BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds

by Lexxie Couper

  “What else can we do? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  “Given that they just tried to run us off the road, I don’t know that they’re going to care about the time.”

  Her hands balled into fists. “If they harm one hair on my baby’s head, I’ll grenade the lot of them.”

  “Go, Mammy.” Damian dropped a kiss onto her cheek. “Come on. We’ll walk up to the lighthouse. You have the revolver I gave you?”

  She felt the reassuring bulge in her coat pocket and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  The walk from the woods to the lighthouse was a muddy affair. Heavy rain had turned the fields to slush and the small path into a stream. The wind blew with such force that Muireann struggled to walk in a straight line. The closer they came to the lighthouse, the more her stomach churned. Her fingers closed around the revolver.

  The raw terror she’d felt when she looked into James-David’s empty cot had morphed into a fear-tinged rage. Images of what she’d like to do to the men who’d kidnapped her son added fuel to her step.

  Two figures were waiting on the steps of the lighthouse. When one of the men stood to the side, Muireann sucked in a breath and ran. James-David was standing between them, large-eyed and frightened.

  Ignoring Damian’s shout of protest, she rushed up the steps and grabbed her son up into her arms.

  “Mama,” he said with more confusion than delight. Then he sighed and leaned into her embrace. “Mama.”

  One of the men seized her arm. It was the guy she’d seen with Jackson yesterday. “Where are the girls?” he asked in heavily accented English. “I see first one. Where is second?”

  Muireann tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp but he held tight, twisting it painfully. “I. Don’t. Know,” she gasped, determined not to show weakness.

  A second man shouted a few words in a language she didn’t recognize and ran behind the lighthouse. The man holding her arm flew into a rage and shouted words after his comrade. Then he turned to Muireann. “Where he go? Where the rock star go?”

  In the heat of the moment, Muireann hadn’t noticed Darko disappearing. Sweat slithered down her spine. Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to—

  An explosion lit up the lighthouse. The man holding her arm gave her cheek a vicious slap. When he tried to wrestle James-David from her arms, Muireann saw red. “You bastard.”

  Acting on an instinct she didn’t know she possessed, she wrenched herself from his grasp, leaving James-David in the man’s arms. Taking advantage of his momentary confusion at her having capitulated so easily and abandoned her baby, she slipped the revolver from her jacket pocket and shot him in the knee.

  He roared, buckled, and started to drop James-David. Muireann caught her son before he fell and took a step back. The wounded man yowled and pulled a gun from his holster. Before he had the chance to cock it, Muireann fired two rounds into his chest.

  Another explosion came from within the lighthouse, sending shards of glass raining down. Muireann scanned the terrain. Why was her night vision lousy? And then an idea struck her. “Of course,” she breathed.

  Wasting no time, she ran down the steps, clutching James-David to her chest. The trap door was by the oak tree, right where she remembered seeing it all those years before. It was overgrown with vegetation and she had to feel around in the dark to find the handle. When her hand closed around metal, her heart leaped. She pulled it open and shone her flashlight inside. It was a narrow box shaped opening that had been used to store food or—more likely—as a punishment for an unruly inmate.

  Muireann hugged her little son tight, “I hope you’re not afraid of spiders.”

  She jumped through the trapdoor and into the unknown.

  TWENTY

  After disposing of the man guarding the back of the lighthouse, Darko used grenades to smoke out the rest of the gang. By his estimation, there had to be at least three men left and there were definitely people in the lighthouse.

  He pressed his back to the wall and slowly inched his way toward the entrance to the kitchen. Voices rose and fell, talking in a language Darko didn’t recognize. Taking a deep breath, he chucked a grenade into the room and threw himself out of the line of the explosion. Smoke and flames engulfed the kitchen and crept into the hallway like tentacles.

  Darko was getting to his feet when a roar of rage indicated one of the men in the kitchen was still alive. A bear-like man in his thirties barged out of the kitchen, blood streaming down his face. He held a firearm in each hand.

  Darko aimed his pistol at the man’s head. “Don’t fucking move.”

  The man snarled something indecipherable and continued his advance, firing bullets with each step. Darko dove for cover, then rolled into position and managed to get off a couple of shots.

  Oh, fuck.

  Blowing a hole in the big man’s arm didn’t slow him down. If anything, it fueled his rage.

  “I kill you, motherfucker.”

  Ah, good old motherfucker. Understood by criminals around the world.

  The man stamped on Darko’s arm, making him bite his tongue to stop screaming, then he kicked Darko’s pistol out of reach.

  The bear pressed a gun to Darko’s temple. “Bye, bye rock star.”

  The sound of a shot roared through Darko’s ears. It took him a second to realize he hadn’t been hit. The big guy’s eyes glazed over and he slumped to the ground.

  Liam stepped over the corpse and helped him to his feet.

  “How did you scale a cliff, rescue a girl, and get back here so quickly?” Darko demanded.

  “All part of the job,” Liam said, and coughed. The thick coils of smoke were making it difficult to breath. “We have to get out of here.”

  Liam ripped his T-Shirt and tore two strips. He handed one to Darko. “Wrap this around your mouth and nose.”

  Darko attempted to move his right arm and winced. “I think it’s broken.”

  Liam quickly tied the band around Darko’s face. “Can you shoot with your left hand?”

  Darko nodded. “After a fashion. We were taught to do it in the army but I’m out of practice. Whenever I use the shooting range, I use my right.”

  The American pressed Darko’s pistol into his left hand. “Just in case. By my estimation, there’s only one man le—”

  A shot rang out, sending Darko’s blood pressure rocketing.

  Liam groaned and crumpled to the floor, clutching his side. “Get. Him,” he gasped, and then passed out.

  Darko jerked his body around and found himself face-to-face with a sneering man. If gold teeth and bling rings had still been “in”, this guy would have been a fashion icon.

  “Drop your weapon.” The man spoke better English than his colleagues.

  “Not until you drop yours,” Darko replied, not letting his gaze waver.

  Gold Teeth smirked. “In that case, why don’t I finish off your friend first.”

  He aimed his gun at Liam.

  In the split-second that his opponent’s weapon was focused elsewhere, Darko fired a perfect shot and hit the man between the temples. He jerked and a trickle of blood dripped from his forehead. Then he fell backward over the stair rail and plunged into the darkness below.

  * * *

  The next hours passed in a whir of activity. The Emergency Response Unit arrived by helicopter, shortly followed by the Coast Guard and the Ballybeg police, under whose jurisdiction Inish Glas fell.

  Liam was treated at the scene. His wound wasn’t life threatening and he was due to be flown to Cork University Hospital.

  “Thanks, pal,” he said to Darko just before the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance helicopter. “I owe you my life.”

  Darko squeezed the American’s good shoulder. “And I owe you mine. I guess I’m in the market for a new chef?”

  Liam gave a weak laugh. “’Fraid so. I’ll be heading back to the States once I’ve been debriefed and deemed well enough to travel

  “Let’s meet for a pint before
you leave.” Darko waggled an eyebrow. “I have questions.”

  The American grinned. “Probably questions I’m not allowed to answer. But yeah, I’d like a last taste of real Irish Guinness.”

  “It’s a plan. In the meantime, take good care of yourself.”

  Liam winked at him. “Always.”

  After the ambulance helicopter took off, Darko joined Muireann and Sergeant Glenn in the kitchen. Muireann had prepared soup and bread for Lucille and Melanie, and the girls were consuming it with gusto at the kitchen table.

  When Darko slid into the seat opposite Sergeant Glenn, the policeman looked up from his coffee cup.

  “What will happen to the girls?” Darko asked.

  “They’ll be handed over to social services until they can be repatriated and reunited with their family. We’ll also need to ask them a few questions about the gang that kidnapped them, but that can wait until they’ve had some rest.”

  “Will Lucille be prosecuted?” Muireann asked, her brow creased in concern.

  Glenn shook his head. “I doubt it. We don’t even have Grigore’s body as evidence, and any sensible judge will understand she acted to protect herself and her sister.”

  “I’ll pay for a good lawyer,” Darko said. “After all the girls have been through on my island, it’s the least I can do.”

  After Muireann’s translation, Lucille raised her dark eyes from her soup and gave Darko a warm smile. “Merci.”

  The sight of the girls’ skinny forms brought a burning rage to the surface. No one deserved such treatment, least of all innocent children. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”

  By the time everyone had left the island, it was almost lunchtime on the following day.

  Muireann was standing at one of the living room windows, staring out at the sea, while James-David played with a toy helicopter on the rug beside Bran.

  Darko paused in the entrance to admire the slender curve of her neck. “We’ve had quite an adventure.”

  She whirled round and her pretty face broke into a smile when she saw him. “King of the Understatement,” she said with a laugh. “I though that was Peters’s role.”

  He closed the space between them and caught her up in his arms. “You know all that crap I talked in the lighthouse?”

  “The part about you always fucking up relationships?” she teased, and tweaked his nose.

  “That part. You know,” he said in a tone of wonder, “I don’t think I’m going to fuck up this one.”

  “Just as well.” She stood up on her tippy toes and kissed him. “I don’t intend to let you get away a second time.”

  James-David toddled over to join them. “Mama,” he said with a broad smile. “Dar.”

  Darko picked up the little boy and whirled him around his head. “I prefer Daddy.”

  James-David scrunched his brow and appeared to give the request consideration. Then he beamed at his father. “Dada.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two Years Later

  “Mummy, listen.” James-David strummed his little guitar with more enthusiasm than talent and hummed a tune.

  His mother dropped a kiss onto his mop of unruly hair. “Well done, little man. You’re getting better.”

  The little boy scrunched up his nose. “Drums are way cooler.”

  In the corner of the studio, his father laughed and put down his pencil. “You like drums because they make lots of noise.”

  “I like noise,” James-David said, “just not when she starts screeching.”

  She referred to the latest addition to the family. Audrey-Grace was two weeks old and perfect in every way—at least according to her doting father.

  Darko beamed as he regarded his growing family. Muireann had started taking interior design commissions again, but part-time to allow her to spend plenty of time with the kids.

  James-David was an active little boy but unconvinced by his new role as big brother. He was disappointed that his new sister could do so little yet receive the lion’s share of attention. He would come around eventually, probably once Audrey-Grace started crawling and getting into mischief.

  Muireann leaned over Darko’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. “The portrait will be gorgeous when you’re finished. You did a fabulous job on the one of James-David.”

  Darko’s gaze dropped to his sketchpad. He was working on a portrait of their baby daughter snoozing on a rug, Bran protectively at her side.

  “Thanks, Muireann.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For the kids, for being you, for putting up with me.”

  She laughed and snuggled closer. “You’re easy to put up with, especially now that you’re working on your solo album.”

  “It’s the first time in years I’ve enjoyed composing music. I haven’t felt this…energized…since I wrote Confetti Underground’s first album.”

  “The bits I’ve heard are fantastic. You’re on to a winner.”

  “Even if I’m not, I’m enjoying the process. If I’m careful with the money, I’ll have enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”

  Muireann tickled his chin. “As long as I’m with you and the kids, I’ll be happy.”

  Darko covered her mouth with his. “I love you,” he murmured.

  “Not as much as I love you.”

  A baby’s wail sliced through their romantic interlude.

  Darko grinned at his new daughter and picked her up tenderly from the rug. “Were you getting jealous, little lady? Don’t want me to get too near the source of all comfort?”

  “If you’re referring to my breasts, then yes, she’s due a feed.” Muireann sat on an armchair and arranged a nursing pillow around her. “Give the little savage to me.”

  “Here you go.” Darko placed their daughter into his wife’s arms

  “Are you sure you’re ready for life as a daddy of two, husband of one?” Muireann teased.

  Darko leaned down and kissed their newborn daughter’s head. “Definitely. You three are the best bandmates a man could wish for.”

  MORE FROM ZARA KEANE

  *Thanks for reading The Rock Star’s Secret Baby. I hope you enjoyed it! It’s the second story in my Ballybeg Bad Boys spin-off series. All the stories stand alone—Happily Ever Afters guaranteed!

  *Intrigued by Jean-Baptiste a.k.a. Liam? His story is called The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling and is available as part of the Seven Naughty SEALs multi-author boxed set.

  *If you haven’t read the first book in the Ballybeg series, you can download Love and Shenanigans for FREE from all major ebook vendors.

  *Don’t miss a Ballybeg story! Sign up for my mailing list and be the first to know when I have a new release. If you sign up, you’ll also receive a FREE copy of Love and Blarney and be given an opportunity to read new releases before they hit the stores.

  Facebook | Website | Twitter | Newsletter

  OTHER BOOKS BY ZARA KEANE

  Contemporary Romance

  The Ballybeg Series

  Love and Shenanigans

  Love and Blarney

  Love and Leprechauns

  Love and Mistletoe

  Love and Shamrocks

  Romantic Suspense

  Ballybeg Bad Boys

  Her Treasure Hunter Ex

  The Rock Star’s Secret Baby

  The Navy SEAL’s Holiday Fling

  Paranormal Romance

  Celtic Dragons

  Forged in Fire (published as part of the Flight of Dragons multi-author boxed set.)

  ABOUT ZARA KEANE

  Zara Keane grew up in Dublin, Ireland, but spent her summers in a small town very similar to Ballybeg, the fictitious town in which she sets her Irish contemporary romances.

  She currently lives in Switzerland with her family. When she's not writing or wrestling small people, she drinks far too much coffee, and tries (with occasional success) to resist the siren call of Swiss chocolate.

  http://zarakeane.c
om

  Three Nights with a Rock Star

  (A Half-Life novel)

  by

  Amber Lin & Shari Slade

  Website | Shari’s Newsletter | Amber’s Newsletter

  THREE NIGHTS WITH A ROCK STAR featuring HALF-LIFE ~

  When Hailey crashes a Half-Life after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister. Instead she meets sexy front-man Lock, who promises to give her access to his crew if she gives him access to her body. Lock demands three days of complete control over the Sunday School teacher. And he uses a contract, because he’s been burned before. One misstep could send the band—and his tenuous sobriety—up in flames.

  Hailey and Lock test each other’s limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the party to end.

  ONE

  Friday night

  Twenty dollars for parking? Per night. And the garage was the budget-friendly option. Valet didn’t even have the price listed. Resigned, Hailey dug in her purse for a twenty and handed it over. The booth attendant raised his eyebrow, giving her car a once-over. Well, okay. Message received. She clearly didn’t belong at the ritzy hotel, even as a visitor.

  It was true. She normally spent less than twenty dollars a day on food. And her old Toyota had broken down twice on the drive into Chicago. Heck, the booth attendant probably made more than she did. But if she was going to be stuck here for a few days, she’d have to adjust her standards a little bit. It was for a good cause.

  A necessary cause.

  The garage was filled to the brim, a gleaming array of BMWs, Porsches, and other brands she couldn’t name. They looked like jewels on a velvet display case, her rusty hunk of steel an unseemly contrast.