Madison's Quest (8 page)

He told himself it was better to live with disappointment than
disaster. Tried not to think about how it’d felt like magic when they’d played
music together, how in ways it’d reminded him of what he’d experienced as a kid
when he’d started hanging out with the Maguires and Montgomerys, how it’d
seemed like a homecoming.

He grabbed a couple of small blue plastic bags from the
dispenser and shoved them in his pocket. That was enough to get Kiki and Daisy
off the couch, their tales wagging furiously.

The retractable leashes, already attached to soft harnesses,
were on hooks next to the front door. He reached for them and the girls turned
into whirling dervishes.

He tossed a leash to Madison.

She caught it and crouched, snagging Kiki as she spun past.

He did the same with Daisy, getting a dark blue harness with
pink pigs on her while Madison got a dark blue harness with red chickens on
Kiki.

They left the house. He saw Shane’s Rubicon, but thankfully
Shane had already made it to the end of the block and around the corner—either
that or he’d stopped at Grace’s place because Lyric’s Wrangler was in front of
it.

No use looking for trouble.

At the end of the walkway he steered Madison in the opposite
direction and the conversation to music. That was safe enough.

The girls sniffed, the leashes lengthening and shortening
depending on how interesting the scents they encountered were.

By the time they’d traveled around the block, Lyric and a
woman he didn’t know were halfway to her Jeep.

“Interesting,” Tyler murmured.

Madison bumped his shoulder with hers. “Because?”

“Because the lights are off at Grace’s place and her Beetle
is missing.”

“By which I’m supposed to intuit that neither of those women
are Grace.”

“As Shane would say,
that would be true
.”

She laughed. “Quoting Shane now? Not sure that’s a good
thing.”

He grinned. “Me either.”

They reached Lyric’s Jeep.

He introduced Madison.

Lyric introduced the woman as Taryn Erickson and he stifled
a laugh. He didn’t need Lyric to mouth the words
intervention time
to
know what she was up to, though it didn’t explain why they were at Grace’s
place when Grace wasn’t.

“Grace okay?” he asked.

“Oh yeah. She’s moving in with Cade and Mace.”

His jaw dropped, literally. For a moment he was speechless.

“Cade and Mace Benson?”

“The very same. Who knew that they had a thing for her, and
she apparently had a thing for them?”

He shook his head, clearing the surprise. “Does Michael
know?”

Lyric grinned. “He does now. Interesting thing, right before
Bulldog gave Grace her first case, he sent big brother to Atlantic City. Want
to bet whether or not Grandma Maguire had something to do with that?”

“No way.”

Lyric glanced at Madison, then back at him, her smile subtly
changing and making him suddenly feel like a mouse on the receiving end of a
cat’s attention. “Wonder what else Grandma M has been up to lately.”

His heart started banging. His eyes bored into Lyric’s, half
of him wanting to question her, half of him afraid of what she might reveal.

Self-preservation, and a knowledge of how Lyric operated,
had him saying, “If Grace is moving out, does that mean Taryn is moving in?”

Lyric laughed, eyes shining with the prospect of creating
mayhem—a mayhem meant to change lives for the better. “You got it. Grace is
clearing out her personal stuff but leaving the furniture and some other things
so Taryn can stay in the house while she helps with a case.”

Tyler shot a smile Taryn’s way. Did she have any clue what
she was in for?

He almost felt sorry for Cash. He also wondered if Kieran
had any idea that his wife was about to turn his partner’s life upside down.

Lyric turned toward Taryn. “Ready to head out?”

“You’re the boss.”

“I like the sound of that.”

To Tyler, Lyric said, “Call you soon with a chance to get
into another betting pool.”

Please let me avoid being the subject of one.

As if she’d heard his silent prayer, Lyric gave him another
cat-like smile, sending his pulse skittering before she got into the Jeep and
drove away.

“What’d Lyric mean by
intervention time
?” Madison
asked as they began walking.

“I ended up with Daisy and Kiki because of a case Lyric had.
It’s the same case that led her to meeting Kieran, who she’s married to now,
and to his partner, Cash, meeting Taryn. According to Lyric, Cash has been
running from his fate ever since.”

Madison shook her head. “Should I feel sorry for Cash, or
Taryn?”

He laughed. “Good question since Lyric’s involved. But too
early to say.”

“And Grace? How’s she related to Lyric and Shane?”

“She’s a Montgomery cousin.”

They reached his house and went inside, both of them
crouching to remove the girls’ harnesses.

A shiver of heat went through Tyler. There was only one way
to interpret Lyric’s glance between him and Madison when taken with the smile
and the mention of Grandma Maguire—especially coming after the reveal about
Grace being involved with Cade and Mace. She’d been implying that this case
might also be a romantic intervention.

Looking at Madison, he wanted it to be true badly enough
that ache spread with each heartbeat. It’d be so easy to stand, to pull her
against his body and kiss her the way he’d wanted to all night, to strip her
out of her clothing and make love to her, knowing that doing it might lead to
Shane in bed with them.

Lyric was all about
going for it
. He was more
cautious.

Lyric’s knowing about his thing for Shane fed the hope that
somehow Madison’s entering his life and Shane’s had changed something. But in
all the years of Lyric being the only one to know his secret, of her actually
having a touch of
sight
, how many times had they talked about him
wanting Shane, only to end up at the same place—that the only way to determine
if Shane might have leanings in a bi direction was for Tyler to make a move.

He swallowed, pulse speeding, his chest tightening as fear
returned with thoughts of taking that risk.

“Want to play some more music?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He wasn’t as passionate about the guitar as he was his art,
but it didn’t leave anything incriminating behind for snooping Maguires and
Montgomerys to find.

It was a good way to escape temptation—except the feelings
he’d had earlier returned, deepening with each song he and Madison did. It felt
right, natural, as if they’d always played together, as if they always would.

It was almost two in the morning when they finally stopped,
setting their guitars aside, standing, exchanging a glance, her obvious exhaustion
helping to maintain his self-discipline while allowing him to rationalize
stepping forward, touching his lips to hers, giving her a kiss that flooded him
with longing but at the same time was brief enough not to allow the desire for
her to consume his caution.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

Her palm settled on his chest. His heart pounded against it.

For a long moment, their eyes met and want shimmered between
them. It was like standing at the edge of a precipice, both of them aware of
how risky and dangerous that drop was.

Her hand fell away from his chest. She leaned in, brushed
her mouth against his. “It’s already morning. See you in a little while.”

She disappeared into the guest room. He went to his own,
imagining her slowly peeling off her clothing, allowing himself to slide into a
fantasy where he joined her in bed. That fantasy morphing into a dream where
Shane was also there.

* * * * *

“Are we still going to do this?” Madison asked, heart
thundering, her arms tightening around Elijah’s waist.

She wanted to. They both did. But they were going to end
up in trouble.

Probably. Maybe.

Eli had a better chance of getting away with it than she
did. For one thing, his parents didn’t care so much about what he did, as long
as they didn’t have to miss work.

Guilt crept in at the prospect of causing her parents
worry and at disappointing them.

They don’t have to find out, she told herself. They weren’t
good about checking the message machine. All she had to do was get to it first,
erase the call from the office saying she’d been reported absent from school…

She rubbed her cheek against Eli’s and inhaled the scent
of his shampoo. She loved him so much, couldn’t imagine not being with him.
They were perfect together and had been since he’d shown up at school after his
dad got a promotion and transfer to Richmond from Jacksonville, Florida.

“We’ve wanted to hear Smash forever,” she said. “They
probably won’t be anywhere close for a while. And besides, what’s better than a
beach concert?”

“You sure you want to skip?”

“Positive.”

He kind of huff-sighed, making her hair fly. “I hate it
when you get grounded.”

“Me too.”

It seemed like it happened a lot more often lately. Jam
sessions got going and no one wanted to quit. The guys would get excited about
one of her songs and they’d start tinkering with it. Then sometimes one of the
other band members or some of their friends passed around a joint, and that led
to a private make-out session. Not that just being with Elijah wasn’t enough to
make her want to get naked and do it.

Elijah nuzzled his way to her mouth.

She melted against him.

They could kiss forever, but this one had to be short.

The school bell rang.

Other couples broke apart in the parking lot.

“Let’s go,” he said, and they slid into the black MINI Cooper
his parents had given him.

The guilt returned as they sped toward Virginia Beach.

She wished her parents would chill. She wished they’d
stop bugging her about her grades. Music was her future. Music and Elijah.

They’d see. It’d turn out okay.

One day the band they were in—not the current one—was
going to pack stadiums. They were going to top the Billboard charts with songs
that went gold. Her songs.

The songs were her ticket. She didn’t have the mad guitar
skills that Elijah did, but she was good enough to play in whatever band he was
in so they could be together.

She knew it in her heart. She believed it totally.

Which was why going to hear Smash and watch them perform
was so important.

It was a different kind of learning. More useful than
struggling to stay awake while Ms. Takakura scribbled numbers on the blackboard
or Mr. Collins droned on and on about people who’d died hundreds of years ago
and were totally irrelevant.

She closed her eyes, let the tunes filling the car fill
her head and chase the guilt away. Excitement built the closer they got to
Virginia Beach. And when they reached it… They weren’t the only ones who’d
skipped school for an outdoor concert.

See, it’ll be okay, she told herself, silently sending
the message to her parents.

She was so so glad she and Eli were there, listening to
the warm-up bands. Singing every song when Smash was on stage. Elijah phantom
playing the guitar. Her doing the same, leaning in and singing into an
imaginary mic.

She hated for it to end.

Hung onto the natural high of it as they drove toward
home, Smash playing in the MINI as they relived the concert.

Only the closer they got to Richmond, the louder her
heart beat.

It thundered in her ears. Became the screech of brakes
and her own scream.

Madison bolted from the nightmare, not that she’d ever be
able to escape what came next.

Lying trapped in the twisted remains of the MINI. Elijah—

Tyler appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his hair
sleep-mussed, his bare feet visible below his jeans, a gun in his hand.

“You okay?”

“Nightmare. I take it I screamed?”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his chest and the desire she’d felt earlier
returned with a vengeance, this time tangled in a need for comfort, for escape.

She leaned forward, hugging her knees.

It brought Tyler deeper into the room.

He put the gun on the nightstand then sat on the bed, his
side touched to her forearm. “Want to talk about it?”

Not the nightmare. She’d expected it, though it’d been a
long time since it’d caused her to scream. Not whatever was going on between
him and Shane—or more accurately, what was
not
going on. Not the fact
that she couldn’t have the happy-ever-after, not yet, not when the dream was a
reminder that the music had to come first after making sure her parents didn’t
lose the house.

“Hey,” Tyler said, pushing her hair off her face. “Want to
talk about it?”

The light brush of his fingers against her cheek was enough
to obliterate the reasons she should deny the need. The tenderness in his voice
was balm and glue.

She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think, didn’t want
to remember.

What she wanted was to feel. To stop fighting the
attraction.

She met his eyes, unclasped her arms from around her knees.

“What if we do this instead?” she said, reaching, tangling her
fingers in long strands of blond hair.

His lips parted.

Heat slid into her breasts. Her nipples tightened, stabbing
against the peach-colored sleeping tank in an erotic demand to be noticed,
touched, sucked.

His eyes said
yes
even though the word hadn’t left
his mouth.