Flashfire (7 page)

Cassie didn’t doubt that all women found him attractive and liked the eye candy he offered, but her reaction had been a bit vehement. How had he so entranced her?

Was it legal?

Or was he a hypnotist?

The scary part was that Cassie didn’t regret a thing—well, except leaving Stacy alone. She didn’t doubt that she’d do it all over again given the chance. Whatever it was that Lorenzo was serving in this theater, Cassie needed to get away from it and recover her senses.

Well, five of her senses were present and accounted for. He’d experimented with every one of them. It was her common sense that was AWOL.

Cassie got out of bed, intent on leaving right away.

She listened but couldn’t hear anything outside the room. It might be soundproofed. (She hoped so, given the noises she’d made.) She also couldn’t tell what time it was. There were no clocks in the dressing room, which struck her as an odd thing.

There was a connected half bathroom, which she made use of. She was amazed by her own reflection. She looked sparkly, which was a change from her usual world-weary expression. Younger. More vibrant.

Whatever Lorenzo had going on, he should bottle it and sell it.

On the other hand, he probably made enough money using it to enhance his show.

Just as Stacy had said, he was amazing.

He’d been amazing after the show, that was for sure.

Cassie laughed. She started to whistle as she dressed. She felt good. Really good. And that couldn’t be all bad.

There was a soft rap at the door while she was tugging on her boots. One of the stage assistants smiled at her when she answered the door. “Good. You’re awake,” she said. “Will you be leaving now?”

It wasn’t exactly subtle. Cassie flushed a bit, realizing that everyone backstage knew what had happened in the dressing room whether they’d overheard her enthusiasm or not. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.” The woman fidgeted a little, in a hurry to get something done.

“Is there an evening show?”

“At ten,” the woman answered with a nod. There was concern in her eyes. “Will you be going now?”

Cassie understood. “Is that what he likes . . . ?” She gestured when she left the question hanging, inviting the woman to share her name.

“Ursula.” She smiled a little. “He’s very concerned with his preparations, with ensuring that each show is perfect.”

Cassie knew then that the woman feared she would be blamed if Cassie was still there. And she wasn’t quite ready to face Lorenzo herself. What kind of power did he have that he could make her forget herself so easily? Could he do it to her again?

Besides, Stacy would be concerned.

“I’ve got to find my friend,” Cassie said, to Ursula’s obvious relief.

“He always arranges for a limo,” she said. “Just ask at the concierge for Lorenzo’s car.”

Right.
Always
. Lorenzo did this so often that he had a system. That took a little of the afterglow away. Cassie had been right—she’d sat, literally, in the hot seat.

Well, she wasn’t going to be just another one of the women seduced by Lorenzo and cast aside. And she wasn’t going to let everyone in the place know that she was the woman who had gotten it from Lorenzo after the matinee today. “Right. Thanks again.”

“Bye.” Ursula smiled, her relief clear. “Take care.”

Cassie started to head for the lobby, trying to convince herself that a nice dinner would set her to rights. Maybe a drink. Maybe three. Of course, she didn’t need to lose any more inhibitions.

She stopped partway, belatedly deciding to be unobtrusive again. “Ursula, is there a back door?”

“Sure. Right this way.” Ursula smiled and gestured.

A heavyset man smiled at Cassie as he opened the door, ushering her out of Lorenzo’s little world.

Cassie heaved a sigh of relief when she stepped into the rear parking lot. The sky was beginning to darken and she could see a few stars coming out. The air was cooler too. Beside the stage door was a parking spot, labeled “Lorenzo.” No surprise there.

The spot was empty, which worked for Cassie in a big way.

She darted down the back lane, scooting around Dumpsters and employee cars, feeling as if she was on her usual turf. She wasn’t really surprised that the distance to her own hotel was shorter this way. She figured Stacy had headed back when Cassie had disappeared backstage. She walked quickly, refusing to name the source of her new optimism and energy.

Stacy was going to gloat, but Cassie was okay with that.

She was okay with pretty much everything at this moment in time.

Thanks to Lorenzo and his
Trial by Fire
.

Cassie decided that she really needed a drink.

Lorenzo parked his car, sliding to a halt in a flurry of red dust. He got out, locked and armed it by habit, then strode closer to the site of his upcoming feat. The sun was just setting, its orange light and the long shadows making the rock formations look eerie and exotic.

He should have been soothed by arriving here. That was why he had stopped on his way back to town.

But he was still edgy.

Where was the stupid crystal?

As was his practice when he felt agitated, Lorenzo reviewed the long list of things that he controlled—or which were turned to his advantage.

He liked the setting for his spectacle. It would occur at almost exactly this time of day. Lorenzo considered the striped sky with the rocks silhouetted against it and liked the visual effect. That view would make a stunning backdrop to his spectacle. Even on a small screen, it would be impressive.

He’d checked the weather again, and it was still supposed to be clear. Of course, it was usually clear in Nevada at this time of year, which was why he’d scheduled a June date, but still—having the weather on his side was good.

There were no snoops or paparazzi poking around the site. It was still a relative secret, which was good.

He forced himself to exhale. He’d gotten that last detail on the car modification fixed to his satisfaction, after all.

He wouldn’t think about how much extra he’d paid for the mechanic’s silence.

Or that he’d beguiled the man, just to guarantee his word was kept.

Preparations here at the site were going well. The foreman was excellent and his attention to detail was extreme. Lorenzo walked through the site again, reviewing a thousand details, and was pleased by their progress.

The equipment had arrived for lowering the car into the hole and looked impressive, just as he had ordered it. The chains were large, and powerful in appearance. It was all too big and too much. The stainless steel would all have to be polished again, right before the show, but the sun shining on the polished metal would look good. The hole was massive and deep. Impressive.

Lorenzo shook hands with the foreman and congratulated him on the near-completion of the job. He met with the security personnel, reviewing their duty roster, emphasizing that security must be complete.

Even after all that, Lorenzo was agitated.

Matters had been subdued at the house, which was good. His father had retired to his rooms, which meant one less confrontation for the day. The old man still hadn’t packed, but they would argue about that later.

The employment agency, well aware of his needs, had sent a new couple as potential employees. Of course, no one knew that they’d soon be looking for employment again. Lorenzo made a mental note to ensure that they were compensated for their trouble. He had been pleased by the pair, especially as they’d been readily beguiled.

He’d satisfied the firestorm. He knew it wasn’t burning anymore.

The preparations would be made for the evening show already. His assistants were excellent.

The incident with the woman and his dragon form should make for good publicity. Such coverage was always welcome before a big spectacle. If it didn’t appear in the news media tonight, he’d leak it through his usual channels so it would make the morning news. He made a mental note to check.

The sex had been great.

Unexpectedly great. He could have closed his eyes and relived every moment of it, but Lorenzo didn’t have time for such indulgences.

The crystal was still gone, but so far, no one was attempting to collect it—or demand a due for him losing it. Would his luck hold until Saturday?

Something else wasn’t right.

Lorenzo reviewed his list again. He sat in the car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, listening to the satisfying thrum of the engine. And that was when he knew.

He sensed trouble approaching. He could smell the proximity of Erik Sorensson and knew that they would argue about the firestorm.

Of course. It was inevitable.

He hoped they wouldn’t argue about the crystal.

Either way, they would argue on Lorenzo’s terms.

Lorenzo hit the gas to leave the site of the scheduled spectacle. He loved how the engine roared and the car fishtailed in the red dust. It lunged for the road, the tires squealing as they gained traction on the asphalt. He glanced up and grinned, barely discerning the distant silhouette of a pewter dragon.

Lorenzo floored the accelerator and the car raced toward the distant lights of Vegas.

If Erik wanted to give him shit, he could work for it.

And he could do it on Lorenzo’s turf.

Cassie was relieved to step into the air-conditioned comfort of the hotel where she and Stacy were staying. She was even more glad to spot Stacy perched on a stool at the bar in the lobby. Her friend had a large pink drink in front of her, complete with paper umbrella, and was flirting with a handsome stranger.

No wonder she looked so happy. This guy’s attention was exactly what Stacy needed.

Never mind that the drink matched her shoes. That kind of detail always put Stacy in a good mood. Maybe it hadn’t worked out so badly that Cassie had been a crappy friend.

Cassie debated the merit of just going up to the room and leaving the pair alone, but Stacy spotted her and waved. Her smile got wider and brighter.

“There you are!” she said, jumping from her stool to give Cassie a hug. “Isn’t he divine?” she whispered, then stepped back, continuing in a normal tone. “Cassie, this is Jean-Pierre. He’s visiting from Paris. Jean-Pierre, my friend Cassie.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jean-Pierre said, bending to kiss the back of Cassie’s hand. Stacy rolled her eyes and fanned herself when he couldn’t see her face. Cassie fought her laughter, trying to turn it into a polite smile as Jean-Pierre straightened. “You must call me JP, as all my American friends do.”

Cassie had a strange and sudden dislike of JP, although she couldn’t say why. He was handsome and he was charming, but something felt off.

On the other hand, her judgment was seriously questionable on this day.

It might be the heat.

It might be that she was feeling protective of Stacy, who did have terrible taste in guys.

Not that Cassie was picking any long-term players herself.

“Sorry . . . ,” Cassie started to say, but Stacy just grinned at her.

“It’s easy to get separated here,” she said breezily, then winked when JP looked away. It was clear that Stacy had no hard feelings, even if Cassie felt guilty.

She still couldn’t figure out what had made her act that way.

“Cassie’s a photographer,” Stacy said, then hopped back on to her seat.

“Really?” JP was being polite. Cassie knew it. He wasn’t interested in her, and that was just fine. He smiled at Stacy and Stacy smiled back.

“She’s really good at it,” Stacy said, and Cassie saw JP’s flicker of annoyance. Maybe he’d rather they talked about him.

Well, she knew how to remove the spotlight from herself.

“ ‘Paparazzi’ is maybe a better term for photographers like me,” Cassie said. “It’s not like I have shows in galleries or anything.” She flagged the bartender and ordered herself a glass of wine.

Surprisingly, her attempt to deflect attention from herself only had JP turning toward her with interest.

“So, you must know a lot of celebrities,” he said.

“You could say that.” Cassie smiled. “Some throw rocks at my Jeep when they see it.”

His eyes sparkled. For a second, it looked like malice, not humor. But she must have been mistaken. “Do they ever hit it?”

“Not often, but I had to get the windshield replaced last month.”

“And it doesn’t bother you, taking pictures of people who don’t want to be photographed?”

Ah, so this was his issue.

Cassie was used to this question, and had made her peace with the concept a long time ago. “It comes with the territory, don’t you think? Some people think that to be famous, they need to be in the news all the time. They’re the stars who actively cultivate every kind of exposure. I don’t think it’s reasonable for them to expect to be able to turn that on and off to suit their own convenience. You go around lighting fires, you’re going to get burned.”

It was an unfortunate choice of analogy, one that reminded her of where she and Stacy had been that afternoon.

“But those who don’t look for the exposure?” JP persisted.

“They want to be left alone.” Cassie shrugged. “I usually leave them alone.”

“Other photographers don’t, though,” Stacy said.

JP nodded. “I’ve seen them, at Cannes. It’s quite vulgar how aggressive they can be.”

Cassie heard the judgment in his tone and didn’t blame him for it. The pursuit of a coveted shot—and the money it would pay—could get ugly. “Sure. There’s often more money offered for shots of reclusive celebrities.” Cassie smiled and firmly tried to close the subject. “I work freelance. I choose my own jobs. We all do. I can’t answer for every other photographer and his or her choices. I try to make choices I can live with.”

Which was exactly what she had done recently, which was the core of the problem. That, however, wasn’t JP’s business.

Stacy was watching Cassie, probably having guessed something from her friend’s tone, but Cassie looked away. She wasn’t ready to talk about her crisis of faith yet.

And certainly not in front of JP.

The conversation died as the waitress brought Cassie’s wine. She thought she might just disappear with it, so these two could get back to their private conversation.