Jukebox Heroes Omnibus Volume 2

Chapter One

We found her.

The words startled me so much that I had to replay the voice mail from London twice before I got the whole message.

We found her. She’s in Austin. I’m getting on a plane right now. I’m scheduled to get in around 1:30. I’ll call when I’m on the ground. I love you.

My hands shook as I set my cell on the night stand. My legs felt watery and weak, so I sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to process London’s message. I knew who the ‘her’ in question was – a four-year-old girl who might be London’s daughter. He’d been looking for her, with help from a special agent named Quinn, who we had met the year before when London’s ex-girlfriend had turned terrorist. Almost a year later, they had finally tracked down the little girl.

And she was here in Austin.

I glanced at the clock and picked up my cell again. London had called while I was in the shower getting ready to go to church for the first time in many years. There was no way I could go now, not unless I wanted to duck out early so I could make it to the airport in time to pick up London. I’d been looking for an excuse to skip it, if I were totally honest with myself. I consider myself a Christian and spiritual and all, but church had always made me feel farther away from God instead of closer to Him. I hadn’t been looking forward to the experience, but I’d sort of promised a friend. I’d only promised to go one day soon, though. Today would not be that day.

My mind turned back to London as I dried off and dressed. Even though we were in a relationship – a complicated one – we hadn’t seen each other in nearly three months. We hadn’t even spoken in more than a week. And he was on his way here, now.

I realized that I was looking for a cute outfit to wear and gave myself a mental kick. London hadn’t come to see me; he’d come looking for his daughter, if she was his daughter. It didn’t make any damned difference what I wore. I pulled on jeans, a short-sleeved sweater, socks, and boots, managing to strike a balance between cute and comfortable.

After I had gotten dressed, dried my hair, and talked myself out of putting on makeup, I checked the time again. I still had hours to kill before London’s plane landed, and I’d never been good at waiting.

I tried to read. I tried to watch TV. I even tried to go back to sleep. All I managed to do was mess up my hair and get fuzz on my sweater.

Finally, I gave in and put on makeup just so I would have something to occupy myself with for a little while. The last thing I wanted to do was think. I didn’t want to puzzle over my relationship with London or wonder what it would be like to see him again after all this time. I didn’t want to worry about what would happen if London found out this girl wasn’t actually his daughter – or what would happen if she was. I didn’t want to consider how strange it was that I’d ended up settling in Austin only to have London’s maybe-daughter turn up here as well.

I’m not a big believer in coincidence, and I often find myself tracing paths backward from the present to see where small or large changes in decisions or circumstances could have made a drastic difference in my life. Right now, though, it wasn’t something I wanted to consider.

My stomach fluttering with anxiety and anticipation, I slipped on my favorite hoodie, grabbed my purse, and headed out into the crisp March day. Even if I ran into traffic, I’d get to the airport far too early. I decided to take the long way – the really long way – and let the combination of driving and good music clear some of the cobwebs out of my head. The tried and true combination worked wonders. By the time I reached the airport, I was feeling a little more in command of myself. Whatever happened, I knew I’d be okay.

I was pulling into the passenger pick-up area at Austin Bergstrom when my cell rang. I didn’t bother answering it. I could see London standing outside the glass doors, cell phone pressed to his ear, so I pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. For a moment, I just stared, drinking in the sight of him. His hair had gotten longer, and it had been bleached a little either by the sun or a good stylist. He was too thin, and he looked tired.

Swallowing my nervousness, I stepped out of the car and went to meet London. As I skirted around the front of my car, he turned toward me and our eyes met. A moment later, a smile lit his face, and he grabbed me up in a big bear hug. I hugged him back hard.

I’ve missed you, London told me.

I couldn’t say anything. I knew if I tried, I’d start crying. So I just nodded my head against his chest and let him hug me even tighter.

We couldn’t stay like that for long. There were too many people around, too many cars wanting my space. London tossed his backpack and suitcase onto the back seat, pushed the passenger seat all the way back to accommodate his long, long legs, and climbed inside as I made my way around to the driver’s seat.

I had just buckled my safety belt and was reaching to put the car into gear when London turned my face toward his. He leaned in and kissed me, a long, searching kiss that told me more than words ever could just how much he had missed me.

He eased back, smiling into my teary eyes. You okay to drive?

I gave him a decisive nod and turned to face forward again. A couple of deep breaths to center myself, and I maneuvered the car out into the lane and headed back toward my apartment.

I need to call Quinn, let him know I’m here, London said.

Okay.

I listened to his side of the conversation as I drove, hearing enough to learn that Quinn would be meeting London at my apartment at some point and that he was refusing to give out any information over the phone. London hung up with a frustrated growl and rubbed his eyes.

Wanting to offer what comfort I could, I reached over to lay my hand on his arm. He shifted a little, taking my hand in his, and I drew our joined hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

How’s Quinn doing? I asked.

Quinn had been shot in the line of duty the year before and had opted for early retirement from his government job. Since then, he’d been working with London, but I’d heard very little about the man outside of what he was doing to help with the investigation. I still struggled sometimes with the memory of watching Quinn take a bullet, trying to block the memory of the pain on his face and his blood on my hands. I pushed those thoughts away now and concentrated on the road.

He had some pretty serious nerve damage. His shoulder still gives him hell at times. But he’s doing all right.

I took my hand back long enough to execute a tricky lane change, and then asked about Brian and Dylan.

Are they still ridiculously happy? I asked.

Yeah, they are. I could hear the smile in his voice. I’m kind of jealous, sometimes, even though I’m really happy for them.

Me, too, I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

We continued to make small talk as Austin whizzed by outside our windows. It wasn’t until I took the exit toward my apartment, half an hour later, that I finally made myself broach the subject of the girl who might be his daughter.

Tell me about her, was all I said.

Quinn’s still trying to track down records. We still don’t know her name or if she’s…if she’s mine.

Yeah, I said.

But Julia showed up here in Austin with her about a year ago. She left the girl with a couple that lives here, and that’s where Quinn found her. That’s really all I know.

I thought about that for a minute. If Julia had come to Austin this time last year, then she’d been here not long before she kidnapped Dylan in an attempt to drag London into her twisted little world. I wondered if she’d come here looking for Vanessa – the former friend of Dylan’s who’d been in on the kidnapping and had later ended up in a mental hospital – or if she’d merely run into her here. I imagined them hatching their evil plans over drinks on Sixth Street.

Knowing that bitch had invaded my town made me see red. Truth be told, I kind of liked being angry at Julia, even if the evil bitch was dead. Being angry made it easier to deal with the fact that I was the one who’d put her in the ground.

We lapsed into silence as I concentrated on driving the last few blocks to my apartment. I turned into the drive, pausing to punch in my code at the gate.

You live here? London asked, his tone somewhere between incredulity and scorn.

We can’t all be rock stars living in splendid excess, I snapped as I drove through the gate.

I knew how the place looked, comprised as it was of ugly, weathered, boxy buildings. But the rent was cheap, the area was safe, and my apartment was comfortable and pest-free. It was good enough for me, and if that wasn’t good enough for London, he could kiss my ass.

Sorry, sorry. But when you told me you’d found a great apartment, this isn’t quite what I pictured.

It may not look like much–

But it’s got it where it counts?

I laughed then, my fit of temper falling away. Something like that.

I found a parking spot near my door, thankful once again that I’d found a first floor apartment, and led London inside. He paused in the doorway looking around, and I had to nudge him aside to shut the door.

Nice, he said. He let his backpack slide down to settle at his feet and then pulled me into his arms. I’ve missed you so much.

I’ve missed you, too, I told him. I pushed up his leather jacket and the shirt beneath it to slide my hands over the warm skin of his back.

London took a step back and leaned down to kiss me. I stretched up on my toes to meet him halfway, but the height difference between us always made kissing awkward – at least when we were both standing. We’d discovered there were plenty of better positions for kissing.

I really want to take you to bed and show you just how much I’ve missed you, London said even as he took a step backward, away from me. But….

But Quinn could show up at any time, I finished for him.

Exactly. He grabbed his luggage and crossed the tiny living room to the open bedroom door. He set the suitcase against the wall and dropped the backpack on the bed, taking a moment to look around at the bedroom the same way he had the living area. He smiled as he spotted my archaic teddy bear nestled between the pillows on the bed.

Does Benny approve of the apartment? he asked, scooping up the bear and holding him against his chest, facing me.

I grinned. He does, I said, rescuing Benny the bear. He especially likes the part where we can afford to live here.

London’s expression turned serious as he stroked a hand over my cheek. Elizabeth–

I cut him off. If you offer me money, I’m going to scream.

To his credit, London just closed his eyes for a moment, took a couple of deep breaths, and then gave me a shaky smile. I rewarded him by stretching up on my toes and pulling his head down to brush another kiss against his lips.

London excused himself to the loo, and I went to dig through my delivery menus. It had been a long time since breakfast, and I figured London was probably starving, too. I was standing at the bar between the kitchen and living room and flipping through the menus when I heard the jingle of keys. My front door opened, and I smiled at the man who stepped inside.

In a suit and tie, with his hair tamed, Chris could pass for your friendly neighborhood accountant. I thought of it as his Clark Kent disguise. I’d only seen him like this a handful of times, and I’d known him for months now. Chris and I had met just a couple of weeks after I’d moved to Austin, and it hadn’t taken long for us to become friends. No one could ever take the place of my evil twin, Dylan, but Chris was a close second. He and my brother, Alex, who lived nearby in San Antonio, had managed to keep me sane in Dylan’s absence. It hadn’t been an easy task.

Hey, beautiful, Chris said, pushing the door closed.

Hey, yourself.

Mom said to tell you she missed you in church today, he said, crossing the space between us.

Yeah, well. Something came up.

Uh-huh, he said.

Chris took my face in his hands and pressed a warm, lingering kiss to my lips. Even with London here, I couldn’t resist putting my arms around Chris and drawing out the kiss just a little. I should have known better.

I thought you said I had nothing to worry about, London said from somewhere behind me.

I sighed as I pulled away from Chris. I wasn’t sure what to say. I had told London months ago that I was spending a lot of time with Chris, but that we were just friends. Things had changed, and I hadn’t bothered to tell London.

It’s not exactly something I wanted to go into over the phone, I said.

London’s jaw clenched, along with his fists. I can’t believe you replaced me with this asshole.

Replaced? Chris replied, incredulous. Is that what you think? God, I wish. I really do. Beth would be better off if she could let you go. Hell, we both would.

Beth? It was London’s turn for disbelief. He turned to look at me. Does he even know you at all?

London knew I hated almost all nicknames that could be derived from my name – Liz, Liza, Libby, and even Beth. But somehow Beth sounded okay when Chris said it. I didn’t know how to explain that, so I just shrugged.

And where do you get off saying Elizabeth would be better off without me? Just because it’d make your life easier, it doesn’t mean it would be better for her.

Chris cracked his knuckles and crossed his arms across his broad chest. Think what you want, but it’s the truth. I’ve known that almost as long as I’ve known Beth. I should, since I’m the one who picks up the pieces every time you break her heart. Every single time you forgot about her for days at a time, I hoped that you’d just stay away. But as soon as you needed something, needed comfort or to feel loved, you came back. And she let you. Every. Single. Time.

Chris– I began, but he cut me off with a shake of my head.

I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here right now, he said. I’ll call you later.

He turned toward the door, and I was at his side.

I’m sorry, I said.

Hey, no, Chris said, the anger in his voice gone, replaced by something softer. He cupped my face in his hands again. We’re good, baby. We’re great. And you have nothing to be sorry for. He kissed me again, a long, lingering press of lips, and then headed for the door.

Chapter Two

As Chris reached for the doorknob, someone knocked, and he jerked open the door like he owned the place. Quinn stood in the doorway, blinking up at Chris in confusion.

Oh, hey, he said. What are you doing here?

I was going to ask you the same thing, Chris replied, stepping aside to let Quinn inside.

You two know each other? I asked.

Yeah. We go way back. Robbie used to date my sister, Chris said. It had been so long since I’d heard Quinn’s first name that I’d almost forgotten it.

About a million years ago, Quinn added, setting his laptop bag on the dining table. He paused for a second before adding, He’s been helping me with my investigation. He looked past me at London. He’s the one who found Madison.

Madison? London asked, his voice strained. Her name’s Madison?

I watched understanding dawn on Chris’s face. Oh, hell, he breathed, and then he was moving across the room toward London. He caught London as his knees buckled and helped him cross the few feet to the nearest chair. Breathe, he said.

I knelt at London’s feet, looking up into his downturned face. His anger was long gone, replaced by shock and fear and relief and God knows what else.

Chris half-sat on the arm of the couch, only a couple of feet away. Quinn sat on one end of my coffee table, which meant I’d bump into him if I leaned back so much as an inch. My living room was really, really small.

Is she...is she okay? London asked.

Yeah, man, Chris said, his tone soft and gentle now, not too different from the one he’d used to reassure me just minutes before. Madison is fine. She’s in good hands.

How? London asked, lifting his head to meet Quinn’s eyes. How can she be in good hands if...if these people....

If Julia knew and trusted them? Quinn asked. I think you know the answer to that.

Julia had tricked London once upon a time, making him believe that she was not only a good person but the love of his life. He had later learned that the entire relationship had been a sham, an elaborate manipulation designed to pull him into the world of magic. Eventually it had even worked, though not the way she’d originally planned.

I’ve looked into them, London, Quinn added. They’re good people, and they take good care of Madison. She’s happy and healthy.

She’s a great kid, Chris added.

London turned to look at him, the unasked question plain on his face.

Chris gave him a one-shouldered shrug. Her foster family goes to my church.

You’ve gotta be kidding me, I said.

I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help feeling that if I’d just gone to church with Chris and his mom like they’d been asking me to do – his mom because she thought it would be good for my soul and Chris just because he wanted my company – that this whole search would have taken a lot less time. Like I would have instinctively known, somehow, that she was the girl London had been searching for.

I want to see her, London said. Today. Now.

Quinn and Chris exchanged a look, and I didn’t like what I saw pass between them. I took London’s hands in mine, bracing myself and offering him my support.

London, Quinn said, you really need to think about this, man. Madison doesn’t know you. She’s already had her life turned upside down at least once. She’s happy. She’s got a good family, a good life.

No, London said, his voice thick with pain, as his hands tightened around mine. I’m not walking away now.

At least take a couple of days to think about it, Quinn suggested.

Are you high? I snapped.

We don’t even know if London has a stake in this, Quinn pointed out.

Chris huffed an unamused laugh. "You are high. He’s spent a year looking for Madison. And I’m beginning to realize just how much that search has cost him, he said, reaching down to stroke my hair. Doesn't matter whether she's his kid; I’d say he has a right to at least meet her and her foster family. I think he needs to see for himself that she’s okay."

I let go of one of London’s hands and reached up to take Chris’s. London looked at Chris like he’d never seen him before. I guess the about-face was a bit confusing, but it’s amazing what a little perspective can do.

Chris turned his smile toward London. I’ll talk to the Porters myself, see if I can set up a meeting.

Chris, Quinn began, but Chris cut him off.

I didn’t go to the trouble of tracking this kid just for you to get in the damn way, Rob. You can’t pull the KGB card anymore, so drop it.

Quinn sighed. The KGB was Soviet, he said.

You always got pissed when I compared you guys to the CIA, Chris said with a little smile.

Yeah, yeah. Quinn shook his head. Fine. See what you can do.

Did you ever hear back from Martine? London asked. He seemed to be recovering from the shock.

Yeah, but she’s got nothing yet, Quinn said.

Martine? I asked.

Quinn smiled. She’s my main contact at the agency now. Among other things. She’s trying to track down any records related to Madison, but so far she hasn’t turned up anything.

Nothing? I asked, puzzled.

Nothing. No birth certificate on record anywhere in the U.S. for any child born to Julia Chandler.

So either Madison was born off the grid somehow, I began.

Or she’s not Julia’s, Quinn finished.

He went to retrieve the laptop case from my tiny dining table. Once he’d reclaimed his seat, he flipped the case open and pulled out a manila folder. From the folder he extracted a handful of 8x10 pictures. They looked like the surveillance photos you see in movies, only much clearer. He selected one and handed it to London.

London held the photograph as tenderly as if it were Madison herself. He stroked his fingers over the black-and-white image of her face, and then abruptly thrust the photograph at Quinn.

She’s Julia’s, he said, his voice hoarse. She looks just like her. He pushed up from the chair, nearly knocking me down in the process, and fled to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a bang.

I stared after him for a long moment and then let Chris help me to my feet to be held and comforted. I think Chris had figured out before I did that if Madison was Julia’s daughter then she was likely also London’s. And that meant that my whole world was about to change, and maybe not for the better.

Chris left soon after that, with promises to talk to the Porters and an admonition to call if I needed anything. Quinn gathered up the photos and followed Chris out of the apartment. Once I’d locked the door behind them, I slipped into the bedroom to check on London.

He lay on my bed, curled up into a little ball. I lay down facing him and rested my hand on his arm. He shifted and held up his arm in an offer for me to cuddle, and I took him up on it, turning so that he could spoon up behind me.

I’m scared, I admitted.

London huffed out a breath. Me, too, Em. Me, too. He snuggled a little closer to me, nuzzling my neck, and then backed off again. I don’t get it, he said.

Don’t get what?

That Chris guy, he said, and I tensed. He’s not what I expected. At all. When I first saw him, I thought that I understood. I was sure he was the complete opposite of me. But now I just don’t know.

You have the wrong idea about Chris, I told him, lacing my fingers through his. Way wrong.

I hate that I can’t hate him, London confessed. I really want to.

I get that, I said. And I got why he couldn’t hate Chris, too. Chris had played a part in finding Madison, and that counted for a hell of a lot in London’s mind, I knew.

We lay there for a little while longer, until my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in way too long. I retrieved the delivery menus, and London and I lay in bed looking them over. We settled on a local pizza place, and London did his best to distract me while I called in the order.

Food first, I told him after I’d hung up. I scooted away from him, meaning to get up and head into the living room, but he caught hold of my hand.

Come back, he said. I’ll behave.

Promise?

Promise.

He was as good as his word, content to just cuddle while we waited for our late, late lunch to arrive. After we’d eaten, though, all bets were off. He pounced on me the second I’d swallowed my last bite, pushing me back against the sofa cushions and covering my mouth with his.

I pushed him away, laughing. Impatient much?

Mmmm, he agreed, turning his attention to my neck.

So not fair, I said. He knew all my hot buttons, and he had gone straight for number one. I didn’t stand a chance.

Bedroom, I gasped a few minutes later, as London stripped off my sweater.

Here, he insisted, his fingers finding and releasing the hooks on my bra.

I kissed him hard, my hands tangling in his hair, and then pulled away again. Condoms are in the bedroom, I said.

London stopped dead still like someone had flipped a switch, and I realized too late what I’d just said and what it implied.

London, I began, my voice soft. I reached up to cup his cheek, but he turned away.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I can’t see it. You and...that guy.

I sighed and pulled my sweater back on. That’s probably a good thing, don’t you think?

So not what I meant.

I ignored him and went to the bedroom. I vented my frustration by taking off my boots and hurling them into the closet. I didn’t have any neighbors on the bedroom side of my apartment, so I didn’t feel bad about the loud thumps the boots made as they bounced off the back wall of the walk-in.

Elizabeth.

The contrition in London’s voice caused me to turn toward him, an apology leaving my lips before I knew I was going to speak.

I’m sorry, too, he said. Your ‘friend’ was right. I haven’t been here for you. I’ve taken you for granted. I pushed you right into his arms. He rubbed his eyes and leaned against the doorjamb. I’ve been an idiot.

You’ve had a lot to deal with, I said, moving to rest my head against his chest.

London wrapped his arms around me. Doesn’t excuse my being a shitty boyfriend. No, don’t argue, he said, touching a finger to my lips to silence me. I thought about this a lot on the flight down here. It didn’t make hearing it from him any easier, though.

He has a name, I pointed out.

I kind of accidentally on purpose forgot what it was.

I laughed and gave London a little squeeze. Chris. His name is Chris. And you might as well make up your mind to remember it.

So it’s like that, is it, London said. He’s not going anywhere.

Of course he’s not going anywhere, I said, taking a step backward. He’s the best friend I’ve got, next to Dylan.

He winced. I deserved that.

Dammit, London, quit twisting what I’m saying! I didn’t mean– I broke off and growled in frustration. Actually growled.

London grinned and pulled me back into his arms. God, you’re so damn cute. He smoothed a hand over my hair. I’m sorry I’m being so....

Girly?

I was going to say overly sensitive.

Same thing.

Chapter Three

London and I spent a lot of time that evening curled up together, sometimes talking, sometimes watching bad TV, sometimes just lying together in the silent calm of my crappy apartment. Eventually, he rekindled the flames I’d extinguished earlier, bringing us together in a way that left no doubt in my mind that he was staking his claim and trying to prove himself the better man and better lover.

We fell asleep twined together in a riot of blankets and bare skin, and I woke much later to the familiar sound of Lifehouse’s Nerve Damage. I fumbled for my phone, cracking one eye open to see how to answer the silly thing.

Hey, I murmured.

Hey yourself, Chris said. Come let me in. Someone chained the door.

I grunted and disconnected the call, trying to remember when and if I’d put the chain on. I didn’t, as a general rule, since I lived in a decent neighborhood. It made it easier for Chris to slip into the apartment and my bed after he got off work at some ungodly hour of morning.

Rubbing my eyes, I snagged my robe from the inside of the closet door and slid the satin over my bare skin as I headed into the living room, pushing the bedroom door mostly shut behind me. I tied the robe and dealt with the door chain, letting Chris in.

Morning, he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against my lips. He had both hands full, one with a drink carrier of coffee and the other with a bag of some unknown goodness.

You’re way too happy in the morning, I noted, not for the first time.

He put the drinks and food on the coffee table, tossed his leather jacket onto the couch, and dropped down into the recliner. Only when I’m around you, he told me.

I found myself smiling as I let him drag me down onto his lap. He kissed me again, tender and possessive but still little more than a press of lips. I broke the kiss and rested my forehead against his. I was still sleepy, and I could have easily fallen asleep there in his lap. I’m pretty sure I was well on my way to sleep when my robe fell open and his hand slipped inside to caress my hip.

Chris, I protested, trying to ignore the sparks of desire that danced over my nerve endings at his touch. You can’t. I pulled the edges of my robe together again and tied the belt, but Chris’s hand stayed put, tracing circles of fire over my