Madison's Quest (11 page)

“I’ve got a morning appointment I can’t ditch. Okay if we
hook up later?”

“No problem.”

Lie. But not because he didn’t want Tyler with them.

Shane carried his dishes to the sink. They joined him, the
three of them doing the little family unit thing again, cleaning up, putting stuff
away, the casual brush of Tyler’s body against Madison’s cranking
him
up
and playing with his head so he wasn’t positive he wouldn’t do something stupid
if Tyler kissed her.

Stupid, as in, crowding close. Replacing Tyler’s mouth with
his. The two of them alternating until that instant when Tyler didn’t get out
of the way fast enough, and their lips touched, their tongues rubbed.

The image of it brought a hot flash and sent his heart
racing. “I’ll wait for you in the Jeep,” he told Madison. “I’m going to give
Bulldog a call, bring him up to date.”

He escaped.

Madison offered no resistance when Tyler cupped her hips and
pulled her close. He rubbed his mouth against hers, the hint of vulnerability
in his eyes flipping her heart.

“I’m not sorry about what happened,” he said.

“Neither am I.”

He glanced in the direction of the front door. “He wants to
pick up where he left off last night, only he doesn’t know how to fit me into
it, that’s my take on why he just bolted. We’ve never done that, been involved
with the same woman at the same time.”

Tyler didn’t sound as if he objected. When his eyes returned
to hers, she didn’t see protest in them. But the word
involved
brought
back the conflicted feelings she’d experienced when she woke in bed with him,
what
should
be dominating her thoughts—getting home, pursuing her
music—versus what actually was, him, Shane, them.

“I’d better get going,” she said.

His hands moved from her hips to her back, stroked upward.
His mouth settled on hers in a slow, thorough kiss that said
don’t forget me
while you’re with him
.

I won’t
she answered with the rub of her tongue, with
the cling of lips.

She pressed her body to his, initiated the second kiss.

Stayed for a third before finally separating and saying,
“See you in a little while.”

“Good hunting.”

“Thanks,” she said, admitting silently that she wanted to
get to the end of Bio-dad’s quest—and she didn’t, and not because she didn’t
want to meet him.

Shane was in the driver’s seat, head tipped back, eyes
closed. It was impossible to keep her gaze from going to the very obvious bulge
at the front of his jeans then back to his face.

Conscience, or maybe the need to get everything out in the
open prompted her to say, “So we’re good?”

His eyes snapped open, full of stormy blue heat. “It
depends.”

“On what?”

“On this,” he said, turning, reaching, his fingers spearing
through her hair, his hand fisting it, drawing her forward for the slam of his
mouth against hers, the fierce thrust of his tongue against hers.

Heat poured into her, the same as she’d experienced the
night before, because being with Tyler hadn’t diminished her desire for Shane.
It’d only made her want him more.

She moaned and the kiss deepened, the grip in her hair
tightened. Thrust and slide became the promise that next time, neither of them
would stop.

They broke apart, panting, still parked in front of Tyler’s
house.

Had he seen?

Did it matter?

No. When she searched her heart, she didn’t think it did.

“Let’s find whatever Bio-dad left for you,” Shane said,
husky-voiced. “Then we can go to my place.”

She tugged the seatbelt, put it on.

Shane started the Jeep and pulled away from the curb.

And again, something compelled her to say, “For the record, I’m
pretty sure Tyler is okay with this.”

The grind of gears had her trying to read Shane’s
expression—and failing—which had to be a
tell
, right? Otherwise, why put
on the poker face?

It was easy enough to guess.

She’d exposed her fantasy about being with two guys at once
when they’d been looking at Tyler’s art.

They’d avoided physical contact as if they were fighting an
attraction.

She didn’t understand why they’d bother—except, she suddenly
did.

Giving in to physical desire changed things. She only had to
look in the mirror to face that truth.

Coming to California was supposed to be a short detour to
get her parents out of debt, to keep them from losing the house. Then when the
fear of losing her father abated enough, she’d return to Miami and do what
she’d been doing since eighteen.

Everything had been so clear. But getting involved with
Shane and Tyler was like fog obliterating the horizon.

There was that word again.
Involved
.

She caught herself rubbing her palms against her jeans. Felt
the fierce urge to anchor herself by calling her parents, by checking on her
dad. But if she did, they’d ask her questions.

Had she met her potential bandmates yet? Had a time been set
for them to play together?

Call and the guilt created by the initial deception would be
compounded by more lies. Worse, she’d be reminded of how much they were hoping
for her success, that they were waiting to hear all about it—and she couldn’t
tell them the truth. Not yet. Not over the phone.

Shane parked in front of a place advertising rental
mailboxes. He snagged her hand. “You okay?”

“Thinking about my parents.”

“Good thoughts?”

“Worried thoughts. They’re the reason I agreed to jump
through Bio-dad’s hoops.”

She couldn’t honestly say they were the entire reason she
was doing it now.

“You want to call them? I’ll get out of the Jeep, give you
some privacy.”

“It can wait.”

They went in.

The boxes were all beyond the counter. The woman working
behind it had purple hair, a lip ring and looked at them as if they were
strange for thinking that producing a name and out-of-state driver’s license
would magically have her handing over a key.

They returned to the Jeep. Shane said, “How about a little
bet?”

Madison laughed. “I’m already holding your marker for two
hundred.”

“I can make you forget that two hundred.” He leaned over and
licked her earlobe. “I can make you think it’s been paid in full.”

She grinned, heat flushing through her. He really was
irresistible.

“I’m sure you can, so that’s a no-go. What bet did you have
in mind?”

“Two hundred says we hit the jackpot on the fourth stop.”

“Just to be clear, we’re talking the fourth, including this
one? Or the fourth from now?”

“The fourth including this one.”

“Sure, why not?”

“Feeling wild today, huh?”

He flicked his tongue in and out of her ear, causing things
low and deep to coil and burn.

“Yes,” she admitted, hearing the need in her voice, knowing
he could see it in the press of hard nipples against soft tank top.

Shane groaned and retreated to his side of the Jeep. “You’re
killing me.”

“There’s no medical evidence that blue balls actually kills.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

She laughed, loved watching his sensuous mouth tip upward.

Their second stop was a bust.

Their third was a quaint postal place with a tea shop to the
left and a curio shop with a front window full of figurines on the right.

“Double the bet?” Shane asked. “If this is it, you walk away
with four hundred.”

She laughed. “Nope.”

Shane clucked like a chicken.

She rolled her eyes and grinned, couldn’t avoid noticing
that when she was with him, life became a lot more fun.

“Not going to work,” she said.

Two middle-aged men who looked like tourists came out of the
tea shop and claimed a wooden beach underneath a slim tree, sitting close
enough to be a couple.

“I like this part of San Francisco,” she said. “Where are
we?”

“Castro District, more commonly known as The Castro. Wonder
if this says something about Bio-dad, or if it was the easiest place to get a
box without leaving a trail.”

She got out of the Jeep, wondering the same thing. The
Castro was famous for being the center of gay, bi, transgender and lesbian
activity.

Did that mean Bio-dad was gay? Bi? Was he out, or living a
lie, another case of desire denied, of dreams obliterated, like the broken drum
sticks?

Was he saying this was another thing he had in common with her,
besides the music? Or that he’d dug deeply enough into her life to know about
Elijah, to have discovered that Eli was bi, though none of their classmates or
bandmates or friends had known.

Elijah hadn’t been openly bisexual in Richmond. They’d met,
they’d fallen in love, and as far as she knew, no one other than his immediate
family knew that when he’d lived in Florida, he’d had a boyfriend, not a
girlfriend.

Shane snagged her wrist, pulling her hand off the arm she’d
been rubbing without being aware of doing it.

He entwined his fingers with hers. “You could always quit.
End the bullshit and make him come to you. He must want to meet you pretty
badly, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

She looked at him, warmth pouring into her from the press of
their palms, from the concern in his eyes and the edge of anger in his voice on
her behalf.

“Would you take that gamble?”

He huffed out a breath. “Probably not.”

“Then let’s see if you owe me another two hundred or if
we’re even.”

His smile flashed. He reached for the door. “Last chance to
raise the stakes.”

“Forget it. Besides, I’m sure there will be plenty of other
chances to take your money.”

The guy manning the store was in his early twenties,
dark-haired and wearing a leather vest with no shirt beneath it. He looked up
from a newspaper spread out on the counter. “Help you?”

The boxes were set in a wall to the right. Madison scanned
the numbers as they walked past them, nothing even close to 2903.

She pulled her driver’s license out and showed it to him.
“This is going to sound strange, but do you have a box rented under my name?”

He reached for the license. “You mind?”

She released it and he moved to a computer. Tapped on the
keyboard.

The sudden lift of his eyebrows kicked her heart rate up.

“And we’ve got a winner,” Shane murmured.

“Me.” Though the thrill of the two-hundred-dollar win
against Shane was overwhelmed by the anticipation of what Bio-dad had left for
her.

The clerk moved out of sight behind a partial wall, then
returned to the counter offering a key and her license.

She took both.

He said, “Box one-fifteen. Bottom row, far right.”

She pocketed the license. “Were there any other names
besides mine?”

“Nope.”

“When was it rented?” Shane asked.

The clerk stepped to the computer. “Five months ago, almost
to the day. Rental period is six months, paid in cash. Mind telling me what’s
up?”

“Scavenger hunt,” Shane said.

“Cool.”

They moved to the wall of boxes, both of them crouching in
front of number 115.

Madison slipped the key in, glanced at Shane. “What? No
bet?”

He grinned. “Pass.”

She opened the box and pulled out an
eight-and-a-half-by-eleven envelope curved to fit in the narrow space.

They took it outside. The gay couple was gone.

They claimed the bench in front of the tea shop, Shane
asking, “Why wait five months?”

She paused in opening the envelope. “Maybe because he knew
five months ago nothing he could offer would have made me leave Richmond.”

“Why?”

“Dad was still undergoing treatment for cancer.”

“The worried thoughts on the way to the first rental place,”
Shane said, draping his arm along the back of the bench, his fingers playing
with her hair. “He okay now?”

“As far as the doctors can tell.”

“What kind?”

“Lung. He was a heavy smoker.”

Guilt rose, thick and heavy and raw inside her throat. He’d
managed to quit smoking when she’d been in kindergarten. He’d started again
when she’d been hospitalized after the wreck. He’d only stopped for a second
time when enough of her grief and self-destructive behavior had passed that
he’d been able to get her interested in restoring the VW bus that’d come to be
known as Myrtle.

Madison took a deep breath. She couldn’t undo the past, not
any of it. All she could do was make good on the promises she’d made because of
it.

She finished opening the envelope and tilted it so the
contents dumped onto her lap.

A folded piece of paper was on top.

Shane groaned. “That’s going to be another clue.”

She unfolded the paper but didn’t bother concentrating on
the words when she saw he was right.

She put it on the bench, anchored it with her thigh and
picked up a check, flipping it over to see the amount.

Twenty-five thousand, written on the same San Francisco law
firm account as the last one.

Shane whistled softly. “That makes forty-five total.”

A photograph now lay on top of the stack.

He reached over, flipped it and she was looking at a blonde-haired
teen holding a baby.

Me?

Her heart fluttered and her skin tingled. She studied what
she could see of a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, her hair little more than
blonde fuzz, her eyes closed, one tiny hand grasping the blanket and holding it
against her mouth.

“You with Bio-mom?” Shane asked.

“That’s what Bio-dad wants us to believe.”

But why would he lie?

She tore her gaze from the baby and studied the teen.

There was nothing in the girl’s face that she recognized in
her own. Even the hair and skin tones were lighter. But that lack wasn’t what
caused Madison’s stomach to tighten.