by Jory Strong
There wasn’t any point in speculating about the case. Bulldog took whatever interested him, or whatever he thought would interest them, though occasionally favors got called in or he lost a bet.
That’s how Cole and Renata had ended up working together, though in that case, Grandma Maguire was the one who’d ended up winning a little side bet at the poker table that included promises from Bulldog and Renata’s employer, Orrin.
Lately there’d been a shitload of cases that had led to hooking up and falling in love.
Lyric and Kieran. Cady and Kix. Cole and Renata.
Calista with Dante and Benito.
Erin with Dasan, though that one hadn’t finished playing out yet. When it did, someone was going to win big money.
Grace with Cade and Mace—good thing for all of them that big brother Michael was on the other side of the country when Grace’s first solo case led to that hook-up.
Shane laughed, almost wishing Grandma M would turn her sight on Michael—and then his pulse skittered at catching sight of the blonde waiting in a passenger pick-up zone. His heart tripped into a hard I’ve got to have you beat.
If this was the client, he was royally fucked, because here was one more example of someone it’d be better not to want.
He pulled over, rolled the window on her side down.
His mouth went dry. His freaking mouth went dry, like it hadn’t done over someone of the opposite sex since maybe seventh grade.
Truth, probably sixth. The Maguire brothers had all stopped thinking of girls as gross early on.
“Madison?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m—”
“Shane. I Googled and saw a picture of you with your grandfather.”
She might as well have shoved her hand down his pants and curled it around his dick. Heat and pleasure, that’s the effect her voice had on him.
She’s a client.
His dick didn’t care.
His dick knew the big head was capable of rationalizing so the little one could get what it wanted.
Except for Tyler.
Shane got out of the Jeep, helped her load the guitar, their arms brushing, heating him up on the inside, her scent as seductive as the rest of her.
First sight and she’d become the other half of his personal coin toss. Heads, he wanted her. Tails, he wanted Tyler.
Scrub the earlier thought about not leaving town. He should tell Bulldog he’d gotten a last-minute invite to a high-stakes game.
Only—didn’t that sound like a guy trying to outrun fate?
Shane’s heart did a freaky fluttering, as if Lyric and Braden weren’t the only ones who had glimpses of sight. Maybe he should swing by Grandma’s place, see if she wanted to lay a prophecy on him.
He dropped back into the driver’s seat. Grinned. Hell no, it’d be more fun riding this out.
Heat blasted through Madison as she got in the Jeep, a sweet, dark-mustard colored Wrangler Rubicon. She tried to keep her eyes off Shane and totally failed.
That first picture of him had stirred her interest, but in person… There was no denying that she was attracted.
Raw sexuality poured off him in waves, a bad-boy combination of blond surfer and outlaw biker that made her think I want, when getting involved, even in a fling, should be the last thing on her mind.
“Hope collecting me wasn’t too much trouble,” she said, watching his mouth kick up at the corners, her heart doing a slow roll because of it.
“No problem. Saved me from handing over the rest of my chips.”
“You were playing poker?”
“Texas Hold’em. You play?”
His eyes met hers and she thought it’d be too easy to drown in the pleasure those blue eyes promised. Too easy to end up heartbroken by wanting to lay claim to him—not that she was in any danger there. She wasn’t looking for love, wasn’t ready for a run at happy-ever-after, though she absolutely believed in the possibility of it. Her parents had shown her that.
“I doubt I’m in your league.”
His smile was wicked temptation. “You could find out. Name the stakes.”
His hand moved to his chest. Strong, tanned fingers played with the nipple ring visible beneath the black T.
“Cheating already?” she asked, a husk in her voice, because whether he meant to fill her mind with sexual thoughts or not, his toying with the nipple ring made her want to see it, touch it, put her mouth on it.
“All’s fair.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Probably a good thing.”
Her gaze dropped to the tat on his upper arm, a blonde pin-up girl sitting on a suitcase stuffed with cash and holding five playing cards.
“Lady Luck?” she guessed.
He grinned. “That would be her.”
Shane stopped playing with the ring. “So, you want to give me the details?”
“Of?”
“Uhhh… The case?”
He didn’t know? And why did she suddenly feel so much relief because of it?
The answer to that question was immediately there. She didn’t want him to have been the one to investigate her for Bio-dad.
She’d Googled Shane after watching the Braves play. He might have bad-boy looks, but he was a success and she was what? Not even close to being that.
In Miami, it’d been easy to believe success was just around the corner. Most of the people she had meaningful contact with were like her, struggling toward a dream. It’d been kind of a badge of courage and show of self-confidence to work going-nowhere jobs, because those jobs were all about surviving while pursuing music.
But getting the call from her mom when it looked like the cancer might not be beat, going back to Richmond, discovering how little she could help her parents…
“Hey, you okay?”
She realized she’d been rubbing the place above her heart and forced her hand to her lap, only to fight the urge to rub her palm against her jeans. “I’m good. There’s a lot going on in my life right now.”
“I can relate.”
Weirdly, it made her feel better.
She found herself wishing she’d met him in Miami. It was easy to picture him leaving the beach, coming up to one of the outdoor bars she worked during the day and claiming a seat, ordering a drink and staying to talk, the ocean breeze playing with his hair, his face and bare chest giving the scenery a run for the money. It was easy to imagine getting to know each other, with a counter between them, turning into getting to know each other with nothing separating them—specifically, clothes.
She blinked the fantasy away. Shane asked, “So what kind of music do you play?”
“Rock, mostly alternative stuff.”
That started a riff of conversation about sounds and songs. It put her head in a good place. It helped block memories stirred by the wreck, and the worry about her parents, until they parked in front of a small, stand-alone office building.
Shane opened the driver’s door. “It’s safe to leave your stuff in the Jeep.”
She got out.
This is it.
What she felt about it was harder to get her head around, but mostly, it still felt wrong, because of the money, because she had the only parents she needed or wanted, because they wouldn’t want this even though they’d support her if she had an honest desire to get to know Bio-dad.
The sidewalk was barely wide enough for them to walk side-by-side to the door. When they got there she saw Crime Tells written in gold script.
“Somehow I expected a logo with playing cards on it.”
“Bulldog compromised.”
“It’s got to be fun, working together, playing together.”
He smiled what she’d already labeled his trademark smile. “Yeah, I love it.”
“I read that Bulldog won’t hire anyone to work for Crime Tells without testing them with a game of chance, even family.”
“True. Nobody gets a pass. Fourth try Gramps said maybe I’d outgrown
enough of my impulsiveness to work for him. Can you believe it?”
She laughed. “Didn’t I read that the casinos paid your grandfather big money to spot a con?”
Shane slapped a hand to his chest. “Oh man, dissin’ me already. For the record, it took my cousin Lyric four tries too. She has a little trouble staying inside the lines.”
“And you don’t?”
His gaze dropped to her lips then met hers, and she’d swear she saw a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “Depends on the line.”
They entered the office. Amusement and an unexpected kind of longing slid into her at seeing a table in the reception area with a rack of chips and a couple of decks of cards, at spotting another loaded with board games.
“Might as well warn you,” Shane said. “When it comes to dealing with the Montgomerys and Maguires, we’ll bet on pretty much anything.”
“And let me guess, you’re all sharks.”
His smile flashed, very much reminiscent of one. “That would be true.”
He guided her into an office.
Bulldog sat behind the desk.
Shane’s grandfather might have gotten the nickname for being tenacious, but it fit his features. He had a broad, strong face and gray hair cropped close to his scalp.
He stood, scooping a dappled dachshund off his lap as he did.
He offered his hand and said, “No delayed reaction?”
She suppressed a shiver. “No.”
That’d come later, when she slept, when she dreamed.
“Good,” he said, returning to his seat.
Shane plopped and sprawled.
She took the chair next to him, sitting on the edge, her chest going tight.
They’d probably be leaving in a minute, maybe after Bulldog laid down some ground rules.
The urge to bolt swelled. If she didn’t need the money, if her parents didn’t need it…
Madison balled her hands into fists. Stick. She had to stick.
Shane’s hand covered hers, surprising her, making her feel instantly better.
“You’ve got the best on your side,” he said.
She sent him a grateful smile. “I believe it.”
Bulldog stroked the dachshund. “Originally I agreed to make hotel arrangements and assign one of my detectives to help you. But considering the accident, I think it would be safer if you had round-the-clock protection. While you’re here, you’ll be staying with Tyler Keane, and Shane will be accompanying you anywhere you need to go.”
The warmth generated by Shane’s hand fled. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “You think someone hit me intentionally?”
“I can’t rule out the possibility that someone wanted you to turn around instead of trying to find your biological father.”
What?
“Aren’t you taking me to him?”
“I don’t know who he is.”
Shane straightened out of the sprawl and glanced from his grandfather to Madison, then back to Bulldog. What the fuck?
“Maybe someone should fill me in here. What the hell is going on?” His hand tightened on hers. “What the hell happened?”
“A guy slammed into me near the rental center then took off.”
And you didn’t think to tell me that when I picked you up?
Only to be fair, he was the detective. He should have wondered why he was collecting her at the rental car center instead of in front of the airport. And now he had to wonder why Bulldog hadn’t said anything.
He shot a look at his grandfather, but Bulldog had on his poker face.
Shane’s thoughts abruptly rewound, to the part where Madison would be staying with Tyler, forcing contact between all three of them.
No way would Tyler not want her. No way would she look at Tyler and not end up in Tyler’s bed.
Shane’s heart did a roller-coaster plummet, down and then back up, reminding him of the way it’d skittered at catching sight of her. Of how it’d tripped into an I have to have you beat and done that freaky fluttering when he’d thought about running.
His mouth went dry and his skin suddenly felt too tight. Had Grandma Maguire seen something? Said something to Bulldog? Set this in motion the way she had with Cole and Renata?
And if she had, had she spun it so it was just a couple of guys who were going to fall for the same girl? Or was Bulldog looking at him, wondering whether he was the one who took it in the ass or the one who did the taking?
A meltdown kind of sensation built in Shane’s chest, threatening implosion. He so did not want to be thinking about what his grandfather might be thinking.
He turned toward Madison. “Did you get a make, a license plate number, a look at the driver?”
“No. I didn’t get anything. It happened too fast. I didn’t even notice him until I saw the flash of red on the passenger side. A guy who stopped said he thought the car was an Expedition. He gave the police the first three numbers on the plate.”
“That’s a start. When we’re done in here, I’ll follow-up and find out if the police have anything.”
Reluctantly he released her hand, not sure what contact, exactly, his grandfather would view as appropriate, given the chance this was more than just a case. Speaking of which… “So someone was going to clue me in?”
Madison met Bulldog’s gaze, not that she could read anything in his expression. “Why am I here if you don’t know who my biological father is?”
He opened his top drawer and pulled out a business envelope, placing it on the desk. Her first name was typed on its front.
“A friend of mine called in a debt. In the event you came to San Francisco, I was to give you this.”
She picked up the envelope and opened it. Extracted the sheet of paper and unfolded it.
Shane scooted closer, his shoulder touched to hers. His knee touched to hers.
Was he even aware of doing it?
It didn’t matter. She liked having the contact, liked the feeling they were in this together as she read:
From low to high, four steps beneath oak trees meant to broaden, narrow instead. Dreams and desire are obliterated with rigid focus and a tenacious, dog-like climb toward a fifth step that heads toward an unwanted destination. Heart’s passion and blue-sky promise become lost in a clouded view as Days progress by the dozens, counting down like a shuffled dance 5-3-1.
“Shit,” Shane muttered. “My brain already hurts.”
It made her smile when she should have felt like crying. When she should have felt angry at being forced to continue dancing to some stranger’s tune.
She offered the letter to Bulldog.
He shook his head. “My part in this is done. I can’t give any further assistance, though I am supposed to tell you that your biological father wants you to get to know him. But in the event you’d prefer to go home, I’ll purchase the ticket right now.”
There was no mention of a financial incentive, but maybe there didn’t need to be in this moment. She was here. She was unwillingly intrigued by the clue and beyond that, turning around and going back to Richmond would make her parents think she’d experienced yet another failure.
And then there was Shane. She’d regret not getting to know him better.
“I’ll stick,” she said.
Bulldog lifted his phone. “I’ll let Tyler know to expect you.”
Shane stood. “Might as well spend some time on the clue before we head to Tyler’s.”
She followed him into the reception area.
“The cops give you a card with the case number on it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She tugged it out of her back pocket and passed it off, their hands brushing, eyes connecting before he dropped onto the couch.
She sat next to him, putting the clue between them and then tipping the envelope.
A cardkey fell onto her thigh.
“Damn. That’s going to take the fun out of it,” he said.
She laughed. “I bet you attract trouble without any effort.”
&
nbsp; He grinned. “Can’t take that bet.”
“So you’d prefer to break-in to wherever Bio-dad’s clue leads us?”
He wiggled his fingers. “These are golden.”
Her body flushed. Her gaze traveled upward, to sensuous lips, to eyes transmitting heat.
“Yeah, I bet.”
“That’s one I’ll take.” He glanced behind her, at Bulldog’s office. “But not here. Not now anyway.”
She shivered, not sure which was more likely when it came to Shane—resisting, or giving in to temptation.
He scrolled through a contact list on his phone, tapped.
She lifted the keycard, looked at both sides. The newness and the lack of identifying lettering made her think it’d been created specifically to hand off to her.
She tucked it back into the envelope, stilled when she heard Shane say, “That’s what, less than a mile from where she was hit?”
He hung up a minute later, lips tight and eyes hard, outlaw biker now instead of laid-back surfer.
“They found the car,” she guessed, pulse skipping then settling into a hard throbbing.
“Yeah. The owner reported it stolen a couple of hours before you were hit. But the plates were swapped out with a pair taken off someone’s truck.”
The goose bumps returned. She rubbed her arms. That didn’t sound like just a joy ride. “Do the police have anything else?”
“No. Maybe you better tell me what you know about your parents.”
“Bio-parents. That’s all they are to me. His name wasn’t even on the birth certificate. And there’s not much to tell. I was never that curious.”
“How old were you when you were adopted?”
“Two, but I have zero memories of being that young. If I think hard, the best I can do is dredge up a few from kindergarten.”
Shane grinned. “Better than me. Was the adoption through an agency or through social services?”
“Neither. A private lawyer. Birth-mom surrendered me. She was nineteen when she had me, twenty-one when she answered the ad in the penny-saver. She claimed she didn’t know who’d gotten her pregnant. She gave up her rights and said further contact would be too hard. End of story.”
End of story. Shane didn’t think it could be for him, not that his parents had actually been stellar when he was growing up. And Tyler’s, Tyler’s had been bad enough that he’d ended up in foster care.