv,” he says, his happy words echoing off the tile walls.

  I put my jeans back on and grab a towel and my phone and head downstairs. I peek in the living room to see Enid and Harry watching a show. Octavia must have gone upstairs to bed.

  Once I’m in the bathroom, I call Denver.

  “Are you alone?” he asks.

  “I’m in the downstairs bathroom. I have twenty minutes. Can you please tell me what’s going on now?”

  “Turn on the water so nobody hears you.”

  “Seriously? Why all the secrecy?”

  “Do it, Sara.”

  I roll my eyes and then do as he asks. I turn on the shower and close the lid to the toilet before I sit down on it. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Sara, the police found your phone today. The one you lost in the accident. And it still works.”

  Instantly, I’m excited about having a link to the past. “They did? Where?”

  “It was discovered during a bridge inspection. It had fallen through a crevice. The case was beat up, but since it was waterproof, all they had to do was plug it in and turn it on. You really should password protect your phone, by the way.”

  “I do,” I say. Then I let out a sigh. “Well, I do now. So how did you end up with it?”

  “I have a buddy at NYPD who was familiar with your accident. He called me when they found out it was yours.”

  “Well, I’m glad they found it. I’m excited to be able to go through my pictures and stuff. It might help fill in some blanks.”

  “It will do a lot more than that,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t be mad, Sara, but I looked at some of your text messages. Now before you yell at me, I should tell you that as soon as the phone turned on, there were some alarming text previews from Oliver that my friend brought to my attention. I started to worry with you being so far away, so I read the thread.”

  I can’t decide if that makes him a nosey meddler or a curious protector. I choose to go with the latter and not get mad. After all, everything he’s done for me, he’s done with only the best intentions.

  “I’m not mad. But you must have found something pretty interesting to go through all this trouble.” The bathroom is steaming up, so I reach into the shower and turn on the cold water instead. “I’m not sure how long I can pretend to take a shower.”

  “I’m going to send you a series of screen shots. It’s too hard for me to explain it over the phone. Plus, in my experience, the messenger is the one who always gets killed, so I’d prefer you read it rather than me telling you.”

  “You think I’m going to be mad at you for the texts? I didn’t even know you.” My back stiffens. “Did I?”

  “No, you didn’t know me. But you’re going to be mad, that’s for sure. And Sara, if I don’t hear back from you in short order, I’m calling the London police.”

  I gasp. “Why would you need to do that? Denver, you’re really starting to freak me out.”

  “Just hang up and wait for the screen shots. I’ve loaded them all into one email that I’m sending you now. Read all of them, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Call me right back,” he says. “Got it?”

  “Okay, geez. I’m hanging up now. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  I’m not sure why, but after I hang up the phone, I get up and lock the bathroom door. Denver has me completely on edge.

  I immediately check my email, but don’t see anything. I keep refreshing impatiently until it shows up. By the time I get it, I’m shaking. What could possibly have Denver prepared to call the police?

  I open the email and start scrolling through the screenshots of a text conversation between me and Oliver dated two days before my accident.

  Ollie: You’re blowing this way out of proportion.

  Me: You’re kidding me, right? You STOLE Benny Klutner’s paintings, kept them for yourself, and gave knock-offs to his paying clients. I assume you meant to sell the stolen ones somewhere else and keep the money for yourself? I may be a class-A bitch, but I can’t sit back and be a party to this.

  Benny? I remember hearing Oliver on the phone with him a few times. He would always leave the room when Benny called. And then he would tell me it was nothing.

  Ollie: Oh, like you’re Snow White.

  Me: I told you last night—it’s over. I’m going to Benny and then to the cops.

  Ollie: You don’t want to do that, Sara.

  Me: Of course I do, Oliver. You’re shitting on the very foundation on which my career stands. People like Benny and me, we sell original paintings. One-of-a-kind creations. If anyone ever found out there were duplicates, let alone knock-offs that weren’t painted by him, his career would be ruined, and you’d go to jail.

  Ollie: No one will ever find out if you don’t tell them. I was going to stash them away for a few years and then sell them overseas. Why can’t you just forget you saw them? What were you doing rummaging around my apartment, anyway?

  I look up from the phone. His apartment? His, not ours. My heart is pounding so hard, it hurts. I glance up at the ceiling, wondering if he’s done with his shower. Then I try to quickly get through the rest of the screenshots.

  Me: Looking for evidence. I know you’ve been fucking Anna. I’ve known for months.

  Ollie: What do you care who I shag? You never call me when you’re back in town. You never invite me over to your place. The only thing you want me for is my cock.

  Me: And the only thing you want me for is my bank account.

  Ollie: It’s why we make such a good couple. Let it go, Sara.

  Me: Let what go? The paintings or Anna?

  Ollie: Both. You know I’ll make it up to you when I return from San Francisco tomorrow.

  Me: When you return from SF, you’ll find all the shit from your drawer in a box at the concierge desk. I told you I’m done. I don’t want anything more to do with you.

  Ollie: I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

  Me: Are you threatening me?

  Ollie: I’m just saying, I know a lot about you. Your past. Your indiscretions. I have a lot of connections. People who will believe a reputable art dealer over a wet-behind-the-ears artist.

  Me: Are you saying you’ll try to ruin my reputation?

  Ollie: I’m saying I’ll go to great lengths to protect what’s mine.

  Me: Those paintings aren’t yours, Oliver. And neither am I. Now, what is it you always tell people? Sod off. Don’t ever contact me again.

  Ollie: You’ll be sorry.

  Tears drip onto the phone, blurring the screen as I read the last bits of the conversation. I can’t catch my breath. My body shakes with sobs. Mostly because I’m confused. My first inclination is to storm into Oliver’s room and show him the texts. But if he’s really as bad as those texts make him out to be, would he even admit to any of it? Would he tell me the truth?

  I scroll through the screen shots again. Then I text Denver.

  Me: Can you see if I have the number for Benny Klutner in my old phone?

  Denver: That’s a good idea. I’ll check and send it right over.

&nbs
p; A minute later, Benny’s contact info appears in a text. I immediately call the number.

  “Who the fuck is this?” a man with a German accent answers the phone. There is a lot of noise in the background.

  “Benny?”

  “What’s it to you? And how in the hell did you get this number?”

  “This is Sara Francis.”

  I hear some shuffling around on the other end of the phone. Then a door slams. Then, silence.

  “Sara? Is that really you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard you were in an accident.”

  “I was. I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of time, Benny. But I need some answers.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I … lost my memory. I don’t remember you. But I just read some texts between me and Oliver Compton. Did I ever call you and tell you … and tell you …”

  “That the fucking idiot stole my paintings and sold knock-offs?”

  I close my eyes. “I guess I did. What happened after that? Did you call the police? I mean, he’s still a practicing art dealer.”

  “Now why would I do that, honey? Oliver and I came to a mutually-beneficial arrangement. I heard you were engaged, so I thought you’d have known that.”

  “No. I don’t know anything about an arrangement.”

  He laughs. “Still up to his old ways, then, isn’t he?”

  “Please tell me, Benny. What arrangement did you make, and did it have anything to do with me?”

  “No. Well, not directly. But I suspected it might hurt your commissions since he agreed to work primarily as an agent for my paintings.”

  “What?”

  “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

  “Please.”

  “I didn’t go to the police, and in exchange, Oliver agreed to pimp the shit out of my work. It’s the most genius move I’ve ever made. I’ve made twice the money in the past three months than I made in the past year.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re blackmailing him? That makes you no better than him, Benny.”

  More laughter comes through the phone, and I get the idea this guy may be out of his mind on drugs. “You sit on your high horse and preach to me? Well, let me tell you something you obviously don’t remember. While I was being fucked over by Oliver Compton, his girlfriend was busy being fucked as well—by me.”

  All of my breath escapes me, along with more tears. Everything I’ve learned in the past five minutes is like something from a Lifetime movie. Only it’s my life.

  “I … I have to go.”

  “Sure thing, baby. I hope you get your memory back. Because if you do, you’ll know I was the best fuck you ever had.”

  I hang up the phone and put my head between my legs. But it doesn’t help. My stomach retches and I quickly raise the lid of the toilet and lose my dinner.

  My phone starts ringing. It’s Denver.

  I wash my mouth out with a drink from the faucet and then answer.

  “I’m going upstairs to confront him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.

  “What would you have me do, Denver? Run away without my purse or my passport? They’re both upstairs in his room.”

  “Shit.”

  I can almost hear Denver thinking.

  “Leave anyway,” he says. “Go to the police station. I’m sure they can help you retrieve your belongings.”

  I look down at my bare feet. “I don’t even have shoes on. And I need answers,” I tell him. “You have no idea what’s going through my head right now. I have to know.”

  “Sara—”

  “I have to know, Denver.”

  “Fuck!” he shouts, and I hear the sound of something hitting a wall. “Then take me with you. Leave me on the call, that way I can at least know if you’re in danger.”

  “You think he’s dangerous?” I ask, horrified at the situation. “Oh, my God. Do you think he had something to do with my accident?”

  “No. The report says it was a blown tire. There was no evidence of tampering. And I had my friend run a background check on him. He has a misdemeanor for some forged checks, but no history of violence that we know about. Still, you can’t be sure what he’ll do. Look at the lengths he’s gone to.”

  “So, we didn’t live together?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “Nope. Oliver has lived in Brooklyn for the past four years. His landlord says Oliver has been trying to sub-lease his apartment for the past month. He said he was living there until mid-June, when he moved out some of his belongings and most of his clothes.”

  “Mid-June.” My stomach turns again. “Oh, God, Denver. He’s been playing me this whole time. We broke up. I never agreed to marry him. As far as I know, he never even asked me. Why is he doing this?”

  “My best guess is money,” he says. “Or maybe revenge. That’s why you have to be careful. In fact, I think you and Anna were on your way to see him when you had the accident.”

  “What? But he was out of the country,” I say.

  “Apparently not. There are some text messages between you and Anna. It looks like she found out that he was selling knock-offs of her paintings as well. She texted you to warn you about what he was doing. You told her about Benny, and you wanted to go to the police, but she talked you out of it. She was going to pick you up so you could confront him.”

  My head slumps forward and my chin falls to my chest. “So he was never out of town after all? And he only showed up at the hospital after you told him I lost my memory. Oh, God, Denver. It all makes sense now.”

  There’s a knock on the door. “Everything okay, hun?”

  “He’s at the door,” I whisper into the phone.

  “Stall,” Denver tells me.

  “Just a minute!”

  “You’re in a bathroom, right? Look through the medicine cabinets, see if there’s anything you could use as a weapon, just in case. Scissors. A sharp nail file. A razor, even.”

  I look through some drawers and find a pair of shears. “I have something.”

  “Good, put it in your pocket. Then put the phone in the other, but don’t hang up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sara … be careful.”

  I put the phone away and hesitantly open the bathroom door.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  I push past Oliver and storm up the stairs to his room.

  “What is it?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. “You’ve been crying. It’s okay if you’re not ready, luv.”

  I take my engagement ring off and throw it at him. “You’re a liar.” I pace around next to the bed. “You’re a liar and a cheat and a thief.”

  His face goes ashen. He rubs the back of his neck as he falls into a chair in the corner of the room. He shakes his head sadly and then looks up at me. He doesn’t look mad as I expected. He looks … scared.

  “You got your memory back?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No. They found my phone at the accident scene. The phone that still had the last text conversation between you and me.”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” I ask, fuming.

  “Let me explain.”

  “Let you explain what? How we aren’t really engaged? How we don’t even live together? How you were fucking Anna and didn’t even shed a tear when she died? How you’re even in my life after I broke up with you? How you were never out of town but only bothered to show up at the hospital when you knew I’d lost my memory? Is this all some grand scheme to get revenge because I told Benny about the paintings?”

  He scrubs a hand across his jaw. I can tell he’s scrambling for something to say. Something that won’t make him out to be the scum that he is.

  “I just got off the phone with Benny,” I say. “He told me about your little deal.”

  “I had no choice,” he says. “He was going to tell the police.”

  I motion a finger between us. “And what abou
t us? You had a choice there. Why have you been lying to me?” I laugh a disheartened laugh. “Do I even like cooking, Oliver? Or was that just another way to manipulate me? And why did I never meet your parents or your sister even though we came here often? Was it because we were just fuck buddies and not a real couple?”

  “Damn it, Sara,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why did they have to find the bloody phone? Everything was perfect.”

  “Perfect for who?”

  “For us,” he says.

  “You mean perfect for you,” I bite. “You were after my money, right?”

  He still doesn’t look angry. He looks sad.

  “The jig is up,” I say. “You might as well tell me everything, Oliver.”

  He reaches out for me but I pull away. “Come on, Sara. I know you have feelings for me.”

  “Feelings that were based on a lie,” I say. “How could you do that to me? I was hurt. I was comatose. I lost so much in that accident. How could you sit there and pretend we were in love when you knew I despised you for what you’d done?” I think about what we were about to do tonight. “You were going to let me sleep with you tonight. What kind of monster would do that?”

  “I’m not a monster, Sara. It may have started off as revenge, but then I saw how much you changed. You weren’t the same person you were before the accident. I found myself liking the person you had become, and more, I liked myself when I was with you. And the hatred I felt for you soon turned into something else.” He stands up and crosses the room, reaching for me once again. “I’m in love with you, Sara. Can’t you see that? We’re good together.”

  I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Everything you feel is based on a lie.”

  “Does it matter how we got here?” he asks. “You were going to sleep with me, Sara. In your world, you only met me a few months ago. You have feelings for me. You might even love me.”