BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds

by Lexxie Couper

  Damian pushed his chair back to accommodate James-David’s sprawling movements over the paper. “So is that settled? You’ll stay, at least for a while?”

  Muireann swallowed. “For now, yes, but we’ll have to decide how we approach you spending time with James-David.”

  “I don’t mind looking after him while you work. He’s been no—”

  Damian’s words were cut short by a sharp knock. Peters poked his silver-haired head around the door. “Sir, we have a situation.”

  ELEVEN

  Darko’s heart hammered against his ribs. Please not another dead body. “What sort of a situation?”

  “Jean-Baptiste claims that food has gone missing from the emergency supplies.” The butler’s expression was placid as ever. “He is throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. I fear for our lunch.”

  Darko’s gaze met Muireann’s.

  Her lips twitched. “A destroyed lunch would be unfortunate,” she said.

  “All right, Peters. Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Very good, Sir.”

  After the butler left, Darko swung James-David onto the floor. “Sorry, little man. We’ll have to finish your picture later.”

  Muireann stood and smoothed her trousers. “Why don’t I speak to the chef? As housekeeper, checking the supplies is part of my job.”

  Darko flashed her a grin. “I’ll come with you. Jean-Baptiste is very grumpy. I don’t want him to scare you away.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to me.”

  Darko whistled. “Jean-Baptiste being charming is a sight I have to see. The last time I witnessed him interacting with a female, she slapped him across the face and called him a bastard.”

  “What did he do?”

  Darko shrugged. “Slept with her, arranged a follow-up date, and disappeared for six weeks.”

  “Good for her,” Muireann said with feeling. “I’d have slapped him too.”

  “Technically, I disappeared from your life.”

  “Yes, but we agreed not to exchange numbers.”

  Darko rubbed his chin. “I have no idea why. I enjoyed our time together.”

  More than enjoyed. He’d fantasized about her for months afterward.

  “You still had two months left in Australia and I was about fly home. Neither of us knew I was pregnant.” Muireann took James-David by the hand. “Let’s go and see what’s upset Jean-Baptiste.”

  Down in the kitchen, the chef was alternately swearing in French and broken English and punctuating each curse with a dramatic hand gesture. “My food, it is missing. I count all the cans, Mr. Darko. Last time I check, we have enough for six months. Now only five months. Where it go?”

  “I’m still getting to know the household,” Muireann said. “What cans?”

  “He means tins,” said Darko. “Because the island can get cut off during bad weather, we have emergency supplies. Personally, I think emergency supplies for a month or two would be more than sufficient, but Jean-Baptiste started his cooking career in the French army. He believes in stockpiling, and gets antsy if the emergency supplies dip below the six-month mark.”

  “Right.” Muireann exchanged a knowing look with him, and Darko’s heart skipped a beat.

  She was adorable in her neat trouser suit. She’d twisted her hair up and fastened it to her head with a glittery clasp, leaving her smooth neck exposed. He wanted to run a fingertip from the base of her chin to the pulse in her throat. Given the awkward circumstances, his head screamed that he shouldn’t be lusting after her, but his body had other ideas.

  “Sir?” Peters’s voice jerked him back to the present. “What should we do about the missing supplies? Would you like me to replace them?”

  “Replace, yes,” Jean-Baptiste shouted, “but where they go? Who take them?”

  Darko frowned. “Are you sure food is missing? Could you have made a mistake with the inventory?”

  Jean-Baptiste grew very red in the face. “I not invent mistake.”

  “No, no. Inventory.” Darko searched his mind for his rusty school French.

  “Inventaire,” Muireann said and bestowed a sunny smile on Jean-Baptiste.

  The Frenchman’s glower evaporated.

  Good lord. Was he actually smiling? As in, stretching his lips and bearing his teeth in a non-menacing fashion?

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle Murr-inn. The inventaire was correct. No mistake. The food, it is definitely missing.”

  Peters cleared his throat. “I hope this isn’t connected to the corpse.”

  “It’s a hell of a coincidence if it isn’t,” Muireann said.

  “I doubt a wandering corpse is responsible for raiding Jean-Baptiste’s supply bunker,” Darko said dryly. “Have any of you noticed anything else missing?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Then we can’t assume a few missing tins of food has a sinister implication.”

  No one looked convinced.

  Darko sighed. “Look, I’ll stay and count the supplies with Jean-Baptiste. If food really is missing—”

  “It is.” Jean-Baptiste glowered at him from beneath bushy black eyebrows.

  “—then I’ll contact the police when we go to the mainland tomorrow.”

  James-David jigged on the spot. “Poop.”

  A bad smell wafted in Darko’s direction. Muireann wrinkled her nose. “I’d better give this fellow a fresh nappy.”

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” Darko asked on impulse. “After Jean-Baptiste and I are finished?”

  Her eyes widened. “I—”

  “We talked about it on Tuesday, remember? You’ll be perfectly safe with me.” His heart beat a little faster waiting for her answer.

  She swallowed and her eyes darted to the window and Darko followed the direction of her gaze. Outside, the sun had finally penetrated the dark clouds and bathed the island in orange light.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “We haven’t been outside since Monday.”

  “Okay. Meet me in front of the house in thirty minutes. That should give me enough time to count supplies.”

  “All right.” The pink tinge on her cheeks made his cock stir. He swallowed hard. He needed to get a grip.

  After Muireann, James-David, and Peters had left the kitchen, Darko rolled up his sleeves and helped Jean-Baptiste count the supplies.

  “You’re right. Five tins are missing,” he said when they reached the bottom shelf. “Are you sure you didn’t miscount when you tallied the original inventory?”

  The Frenchman shook his head. “Non. I count right. Someone steal the food.”

  Darko stood and brushed dust off his jeans. “I’ll mention your concern to the head of the security team, but I doubt he’ll panic over a few missing tins.”

  “How well you know this Jackson person?” Jean-Baptiste’s bushy eyebrows formed a lopsided V. “I not like him. He and his men set off all my—how you say?—radars.”

  Darko stared at the chef. The man appeared to be genuinely worried. “I’ve never met Jackson or his team before, but Neptune Securities has an excellent rep. I told Alan to hire the best.”

  The Frenchman grunted and muttered something indecipherable under his breath. “Something is wrong on the island, Mr. Darko. I can feel it in my bones.”

  A chill slid down Darko’s spine, making the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. Was Jean-Baptiste right? Or was the man on edge after the discovery of the body? While Darko couldn’t imagine going out for a beer with the man, Jackson hadn’t triggered any alarms. A couple of the other men were less to his taste. But as he’d realized during his time in the army, military and security positions did tend to attract a few guys who were just as adept at starting a fight as they were at breaking one up. As long as Jackson and his team did the job they’d been hired to do, Darko didn’t have to like them.

  “What did Jackson do to annoy you? Doesn’t he like your cooking?”

  Jean-Baptiste snorted. “He
have the taste buds of a Neanderthal.”

  This made Darko laugh out loud. “I’ll ask him to have his team do a thorough search of the island. Will that make you feel better? I can’t guarantee he’ll develop a sudden appreciation for your food, though.”

  The chef eyed him darkly. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

  TWELVE

  Thirty minutes after leaving the kitchen, Muireann and James-David were ready for their first outing in almost a week. She’d dressed them both warmly and put James-David into his carrier backpack.

  Outside the house, an icy wind snapped at Muireann’s cheeks, making her grateful for her expensive winter jacket. It was among the few items of clothing from her former life that still fit. She’d teamed it up with a woolen hat, gloves, and scarf. James-David was adorable in his all-in-one snowsuit and teddy bear hat.

  When she heard Bran bark, Muireann spun around. The dog raced down the steps to the courtyard and danced around her legs. Panting, he came to a halt and bestowed a generous lick on the baby.

  “Doggie!” James-David shouted.

  A couple of seconds later, Damian bounded out of the house, clad in a warm winter jacket and hiking boots. His hip-hugging utility pants emphasized his muscular legs.

  Muireann inhaled deeply, loving the sting of salty sea air on her tongue. “I’ve missed this. Is the weather always vile on Inish Glas?”

  Damian chuckled. “Not always. We had a lovely summer. Would you like a tour of the island? We can either take the golf cart or walk. The choice is yours.”

  “I’d prefer to walk. After being cooped up in the house for days, I need the exercise.”

  A slow-burn smile spread across his face and turned her legs to jelly. “Is Peters not working you hard enough?”

  “Oh, he’s getting your money’s worth out of me,” Muireann said with a laugh, “but I’ve missed the chance to stretch my legs.”

  She’d been fit and toned before she’d had James-David, lost her livelihood, and could no longer afford a gym membership. That was what Darko had seen when they’d had sex. Not the plumper version she was today, complete with breasts that weren’t as firm as they’d once been and a belly with a bit of a wobble.

  Damian frowned. “Didn’t you mention you had a bad back? I overheard you say it to Peters when you were discussing carrying the vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs.”

  “That’s right. I developed back issues during my pregnancy. Peters was kind enough to offer to help me carry anything heavy.”

  “In that case—” he slipped off his pack and swapped it with the baby carrier containing James-David, “—I’ll take this little guy if you take my backpack. It’s pretty light.”

  The idea of him carrying their child across the island gave her the warm fuzzies. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He shrugged the carrier onto his back and adjusted the straps. “Are you going to have fun, little man?”

  James-David giggled.

  Damian winked at Muireann. “He seems pleased. He’ll enjoy the fresh air.”

  Muireann laughed. “He’ll probably fall asleep within five minutes. He always dozes off when he’s being carried in the backpack.”

  “We’ll head toward the old lighthouse. It’s a nice walk and will take us through the wooded area before we come out by the cliffs. Sound good?”

  “Sounds divine.”

  The walk to the lighthouse was pleasant. A brisk breeze blew in from the sea, propelling them toward their destination. They chatted as they walked, reminiscing over places they’d visited when they’d been in Australia, laughing about the terrible music at the cocktail bar where they’d first met. Damian was easy to talk to. She remembered that from their previous acquaintance.

  When they exited the woods, the low winter sun almost blinded her. “I should have worn sunglasses. Speaking of which, I don’t suppose yours ever showed up?”

  “Not the pair the corpse was wearing.”

  An involuntary shiver made her feel suddenly cold. “The whole story is bizarre.”

  His deep chuckle sent a tingle of awareness bubbling through her veins. “Tell me about it. That entire twenty-four hours was bizarre. First, the disappearing corpse. Then I discovered I was a father.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I’m sure the news came as a shock”

  “To put it mildly.”

  They lapsed into a strained silence. Memories of those heady hours in Australia flashed before her eyes, leaving her aroused and breathless. She snuck a glance at Damian. Was he also remembering? How vividly would a sexy rock star recall a drunken encounter with a stranger? It probably happened all the time in his world.

  As the seconds stretched into a taut minute, Muireann blurted, “It’s gorgeous out here on the island, at least when the sun is shining.”

  She was babbling, trying to distract herself from feeling turned on by the last man on earth she should contemplate getting involved with.

  His smile melted her reserves. “The island is more forbidding when a storm blows in, but I don’t mind. I like being safe in my house while the wind howls outside.”

  “Is the old lighthouse safe to enter? I don’t think I’ve ever been inside.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s perfectly safe. I had it renovated at the same time the house was being built. We put in new stairs and a small guest bed and bathroom. No one’s used it yet, though.”

  She eyed him curiously. “You didn’t think to renovate the asylum building?”

  “Nah. It was in such bad nick that it had to be demolished. I chose not to build on its foundations because I preferred the view from the other side of the island.”

  Muireann hugged her arms around her chest. “I’m glad. That place was eerie. I mentioned I’d visited the island on a school trip, right?”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

  “The asylum’s windows were boarded up and part of the roof had caved in, but the rest was intact.” As she warmed to her theme, her voice became more animated. “I remember our teacher freaking out when a few of my classmates wandered too close to the building. She was afraid they might fall through an overgrown trap door into the cellars.”

  “Wait a sec…they had underground rooms outside the main building?”

  “I’m almost certain that’s what our teacher said. However, I didn’t see anything that resembled a trap door, but I wasn’t one of the daredevil kids. I could ask my cousin Fiona if she remembers visiting the island. Looking for secret passages and trapdoors would be the sort of thing she’d have done.”

  He grinned. “I’d never have persuaded Alan to come out here if I’d built the new house where the asylum used to be. He doesn’t even like walking to this part of the island.”

  “Have you known him long?”

  “Since secondary school. We were the only boys in our class who were academic but not nerdy. We didn’t fit into any of the usual groupings, so we decided to form our own.”

  “Which consisted of two members?” she asked teasingly.

  “Exactly. Quality over quantity, that’s what we said.” He poked his cheek out with his tongue. “What about you? Let me guess. Miss Popularity? You have the looks and the figure.”

  “I was one of the popular girls in my year, but as I discovered, being popular isn’t always the same as being liked. My father was wealthy, and I was captain of the school hockey team. That helped me make friends.”

  Damian frowned. “If your father is wealthy, how did you end up driving such a crappy vehicle?”

  “Because he was wealthy. Past tense. Long story short, he was a property developer who made a few dodgy deals and lost everything. Unfortunately for me, ‘everything’ included my interior design business. He provided me with startup capital and business premises in return for being listed as co-owner of the company. Most of my clients were people sent my way by his property development company. So when he went bust—”

  “So did you,” he finished softly. “That suck
s, Muireann.”

  She squared her shoulders. “It did suck, but life goes on. It certainly taught me who my real friends are. Once I save up enough money, I’ll start my business again, even if it’s not out of a fancy building.”

  “Good for you. I’m sure you’ll manage it. You’re certainly determined enough.”

  That brought a smile to her lips. “It’s amazing how determined desperation makes a person.”

  “Very true.” Damian cast a glance over his shoulder. “Looks like James-David is already asleep.”

  “Yeah.” Muireann reached up to touch her son’s soft cheek. “He’s out for the count.”

  “He’ll miss all the excitement of exploring.” Damian pointed to a narrow path that cut through the grass and wound its way to the door of the lighthouse. Bran was already racing ahead.

  Muireann strained her neck to get a better look. “It’s taller than I remember.”

  The tower was painted a bright white with a cheerful red stripe. The balcony surrounding the top of the tower sported a comfortable chair and flowerbeds. Damian pulled a key from his jacket pocket. “Do you want to go inside?”

  “What?” she asked with a grin. “No fancy alarm system?”

  He winked and unlocked the door. “I didn’t think it was worth it all the way out here.”

  Inside the lighthouse, the heat was on. The lower levels contained a kitchen, living room, and lounge area. Damian removed the still-sleeping James-David from the carrier and placed him on a rug by the empty fireplace. Muireann opened the baby’s outdoor suit and arranged it around him like a blanket. Bran plunked himself down beside the baby and lay his head upon his front paws.

  “Are you going to babysit?” Muireann asked as she shed her outdoor gear.

  The dog cast her a disdainful look, then closed his eyes.

  Damian grinned. “Looks like they’d both rather snooze than explore.”

  Muireann looked around, taking in the beautiful paintings on the walls. More of Damian’s work, she guessed. “You’ve done a lovely job renovating the place.”

  He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a tight pullover beneath. “I can take no credit. My architect came up with the suggestions. I just gave him the thumbs-up.”