Give Him the Slip (9 page)

"Oh?" His gaze locked on Maddie's. "What else do
you know about her, Deidre?"

"She changed her name legally when she got out of jail.
They've kept her new name real hush-hush. Maddie Kincaid's record is real, but
the name has definitely been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. I only
found out because Jennifer Thompson missed the change on one report. Up until
then, I had no clue she'd stayed in Texas. I figured her father would have
pulled some strings. Luke, Madeline Kincaid was born Madeline Connaught."

Madeline Connaught. Didn't ring a bell. "So?"

Maddie watched awareness enter Luke Callahan's eyes. So, now he
knows. She was Baby Dagger, the most hated child in the Western world. The
despised person responsible for breaking up the Swords, the greatest rock group
since the Beatles. As a third grader, Maddie had been the Yoko Ono of the
elementary school set.

She really didn't want to go over that part of her life with the
likes of Luke Callahan. While he was still on the phone, she pushed past him,
running away from both past and present. She fled to the flybridge, where she
plopped down on the deck, gazed up at the stars, and wished herself miles away.

Maddie knew how to wish. She'd been eight years old when she
begged her parents, British rocker Blade and his American, vocal-lead wife,
Savannah, to give her a normal childhood. Even then she'd wanted Mayberry.
She'd dreamed of a
My Three Sons
house and a teacher the likes of the
Beaver's Miss Landers. She'd craved a real-life bedtime and brownies made from
scratch by her mother.

Her parents loved her and they listened. At the end of a concert
in Barcelona, Blade announced to the crowd that he and Savannah were leaving
the band—because that's what Baby Dagger wanted.

It proved to be a poor choice of words. A riot broke out in the
stadium. People were nearly trampled to death. Someone started a fire in a
trash can, which then spread to a concession. One woman had a stroke. Headlines
across the world picked up the quote, and overnight, Baby Dagger became a
synonym for spoiled brat.

Nevertheless, her parents persevered and chose for their home a
suburb in Middle America, looking for picket fences. Instead, they got picket
lines and paparazzi. In Kansas.

The townspeople didn't appreciate the fuss, and Maddie's dream was
spoiled. They'd had to replace pretty white pickets with an iron fence and
gate, intercoms, and cameras. Neighborhood games of tag didn't happen. Baby
Dagger couldn't walk to and from school without a bodyguard, and no matter how
much she wished it, she could never be just another kid hoping to be chosen for
a softball team or to play red rover on the playground.

Luckily, except for a few diehards who refused to go away, the
press's pursuit faded as the months went on, and for an oh-so-brief amount of
time, Baby Dagger caught a glimpse of Normal, USA. Oh, she never quite managed
to ride that school bus, and she wasn't chosen to play Mary in the Christmas
pageant, but she did get to go trick-or-treating door-to-door. The Halloween
when she was nine was the absolute best day of her life.

Then, the next day, she asked Savannah to make brownies.

It was a freak accident. No one knew for sure what happened, but
the detectives suspect Savannah spilled the batter, then slipped and hit her
head on the edge of the kitchen table. Savannah had been dead for about an hour
before father and daughter found her.

The press went wild. Blade went crazy. Like a violent black
tornado, he scooped Baby up from Kansas and dropped her back into his version
of Oz—the world of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Only this time, without the
settling presence of his beloved Savannah, for the better part of a decade
Blade got lost.

A warm night breeze swirled around Maddie as sorrow welled up
inside her at the memory. Such sad years. Such lonely years. There'd been one
stretch of time when Blade left her on the estate in England and didn't return
for more than twenty-six months.

Maddie heard Luke's footsteps climbing the stairs to the
fly-bridge. She drew a deep breath of damp, earthy air, then her sigh joined
the whispering of leaves in the trees. "I should have just told you,"
she said as he stretched out beside her. "I was stupid to think I could
get through this mess without that bit of news coming out. I've never been that
lucky."

"You certainly are full of surprises."

From somewhere below them, Knucklehead let out a whimper. Luke
responded with a soft whistle, and moments later, the dog padded up the steps
and plopped down beside Maddie, laying his head in her lap. She scratched him
behind his ears and waited for Luke to bombard her with questions.

First, he'd ask her about her parents' decision to leave the
Swords. Then he'd want to know about her mother's death and her father's drug
addiction. After that, he'd pepper her with questions about the Infamous
Comeback Interview of her father by Barbara Walters, and Luke's voice would
drip with the scorn that invariably accompanied any sentence that included the
words "Baby Dagger."

But Luke surprised her. Rather than lashing her with the usual
vitriol of angry fans, instead of asking about her parents and all the trials
and tribulations associated therewith, he focused his interest in a different
direction. "So, you've only had the one arrest."

"Yes." Officially. There had been a few other close
calls, but her father had managed to buy Maddie's way out of those.

"What about that incident at the Le Mans race?"

That had been twelve years ago when she'd been with Rip. "I
was totally innocent. I didn't steal that car."

Luke's eyes glittered like a cat's in the milky moonlight, his
gaze drifting down across her chest. "I heard the idea for that Super Bowl
halftime stunt a few years ago came from your wardrobe malfunction at the MTV
awards."

"Mine
was
an accident." Liam, the blighter, had
gotten amorous in the limo on the way to the awards, and neither of them
noticed the torn seam. "I didn't get arrested for that."

"Hmm... I seem to recall something else." He paused a
moment in thought, then snapped his fingers. "Bad checks. Didn't you rack
up some ridiculous amount of bad check charges a few years back?"

Maddie tossed her head, sending her strawberry locks flying.
"That was a lie. A bold-faced lie. Tabloids didn't have anything to report
on me, so when they saw me shopping in London, they made it up. All of
it."

"You didn't sue?"

"What's the point?" Bitterness soured her tone.
"With my reputation, I'd look even worse. It's easier to let it go.
Frankly, Callahan, I'm surprised a DEA agent would lower himself to read
tabloid trash."

"Hell, I once read a telephone book while sitting on a
stakeout."

"Aren't you going to ask about Blade's drug addiction? His
next album? His hit single 'Baby's to Blame'?"

"No, don't think I will."

She studied him, a faint smile playing across her lips.
"You're not a rock music fan?"

"I wouldn't go that far. I think the Swords' 'Honey' is one
of the best rock ballads ever written. I'm more a blues and Buffett guy. As far
as your father goes..." He shrugged. "Not to be insulting, but
celebrities don't interest me. I learned long ago that too much money tends to
get folks in trouble. I'll listen if you want to talk about your father and his
peculiarities, but to be honest, what I'm really interested in is you."

He couldn't have said anything more perfect, and Maddie melted.
"Thank you," she murmured, then she leaned over to give him an
affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Somehow, her lips landed on his mouth.

He didn't let them leave.

Maddie knew almost immediately that she'd made a huge mistake as
Luke took control of the kiss. Her pulse leapt, her blood hummed. Desire washed
through her like a warm summer rain. He tasted of moonlight and man, and he
made Maddie yearn. She wanted to press herself against him, to experience the
sensation of a firm, hard body molded to hers. She wanted to lose herself in
the magic of the moonlight, the mystery of the man, and the marvel of his mouth
that even now took control.

So she did.

At her surrender, Luke Callahan's kiss turned hot and hard and
merciless. He captured her head in his hands, sinking his fingers into her
hair, and drank from her lips like a drowning man. The intensity of his
reaction sent a giddy sense of power sizzling through her.

Oh, how she'd missed this—the heat, the wonder, the delight.
Tension curled in the pit of her stomach and she shuddered with pleasure. He
muttered words against her mouth, but they sounded more like curses than
compliments.

Suddenly, he shifted and she was under him on the hard deck, her
hair a copper halo around her, his hands impatient, sweeping her farther into
the madness.

Madness.

Oh, God.
What was she doing? Had she lost her
ever-loving mind?

It ran through her mind that she was completely within his power.
They were alone in a secluded spot. He was strong, much stronger than she. He
could take whatever he wanted and she couldn't stop him.

A shameful part of her thrilled to the idea. She could indulge
herself guilt free. She could satisfy this deep, delicious ache without
responsibility. She could...

"No. Please." She could hear the needy whimper in her
voice. "Please, Luke. I can't do this."

He went still. For a long, tense moment, he didn't move, yet she
could feel the pound of his pulse, the hard ridge of his arousal against her.
Maddie moved her hand, which had been clutching his shirt, and ever so slightly
pressed against his chest.

Luke Callahan rolled off her with a curse.
So much for being
forced.

Gulping air like a diver down too long, he lay on his back on the
houseboat's deck with his arm slung over his eyes. Above, a dark cloud drifted
across the moon's silvered light, and the night turned inky. The sounds of the
bayou seemed to swell in the sudden darkness—the constant chirp of crickets,
the repetitive croaks of frogs.

The rapid breathing of two people in the moments following
thwarted lovemaking.

From somewhere behind them came the bellow of an alligator. Luke,
however, didn't speak.

Maddie didn't know what to say. Despite the fact that sexual
attraction had hummed between them all day, this inferno had caught her by
surprise. How had a simple thank-you kiss evolved into something so... intense?

"Luke, that shouldn't have—"

"Don't ask me to apologize, lady. You're the one who started
it." His voice vibrated with frustration as he added, "I guess I
missed the tabloid story about Baby Dagger being a tease."

Hurt by his anger, she sucked in a breath. "I'm... going
downstairs. Good night."

She scrambled away from him and fled down to her cabin, where she
dove into bed and yanked the covers over her head, trying to hide from herself.
Oh, Maddie. You're such a mess.

The events of the day and of yesterday rolled through her mind
like a bad movie. She lay for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep.

She never did hear Luke come down from the flybridge.

Dawn crept like a thief across the bayou, stealing the shadows and
songs of the night and leaving an anticipatory quiet in its wake. Luke stood at
the wheel, waiting for the moment that sufficient light filtered through the
trees to illuminate the surroundings.

His eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep, and his head ached from a
night spent doing too much thinking while arriving at too few answers. He'd had
trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that an honest-to-God rock princess
had managed to get herself involved in mayhem and murder while hiding out in
Brazos Bend, Texas. It was so farfetched, so completely unbelievable, that he
had to believe it might be true.

However, he couldn't rule out the possibility that his father had
orchestrated the entire thing. Branch Callahan was the King of Conspiracy, and
Maddie could easily be working with him. Or she could be his innocent pawn.
Either way, if Branch Callahan was acting the puppet master, damned if Luke
wanted to dangle on his strings.

Which left him balanced on the old horns of a dilemma. He'd tossed
and turned for hours trying to decide what to do with Maddie "Baby
Dagger" Kincaid. He'd considered easing the
Miss Behavin' II
up
to
the dock at Caddo Bayou Marina, and stopping only long enough to kick her and
her goldfish off his boat before heading right back toward the gulf. He'd pondered
hanging around long enough to check the back of her minivan and verify the
existence of the shrooms. If all was as she claimed, he could then wash his
hands of her and her problem by calling his old boss and dumping the problem in
his lap.

Then there had been a third possible course of action that had
flitted through his mind like a sin off and on throughout the night. He could
tie up the
Miss Behavin' II,
blow off his brother, and devote himself to
solving his houseboat guest's problems. It'd screw his fishing trip, but
chances looked good that he'd get seriously laid. Judging by the heat of their
kiss, Luke doubted they'd last another day together without going at it.