There were no further Virgil sightings, so the next day Liam was determined to keep Maggie as close as possible.
In spite of his state of alert, he enjoyed the Sunday church service more than ever. Perhaps it was the beautiful holly arrangements that festooned the altar, or maybe sitting next to Charlie before he toddled off to Sunday school. Maybe it was seeing Mitch holding Jane’s hand, her head resting on his shoulder. It was also possible it was because Maggie sat on his other side, close enough that he could catch the clean scent of her shampoo and admire the graceful line of her profile while she listened to the message. He’d spent the prior evening eating pancakes in the ranch kitchen and escorting her to the saddlery.
“There’s no need to be my personal bodyguard,” she’d said.
He’d cheerfully ignored her. “I’m just in it for the pancakes,” he joked. At her doubtful expression, he’d put a finger gently on her bruised throat. “And he’s not going to touch you again.”
After church he drove Maggie to the Chuckwagon where they’d arranged to meet Mitch, Chad, Tammy, Joe and his sister. When they arrived, Maggie insisted on helping Nan for a few minutes.
Once again he settled into a corner table with a slice of pie and a cup of coffee where he could keep her in his line of sight. He admired the way she whirled through the kitchen, popping up at the window, her cheeks pink with the warmth. She looked completely at ease, naturally relaxed, the way he felt in the saddle or roving the grassy hills on Streak. It all looked so fluid, effortless. She was an artist in her domain, just like he was with his leather and knives, fashioning something amazing and useful. He was almost certain when he ate her pancakes he could taste the love she put into them, her tender spirit. His nonsensical fancies evaporated as Mitch slid into a chair opposite him, following his line of sight. “Keeping close tabs on her?”
“Uh-huh.”
Mitch sat in silence until Liam couldn’t stand it. “What?”
Mitch shrugged, a wisp of a smile on his lips. “Nothing.”
“Not nothing.”
“Just thinking you and Maggie seem to get along well.”
“Friends.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously.”
“Uh-huh.”
He thunked his mug on the table. “She’s Tammy’s sister. There’s a rule about dating siblings, you know.”
Mitch accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress and slugged some down. “So you’re not supposed to love her.”
“Right.”
“I get it. Not supposed to love your brother’s ex, either.”
Liam stopped mid-retort, gaping. He’d not considered recently how much Mitch had probably struggled over a relationship with his killer brother’s former spouse. That relationship had busted the rule book wide-open.
Mitch laughed. “Took me a while to get over those rules, too.” He paused. “I’m glad I did, or I wouldn’t have Jane and Charlie in my life.”
Liam had no idea what to say so he closed his mouth, relieved when Mitch took out his phone. “Got some intel for you on Virgil.”
Just then Tammy and Joe arrived and saw them. Joe pulled out a chair for Tammy, which earned him some points with Liam, before seating himself. Maggie noticed them and Liam rose and slid out a chair for her when she came over.
She sat. “There’s a lull in the action, so I’m taking a ten-minute break.”
Tammy laughed. “Right. Let’s see if you can actually sit for a whole ten minutes before you rush right back into that kitchen.”
Maggie shrugged. “It seemed like you were all settling in for some serious talking and I didn’t want to miss anything.”
“Got some intel.” Mitch slid a look at Joe and then back at Liam. As much as Liam felt like keeping the information “in the family,” as he liked to say, Joe was a part of the equation.
“Tell us what you found out,” he urged his brother.
“Virgil’s a smart guy. Helped his father run a commercial laundry business in Cambria. Used to visit his uncle Bill and worked the farm in the summers.”
“He mentioned that to me once or twice,” Joe said. “Always seemed nostalgic about those summers.”
“Uncle Bill said Virgil made some great suggestions on how to manage the feed business. The sad thing is, Uncle Bill loves Virgil, I think. His own son passed away in a plane crash in his early forties.
“Leaving behind the granddaughter, Vivian, to whom Bill has deeded the property in his will. I checked that one out. It’s legit. She has three kids, lives in France, husband left her for greener pastures after her youngest child was born a couple of months ago.”
Tammy grimaced. “Stand-up guy.”
Mitch continued. “Virgil’s dad’s business went belly-up when he was in high school. His mother, Harriet, didn’t take it well. She became an alcoholic.”
Joe nodded. “He said his mom couldn’t abide how her brother-in-law lorded it over them. Said Bill was a greedy Scrooge who wouldn’t help them.”
“That’s not the Bill I know,” Tammy said.
“Somewhere in the middle usually lies the truth,” Mitch said. “Probably came as a shock to Virgil when Bill changed his will to leave his property to Vivian. I have a call in to her.”
Mitch drank more coffee. “Virgil thinks of himself as a ladies’ man. I spoke to his ex-girlfriend, who laughed at me for calling her that. She said she went out with him twice before he proposed. She laughed at him, too. Said he’s delusional.”
Joe’s mouth pinched into a tight line. “He wanted Tammy for himself.”
Tammy looked at the tabletop. “It was embarrassing. I loved my job, but he wouldn’t stop pestering me. I had to flat-out tell him I would never go out with him. I still don’t think he believed me.”
Joe grimaced. “When I started dating Tammy, I stopped working for Bill. It became too weird to have Virgil ogling her when I was standing right there.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve found a little contract work to keep me afloat. I tried to end things cordially with Virgil as best I could.” He blinked hard. “If I had known he would threaten you, I never would have—” He broke off.
Tammy smiled. “It’s okay. I got you out of the deal.”
Joe squeezed her. “I’m no prize.”
“Yes, you are. You’re a hardworking, gentle-mannered guy who’s shared everything with me. I feel like I know your whole family.”
Liam felt a hitch in his breathing. He felt no jealousy toward what Joe and Tammy had, only regret that he was not the kind of guy who could pour out his life, his fear, so easily. He hadn’t made a go of it with Tammy. That was okay, since he did not feel they’d been meant for each other, but as his gaze shifted to Maggie, he worried that he would never be able to share everything with her, or any woman. The past was better kept there, and his monstrous fear about the future was too great a burden for anyone else.
“All right,” Liam said. “Virgil’s probably in debt, from what we’ve heard, and angry that he was cheated out of what he feels is rightfully his, and happy to hang Tammy out to dry. Thanks for the intel, Mitch. I take it you discovered all this without Danny’s help?”
Mitch shrugged. “I’ll share it with him. Cops are used to getting the crumbs after the Marshals dig up the good stuff.”
“Spoken like a former US marshal,” Liam said with a chuckle.
Maggie’s phone rang. She frowned at the screen. “I don’t know this number.” She punched the button and immediately her face went slack with fear.
Liam grabbed the phone and pressed it to his good ear. It still wasn’t loud enough, so he activated the speaker and thumbed the volume all the way up. “Virgil, is that you?”
His voice vibrated with anger. “You had no right—none at all—to contact my girlfriend. She texted me to tell me she’s changing her number because she wants nothing more to do with me.”
Time to bait the bear. “That’s old news,” Liam said. “She told you to buzz off long ago. As a matter of fact, she says she never was your girlfriend in the first place.”
The line went silent but Liam imagined he could feel the rage billowing through the airwaves.
“Stop poking around in my life—all of you!” Virgil seethed.
“We’re going to keep on poking and prodding and pestering until you wind up in jail where you belong,” Liam said.
“I’m not going to jail, and you just made a deadly mistake.”
“Leave Maggie and Tammy alone, Virgil. That’s my advice to you. Take it.” He heard nothing else, realizing, when the others all sat back in their chairs, that Virgil must have disconnected.
“Well, well,” he said. “Looks like we rattled a cage, now, didn’t we?”
Maggie’s hands were clenched on the tabletop and he perceived he shouldn’t have added to her fear by goading Virgil. “I’m not going to let him hurt you,” he said quietly. “I’m right at your side through this whole thing, and maybe we can make some progress tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Tammy asked, struggling to her feet on her hobbled ankle.
Liam told them about their visit to Yoriko.
“Watch your backs,” Mitch said.
“Yes, big brother.” Liam watched Maggie return to the kitchen, her agitation clear in her rapid strides. And I’ll watch hers, too.
Maggie wanted to lose herself in the kitchen. She was happy to stay on and help with the dinner shift, in spite of Liam’s concern. There seemed to be nothing she could do anyway, until they visited Yoriko.
“I need the money,” she said to Liam. “The Corvette needs a new set of tires if Tammy’s going to keep driving it.”
“I know someone who can change the tires for you real cheap.”
“So do I,” Maggie said. “Me.”
He jerked. “Your sister doesn’t even know how to open the hood.”
“I’m not my sister.”
Something soft and sweet and tender crept into his gaze. “That’s for sure,” he mumbled.
She felt suddenly awkward at his frank stare. “I’ve been working on cars since I was six. Anyway, they need my help until seven. The Corvette is parked out back, so I can drive myself to the ranch.”
“Nice try. I’ll be back before then. Gotta meet the farrier to reshoe Streak. Chad’s going to take a shift here, then Mitch, and I’ll be back after that. Don’t leave until I’m here, okay?”
There was no sense in arguing.
She finally got him out the door and returned to the stove where Tiny was bellowing out a song about boats and lost love.
“You’re a romantic at heart, Tiny,” she said.
“Romance and ravioli,” he said, waving a slotted spoon. “That’s the life for me.” He winked at her. “You could do with a dash of romance in your life, too, you know. That cowboy might just fit the bill.”
She waved him away with a spatula. Romance. Who had time for that? Certainly she had more practical things to do with her time than think about Liam Pike. Her days and months and years had been spent on the two things she loved the most: cooking and her family. Sure there were friends and the occasional date, but romance was just something she hadn’t made space for and it was certainly not the right time for it now.
The hours passed in a satisfying blur of chicken potpies, steaks, fries, cheeseburgers and pasta. When the dinner rush eased, the kitchen staff breathed a collective sigh of relief. Thoroughly tired and satisfied, Maggie met Liam at the back door.
“Mmm,” he said, leaning close, “what’s that perfume you’re wearing? Au de cheeseburger?”
“That’s the one.”
“I like it,” he said.
Laughing, Maggie followed him out to the dark parking lot. She opened the driver’s-side door and slid inside the Corvette.
Liam stopped dead.
Her skin went cold. “What?”
“Do you smell that?”
She sniffed the air. “It smells like gasoline.” Only it was not a faint aroma, she realized, but a pungent odor that filled the air.
He took her hand. “Get out of the car—”
He hadn’t finished his sentence when a metallic squeaking over his shoulder caught her attention. Someone was standing on the roof of the metal shed that housed the extra restaurant supplies, overlooking the parking lot. She could not see who it was since a hood covered the hair and the lot was lit only by one dirt-encrusted light. Squinting, she saw a glint as the person moved, slowly and stealthily.
“Liam,” she whispered.
But he had not heard the man. He was pulling at her to get out.
She tugged at his sleeve and pointed. “Up there.”
Just as he swiveled around to follow her direction, the man’s arm went up in the air and a yellow flame spurted to life. The light from the flare momentarily dazzled her vision.
Her mind put together the pieces. Gasoline...flame... She watched in horror as the stranger hurled the flare, a sputtering streak of gold, directly toward her.
Liam saw the flicker of flame mirrored in Maggie’s eyes. The light arced in a shower of gold as the struck flare plummeted through the night. He hauled her clear just as it impacted the top of the Corvette. The impact was absorbed by the whoosh when the gasoline caught.
He ran with her a safe distance, then stopped and searched her face. “Are you hurt? Burned?”
She shook her head, face white with shock, but she was racked by coughs and part of her sleeve had burned away, probably taking some of her skin with it.
There was no way he was going to capture the arsonist who, he was certain, had to be Virgil. Flames crawled over the doused roof of the car, rippling down over the sides. It was a matter of keeping Maggie and everyone else safe and putting out the fire before it had a chance to catch the stacked pallets or other vehicles.
He pushed her back. “Go inside and call 9-1-1. I’ve got a fire extinguisher in my truck.”
By now Tiny had puffed his way out the back door. Helen was just behind him, holding a notepad, probably interrupted in the act of working out a dessert order since the Lodge outsourced their sweets to the Chuckwagon.
“Take Maggie inside,” Liam called to her.
Helen immediately nodded and took Maggie by the hand.
He grabbed the extinguisher from his truck and pressed the nozzle to get the foam started. The flames had licked down to the ground, finding the puddles of gasoline poured under the car. The fire propelled outward in a circle of orange and blue. Liam was able to leap backward quickly enough to avoid the onslaught, but acrid smoke infiltrated his lungs, stinging his eyes. He advanced again, aiming the extinguisher in a futile effort. The car would not be salvageable, but he might still keep the fire under control until the fire department arrived. The wail of a siren became distinct, closer with each passing minute.
Liam was not ready for the blast of the front two tires exploding in quick succession. The noise seemed to pop something inside his head, but he continued to press on. Another diner added his fire extinguisher to the fight and, for a few moments, Liam continued. Slowly, incrementally, a horrifying realization pushed to the surface. The foam from the extinguisher made no noise as it spurted through the nozzle. Liam stared as the reality hammered home.
The world had gone silent.
He looked at the flames. Though he knew the engulfed vehicle was crackling and popping as the fire consumed it, he could not hear a single sound. It was as if he was watching a film without the audio. Feverishly he checked to ensure the hearing aid was still in his ear. Stomach sinking, he realized it was. The problem was not the device.
The exploding tires had made an instant reality of the thing Liam feared most. Panic knotted his insides, traced an invisible fire through his body. He wanted nothing more than to run, to sprint away into the darkness, but he would not leave, not until he knew Maggie was safe. Numbly he sprayed on until the fire department arrived with Danny Patron hot on its heels.
Maggie was led to the back of an ambulance. She seemed to be moving well, but they would take her to be checked out anyway, the burn on her arm treated. Lights strobed the night as the ambulance pulled away from the Chuckwagon.
Liam dropped the extinguisher and backed away. Danny came close and Liam saw that he was talking, but he could not make out even one tiny syllable.
Danny finally grabbed his arm. “...wrong?”
Liam could read that one word on Danny’s lips.
Puzzlement changed to concern, but Liam could not stay. He practically ran to his truck, shoved the key into the ignition and felt the engine rumble to life. He was about to jerk the truck into gear when Helen ran to his window, her lips moving with a question he did not need to hear to understand. When he rolled down the window her fingers grabbed his sleeve, tight enough to dig into his arm. She stared into his eyes and he shook his head.
“I can’t hear,” he said.
She held on, probably telling him to stay, to go to the doctor, to share his terror. But he couldn’t. It was thundering through him, unmanning and infusing him with the most terrifying loneliness he’d ever felt, worse than when his mother died, darker than his father’s descent into the well of depression, more frightening than being under fire in Afghanistan.
“I have to go to the hospital with Maggie,” he said again, not even sure if he was speaking loud enough. He pulled his arm from her grip, put the truck into gear and sped out of the parking lot and into the night.