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Madison cringed. When Lily put it that way, Madison really did sound like a head case, but it wasn't like that. Aiden was so much more than a label, despite how he appeared.

“He's coming tonight,” Madison blurted.

“What?”

“He's coming tonight. Please—just meet him? If he's bad, I'll take your word and walk away.”

“Promise?”

“On my vows as your derby wife.”

“Okay, deal.”

“Hey, would you mind bringing those boxes I put in your closet? I'm trying to organize everything, and I have no idea where anything is now.”

“Sure, I'll grab it before I come get you. See you at five? I got to go. Appointment just showed up.”

“Will do.”

Madison hung up and stared at the ceiling, suddenly no longer hungry. What was she doing?

She didn't know how upset Aiden would be with her when she told him the truth, but she expected the worst. And if Lily met him and things didn't go well, she'd just promised to give him up. It was not a good start to the day.

Chapter Fifteen

Aiden stood in a field that had become a parking lot across the street from an old roller skating rink. Cars were directed in neat rows by attendants in bright pink shirts, while the line to get in was already wrapping around the building.

“What the hell?” Julian circled the front of his car to join Aiden waiting on the others. The twins, John, and Gabriel had parked a row back.

“Guess derby is a big deal.” He hefted the six-pack and lawn chair he'd brought with him.

“Hope we can get in the door,” Tori said. She'd cleaned up, changing out of her grease-stained clothing into jeans and a tank top.

“I bet Aiden's
client
gets us in.” Roni gave Aiden a sly look he ignored.

“Let's get in line.” Aiden strode across the street toward the line that had begun to move swiftly inside.

He hadn't known what to expect with a roller derby game, but it wasn't this. The crowd was a mix of families, young people hauling coolers and cases of beer, elderly couples with lawn chairs and a thermos. There were people from all walks of life.

The inside of the rink was transformed. Banners for energy drinks, apparel, grocery stores, and a gas station hung on the walls. There were a few narrow merch tables for some of the sponsors doing brisk business and a face-painting booth for the kiddos, but by and large the attention was focused on a large oval in the middle of the rink outlined in rope lights.

The track.

The other side of the rink was cordoned off, with player areas blocked from view by curtains and banners. Front and center was a long, rectangular banner with Madison crashing into a girl with a star on her helmet, hip first. She looked—fierce. To either side were other league banners, but his attention kept straying back to the fifteen-foot depiction of his greatest distraction.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am your announcer for tonight, Rinkmaster. Please find a seating area, making sure to stay out of the crash zone. The crash zone is marked by the yellow caution tape. If you choose to sit near that, you might get a derby girl in your lap, or a skate to the face. A reminder, please drink responsibly and recycle those cans. The biggest beeramid tonight will win a season pass for themselves and one other lucky person.” The announcer continued to chatter, but Aiden's attention drifted.

The curtains parted and a few women stepped into the crash zone between the two player benches. No two were dressed alike, though there did seem to be a certain theme in the colors they wore. The first couple eased onto the track, followed by more. They came in twos and threes, trickling out onto the track, whizzing by bent nearly double.

“We need to sit somewhere.” Tori stood on tiptoe, staring at the milling crowds that hadn't even registered to Aiden.

Where was Madison? Helena Destroyer?

Had she made it to the bout?

Or had someone gotten to her first?

He pulled out his phone and flipped to his text messages.

The last text to her was two hours ago.

He tapped out a quick message to ease his mind.

“Shit,” Roni muttered, and turned toward him, ducking her head.

“What?” Aiden glanced over her head and his gaze snagged on a tableau he did not like.

Madison stood on the edge of the roped-off players' area with a blond man he recognized. She looked—fantastic. Her uniform consisted of a bright pink tank top in some sports fabric with a pinup girl and the words
DEADLY DAME
arcing over her breasts, a short, pleated black skirt, and fishnet stockings. Her hair was braided into pigtails and her makeup was dark and dramatic.

Aiden watched the detective place his hand on Madison's back and lean toward her. Her smile widened, but it was stiff and she cringed when he spoke next to her ear. Aiden wanted to punch the prick's teeth out. Officer of the law? Twisting her arm? Hitting on her? Harassing her in public?

Fuck this.

“Aiden, don't go over there.” Roni spoke too late.

Aiden stepped through the crowd and over the caution tape into the crash zone. It was the fastest way to get to her. The derby girls zipped by, some coming within inches of him, but he never wavered from his target. Madison's gaze darted around nervously, as if looking for an out.

Well he'd give her one.

Her gaze landed on him and her brows rose.

“Hey, babe. Was looking for you.” Aiden pitched his voice over the music and noise from the crowd. The detective straightened and frowned at Aiden when he moved in and draped his arm across Madison's shoulders. “Not answering your phone?”

“Sorry, we had our pre-bout meeting.” Madison glanced from Matt to Aiden.

“That's fine.” Aiden turned his gaze on the detective, assessing the man like he might be an opponent. Matt Smith was younger than he expected, something of a golden boy appearance. The guy breathed his uniform, no doubt. He couldn't ooze “cop” more if he rolled around in it. “Who is your friend?”

“Uh, this is Matt.”

“Name's Aiden.”

They shook hands, Matt's gaze narrowing. No doubt the detective had heard things. Aiden worked hard to stay off the police radar, but a good detective would hear rumors.

“Aiden who owns the classic car shop?” Matt asked.

“That's me.”

“Nice to meet you.” Matt's tone said otherwise.

“You know what? I saved you a place to sit, if you want. You need to take the spot or someone else will.” Madison neatly pivoted on her skates to face him.

“Yeah, show me the way. See you around, Matt.”

Madison put her helmet on and pushed off, rolling slowly away from Matt. They skirted the growing throng of people setting up lawn chairs outside of the crash zone. About halfway through the turn a tarp was laid out with two coolers on either side.

“Is that enough space for you guys?” Madison pointed to the tarped-off area.

“Plenty.” Aiden grabbed Madison's arm, just below her elbow pad. “He bothering you?”

“What? Matt?” She shook her head. “No, he's just being annoying like he always is.”

“You sure?” Would she tell him otherwise? Did she really trust him?

Madison paused, studying him.

“I'm sure. I promise. Matt's doing what he thinks is right. I just . . . he's never flirted with me before and it was—weird.”

“He's not your type.”

“Really?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Really.” Aiden closed the distance between them, leaning down until he could smell her cherry lip balm. “You're attracted to guys like me.”

Why was he doing this? It made no sense. He should be pushing her away, not teasing her. And yet, he couldn't help it. Seeing the cop flirt with the woman he'd had under him last night flipped a primitive switch inside of him. She was his.

“We sleep together once and you think you know my type?” Her cheeks grew pinker, and it had nothing to do with her makeup.

“I believe it was three times.”

“Shut up.” Madison rolled her eyes. “I have to warm up.”

She neatly slid through the crowd and onto the track, gliding as if she were born for it.

He shook his head and stepped onto the tarp, motioning for the others to join him.

“That went well, I take it?” Roni plopped down in her chair, slightly behind him. She'd borrowed Gabriel's track jacket and had it zipped up to her chin.

“Now I see why you didn't want my help the other day.” Julian set his seat next to Aiden's, probably so Julian could goad him the entire time.

Bringing the crew was a mistake. He should have slipped in the back, watched the crowd, and waited for her to be done. But the crew hadn't gone out together in ages, except for racing. And while that was what pumped their blood, he actually liked his garage family.

A man in a red-tailed coat over sweatpants jogged out onto the center track. “Welcome to tonight's bouts,” he announced.

The crowd applauded and several people hoisted beers. The skaters began exiting the track, two teams lining up on the benches, while the remaining two took to the sidelines at the edge of the player area.

“For those of you new to derby, we're going to do a quick demonstration. Ladies, volunteers?” Rinkmaster turned toward the benches and bowed, while players took to the track.

The announcer walked the crowd through the demonstration, with the help of the players. It seemed pretty easy. Four players from each team beat the crap out of each other, and the remaining two scored points for passing opposing players—legally. There was something special about helmet covers, but he was too distracted by Madison—Helena Destroyer—coasting around as part of the demo.

The crowd stomped on the wooden floor and banged cans together, cheering for the demo girls as they wrapped up the explanation. Aiden watched Julian out of the corner of his eye flinch yet again. Damn. Julian needed a break—or else he was going to break. They didn't have the luxury of taking time off to regroup. They were always on the job, but Julian more than most needed to decompress, relax a little.

Rinkmaster led the crowd in a surprisingly good rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Aiden noticed Matt edging closer to the player bench. Was this man for real? Aiden hoped Matt got a fucking clue before Aiden had to do something drastic. The last thing he needed was a cop snooping around. When the song ended and the players not involved in the first bout scattered, Matt was shoved into the crowd, out of the players' way. It would have to do for now.

Julian passed him a beer as the first lineup of players took to the track for real. Madison was on the starting line wearing one of the helmet covers with a stripe down the middle. People chanted her name and a few had posters with her moniker painted on them and violent epitaphs like,
CRUSH THE COMPETITION
or
DESTROY THE JAMMER.
The only indication she gave of acknowledging the crowd was a little wave, but other than that, she was all business.

“You ready for some derby?” Rinkmaster yelled into the microphone.

The players all hunched over, poised and ready to go. Unlike the demo, he could practically feel the room waiting to exhale.

“Tonight, the Deadly Dames take on the Butchering Beach Babes. Is this going to be a replay of last season? I don't know.”

A referee blasted his whistle and the girls shot forward. There was jostling, girl bumping into girl, and the speed—he hadn't expected the pack to shoot out quite so fast. A referee blasted twice on his whistle and the two point-scoring players—jammers—flew off the line. They skated low and fast. He didn't know which to watch, the pack of girls or the jammers.

Aiden glanced at Lily, the Deadly Dames jammer, eyeing her opponent. The other girl seemed focused on motoring past her. Lily swerved, hitting the other jammer hip first and sending the girl wide out of the second turn and over the boundary line.

“Oh man! Did you see that? A'thing'a Beauty just knocked Slamstrong out of bounds. Look at her fly.” Rinkmaster kept the audience appraised of the movements from the DJ perch.

Aiden sat forward, beer forgotten. A'thing'a Beauty, or Lily as he knew her, reached the back of the pack. The players in green formed a solid wall, not letting her pass. He didn't see a way around that defensive formation. Every time A'thing'a Beauty dodged, they moved with her until their own jammer was right there with her.

Helena Destroyer—Madison—swooped to the outside, circling around behind the pack and coming alongside her jammer.

How was that supposed to help?

“Slamstrong's making a break for it on the inside—Oh!”

Another pink blocker swerved, crashing into the green jammer and both girls went tumbling onto the inner track.

“Slamstrong is down. Sindercella sacrificed herself and is going to the penalty box for that one. Madam Penal will make her sit in the Cage of Shame.”

Aiden glanced at the cage—which was a real, human-sized cage with two chairs inside of it and a woman who looked a bit like a sexy Darth Vader in a black bathing suit, mask, and cape.

Back on the track, Madison pushed her way through the green players. Her fellow pink blockers swarmed, jostling and breaking up the line. A'thing'a Beauty kept low and right behind Madison, who plowed away through the pack, all the way to the front.

“Oh, and Helena Destroyer whips A'thing'a Beauty out of the pack and you have your first—lead—jammer!”

The crowd went wild as A'thing'a Beauty tapped her hips with both hands. The referees blasted off a couple blows on the whistle and the players relaxed. Quickly, the players on the track exited to the bench and another collection of ten girls took the track—but none of them was Helena Destroyer.

Aiden relaxed back into his chair and lifted his beer to his lips, except it was empty.

“We have a trash bag somewhere?” he asked the girls.

“It's not my job to pick up your shit. Why didn't you bring one?” Roni didn't bother looking at him, her eyes were only for the game. But then again, this was right up her alley. Sexy clothes. Fast action. Little violence. If they didn't have such an all-consuming mission, he'd bet both twins would be the league's next recruits.

“You done with that, mister?” A kid, probably no more than eight or nine years old, had crawled toward him.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Can I have it?” The kid stared at the empty can with greed in his eye.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”