Drive (7 page)

At some point tonight the pendulum had swung in his favor.

Madison actually trusted him. She was still uncomfortable with the idea, especially after seeing him pull a gun as calmly as he had. But didn't that just mean he had what it took to protect her?

There was no one good reason why she should trust him, and yet she did.

She'd have to keep her trust close and not let him know, because trusting him to handle Dustin and trusting him to handle her were two different things. Not that he'd flirted with her, but there was a certain something between them she was beginning to suspect wasn't just her.

Madison washed her hands, staring at the girl she'd become. She liked herself now. It was the one thing she wouldn't trade, the thing Dustin couldn't take from her after she'd left him. The last couple of years she'd lived with Dustin, she'd been a shell of a person. Hating herself and everyone around her for allowing her to fall in the pit she'd dug for herself. But she'd suited up and climbed her way out of there, and no one could put her back in that hole.

“What do I do about him?” she whispered at her reflection.

Aiden wanted to solve her problems with Dustin by making him go away. It was a lovely idea. Man drives in, his car shining in the sunshine, decks her ex, the cops arrest him, and they drive off into the sand for a celebratory dip in the ocean. When things went down she doubted it would be that neat. For starters, she couldn't deny that she was attracted to Aiden, and trusting him made that attraction dangerous.

Her impending divorce had kept her away from entangling her heart because she had a silly set of values to honor the commitment she'd made—even if Dustin didn't. There'd been a couple of men she'd fallen for—at least in her head—but never acted on. She hadn't changed much where her attractions lay. Aiden was dangerous to her heart, even if she knew it was a bad idea. She doubted there were few things that mattered more to him than cars and whatever personal vendetta he had against Michael Evers. She'd have to check his license plate to make sure it didn't read
DANGER
.

God, she had no ability to judge the bad guys if everything Aiden said were true.

Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen with a text from Lily. There were half a dozen missed calls from Matt, but she'd long since set his special ringtone to silent.

Madison cringed. She hadn't wanted to tell Lily about why Aiden had seemed so fixated on her. If anything, Lily would get protective and then Madison would never get to the bottom of what Aiden wanted. She owed Lily a hell of a lot for sticking with her through the Dustin years, pulling her out of the depression funk and everything else.

It was the truth. She could fantasize about whatever he had under that shirt, his arms around her, and those eyes, but it was a bout she couldn't skate. Trusting him was one thing, falling into bed with him was another. While many of the derby girls bragged about their sexual escapades, that wasn't for Madison. One-night stands, flings, and no strings weren't in her repertoire, no matter how much Lily pushed it on her. When she found the right guy, it would change her life. But it wouldn't be Aiden.

Madison opened the door and peered around the garage. There were at least four cars in the bays in various states of repair. One was on a lift, with no tires, the body stripped of paint and missing half its windows. Another seemed to glimmer under the emergency light. It looked ready to drive off the lot. The other two had their hoods up and an assortment of parts ready for assembly.

She picked her way toward the blue car, ready to take her anywhere. She didn't know the first thing about cars, but it looked pretty and maybe even fast. The seats were white, the windows and grille trimmed in chrome. A shining jaguar leapt at her from the front of the car.

“1950's Mk9 Jaguar.”

Madison flinched and glanced over her shoulder at Aiden. He stood in the open doorway to the office.

“Is it yours? Or are you working on it for someone?”

“Nah, it belongs to a guy out in Coral Springs. He brings it over here every six months or so and leaves it overnight so we can look it over.” Aiden crossed the garage to stand next to her.

“It's beautiful.”

“He's kept her in good condition. Bought her off a lot when he was in his late twenties. The guy's got to be almost a hundred now, but don't tell him that.” Aiden smiled, an unguarded expression she didn't think he was aware of. Damn that dimple. She wanted to lick it. Something about the old man stirred a memory in him. Looked like the badass was human after all.

“What does a car like this go for?”

“You in the market?”

“In my dreams.”

“This car, because of the condition and everything, fifty grand, maybe forty if the economy tanks.”

Madison almost took a step away from the car. She couldn't afford to even sit in it at that rate.

“Do you want to drive it?” Aiden asked.

She gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged. “You couldn't drive his, but there's one out back. It's not in as good condition, but it will be when I've got the time to scrounge up the parts for it.”

“Okay.” She'd take a busted-up car if that was all she could get.

Aiden led her to the back of the garage. He paused to disarm the security system before stepping out into a fenced off yard. Several badly abused classic cars sat in a line. They looked like they'd been salvaged from a junkyard.

He led her to the last on the row. The paint had chipped away to reveal a second coat under the obscure, dark color. The roof had cracked and a tarp now covered the back half of the car. The windshield looked more like a spiderweb.

“You're real funny.” She crossed her arms and tried to swallow her disappointment. That's what she got for trusting a man, wasn't it? Broken dreams and shattered hope. But she couldn't pin those faults on him. Not for a poorly timed joke.

Aiden grinned at her. “I am, aren't I? Go on, sit behind the wheel.”

“Is there even a wheel in there?”

“There is, it just doesn't turn anything. I think I left it lying on the seat. Well, it's more like a bucket with some foam over it.”

“You are a jerk.” And despite her disappointment, she laughed.

“So, it's not much right now, but eventually it will be.”

It was hard to imagine the car in road condition, but what did she know about restoring cars?

“I need to get home.” She sighed, tucking away her dreams of a starlit cruise down US-1. “Where's my bike?”

“Already? Night's young.”

“Yeah, well, remember—some of us have to get up early for work.”

“I wouldn't know anything about that.” He gestured toward the garage.

She fell in line beside him and they walked toward the side of the garage. There were several stacks of crates, a few barrels, and tucked up against the side of the building, her green Rebel. It wasn't the nicest bike on the road or the fastest, but it was hers.

“Do you still have my number?” Aiden asked.

“The one you gave me earlier?”

“Take this one too.”

She dug her phone out of her pocket and plugged in the second number he gave her.

“How do I know which to call?” she asked.

“If you're in trouble—the first one.”

“And the second?”

“Anything else.”

What did that mean? His features were once again shrouded in shadow and she had no idea what to make of him. He pissed her off and made her hot, all at once. She had issues. Serious issues.

“What about the street gang?” she asked.

“I'll take care of them.”

“You have enough hands to juggle all that?”

“I'll make it work.”

All on his own?

Dealing with Dustin was too much. The rest of it made his workload sound impossible, unless he was some kind of cop or superhero under the garage alter ego.

Aiden took a step closer. “Don't worry about your ex. He's not going to hurt you.”

She nodded. Dustin might be the least of her worries.

“Hey.” He tapped her chin, his thumb sliding across her jaw. “I mean it.”

Not all injuries were external.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
“Okay,” she replied.

She hadn't let a man take her out or touch her since Dustin. This wasn't a date, but it was the closest thing to one she'd been on since high school. She didn't know if she wanted to bolt or lean in closer.

Was it wrong she thought she might be in more danger from him?

Aiden bent his head, slowly. Hesitating. Giving her a chance to turn away, or maybe he wasn't certain. She wasn't. Madison held her breath until his lips brushed hers. As if by not moving she'd given him permission, his hold became tighter, possessive. He pressed his mouth to hers harder, parting his lips, inviting her to play.

She placed her hands over his chest and opened for him. His tongue darted between her lips, teasing hers. Desire coursed through her veins, waking up those parts of her body long dormant. She grasped the front of his shirt and kissed him back. Aiden dropped a hand to her hip. He pressed so close she stumbled back against the chain-link fence. Their lips parted for the span of a second.

Madison wanted him. Would a little taste be such a bad thing?

He didn't wait for her implied permission a second time. He sealed his mouth over hers, kissing her. He was just as swept up in this thing as her. Heat pooled between her legs. She wanted him closer, so she could feel all of him against her. His hands squeezed her ass, coasted up her back and into her hair. She hooked one thigh over his and rocked against him.

Fuck, yes.

Rational thought fled. All that mattered was how good he made her feel. Years of ignoring her nature, the things she wanted, were behind her. Right now, her need for him was paramount.

Tremors of pleasure shook her and she held on tight. The cravings, yearning for another body redoubled, driving out her better sense until all that mattered was the press of a thick thigh between hers.

The muscles in her abdomen fluttered and she gasped. She didn't want to think about the last time she'd felt like this.

Aiden rocked against her once more and she moaned. He did it again and she dug her nails into his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. Once more and a burst of white light erupted behind her eyelids, pleasure rocketed through her, stealing her breath and robbing her of the last bit of her senses. The release was sudden, brilliant, and shocked her back to reality.

Madison was humping a man she barely knew, in a dark alley.

Aiden stilled his motions, as if sensing her change, and lifted his face from hers. She couldn't make out more than the glint of light on his eyes or the shadows across his nose and mouth.

“I . . . I think I need to go,” she managed to say without too much trembling.

“You sure about that?” Was that an offer in his tone?

“Yes.” She licked her lips, tasting mint on them.

Aiden straightened, bringing her with him, and putting out a hand to steady the bike. She stepped away from him and straightened her clothes, ignoring the way her hands shook.

“Here, I'll roll this out for you.”

He unlocked a small gate and wheeled the bike out into the open space next to the garage. She just watched him, not sure what to think or feel, until he held out the helmet to her.

Right. She was getting her ass out of here.

She crossed the distance between them, her knees wobbling a little, and took the helmet. She buckled it on.

“I want to hear from you tomorrow,” he said.

“Miss me already?” she popped off before she could think better of it.

“I need to know if you have the drive or not.” He took her keys from her hand, rolling the small, pink pepper spray bottle between his fingers.

“I told you, I won't have time to look for it.”

“Make time. Keep this close. You know how to use it?”

“Yup.” She snatched the keys back before he could give her a lesson she wouldn't hear, not with lust pounding in her veins.

She took the bike, pushing his hands out of the way and swung her leg over it so she fit into the seat. Her legs were weak, rubbery, as if she'd skated fifty dashes or done a dozen drills. How long had it been since she'd orgasmed under anyone else's power except her own? A long, long time.

“Madison.” Aiden grabbed her arm. “I need to know you're safe.”

“What? Can't trust me?” She shoved her key in the ignition and turned. The Rebel chugged to life, the vibrations shaking up her body and through her core. Her sensitized body shuddered and she sucked in a deep breath.

The security light illuminated his face now and the deep frown lines bracketing his mouth. Clearly he didn't like her answer.

“I'll call you when I call you.” Madison pulled her arm from his grasp and squeezed the accelerator. The bike rolled forward, picking up speed.

She needed space from Aiden DeHart, and to figure out just how badly she'd screwed up.

Chapter Seven

Aiden watched the red splash of color that was Madison's taillights disappear around a turn.

What the hell had just happened?

He shook his head and pressed the dial button on his phone. It rang once.

“Yeah, boss?” a man drawled on the other end.

“Emery, is it on?”

“I told you it was. I've got her right here, heading east. Did you download that app I sent you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, open it and track her yourself.”

“Let me guess, I'm interrupting your game?”

“Nah, I'm working on Tori's laptop.”

“About Tori—next time, keep me in the loop when shit's going down.”

“She said she was about to see you. Thought it might be better if she told you.”

“You're talking to Tori an awful lot lately.”

Silence.

Yeah, that was what Aiden thought.

“We need to meet. Everyone. Later,” he said, giving Emery a pass.

“Julian's already headed here.”

“Hey, any idea how's he doing?”

Emery sighed. “That is a complicated question.”

Meaning, Aiden would have to catch up with Emery when he wasn't potentially being overheard. People—even their own crew—underestimated the tech.

“Okay.” Aiden cleared his throat. “I'm going to check out the GPS and go there. We've got trouble.”

“No shit.”

Aiden hung up the phone and locked the garage gate once more. He hopped the low fence to the side street. A beat-up, older model sedan was stashed behind a Dumpster. He removed a key from a magnetic box under the fender and climbed in. They always kept a couple cars parked around the block in case they needed to blend in. Like now.

The app worked just like Emery promised. Once he selected the number assigned to the tracking device it showed a real-time map of Madison's location. He dropped his phone into a dash mount and started the car, driving it on a slightly different course than the one Madison had taken.

He needed to know, to be sure she was telling him the truth—and that Dustin had only him on the job. It wouldn't be the first time Aiden had seen someone hire several different people for a gig and only pay the one who produced results. He also wanted to assure himself that the Eleventh wouldn't harass her. He'd told her they wouldn't, and a couple months ago he could have said that without a drop of doubt, but that was before they'd stolen the Eleventh's drug shipment. Money and drugs changed people, and Madison wouldn't pay for his actions.

The streets were nearly empty, and if any of the cars he passed were hiding thugs, he couldn't tell. It left him plenty of time to recall the way Madison's breath had hitched, the way she'd shuddered against him. He hadn't realized what was happening until she clawed at his shoulders. He could still feel the press of her nails in his skin.

She'd orgasmed in his arms. And he wanted her to do it again, which was a dangerous thing.

A woman like Madison didn't need a man like him.

It was all the more reason to find the drive and make a plan for how to use it against Michael Evers. Dustin they could take down as a by-product of the mission.

He followed Madison all the way out to the marina. It wasn't one of the nicer ones; there wasn't security or even cameras from the looks of it. He turned his lights off and eased past some hedges.

Anyone could be waiting for her. And in fact, someone was.

He held his breath and watched.

Madison was already off her bike. A man in slacks and a polo stood in the halo of light from the one and only security light. He had cop written all over him.

Detective Smith?

Aiden hadn't had time to look up the detective himself, but he understood the bigger picture now. Matt Smith was young. A golden boy of the force, no doubt. Aiden suspected Matt wanted more than a closed case from Madison.

She edged away, toward a dock, her body language stiff. The detective followed, trailing her all the way out to a thirty-foot sailboat. Aiden forced his grip on the steering wheel to relax. Madison didn't belong to him. And yet, when she jumped aboard her boat and disappeared below deck, leaving the good detective hanging, Aiden smiled.

Lights flickered on in the lower deck and he saw her pass by one of the portholes.

His gut told him she wasn't working for Dustin. Sure, it would be easy for Dustin to stash her out here, but what would be the point? What would he gain? Especially with the cops circling her like this.

Aiden's phone vibrated in his pocket. He peered at the screen. Julian's name flashed several times.

“What?” Aiden asked. He watched the boat for more movement.

“Where are you?”

“Working.”

“Yeah, well, when are you getting to The Shop?”

The Shop was their secondary garage, where their dealings weren't always legal, but with the blessings of the FBI it didn't matter, if they got the job done.

“Soon.”

“Okay. Pick up a pizza. I'm starving.”

“Order your own damn pizza.” Aiden hung up before Julian could pull some nonsense about
that one time, in Sangin. . . .
Aiden hated that story.

He wanted to stay put, to watch over Madison and ensure she'd sleep peacefully through the night, but they needed to make a plan. One that would keep Madison safe beyond tonight. Besides, he wouldn't be surprised if Detective Matt Smith called in a courtesy patrol, just for her. He'd have to have the marina under constant watch to keep her safe, which meant Aiden needed Emery paying special attention to this place. There was nothing safe or secure about her boat residence. So why hadn't Dustin tried to grab her from here?

Tomorrow he'd have to send Emery out to her boat and sweep it for bugs or other surveillance equipment. For now, he did a quick sweep of the immediate area on foot, careful to avoid the detective dragging his feet about leaving, then drove the rest of the marina, but all was quiet.

It took him nearly a half hour to traverse Miami to The Shop. He was the last to arrive. Their full crew was assembled in the open garage, sitting on chairs or the workbenches, even a stack of tires, minus CJ and Kathy who were conspicuously absent. They had a nine-person crew, including their FBI handlers who had proven themselves to the team, and they came from all walks of life, and most of them had strayed off the straight and narrow to land them on this crew, but not all.

Roni and Tori's only crime was being born to a former KGB agent. Their contract employment with the FBI ensured they were protected, and the FBI got to pick their brains.

John “Wayne” was a resourceful bastard from the backwater swamps of Louisiana. He was a decorated war hero, former cop, and the best sniper Aiden had ever seen.

Gabriel was a friend of Julian's from after their time in the service. Aiden wasn't privy to the man's past, but he'd bet a set of tires Gabriel had a history of working for the FBI.

Emery was a by-the-book FBI agent now, but he could fight something dirty. There was a lot under the cool exterior even Aiden didn't know, and he was probably the person on the crew who knew Emery best.

And then there was Julian—and Aiden. The friends that tied it all together. They'd met in the service, been tossed into a unit that didn't exist on the record, and executed dozens of missions before hanging up their boots for the quiet life. Or so they'd thought.

They were a mixed bag, but they were his family. The people he could count on. The ones who had his back.

“'Bout time you showed up,” Julian yelled between bites, stuffing his face with pizza.

“I would like to know how the Eleventh found out.” He pitched his voice so it cut above the chatter.

Dustin Ross had hired Aiden to discourage the Eleventh Street Gang from competing against Dustin's foot soldiers hawking product on the streets. Aiden's plan for not only satisfying the job, but also sending a message to the young drivers, was to boost the cars carrying the goods, scrap them, and destroy the drugs. It had gone off without a hitch. Or at least they'd thought.

If Aiden weren't so tired, it might have been comical to watch the way everyone found somewhere else to look besides at him.

Emery cleared his throat and wiped his face with a napkin. He hadn't shaved recently and his usual pearl snap shirt had a couple buttons unsnapped. Emery might be their Walking Brain, but the man was built like a tank. In a pinch, he'd make good backup in the field, but there was no arguing his best work was behind a computer screen. “I don't know how they figured out it was us, but I can tell you how they found what's left of the cars.”

“I told you we should have chopped and sold them.” Julian glared at him. They didn't often outright disagree on what their crew would do, but every so often they butted heads. Aiden didn't like to. They shared equal ownership in this business, and neither of them was the type to back down easily.

“How did they do it, Emery?” Aiden ignored Julian and kept his gaze on the Walking Brain.

“Shit.” John tossed his trash into a bin and rolled his eyes.

“They changed the pressure gauges out on the NOS tanks you dumped. We theorize the Eleventh used that make and model because they had no serial numbers, but the pressure gauges did. Really tiny numbers, too. Cops pulled them out of the ocean and looked up the owners for illegal dumping.”

“What the fuck?” Julian roared. Their team did a neat flip on cars when they had to.

Aiden held up his hand. “I want to know how they connected it to us.”

“I don't think they have proof,” John said. “Maybe someone said they saw one of us hanging around their cars, but they were all snockered when we boosted them.”

“I don't care. I want to know how they connected us. Canales and his crew boxed us in after we left tonight.”

“How'd she take that?” Roni snickered and flicked something at her sister.

With the exception of Julian who had been on a mission, everyone knew Madison's history. After Aiden's meet with Dustin, they'd had a planning meeting for how to approach her. At the time, she'd been a name and a face. A mark. Nothing more than a job. But after a few hours in her company, he didn't want to lay bare her story for everyone.

Aiden helped himself to a slice of pizza.

“Good. Except she knows Canales.”

“I told you she was a bad apple,” Tori said, shaking her head.

“She doesn't know him under good terms. Seems he dated one of her roller derby friends and beat her up pretty badly. Can we find out more on a girl who calls herself Alison Plunderland?”

“Alison—what?” Julian stared.

“You missed a lot while you were—where was it again?” There was no holding the irritation back anymore.

“I was on a job.” Julian glared at him from across the workbench that was serving as their table.

“Doing what exactly? While we were working on this? This being the job we were all brought in for.”

The vein on the left side of Julian's head began to throb, growing more prominent. Aiden knew the terms of Julian's job meant he was at the beck and call of his superiors, who aimed him at something and turned him loose. Aiden hated what they were doing to Julian, how each job seemed to be pushing him toward a cliff. It wasn't worth it.

“The agreement was we did this shit together. Your FBI friends need to remember I don't work for them, and I can walk away,” Aiden said. He stared back at Julian, feeling all the toxic rage rolling off him. Someday very soon Julian was going to do something so over the line the Feds wouldn't turn a blind eye anymore.

Unlike Julian, who was at the mercy of the FBI, Aiden was a contracted employee with a specific mission. The FBI couldn't jerk him around like they did Julian.

Once, a long time ago, Aiden had signed on for revenge, but he'd learned from watching the way revenge ate at Julian that it was a toxic thing. Now, Aiden just wanted to see the job done. It was his responsibility because he'd said he'd do it, but when that was done, his time with the FBI was also over.

The room grew very still. Aiden had never spoken those words out loud. The Hoovers liked to believe Aiden worked for them, but the truth was, if it boiled down to paperwork, he was a contracted employee with the ability to terminate his contract whenever he wanted. Except then he lost their protection, and he'd done so many below-the-board jobs for them he probably needed their shielding.

“The fuck you would,” Julian growled.

It was tempting to put all of this behind him. Just—walk away. But the few times he'd been ready to pack a bag and fill his gas tank, the images of his sister and her husband on their wedding day, so happy and in love, were the brakes that kept him parked. He'd made peace with their memory, but the weight of responsibility still sat firmly in his lap.

“We need you on this case.” Aiden stabbed the table with his finger.

“What's going on?” CJ's voice boomed in the garage.

Aiden turned toward the couple. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Nice of you to have dinner already prepared.” Kathy flashed him a smile and reached in front of him to help herself to a slice. She'd changed from the jeans and Classic Rides shirt into slacks and a T-shirt. Kathy could be anyone's mother dressed as she was.

“We were just discussing the Eleventh and segueing into Madison,” Aiden replied.

“There's literally nothing on her.” Kathy turned toward Emery. Between the two of them, there wasn't a technical toy they couldn't dismantle, hack, or build. Not to mention their digital sleuthing skills could uncover just about anything. “Did you find anything?”