Madison's Quest (2 page)

“He’s provided a financial incentive,” Johansen said. “Meet
with me, hear what I have to say, and you’re entitled to five thousand dollars.”

Five thousand dollars.

It was enough to make her mouth go dry.

“You’re scamming me.”

“Contact the Virginia Bar. I’m a member in good standing.”

She believed him. The Shockoe Slip address on the letterhead
supported that belief, and her gut said the offer of cash was genuine.

Rubbing calloused fingertips over her lips, she wondered if
she would hate herself for pursuing this for the money, because she wanted to
help her real parents, and not because she wanted to get to know some stranger
who’d been a sperm donor.

But what choice did she have? Five thousand dollars was more
than she’d gross in a couple of months as a cashier.

“Five thousand?”

“Yes, five thousand. But this is time sensitive.”

Meaning that already the sperm donor wanted her to jump
through hoops.

Her hand dropped to the spot over her heart. She thought
about the notice from the bank, the bills. She’d bet the VW that if her parents
beat her home, there’d be a lot fewer of them on the desk.

“I can be at your office in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you then.”

She dropped the phone onto her lap, her pulse thumping hard
and fast in her throat. She started Myrtle and headed toward Shockoe Slip,
feeling as if she were wrapped in a thick fog of weird reality.

She’d never sought information about her birth parents.
Never been interested in reuniting with them.

What information she had was sketchy and that was okay.
Bio-mother had been nineteen when she’d given birth. She’d been unmarried and
estranged from her family. Poor and struggling and, like a lot of girls,
probably hoping to snag a serviceman as a husband and willing to sleep with
plenty of them to escape poverty and loneliness.

That last was Madison’s supposition, given the lack of a
father’s name on the birth certificate and that she’d been born in Newport
News, which was close to Fort Eustis.

Navy. Army. Air Force. Marines. There’d been plenty of available
targets in the area nine months before she was born.

Again it was supposition, that having a baby didn’t do the
trick for her biological mother. That in fact, she’d discovered that being
responsible for a child lessened the chances of snagging a husband.

Or maybe it’d just turned out to be too hard for her
biological mother and that’s why she’d thrown in the towel. At twenty-one she’d
answered an advertisement in a penny-saver newspaper. It’d been put there by a
lawyer specializing in private adoptions.

Most of his clients were hoping to adopt a newborn, straight
from the mother’s womb and into their arms. But he’d been open to placing a
two-year-old, especially a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl.

The way her parents told it, they’d made their peace with remaining
a family of two. But when a friend who worked for the lawyer saw Madison, she’d
known in a heartbeat that placing her with Pete and Lara York would be the
perfect match.

It had been. Completely as far as Madison was concerned. Her
parents would say the same, even if she wished she could go back in time and
erase the hell she’d put them all through after the wreck, after Elijah’s death.

The ache in her chest flared, going wide and deep.

Being back in Richmond made losing Elijah seem like
yesterday instead of seven years ago. It was one of the reasons she’d left at
eighteen and never planned on coming back to stay. It was why there’d been men
in her life, but no one serious. She owed it to him to make it as a musician
before giving someone else her heart.

He’d been so immensely talented. If he hadn’t died…

She needed to be a success. For him. For herself. For her
parents.

Yeah, and beggars can’t be choosers.

She despised that saying, that feeling.

Did Bio-dad know how desperate her parents’ financial
situation was?

It didn’t matter.

If she had to jump through hoops and kiss ass, she would.
This was her chance to do something for her parents. She’d rather it be with
her songs, her music, by becoming a success, but…

This is what I can do now.

And who knew, maybe it’d taken Bio-dad this long to find out
he had a daughter. Maybe he’d made it big and she’d discover she liked him.

She grimaced. And maybe if it sounded too good to be true,
it was.

She found a parking place on a cobblestone street.

It was close to several bars she’d played in, filling in for
sick band members.

Longing swelled, to be pursuing her music fulltime.

It’ll happen for me. I’ll get my songs out there.

Jamming her hands into her back pockets, trying to affect a
casualness she didn’t feel, she headed toward Johansen’s building.

He stepped out of his private office, a trim man in his
thirties with already receding black hair.

Round-rimmed glasses gave him a sensitive, huggable-look. He
was probably a shark in the courtroom.

His grip was firm, confident, his palm smooth and dry
against hers.

His desk showed signs of anal-retentive behavior with
pencils lined up and a single, thin folder set squarely in the middle of a
green blotter.

She took the visitor chair.

He sat in the one behind the desk.

“First things first,” he said.

He opened the folder, picked up a check and offered it to
her. “As promised.”

A glance confirmed the amount—five thousand—written on his
law firm account.

She took it, with misgivings, but she took the check.

“His name isn’t on it,” she said.

“No. I’m not in possession of that information. This was
arranged through intermediaries.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Her stomach cramped at
the prospect of setting the check on the desk and walking away from it.

“Is it dirty money?”

Johansen smiled in appreciation of the question. “I’ve been
assured it comes from a legitimate source. And in this case I absolutely trust
those assurances. I’ve also been told that this initial amount is a small
portion of what you’ll receive if you continue on this quest to get to know
your biological father.”

Madison’s hands dropped to her thighs. She leaned forward. “If
he’s so interested, why not pick up the phone and call?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Years of bartending to pay the bills in Miami and she had a
pretty good bullshit meter. It didn’t twitch.

“So what next?” she asked.

“You’ll need to go to the San Francisco Bay area. Your
flight and rental car have already been paid for.”

He removed the papers from the folder, sliding them toward
her, a boarding pass on top.

She froze at seeing the date. “He expects me to drop
everything and be there tomorrow?”

“Time is of the essence. The clock has started ticking.”

She read the subtext. This was her one chance, take it or
leave it.

Johansen relaxed against the back of his chair. “Do you
intend to make the trip?”

What choice did she have, other than to take the five grand
and call that good?

“Why now? What’s his hurry?”

Johansen lifted his hands, palms up. “This is the extent of
my involvement. Are you going?”

“I’ll go.”

Johansen’s relaxed manner disappeared. “Excellent.”

He opened a drawer and handed her a business card with the
name Bulldog Montgomery scrawled on its back along with a phone number.

“After you’ve landed, this is the man you’re to contact.”

“Who is he? What is he?”

“A legend in his own right.” Johansen’s smile was all
admiration. “I’ll let you discover the details for yourself.”

He stood, signaling an end to their meeting.

Madison left the office. She got behind Myrtle’s steering
wheel and sat for a minute, looking at the check. No way could she tell her
parents about Bio-dad’s sudden appearance in her life. It would only deepen the
lines of stress on their faces.

So how to explain the trip?

It’d have to be because of her music.

They’d tell her to go. They’d tell her not to worry about
them. They’d tell her they were so proud of her for following her dreams.

Guilt slid in at the prospect of lying to them, with the
knowledge that in part she was living a lie. Since returning to Richmond it’d
been harder to hide from the truth when it came to music. She loved jamming
with friends. She enjoyed the rush that came with performing on stage, but it
wasn’t like needing air to breathe the way it had been for Elijah. For her,
that feeling came with writing songs. The desperation was more about getting
her songs out there, and the satisfaction was in hearing them done by musicians
far more gifted than she was.

She suppressed the guilt and used her phone to Google
Bulldog Montgomery.

Johansen was right. Not only was Bulldog a legend as a high-stakes
poker player, but he was one of the most sought after consultants in the gaming
industry. Casinos paid him big bucks to determine if someone was cheating. And
though he was semi-retired as a consultant, he ran a private detective agency
called Crime Tells.

Madison had to smile, enjoying the play on the word
tell
,
a gambler’s term for a behavior that gave away hand strength.

He’d probably been hired to locate her. So it made sense
that he’d be the one to do the hand-off, taking her to meet Bio-dad.

It’d mean he probably knew where Bio-mom was. Or Bio-grandparents.

“I don’t care.”

But would she continue to feel that way?

She absently thumbed a link and ended up looking at Bulldog
at some kind of celebratory dinner, not that she could keep her eyes on him
when they were locked on the blond standing next to him.

Longish hair. Blue eyes that could strip a woman—maybe even
a man—out of clothes in seconds flat. Lips that were far too sensual, tipped in
a hint of a smile that had her imagining herself leaning forward, touching,
tasting, tracing them with her tongue, something she hadn’t wanted for a lot of
months.

You might be wearing a suit, but you’ve got bad bad boy
written all over you.

She managed to peel her eyes off the bad boy in question and
match the image with a name. Shane Maguire, one of Bulldog’s grandsons and an
employee of Crime Tells.

Did you have anything to do with locating me? Did you
collect my history, such as it is, and hand it off to some guy who’s just now
decided to involve himself in my life?

She dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, not wanting
to think how that story read.

Home. She needed to get home, spend time with her parents.

Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

It brought a gut-gnawing separation and too many hours
confined to a small space on an every-seat-filled flight. Her entire body
hummed by the time the plane landed in San Francisco, though it wasn’t the adrenaline
rush that came with stepping out in front of an audience. It wasn’t the buzz
that came afterward, when she was mingling with the crowd, drinking beer with
the guys and whoever had joined them to talk music.

As soon as she hit the terminal she called her parents to
let them know she’d arrived safely.

Her hand tightened on the phone when her mother said that
her father was asleep.

“He’s okay?”

“He’s fine, Madison. The medicine he took has knocked him
out, that’s all. Don’t worry about him. Concentrate on your audition.”

Her throat thickened. “I’ll do my best.”

“We know that, honey. We’re so proud of you. Call us when
you’ve got news.”

“I will. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Kiss Dad for me.”

“You know I will.”

She collected her guitar, worry eating at her, her heart
aching under the burden of guilt at having purposely glossed over her reason for
coming to San Francisco—not an outright lie—but the effect was the same. She’d
let her parents draw the conclusion it had something to do with gaining a spot
in a band.

What else could she do? How could she tell them the truth?

It’ll be okay
, she told herself. By this time
tomorrow, she could be heading back home.

Finding the rental car counter meant a wait in line. She
downloaded five songs, music that helped barricade the guilt and worry, before
securing the keys to a white Ford Focus.

The car was in a line of fifteen just like it.

She got in, pulled the business card from her pocket.

Its corners were no longer crisp and sharp.

Bulldog answered and gave her directions.

Madison’s hands turned slick against the steering wheel and
her heart beat too fast.
This is it.
Either Bio-dad was waiting in the
Crime Tells office, or she’d follow Bulldog to some meeting place, probably
neutral territory, because why else would she need the rental?

She left the garage and traveled along the frontage road.

She made the turn onto San Bruno Avenue and was surprised
there wasn’t more traffic.

Silver car coming toward her.

Black SUV type coming up fast behind her.

Why did Bio-dad want to meet her now?

Why all the middlemen?

Maybe he didn’t intend to give her his name, not if he
didn’t like what he found in person.

One strike against her there, for taking the five grand.

Maybe she’d already failed and what waited for her at the
Crime Tells office was a ticket home and a final payoff.

A flash of red suddenly to the right had her heart leaping
into her throat.

She wrenched the steering wheel to the left.

Screamed as metal collapsed with a cannon explosion of
sound.

The air bag deployed, slamming into her, punching her with
memory and panic.