Madison's Quest

by Jory Strong

  Shane grinned. “When you’re good, you’re good.”

  Their eyes met and held.

  “True,” she said.

  The heat in her gaze and voice curled around Shane’s dick. “That’s my line. I’m going to charge you for using it.”

  He caught Braden’s speculative gaze and felt a kick of panic that come morning, Lyric and his brother would have a betting pool going with his name and Madison’s and Tyler’s on it.

  Tyler handed off stacks of money—crisp, new-smelling bills straight from the bank. When he gave Madison hers, he said, “In case you’re wondering, you’re responsible for kicking in your portion of whatever cash is in play when you go out. Which is why I always negotiate the conversion rate. And tonight, I say the rate is five cents on the dollar.”

  Shane and Braden both groaned.

  Braden said, “Let’s at least make it ten cents on the dollar.”

  Madison did the math. Fifteen hundred in cash from the bank to start the game translated in to a seventy-five dollar entry free at five cents on the dollar and one-fifty at ten. But where things could get expensive fast was in passing Go and collecting two hundred. Every time that happened, she’d be kicking in either another two dollars and fifty cents or another five as her share.

  The question was, how confident did she feel?

  She studied Braden. He slouched and pouted, projecting the image of a kid who’d end up bored and not paying attention a quarter of the way into the game.

  She laughed. “Not buying what you’re selling.”

  “Worth a try.” He straightened and took a long swallow of beer.

  Shane said, “How about it, Mad, ten cents on the dollar?”

  The nickname softened her up. And as if sensing it, his lashes dipped, his lips took on a pout, but it was purely sensual, not the little-boy look Braden had projected.

  “Ten cents on the dollar. Pretty please?”

  “No. I’m with Tyler. Five cents on the dollar, take it or leave it.”

  They took it.

  And hours later, Madison was glad Braden had shown up.

  She’d wanted the attraction between Tyler and Shane out in the open, she’d wanted the three of them to make love, but…this was good too.

  Her heart felt like a dry sponge soaking in stories about Shane and Tyler, about the antics of the Maguires and Montgomerys at the poker table, while working cases, as they’d grown up together. And she couldn’t help but long to be part of their world.

  At midnight Tyler landed on Shane’s Boardwalk and handed over what little cash he had left and what few mortgaged properties he still owned.

  They stopped and counted the money on the table. There was ten thousand, four-hundred and one dollars in play.

  Tyler took a small pad of paper from the box and wrote the number down. Then beneath it, his name and debt. A hundred and thirty dollars.

  The game resumed, with Tyler on the couch, his yellow sketch pad on his thighs and a charcoal pencil in hand.

  An hour later he closed his eyes, tilted his head back and said, “I’m done for the day.”

  It took him ten minutes beyond that to open his eyes again and get off the couch.

  His gaze met hers. He leaned down.

  “See you in the morning,” he said, the quick touch of his lips tasting of vulnerability and reaching her heart.

  Braden’s pantomimed show of surprise as Tyler walked away brought a deeper understanding of why Tyler had never acted on his attraction to Shane. And again, she was glad Braden had shown up.

  The stories, learning earlier in the day that Tyler had been in and out of foster care for most of his life, Shane’s saying that Tyler would tell her the first day of his new life had started the day he met Lyric… It was more than not wanting to risk losing a friend if things went bad, it was fear of losing a family.

  It made her ache for him. Surely he had to know that whatever happened with Shane, he’d never be on the outside looking in when it came to the Maguires and Montgomerys. She might have only met a few of them, but she was absolutely positive they’d never exclude Tyler.

  “Your turn,” Braden said, drawing her back into the game.

  She rolled, moving the cat forward to land on a railway she already owned.

  Braden picked up the dice. He shook his hand, clacking them together and continuing until she lifted her eyebrows to send an are you going to play or what message.

  He grinned. “No quitting early.”

  “As if,” she said, but couldn’t shake the feeling he was talking about more than the Monopoly game.

  She landed on Braden’s yellow Atlantic Avenue a couple of hard-fought hours later.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Give me. Give me.”

  She pushed everything she owned to his side of the table.

  A count of the money, factoring in Tyler’s earlier exit, and her game debt was two hundred and seven dollars.

  She stood. “As much as I’d like to stay awake and watch what is sure to be an epic battle, that’s not going to happen. I’m going to bed.”

  Shane cut a look at his brother. Muttered, “What the fuck,” and stood, coming around to her side of the table.

  Where Tyler’s kiss had been a small step out into the open, Shane’s was a bold declaration.

  His arms wrapped around her. His mouth slammed down on hers. His tongue rubbed and twined and heated, filling her mind with images of the two of them finally naked on a bed, finally touching skin to skin, his body on hers, in hers.

  She was aware of Braden, but it didn’t cause explosive blasts of need the way having Tyler there would have.

  Shane’s hands glided along her back. Hers, trapped against his chest, sought his nipples.

  He moaned, lifted his mouth from hers. “Making it hard to concentrate, babe.”

  “You’ll get the big head back into the game.”

  Braden snickered. “You know him too well.”

  She kissed Shane one last time then stepped out of his arms. “Now I’m going to bed. Beat him for me.”

  “Hey!” Braden said, laughter in his voice. “Where’s the love?”

  She shot him a look. “Get a wife.”

  He slapped his hand against his chest. “Kill me now.”

  She turned away smiling, though amusement gave way to ache at the sight of Tyler’s closed bedroom door.

  The temptation to go in, to crawl into bed with him was strong.

  His see you in the morning stopped her.

  She couldn’t be sure whether that’d been a vote of confidence, that she’d hold her own against Shane and Braden and be up all night, or if he’d meant it as a way of slowing things down, as a way of shielding himself against loss and pain.

  The ache in her chest deepened at understanding it wasn’t only about the Maguires and Montgomerys, it was about her—because instead of saying she intended to stay when he’d suggested that she look for a band, she’d dodged. She’d avoided rather than recognize their relationship—and then set out to bring his feelings for Shane, their bisexuality, out into the open.

  Coward. She hadn’t called herself that since she was a teen, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day recovering from Elijah’s death and finding the desire and will to live.

  She showered and got into bed, drifted off to sleep to the sound of dice hitting the board.

  Morning came after a nightmare-free night.

  Madison tugged on a tank and jeans then left the bedroom.

  Warmth expanded her chest at seeing Tyler sitting in a chair, a sketchpad on his lap, a charcoal pencil in hand and Daisy wedged between his thigh and the chair arm.

  He looked up.

  Their eyes met, held.

  His smile was an invitation she had no intention of refusing.

  She spotted Shane stretched out on the sofa, as sensuous in sleep as he was awake, and his presence along with Tyler’s was like the pour of sunshine into her soul.

  Braden lay on the floo
r, an arm thrown over his face to protect it from the black dachshund intent on making him rise and shine.

  He groaned and rolled, burying his face in a pillow, muttering, “Give me a break, Kiki. Go bug Shane.”

  “Great to have all the animal magnetism,” she said.

  He mumbled something.

  Tyler closed the tablet, stuffed it and the pencil in the crevice between the cushion and chair then stood, meeting her steps away from the couch.

  His hair was damp from a shower. His light blue shirt was open, exposing a line of tanned flesh and smooth muscle.

  “Nice,” she murmured, hands settling on his warm skin.

  “Morning,” he said, arms going around her, their mouths meeting, clinging. Their tongues sliding against each other as their bodies pressed and molded, attempting to make up for a night of separation.

  Her fingertips rubbed over his nipples.

  His hips jerked.

  She swallowed his soft moan. Her pelvis ground against his, her swollen wetness matched to his hardness.

  “Get a room will you,” Braden groused, making them both startle with the reminder he was there.

  They moved into the kitchen. Resumed the kiss. One became four, five, a stream of them.

  They separated.

  “I was tempted to crawl into bed with you last night.”

  He took a deep breath. Exhaled. “You should have.”

  “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

  His forehead touched hers.

  “Be sure,” he said, but she didn’t think they were still talking about last night.

  A fist tightened around her heart.

  He moved away, started the coffee then returned, pulling her into his arms, her back to his chest.

  Her heart eased.

  He nibbled along her neck. “I swung by the grocery store before hooking up with you and Shane yesterday.”

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a hint I should volunteer to cook breakfast.”

  Her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and frowned, not recognizing the number.

  Looking over her shoulder, Tyler said, “Nevada. Could be Reno.”

  She answered.

  A female voice said, “This is Tanya Meadows. My aunt said I should call you. She said you were looking for Desiree Owens.”

  Madison’s pulse sped. “I am.”

  “When’s the last time you saw her?”

  “When I was two, but I don’t remember her at all. She gave me up for adoption.”

  “No, that’s not right. She wouldn’t have done that. Besides, Desiree’s daughter was named Maggie.”

  Tyler’s arms tightened at her waist. Her entire body buzzed. “Maggie?”

  “Yeah, Margaret, Maggie for short. Only the kid couldn’t pronounce the g. It came out sounding like Mattie, sometimes like— Oh, Maddie. Madison. You’re really her daughter?”

  “I have pictures of me as a baby with Desiree. I’m her daughter. There’s no doubt about that. I was at Cantaloupe Springs Apartments yesterday. The man who lives in the apartment above and over the one where she—where we used to live—recognized her. He’s the one who gave me your name.”

  “She gave you up. I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

  Madison’s palm slickened against the phone. She hadn’t known, sitting in the Jeep outside of the apartment building, how far she meant to pursue Bio-mom, but now, now she knew she couldn’t let it stop here.

  “Can we meet?” she asked. “I want to know what she was like back then. Who she was.”

  And where she is now?

  Madison was less certain about that.

  “I’m in Reno,” Tanya said. “But I’m about to head to work. We can meet after my shift, or maybe on one of my breaks if we make it quick. I’ll be at the Gold and Silver Casino.”

  “It’ll take a while to get there. We’re near San Francisco.”

  “Just call me when you get here. If it goes to voicemail I’m still on the floor. I’m a poker dealer. Don’t try to talk to me about this while I’m working.”

  “We’ll be there in a little while.”

  “You sure you want to do this?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m sure I want to go as far as Reno. How long to get there?”

  “Four hours, a little longer depending on traffic and how many stops we make.” He kissed her neck. “And how long it takes to get Shane up and going.”

  “I need to get a picture of the woman who claimed to be my mother.”

  “As Shane would say, true. For all we know, Tanya Meadows is playing you.”

  “That’s a little cynical.”

  She felt his shrug.

  “I do work for both the police and Crime Tells.”

  He’d said that before. She knew it was true, but she realized that she thought of him as an artist first, because he had the soul of one.

  She pressed against him, absorbing his strength and heat. She couldn’t put off calling her parents’ friend any longer.

  “Here goes,” she said.

  It took surrendering her name to get transferred to Elizabeth Gold.

  “What can I do for you, Madison?” Elizabeth asked, her voice chilly with disapproval.

  It made Madison wonder how often adopted children contacted the firm in an attempt to be reunited with their biological parents. It told her that she wouldn’t get a picture of Suzanne Turner, not without telling Elizabeth the truth.

  So she told it—from discovering that her parents might lose their house to meeting with the Richmond lawyer to the forged birth certificate to having located someone who might be the woman who’d shown up in Virginia, claiming to be Suzanne, or who might recognize her.

  “Will you send me a picture from the adoption file? And please, please don’t tell Mom and Dad about this. I’ll do it when I get home, but I don’t want them upset.”

  “Oh, Madison, I had no idea things were that bad.”

  The chilly disapproval was gone from Elizabeth’s voice, replaced by honest distress.

  “I wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t gone into their office. You know Mom and Dad…”

  Familiar pain washed in at being excluded, but the tightening of Tyler’s arms was like the erection of a storm-surge wall—a permanent barrier created by the knowledge that she’d been so, so lucky to have parents who loved her enough to shield her from fear and worry, while he’d experienced the exact opposite.

  Safe in his arms, and with Bio-dad’s revelations, it occurred to her that maybe the true origins of that old pain, the sense that her parents didn’t need anyone else in their lives but each other, came from the loss and separation she’d experienced when she was two, of having been loved, part of a family, and then surrendered.

  “I’ll have to tell my boss about this,” Elizabeth said. “He did due-diligence. He can’t be found at fault. But he needs to know.”

  “Will you send me the picture?”

  Madison felt Elizabeth’s hesitation.

  “Please, it’s important. I’ll share what I learn. He’ll want to know that as well.”

  Madison heard a slow, shaky exhale.

  “Where do you want it sent?”

  She gave Elizabeth both an email address and her phone number. “You’ll do it now?”

  “As soon as I pull the file.”

  Madison set the phone on the counter.

  Braden came into the kitchen.

  Shane followed, coming over and leaning around to give her a kiss.

  Her phone buzzed. Elizabeth sending the picture.

  “Suzanne Turner?” Shane guessed at seeing it.

  “Yes.” She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, short and blocky.

  Tyler said, “Doesn’t resemble either you or Bio-mom, not that I’d expect her to. Also doesn’t look like Ryan Bergdorf’s description of Tanya Meadows.”

  Madison told Shane and Braden about the call from Tanya as she got to work making pancakes and bacon. The guys poured coffee and
got the table set.

  “Change of name is a smart move,” Braden said. “Adds another degree of separation.”

  “He got lucky I couldn’t say my own name.” Maggie to Maddie, what her parents had called her until she was thirteen and wanted a more sophisticated sounding name.

  Shane leaned against the counter, his eyes devouring the strips of bacon she’d just flipped.

  When he reached toward the skillet, she threatened him with the spatula.

  He jerked his hand back. “That’s harsh.”

  Grinning, he glanced at Braden who was pouring a second cup of coffee. “Isn’t that harsh, bro?”

  “It’s harsh.”

  “So who won last night?” she asked.

  Shane rubbed the fingers on his left hand together. “Yours truly got a necessary infusion of cash.”

  Braden snorted. “Couple of lucky rolls at the end. That’s all.”

  Madison plated the bacon along with the first batch of pancakes.

  Shane took the dishes to the table.

  She poured another round of pancakes then claimed a chair that’d allow her to monitor the stove.

  Braden leaned over his plate and inhaled deeply, sighing with pleasure. “How about we do this again tomorrow morning?”

  “Gotta get back to you on that, bro,” Shane said, slathering butter on a pancake.

  Braden laughed and lifted his glass of OJ. “It makes me wish for the days when Calista lived in Lyric’s place. She was always good for a home-cooked meal.”

  He took a swallow of OJ.

  Shane said, “Madison’s right. You need to get a wife.”

  Braden choked, orange juice coming out of his nostrils.

  Wiping the OJ away he said, “Tell me you didn’t say that. Tell me you haven’t gone over to the dark side like almost everyone else in our family.”

  Shane crunched a piece of bacon.

  Braden glanced over his shoulder, suddenly looking a little nervous. “Anybody visit Grandma M lately?”

  Shane snickered. “Scared? Picking up on some vibes and afraid she’s already seen what’s coming your way?”

  Madison glanced at Tyler and saw him studying Braden speculatively. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Grandma Maguire has the sight,” Shane deadpanned. “Braden and Lyric do too, though not nearly as strongly.”