BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds

by Lexxie Couper

  Darko tossed the letter onto his chaotic desk. “You can’t quit. I need you.”

  “What you need, darling, is a slave. That’s the only way you’ll find someone willing to be trapped on an island in the middle of the Celtic Sea.”

  “Come on. It’s not that remote.” Okay, Inish Glas was pretty isolated, but Alan was being precious.

  “We’re in the middle of bloody nowhere. Every time I leave the house, I feel like an extra in a horror movie. A sheer drop here, menacing cliffs there, and now corpses are appearing and disappearing. It’s too much.”

  Despite his frustration, Darko let out a bark of laugh. “You’re such a drama queen. Horror film, my arse. You’re living in a mansion, complete with a swimming pool, a gym, and a sauna area. The corpse was a one-off. The guy must have attempted suicide in the hot tub and when that didn’t work, threw himself off the cliff.”

  “You don’t know that. Peters is convinced he was murdered.” Alan shook his head and his loop earrings jangled. “What possessed you to buy a flipping island? And if you had to buy one, why not somewhere warm, like the Caribbean or the Maldives? It’s fucking freezing here.”

  Darko sought desperately for the right words. Ones that could persuade his longtime best friend to stay. “Alan—”

  “You promised me no more than six weeks a year out here. We’ve been here for six whole months, and you’re showing no signs of leaving. Given that you’ve just hired a housekeeper for another six months, I’m assuming you’re here to stay.”

  Christ on a bike. Alan was seriously quitting. Darko slumped into his leather office chair and massaged his throbbing temples. How would he cope without Alan? He was Darko’s only link to the past, knew how to keep him grounded if he showed the slightest tendency to develop an inflated ego. “Look, I know we’ve stayed longer than planned, but you have access to the boat whenever you want to go to the mainland. Do you want a salary increase? If so, just say the word.”

  “What’s the point of earning more money if I never get the chance to spend it? I’ve had no social life since we moved to this godforsaken place. Every time I want to travel to the mainland, a bloody storm blows up and I can’t go.” As if on cue, an ominous crack of thunder rumbled over the roiling sea, followed by a zigzag of lightning.

  Darko stared gloomily through the glass of the curtain wall. “Is there anything I can do to persuade you to stay?”

  “I’m dying of boredom out here, Darko. It’s all right for you. You’re holed up in your studio writing music and pretending you’re not depressed.”

  Darko stiffened. “I’m back on those bloody meds. I am trying.”

  Alan’s eyes clouded in sympathy. “I know you are, and I feel bad abandoning you, but I’m a city boy. You know that.”

  Despite his dejection, Darko smiled. “No decent nightlife in Ballybeg?”

  “God, no,” said his P.A. with a shudder. “Not a single nightclub in the place, and certainly none that would welcome me in my arseless leathers.”

  Darko shook with laughter. “Ballybeg is on the conservative side. Can’t you go to Cork City?”

  “Takes too long to be worth the hassle.”

  “I’m sorry, mate. Look, can’t we come to a compromise? I know your contract allows you to finish within a month. Stay for three, and help me find a replacement. Please? I’ll triple what I’m paying you now.”

  Alan pursed his lips but appeared to consider this proposition. “I’ll need to sleep on it.”

  “Fair enough. Let me know tomorrow, okay?” Maybe by then he would have thought up a way to persuade his friend to stay. Or come to his senses and accepted that Alan was leaving.

  Alan sighed. “I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, but I can’t go on like this. I doubt my long face is helping you cope with yours.”

  “I appreciate you being honest with me. When I built this house, I didn’t expect Inish Glas to become my main residence.”

  Alan adjusted the cufflinks on his impeccably tailored shirt. “Times changed.”

  Times sure as hell had changed. And not for the better. The last year had been a fucking nightmare. Between his mum and Col dying, he’d felt like he’d been catapulted into a living nightmare. Being here on Inish Glas brought him peace and allowed him to heal in a way that he never could in the city where he was recognized the instant he left his house and was pursued by paparazzi.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, “I understand your need for a more…robust…social life. I’m sorry that we’ve stayed longer than intended, but I’m not ready to go back yet.”

  “Not ready to go back to Dublin, or not ready to go back to the band?” Alan asked shrewdly.

  Darko laughed. “You know me better than I know myself, Al. What do you think I should do? Can they go on without me?”

  Alan rolled his heavily kohled eyes. “Honestly, Darko. As if you’ll take my advice.”

  “Seriously. I want to know what you think. I trust your opinion.” And I trust you, which is more than I can say for a lot of people. Which is why I don’t want you to quit.

  His friend considered a moment before responding. “Without you, Confetti Underground is finished. Losing Col was a blow. Losing you will mean the disintegration of the band. However, cutting your bandmates loose is the best move you can make.”

  Pretty much exactly what Darko had been thinking. His gaze rested on a framed poster of Confetti Underground during their first tour. The five of them sported multicolored eyeliner, slashed leather jackets, and dodgy hairstyles. God, they’d been so young and naive, so cocksure the good times would last forever. “They’ll be pissed,” he said, “especially Paul.”

  Alan pursed his lips. “Let them be pissed. You need to focus on getting well.”

  “I told you. I’m fine.”

  “You’re better than you were, but that’s not saying much.” He frowned, and a small line marred his usually smooth forehead. “Are you sure being holed up on this island is healthy? You don’t see anyone apart from me and the servants.”

  “It’s healthier than being surrounded by sycophants and enablers. Besides, I go to the mainland on occasion.”

  Alan raised an eyebrow ring. “All you do in Ballybeg is fill your tank or go for a walk in the woods. You don’t interact with people.”

  “I’m not good company at the moment,” Darko said, fiddling with the empty cigarette packet on his desk and reaching for another piece of nicotine gum. “Besides, the one time I ventured into what passes for a supermarket, I was mobbed for my autograph by a bunch of underage girls.”

  “Speaking of the opposite sex,” Alan said with a wry smile, “what are we going to tell Dave? He’s dead keen on setting you up with Miss Ireland. He’s convinced the media will decide you’re gay because you’ve spent the last few months on an isolated island with me.”

  Darko paused mid-chew and shoved his gum to the other cheek. “Jaysus. Dave should concentrate on managing what’s left of Confetti Underground instead of stressing about the tabloids. I don’t give a shag what they think.”

  “The cheek of him,” Alan said, warming to his theme. “I told him I wouldn’t have you even if you weren’t hetero, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s convinced your being on the island with me is going to destroy your reputation.”

  Darko let out a crack of laughter. “Dave’s solution is to find me a beard?”

  “He says it’s grand, because Miss Ireland is a lesbian.”

  “What does Miss Ireland say? I hope she told Dave where to stick it.”

  Alan shrugged. “No clue. Speaking of women, your new housekeeper is pretty, even if she does come with a rugrat.”

  “Alan…” He sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “You’re going to find out soon enough anyway. There’s a good chance that James-David is my son.”

  His friend’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “No way. Seriously? I thought…you know, after…”

  “I was treated for cancer as a kid. It didn’t have a long-te
rm effect on my fertility.”

  “I, uh, okay then.” Alan bounced on the balls of his feet. “How do you feel about being a dad? Muireann is very pretty.”

  “Mama,” James-David said, abandoning the tuner and reaching for a highlighter pen.

  “That’s right. We’re talking about your mama.” Darko ruffled the little boy’s hair. He smelled of the same soap Darko’s mother had used on him when he was a kid. For the first time in months, thinking of his mother made him smile.

  “Darko,” Alan said in a warning tone. “Should he be doing that?”

  “What? Oh, no.” Alan’s letter of resignation now sported luminous pink squiggles with a dash of yellow to add variety. Darko pulled a blank piece of paper out of the printer tray and placed it in front of the toddler. “Why don’t you draw on this instead?”

  “He has the same love of bright pink as his mother,” Alan remarked with a sly smile. “If you had to go and get a woman pregnant, you could have done a lot worse.”

  Darko wagged a warning finger. “No matchmaking. Muireann and I are practically strangers.”

  “What?” His friend feigned innocence. “All I said is that she’s cute. If we could wean her off her penchant for pink, she’d look even better. Baby steps, right?”

  “Are you trying to give my newest member of staff a makeover?”

  “It’s better than sitting in my room waiting for the next body to show up. You don’t have much work for me to do at the moment. I’m so bored I resorted to playing cars with James-David this morning while his mother color-coded your wardrobe.”

  Darko struggled to maintain a straight face. “I’m not sure which of those pieces of information to start with. How can anyone color code my wardrobe? I wear black, blacker, and blackest. As for playing with James-David, did your clothes survive?”

  “My silk shirt suffered a minor mishap, but Muireann is taking care of it for me.”

  A knock on the door made them both turn round. Speak of the devil. And what a sexy devil at that. Muireann peeked around the door. Her cheeks were flushed from activity, and she’d pulled her copper hair up into a messy bun. Darko exhaled sharply. He wanted to reach out and touch a stray strand, to tuck a tendril behind the ear with the double piercing.

  She glanced at Alan. “I was wondering if I could have a private word with Damian.”

  His heart skipped a beat. Had she decided to leave the island after all? Why did the thought of her and James-David leaving hurt so damn much? He barely knew them, yet for the first time in months, he felt alive. He was sleeping well, and hadn’t needed to exceed the minimum dose of his medication once. And it was all since Muireann and James-David moved in.

  Alan winked at Darko. “Right-o. Want me to occupy the wee one while you two parlay?”

  “No need,” Darko said. “He seems happy enough here.”

  “Fair enough.” Alan made a mock salute. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

  “Thanks, Alan,” Muireann said, giving him a warm smile. A smile that faltered when she turned to face Darko. “We need to talk about James-David.”

  TEN

  Muireann’s heart clenched at the sight of her son sitting on Damian’s lap. She’d been over her options all last night, tossing and turning and failing to come to a concrete conclusion. With each day she spent on the island, the more confused she became. The sensible part of her wanted to run away and never contact Damian again. Her treacherous heart was of a different opinion.

  He gestured to an armchair. “Take a seat.”

  She sat opposite Damian and regarded him over the vast expanse of his messy glass-topped desk. Dark shadows were smudged under his eyes. He was pale beneath his tan, and his every jerky movement screamed stress. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem…on edge.”

  “Yeah.” A tired smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Alan just handed in his letter of resignation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s a nice guy.”

  Damian nodded. “He’s the best. We’ve known each other for donkey’s years. He hates living out here, and I have to respect his decision.”

  James-David had reached the edge of the piece of paper he was drawing on and continued his picture on the surface of the desk. As if on reflex, Damian gave him a fresh piece of paper.

  “You’re good with him,” she said in a choked voice.

  “Huh?” He gave a small smile. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t spent much time around kids since I was one myself.”

  “He’s content.”

  Damian stroked James-David’s hair. “He’s a good little guy. I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about before James-David and I return to the mainland for the weekend. We’ve been here nearly five days and no more strange occurrences have happened. You say the body in the tub was just a hoax—”

  “The police are assuming it was, yes. And now that the security team is here, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “All the same—” she hesitated, “—I have a couple of questions for you before I commit to returning next week.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Why are you so accepting of the idea that James-David is your son? I thought you’d kick us off the island and get straight on the phone to your lawyer.”

  He let out a crack of laughter. “Given that mobile phone usage on the island is sketchy, that was never likely. As for being accepting of the idea that I’m this little person’s father, we had unprotected sex at least once. Contrary to the impression I must have given you, that was a first for me.”

  “It was a first for me, too,” she said, wincing at the memory. “I don’t usually behave so irresponsibly.”

  “I’m guessing you’re not usually that drunk, either. Wasn’t the trip right after you got jilted at the altar?”

  Muireann’s eyes flew to meet his. “I told you about that?”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement. “You told me a lot of things.”

  “But you didn’t recognize me at the garage. How come you remember details of our conversation two years ago?”

  “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “We’ve established why I was a drunken mess when we met in Australia. What was your excuse? That must have been well before your bandmate died.”

  A cloud passed over his handsome features, giving her the inexplicable urge to kiss away his pain. “I’d stayed on in Australia after we’d finished that leg of our concert tour. The day I met you, my mother phoned to say she was terminally ill and wasn’t expected to live more than another year. I was drowning my sorrows with overpriced cocktails when you walked into the bar.”

  “I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

  “Very. She was a single mother for most of my childhood, and I was her only child.” He shifted position to accommodate James-David’s broad movements with the highlighter pen. “That’s why I said I’d never quit on my kid. If this little guy is my son, I want to be in his life.”

  “When I’m in Ballybeg this weekend, I’ll contact the hospital in Cork to arrange a DNA test.” She shoved a stray lock of copper hair behind her ear. “I’d rather get it out of the way.”

  “So will you come back to the island? With Alan leaving, I’ll be in need of a personal assistant. If you want it, the job’s yours. It would mean more money than your current position.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. We’ll come back on Sunday evening and see how it goes.”

  The cloud vanished from his face, replaced by a sunbeam of a smile that set her pulse racing. “I was hoping you’d stay. Besides, it’s pretty obvious you need the job.”

  Heat burned a path up her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Being utterly desperate was a new experience for her. She’d lived a life of luxury before her father went bust. Even running her business was more of a hobby than a job. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but had she been dependent on the business for
income, she’d have worked longer hours and sought more clients. “I need the job, yes, but not at all costs. It’s bound to be awkward between us, at least until the DNA result arrives.”

  “It will only be awkward if we let it,” he said gently.

  She bit her lip. “What about the phone situation? I don’t feel comfortable being unable to contact emergency services.”

  “Alan has ordered a couple of satellite phones to tide us over until proper phone and Internet access is set up on the island. He’ll collect them from the mainland when he takes you and James-David over on the yacht tomorrow. In the meantime, the new security team has satellite phones.”

  “Okay.” She exhaled sharply. “Even with the security team here, your story about the dead man bothers me. Could he have been a trespasser on the island? A tourist who stopped off and decided to avail himself of your guesthouse?”

  “Possibly. It’s my own fault for being lax about security measures. I was arrogant enough to think we’d be perfectly safe on such an isolated island. The guesthouses have surveillance cameras placed outside, but they work on a timer system. If someone snuck in when the camera was pointed in the other direction, we wouldn’t know.”

  “What about lights? Surely one of you must have seen lights on?”

  He shook his head. “The glass in the guesthouses’ curtain walls is made from the same substance as the ones in the main house. People inside can see out, but no one can see in, even when the lights are on.”

  Muireann shifted in her seat and shivered. “Is that why you gave me a room in the main house? My contract mentions living quarters in a separate building.”

  “That’s right. I don’t want to put you and the baby out in one of the guesthouses.” He frowned, and a cute little line marred the perfection of his smooth forehead. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I’d be more freaked out if we were staying in the guesthouse where the body was discovered.”

  A small smile broke through his worried expression. “I’d never be so cruel.”

  A chuckle escaped her lips. “Much appreciated.”