“You mean that’s Taralynn Clarke?” Tracy asked. She had a strange look on her face.
Maggie nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“That’s the girl I saw with Rod at the bar in Miami a few weeks ago.”
The news shocked Maggie. Although, considering it was Rod, it really shouldn’t have. She noticed the color had drained from Preston’s face.
“You saw her with Rod,” he asked. “When? How long ago?”
“Well, it was that same night after the two of you first came down here,” Tracy said. She set down the paper, flipping it around so the side with the pictures didn’t show. “I was doing some work over at the Dungeon for a friend of mine, and I saw Rod there with her. He told me the next day she was a client of his and I shouldn’t say anything about seeing him there, because it was confidential.”
“A client of his?” Preston’s face had gone from stark white to fire red. He looked as ready to erupt as a long simmering volcano. He picked the paper up and flipped it back around to the photo. “God damn it,” he snapped.
She didn’t get it. What was he looking at? “What is it, Preston?”
“The tattoo,” he said.
“What tattoo?”
He pointed at the hand of the man in the photograph. “Look at the tattoo of the sun between his thumb and forefinger.”
Maggie squinted, noticing the small tattoo for the first time. “What about it?”
“That’s Rod’s tattooed hand. I’d know it anywhere.”
As much as Maggie hated to bring up the point, because it would only make him feel worse about Elise’s death, there was no avoiding it. “I think we can safely assume we’ve finally found out who leaked the idea about Andy Clarke’s teen-age mistress to the Clarkes. Rod Skinner.”
Chapter 61
Rod Skinner. That lying, son-of-a-bitch. That low life, back-stabbing bastard. Preston could throttle him with his bare hands. A call this morning from Janelle, who had seen the unedited video, had confirmed his suspicions. The man with Taralynn Clarke was Rod.
Preston hadn’t needed any prompting from Maggie to decide on the spot his so-called lawyer was about to get his walking papers. Although, he did wish she hadn’t insisted on coming along to do the firing. He pulled his car into Rod’s driveway. “I could shoot that asshole for taking the day off,” he said. “I’d much rather be doing this at his office. Much more formal and business-like that way.” And less chance of me killing him, he mentally added.
Maggie swatted him on the arm. “Since it’s Rod you’re talking about, I’ll let that slide. But don’t start sounding too much like Mr. Corporate Businessman.”
Something had definitely improved in their relationship, he thought. Or maybe it was just that they’d put weighty topics like marriage and the future on hold for the time being. And he was grateful enough to be with her, that he was willing to let them hang out there in limbo for a while.
He pulled her close to his side and planted a kiss on her cheek before ringing Rod’s doorbell. She slid easily into his embrace, rubbing up against him and tracing her tongue along his lips. Knowing Maggie the way he did, he knew she was going to play their togetherness up to the hilt, just so it would stick in Rod’s craw all the more.
And it paid off for her from the moment Rod answered the door. “Hey guys,” he said. His gaze darted back and forth between them. “Good to see you.”
Definitely not spoken with his usual enthusiasm, Preston noted. He was actually disappointed when Rod opened the door to let them in. If he had to deliver his news at Rod’s house, he’d prefer to do it from the driveway, before things got too buddy-buddy.
“So, what’s up?” Rod asked. “I’m sure you two didn’t drive all the way here just to say hello.”
“Of course not,” Maggie replied. She sounded completely sincere and earnest. “We have something very important we need to discuss with you.”
Rod’s reaction, the barely-masked alarm, made the whole ordeal almost entertaining. In fact, Preston could hardly keep himself from laughing at the way Maggie toyed with him. Enough was enough, though. He was impatient to get this firing over with and leave. “There’s a matter regarding Taralynn Clarke we need to discuss.”
“Oh yeah. No kidding, man. Did you guys see those pictures of her Nick ran in his paper this morning?” Rod’s upper lip twitched as he spoke. “Man, I’ll bet she’s wigging out right about now. And that guy she’s with. I wonder who he is.”
“Yes. I wonder who,” Preston said curtly. “However, that wasn’t what I came here to discuss. Although, it is indirectly related to the matter.”
Rod’s facial expression sobered. His glance darted from Preston, to Maggie, and then back to Preston. “How’s that?”
“You were seen in public with her in Miami. Recently. Since her father launched his takeover bid for Ty-Ken.”
Rod’s forehead crinkled into a frown. “And your point is?”
His smart-ass remark really pissed Preston off. “My point is I no longer believe Elise told Andy I knew about Regina. And you’re one of the very small number of people who knew about it.”
Rod’s face turned first pale, then red. “I did not tell Andy Clarke you knew about his teen-age girlfriend, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
“No, but you told Taralynn, didn’t you?”
Preston had to give Rod credit for one thing, he managed not to burst into an automatic denial. But he darted his glance around the room, like he was looking for a life preserver. Finally, he puffed his chest out indignantly.
“Oh come on, Preston. I’m your lawyer. Anything you say to me is attorney-client privileged.”
“In theory, if not in practice,” Preston snapped. He was tired of being lied to. Rod had been so insistent Elise was the one who’d told Andy. “Don’t bother trying to deny anything at this point, Rod. It’s pretty obvious what happened.”
“Oh is it?” A snarl marred his expression. “You’re told I was seen in public, one time, with Taralynn Clark. And that’s only because I just happened to bump into her, and that automatically makes me the person who told her you knew about Regina Mance.”
Rod’s refusal to come clean angered Preston all the more. This was definitely one of those occasions where a swift sock in the jaw seemed like the right thing to do. “Look, damn it. I have given you every opportunity to tell me the truth, and even now you can’t do it. Even when your deception has been made clear.”
Maggie, for her part, flipped her hair over her shoulders and stared their adversary down with a hard gaze. “At least as clear as your deception about me kissing you, anyway.”
Rod’s bottom lip went from twitching to quivering. “Preston, I….”
“Forget it, Rod.” Preston silenced him before he could start another lie or excuse. “The bottom line here is I can no longer trust you. And if I can’t trust you, then I can’t have you as my lawyer.”
His mouth dropped open, as if in shock. “You’re firing me?”
“That’s right. I’m firing you.”
“But, you can’t do that.”
“I can, and I just did.”
Rod stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and tried to block their way from the door. “If this is some kind of conspiracy to ruin my reputation or something, I will dig up every piece of dirt I can find about both of you and smear your names from one end of this state to the other.”
“That’s the problem with you,” Preston replied. “You think small. Why stop at one state? Why not go for the whole country? Or the whole world?”
“You think you’re so damn smart.”
“Not really.” Preston had lost his patience for this ping-pong match. “If I had been a little smarter, you would have been gone a lot sooner.”
Rod clenched his teeth. Anger glimmered in his eyes with a murderous intensity. “How would you like it if I told everyone about how you had me blackmail the woman in charge of the ABT into stealing DeSantis’ evidence?”
“You did what?!”
Maggie’s outraged question reached Preston’s ears at the same moment he realized Rod may have involved him unsavory dealings he knew nothing about. He was a fool.
“Maggie.” Preston tried reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. “Maggie, that’s not true. The woman owed Rod a favor.” He glared at his former attorney. “He told me she offered to get rid of the so-called evidence. I don’t know where all this blackmail bullshit is coming from.”
“Oh right. Just deny it now.” Rod smirked in his direction, sounding like moral outrage to the core. “You think this is bullshit, Maggie? Just call Jane Kingsley and ask her.”
“Maggie, I don’t know if that’s true or not. Rod told me Jane owed him a favor and offered to get rid of the joint.”
“Are you going to believe his lies now, Maggie?”
“I am not lying, you smart-ass piece of garbage. That’s your department. Come on, honey. We’ve told him what we had to say. Let’s go.” Preston took Maggie by the arm. He felt her stiffen at his touch, but she walked out with him.
“That’s right, run away,” Rod taunted as they left.
“We’re not running. We’re walking.” Preston growled. If he weren’t a civilized man, he’d be kicking Rod’s ass right now. As soon as he got in the car, he turned to face Maggie. “I swear to God I didn’t have anything to do with any blackmail. I don’t even know if it’s true or not.”
“Preston.” The chill in her voice could have made the Arctic seem like a jungle. “Even if you didn’t have anything to do with blackmail, which strikes me as exactly the sort of thing Rod would do, you knew there was no investigation. Just shut up and drive the car. And do not ever speak to me about this again.”
Chapter 62
Rod watched Preston and Maggie drive away before sinking into his couch and into a mountain of self-pity. Damn it! He had tried so hard, worked his ass off. He needed Preston as a client. Deserved it. He had done favors for that ungrateful son-of-a-bitch. And all his hard work had been met with was to be fired. Thrown away when Preston no longer had any use for him. The selfish bastard! And that damn, self-righteous bitch Maggie! Damn them both all the way to hell and back.
His self-pity could have gone on for hours, if it hadn’t been interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. The ring tone was the theme from Ghostbusters, which meant the caller’s number was unavailable. Rod answered. “Hello?”
“Rod, honey. It’s Patrice McKenzie. Got a minute?”
His mood instantly lightened. Patrice, of course, had fallen into disfavor since selling out the shareholder list to Andy Clarke. And like the saying went, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. “For you, doll, anytime. What’s up?”
“I have a proposition for you. One I’m sure you’ll like.”
“Well, Patrice, I have to admit proposition is one of my favorite words in the English language.”
She laughed. “Yes, Rod, I thought it might be. Why don’t you take a drive up to Palm Beach and we’ll have a drink or two.”
“Sounds great, Patrice. I’m on my way.”
Rod made the one hour, twenty minute drive in just under an hour. Excitement poured through him. It was true what people said; whenever one door closed, another would open. He greeted Patrice at her door with a kiss on the cheek and a wink. “You look ravishing,” he said. “Good enough to eat.”
“Come in,” she said, batting her eyes and clearly enjoying the attention.
He followed her, making note of the furnishings and trying to guess her net worth by the décor of her house. “I was surprised to get your phone call,” he said. “But, I must admit, I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.”
“As one victim of the Ty-Ken wars to another, I thought we might have something in common, and therefore, perhaps, one or two things to talk about.”
One victim to another? He found it rather amusing she’d consider herself a victim given she had actually confessed to stealing Ty-Ken’s shareholder list. Christ, what a stupid move that had been. But, what he really wanted to know was, how on earth had she found out about his firing so soon? She definitely had his interest piqued.
Chapter 63
As she led him into her living room, Patrice busied herself studying Rod’s hands. Long, but wide. Clean, trimmed nails. She liked a man with a good manicure. She’d noticed him, and his hands, the first time they’d met. She’d also noticed the small sun tattoo between his right thumb and forefinger. The tattoo was distinctive. She’d recognized it the moment she saw it. Definitely the same hands holding Taralynn Clarke from behind in the photographs in Nick’s paper. There hadn’t been much doubt in her mind Preston would have recognized the tattoo as well. It hadn’t taken much of a leap to figure once Preston saw the photograph and made the connection to Rod, his days as Preston’s hot shot attorney would be over.
A simple phone call to Rod had confirmed as much. The dejection in his voice had been unmistakable. And the way he’d leapt at her invitation, well, that just confirmed it. Rod was no longer a part of the Ty-Ken inner circle. For her purposes, the turn of events was perfect.
She reached the living room and closed the doors behind them for privacy’s sake. The room was acoustically sealed so her stereo sounded like a live performance. She’d been listening to Frank Sinatra when he arrived, but now she turned the music down so it would provide only background noise, and their conversation could be heard clearly. Rod Skinner wasn’t the one who knew how to secretly record a person.
She watched him take in the details of the room, nodding his approval as he glanced at the artwork. She’d decorated her sitting room in neutral shades ranging from cream, to taupe, to brown, so it would have a comfortable, relaxing feel to it. The large, over-stuffed sofa could double as a bed in a pinch, and the lighting could be muted by a small remote she kept on one of the end tables. She sat down and patted the cushion next to her. “Make yourself at home,” she purred.
Rod wasted no time plumping the throw pillows and taking her up on her invitation. He directed his gaze solely on her. “You have a beautiful house,” he said. “I’ll be this place is worth at least eight million dollars.”
And cost a small fortune every year to maintain. He had a good eye. She’d give him that. She’d noticed him gauging the art work hanging in the halls, the furniture, the wrought iron stair railing, solid marble fireplace, along with the other features of her home, as she’d led him through it. “Actually, the house was last appraised at nine and a quarter million,” she said. “But I would never sell it. This house is the very epitome of who I am.”
He nodded. “Your brother must have left you pretty well off if you can afford to maintain a place like this.”
She beamed. He’d sucked up to her wealth even faster than she’d expected. “Of course Edgar left me well off.” She huffed enough to sound offended at the mere presumption of anything to the contrary. “Aside from Maggie, I was the only blood relative the man had. Not to mention how I gave up the best years of my life to raise his child. Ungrateful brat that she is.”
“Then you must have almost as much money as Maggie does.”
“If you don’t count the stock in Ty-Ken, then I do have as much money as she does,” she lied. “My brother deeply appreciated everything I did for him. He left me a significant portion of his estate when he died.”
A lazy grin crossed Rod’s face. “Well, it’s lucky for you your brother was a man of honor. Too bad your niece couldn’t have learned a little of that from him.”
Patrice smiled. “Rod, my dear, I can see you and I are very much on the same wavelength.”
He nodded. “In more ways than one, I’ll bet.”
He’d bought it hook, line and sinker. Evidently, no one had thought to fill him in on how much she’d lost on those stupid Hollywood flops she’d invested in. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you well off?”
He laughed. A cocky smile stretched from ear to ear. “Between my six fig
ure income and all of my investments, I’m worth millions.”
She sighed in satisfaction. Those were the words she’d been longing to hear.
Rod was looking her up and down now, and she could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. He was trying to figure out how to get his hands on all the money he thought she had. And she was going to give him a way. She couldn’t help but be pleased with her plan, which had come to her in a flash as soon she’d figured out Preston would undoubtedly be firing him. The plan was perfect. Rod needed an ally. And Taralynn would be in need of an immediate steady boyfriend, if not fiancée, in order to diffuse the negative publicity coming her way from the photo spread Nick had printed. With Janelle back in Nick’s life and Preston completely out of the question, Taralynn would most likely turn to Rod, hoping to lure him in with her father’s wealth. Unfortunately for her, Patrice would have taken Rod for herself by then, and in the meantime, quietly leaked Rod’s name to the press as the man in the photograph with Taralynn. She’d be made to look like a fool, having the man the world had just seen her having sex with married to another woman less than a week later. And, Patrice thought with satisfaction, she would have some small amount of revenge on that back-stabber Andy Clarke.
“I think the two of us could make a good team,” she said. The time to make her move had come. Once she was sure he was looking, she moved closer to him, close enough for her breasts to brush the side of his arm. The corners of his mouth twitched and he leaned into her, turning just slightly to face her. Now her breast closest to him pushed into his chest. A tingle zipped through her. This was going to be so much fun. Young men had so much stamina.
Rod’s gaze dropped down to her ample cleavage, shown off by a low-cut, silk halter top. A white one to match the leather mini skirt she wore without lingerie. She was glad now she’d had the liposuction, the breast lift, the face lift and the varicose vein treatment. She could still get a man twenty years her junior to chase after her, no problem. And boy, wouldn’t that make Marianne Clarke, who’d been fucking some stockbroker older than her husband for the last two years, turn green with envy.
GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 24
