Drive (23 page)

She didn't answer it.

Madison killed the engine and got out. Roni was shuffled toward her. The girl was pale and a bit green around the gills. Not good.

“I think I should drive you,” Madison said.

“What? Hell no.”

“You've got a concussion and your arm's out of socket at the very least. If something's not broken I'd be shocked. You're about to pass out or hurl. Maybe both. You'd crash. Just hear me out. I drive you wherever you guys are going. Tomorrow morning, after someone's for sure found this, kick me out on some back road in the Everglades. I can claim I was kidnapped, but you guys let me go since I never saw any faces. Plausible deniability, right? That's what Aiden was stressing.” God, she'd really thought this all through.

“Fuck,” Roni spat.

Madison blew out a breath and grabbed the pressure washer.

“I need to hurry. My other guard is back,” she said.

“That's just great.”

Madison ignored her grumblings and flipped the washer on. It began to chug away, far too loud, but there was no other option.

She began with the top track, spraying it from the bottom up, then the floor of the plane. This was a job she hadn't done in ages. Over time, she'd worn every hat at the airport. It took much longer than she'd have liked to wash the plane out and get rid of the run-off. By then, every sound, even the scuff of her shoes on concrete had her jumping.

“That's going to have to be good enough. We've got to go,” Roni said.

“I was thinking the same thing.” She hastily wiped down the power washer, but between the bleach bottles, the plane, and the rest of the hangar, her fingerprints were everywhere. She could only hope that working at the airport gave her an excuse.

Madison sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her office chair for a nap. But she couldn't do that. She had to kidnap herself first.

They had to use the key once more to not only unlock the car, but fool it into thinking they had the real key. Madison gripped the wheel, waiting for the automatic doors to open enough to drive out of the hangar. At least it wouldn't be up to her to call the cops.

“Shit. The gate's closed,” Roni said.

“What does that mean? What do I do?” Madison stared at Roni.

“Drive through it and hope the airbags don't deploy.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Drive!”

Madison shifted into gear and accelerated. A figure was coming out of the guard shack, removing his hat. They were halfway to the gates before he seemed to realize there was a car driving at him. He jumped aside, hands waving. They'd all been taught that merchandise wasn't worth a life, good to see that lesson was firmly in place.

“Oh shit.” Madison screamed. They hit the gate.

There was a moment of resistance. They were pushing the gate the wrong direction. But the Bugatti had more power and strength. Sparks flew from where metal scraped metal. They burst through the gate with a
pop
and the car flew forward, eating up the road.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Madison chanted.

“Woohoo, you did it.” Roni grinned weakly. “And thank God we didn't have to eat airbag.”

“Uh, where am I going?”

Roni sighed. “I'm so fucked.”

* * *

Madison steered the car into a deserted yard, surrounded by a chain-link fence. The gate was open and a light slashed out from under a rolling door.

“Honk twice, fast,” Roni said. She wasn't looking good. She listed to one side and any time Madison hit a bump, Roni would gasp and groan.

Madison honked twice and a second later the door rose.

“Go,” Roni snapped.

Madison rolled the car into a warehouse. The other five cars were up on lifts, missing pieces—if she didn't know these were the same vehicles that had come off the plane she wouldn't have known what she was looking at.

“This is going to be fun,” Roni muttered, and pushed her door open.

Madison killed the engine and glanced around. Tori bolted around the car, fussing over her sister. Everyone else paused in what they were doing, staring at them.

John walked up from the fender, mouth hanging open.

“What did you do? What did you do?” He laid a hand on the hood of the car.

Madison opened the door and stood, a little shaky after the drive, and winced at the damage. She hadn't realized how bad it was.

“We aren't going to be able to fix this or smooth the scratches out.” John knelt next to the headlight, which was also cracked. He turned toward her. “What the hell did you do?”

“She told me to go through the gate.” Madison waved at Roni, trying to ignore the way Aiden was staring at her.

“We give it to the FBI as evidence. Come on.” Julian shouldered her aside and moved the Bugatti into a bay. The other two men followed.

“Kathy, come take care of Roni, I need Tori on that third car.” Aiden walked toward the twins, and bent his head to speak to Roni for a second.

Madison didn't know where to look or what to think. A loud
pop
startled her and she glanced at the car she'd driven. Gabriel and John had removed the rear panel and a . . . container of some kind. They handed it over to a man she hadn't seen before. The other two removed several of the containers, lining them up.

Could this be Emery? The person Aiden always seemed to be talking to? The man opened the first container, wearing bright blue gloves, and dumped out several smaller, white bags of—something. Drugs. Was that what was in there?

“Madison.”

She inhaled sharply and pressed her hand to her chest. The way this night was going, she'd die from a heart attack.

“Holy shit.”

Aiden grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake, bending just enough so she couldn't look around him.

“Why couldn't you just do what you were supposed to?” He spoke low, his voice pitched for her ears alone, with rage in his eyes.

“Why don't you tell me the truth about what you're doing? You made me think you were doing this on your own—for some reason. Is anything you told me the truth? Did you even have a sister?”

He glanced over his shoulder. There was a decided lack of chatter coming from the others, which felt wrong. The short time Madison had spent around his friends, they'd never shut up.

“Shit. Come here.” He took her hand and led her through a set of swinging doors into a room lined with metal shelves and things that looked vaguely like car parts.

Aiden dropped her hand and paced the length of the room.

“What lie are you going to tell me this time?” she asked.

Aiden stopped a couple of feet away. His arms were streaked with grease and his black shirt looked pretty beat up.

“I work with the FBI.”

She stared at him. Was he serious? Did he expect her to believe the government would sanction people stealing cars?

“Prove it,” she said.

“What happened to trusting what I say?”

“This is a lot to take in, Aiden.” She shook her head. “I just covered up a crime and stole for you. I need more.”

“I can't tell you more than that. Hell, you shouldn't even be here.” He pushed his hand through his hair, and for once, he appeared genuinely worried.

Was that because she'd found him out? Or was he concerned about her? She wanted to believe it was for her benefit, but could she trust herself? Her gut said to take Aiden at his word—which was crazy. And stupid. But it would ease her conscience about what she'd just done.

“Aiden, done yet? Kind of need some help.”

Madison could tell them apart by their voices. She'd spent time around these people over the last week. They were real people to her. And though they were rough around the edges, some of them badly damaged, they were good people. Weren't they?

“Should I catch a cab home or something?” she asked. He might not be FBI, but she couldn't see Aiden doing anything bad.

“Hell no. Just—stick around. I'll take care of everything, but I've got to go.” He crossed to stand in front of her. His gaze was hard, and yet she felt as though she saw more of him now. The weight that he seemed to shoulder made more sense now.

Aiden touched his fingertips to her cheeks, lifting her face slightly before brushing his lips across hers.

She was in over her head, and she knew it. Was she letting her feelings for him blind her to the truth?

Chapter Twenty-Three

“She has to go into witness protection.”

Aiden turned toward Kathy. Of course the others would have sent her.

The Shop was quiet, the last of the five salvageable cars were gone and the product bagged and tagged for the FBI drop CJ would do in another couple of hours. It was time to get home and rest before they all pretended it was another normal day at Classic Rides.

Kathy leaned against the door and peeked in.

Madison sat curled up, her head resting on a desk that had been in the warehouse when they'd taken it over after an FBI raid and seizure. He pulled the door shut and turned to face Kathy.

She lifted her hand and rested it against his cheek, giving him a sad smile.
Motherly
wasn't a term he'd use to describe Kathy often, but she had her moments.

“She got to you. There's nothing wrong with that. Truth be told? I'm glad to see you still have it in you, but think about her future.”

Aiden turned and took two strides away—but to where? There was nowhere to go that this wouldn't follow him. Kathy didn't make any sound, but he felt her presence.

“She needs to go away. Maybe just for a little while, Aiden.”

He got it. He hated it, but given the options, he'd rather see Madison alive instead of dead. Except he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat. Couldn't tell Kathy to shut it and stop beating him over the head with the truth he already knew.

“It isn't fair.” She sighed and rested her elbows on the workbench, chin resting in her palm, gazing up at him. “Did you know when CJ and I got married our boss tried to bully us into getting it annulled?”

Aiden swallowed his pain down, focusing on this rare glimpse into CJ's and Kathy's lives. They might play the role of being one of the crew, but they also held themselves a bit apart.

“I thought the FBI didn't have rules on employees dating or being married?”

“Someone's done their homework. They don't, but it's not exactly smiled upon. By then CJ and I had worked in the field and been a couple for, damn, five or six years. Getting married was just me being old-fashioned. Some things we do for the job, and some things we do for ourselves. You need more for yourself, Aiden, and I'm sorry it has to be this way, but maybe when all this is cleared up she can come back.”

“I hope she doesn't.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “I hope she goes somewhere and finds a new life she doesn't want to leave behind.”

Aiden didn't know how long this thing with Evers would take or where it would go, but he didn't want Madison to wait for him. Today's false hope was hard enough to swallow. She had a life to live, and he'd chosen his path, regardless that he liked to blame the FBI for backing him into a corner.

“Think you can talk her into lying low until we can get the paperwork rolling for her?” Kathy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why don't you take the morning off? I can open the shop.” She squeezed his arm. “Say good-bye. Make it count.”

“I'll do that.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. The lump was back. Good-byes sucked.

Kathy turned and headed for the bunker, a long room they'd outfitted with cots and some emergency medical equipment. They'd set Roni up after Kathy's initial checkup. The twins would have to keep a low profile for a while until they knew if the cops connected them to the theft at the airport or not. It was doubtful, since the FBI had scrubbed the national databases of their existence, but there was always a chance something could go wrong. And it usually did to some degree.

He stood once more, facing the office door. Once he woke her up, there would be questions he couldn't answer. For a few, brief seconds, she'd looked at him with suspicion and distrust, and though he'd deserved it, he hated it too.

Kathy was right about one thing, he needed something for himself. There was more to life than taking Evers down, and he'd lost sight of that. Madison had made him realize there was more than the job. He couldn't replace her. No woman would touch his soul as she had, but life rolled on.

Aiden pushed the office door open and winced when it squeaked. Madison inhaled sharply and sat up straight, swaying in the chair and blinking.

“Hey, it's just me,” he said quietly.

“Hey.” She rubbed her face, smearing a bit of the makeup on her cheek.

“Come on, let's get some sleep.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet.

“Where we going?”

“My house. Canales got picked up on a minor charge and is spending the night in jail, so we're good.” For tonight, at least. Very soon, they'd have to do something about the crew leader.

“Oh, good.”

He guided her out to the street where he'd parked one of their many secondary vehicles. Once he got Madison situated and buckled, he checked in with Emery one last time to make sure the coast was clear.

It took three car changes and nearly forty-five minutes to make the trek home, but on nights like these, it paid to be cautious. They'd never before been able to make a grab at Evers so directly. Usually they were catching chatter that a shipment had arrived and snatching it from his lackeys or even his buyers. Things were about to get a lot more interesting now that they made a direct hit. Not to mention Dustin was going to get a new asshole when the bitcoins turned up fake.

Tomorrow was going to suck. The waiting was the worst, and they'd be stuck sitting on their hands to see what Evers's next move would be. The most telling thing would be where the blame fell. Right now, the easiest scapegoat would be Madison. She had too many ties to Evers and working at the airport was too convenient.

If he'd stuck to the plan and had little to do with her, would things have turned out differently?

Aiden pulled the Challenger into the barn and cut the engine. Madison was still out cold. No surprise there. He leaned against his door and watched her for a moment. Though the interior was dark, he knew the shape of her face well enough to trace it in by memory.

How was it she'd wormed her way into his heart in such a short amount of time?

“Hey. Wake up.” He gently shook her.

Madison groaned and sat up, blinking around her.

“We're at my place. Come on.”

He got out and made it to her side of the car before she'd even unfastened her seat belt. He took her hand and helped her out of the car. Chances were it would be the last time. Tomorrow he'd turn her over to FBI agents who would make her into a new person.

They left the barn behind and entered his house through the kitchen. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had been to his place, save Julian.

“Wow, nice kitchen.” Madison strolled around the square kitchen with its island.

“And I barely cook. Irony is that the sellers redid it just before I bought it.”

“That's a shame.” She opened the fridge.

“Shit. Are you hungry?” There wasn't anything in his fridge or freezer considering he barely had time to sleep here as of late.

“Not really, just being nosy.”

“You should probably get some sleep. Why don't you take my bed?” He'd reinforced the exterior wall and window. The door also had a sturdy lock and kickplate, which made it the safest room in the house, because again—he mostly just slept here.

Madison merely blinked at him, still half asleep on her feet. He took her hand and led her through the living room and into his bedroom. How he wished this were under different circumstances. He'd like nothing better than to lock the door and spend the next couple of hours getting lost between the sheets, except he couldn't do that. Tomorrow, she'd hate him for taking her life away.

“Bathroom's through there. If you need anything, holler, okay?”

She glanced at the big, king bed then at him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I've got a few things to do.” Like, make the couch into a bed, where he'd lie awake all night.

“Are you going to tell me anything?” She walked to his side of the bed and sat down on the edge, arms wrapped around herself.

“I can't. It's safer the less you know.”

“But you work for the FBI?”

“I didn't say I worked for them.” Not that they hadn't offered, but that was one noose he'd like to keep his neck out of.

“But, why couldn't the FBI just raid the airport?” She toed off her shoes and turned toward him.

He bit his lip to keep from saying more. God, wouldn't he like to know the answer to that?

“Can you just tell me if I did the right thing? If helping you was worth it?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, looking so small and lost.

Aiden went to her, sitting next to her and reaching out to grab her hand.

“Our methods aren't exactly normal, but we're fighting the good fight, I promise you. What we're doing—it's keeping drugs off the street. And we're working on the source. That's what I can tell you.”

Madison blew out a breath. “Okay.”

“Get into bed.” He got up and pulled the covers down, holding them for her while she slid between his sheets and snuggled his pillow.

Aiden kissed her cheek, unable to just leave her.

“Finish up your stuff and come back to me, okay?” she said.

He didn't answer, because he wouldn't be joining her. It was past time to cut the string binding them together. Severing this connection was going to suck, but it had to be done.

Aiden tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Despite the weariness wearing him down, he needed to do something. He grabbed his laptop from his hall closet hiding spot and settled in on the couch. Though electronic surveillance was mostly Emery's gig, there were a few things anyone could do.

He brought up a couple popular social media sites and the profiles of several of the Eleventh's key players. The chatter could sometimes be a tip-off. Most of the pertinent posts he could see on the public profiles were trash talk to the effect of getting even.

Another time, and Aiden could have spun this, figured out a way to deflect the Eleventh's attention, except they couldn't afford to take an eye off Evers. Whatever his next move was going to be would change the game.

He fired off a message to Emery, CJ, and Julian.

 

Looks like 11th will make bail 2morrow
.

 

They'd have to figure out something to keep them busy. Maybe set them up, though Aiden didn't like it. The crew was getting crooked enough they'd make their own bed, but it would be highly convenient to shove them in the pen now.

Evers's people were silent online, which seemed to be protocol when shipments were due to arrive. It would be impressive if it weren't a criminal organization.

Aiden's phone beeped with an incoming text from Emery.

 

Go to bed. Just made delivery
.

 

Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. With Emery's magic touch, they were able to move the cars. It wasn't a legal disposal of evidence, but considering their operation was poised to straddle the law, it worked. Besides, the people who bought the cars thought they were getting a used car special. Once the odometer was tweaked a little, no one was the wiser, unless they knew what they were doing. And they usually didn't. About the only people with enough cash to buy the flipped cars would be rich boys and people who wanted to play in their world. The drugs would go to the FBI, simply because their crew's only other option was to destroy the product and that could get messy. Easier to let the Hoovers handle the stuff for evidence.

If their operation were a normal FBI gig, the cars would sit in evidence. But because their mission was deep cover, flipping the cars gave them street cred. They might figure out a way to pin this on Evers yet, but they had to play their role true to the very end.

He set the laptop on the coffee table and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. If anything, he was more awake now than before. Which sucked.

The bedroom door swung open. He knew he shouldn't look, but he couldn't stop himself. Madison had stripped down to her tank top and panties. Her hair was drawn over one shoulder and she leaned against the door slightly. It was a visual he didn't need, because now he'd want to see that every morning.

“When you coming to bed?” she asked.

“Go back to sleep. I'm—working on a few things.” He gestured to the closed laptop.

Distance. Staying away from her. That was what he was doing. It was the right thing to do. For her and him.

Madison, however, hadn't gotten that memo. She walked toward him, and instead of telling her to go away or that she couldn't be privy to his work, he stared at her, committing this moment to memory. Her odd, half smile, the way her hair was messy, how her nipples pebbled beneath the cloth and the flex of her thighs as she moved. He'd never particularly admired a woman's thighs, at least not until her bout in that skirt.

She straddled his lap, one hand on his shoulder while she drew a pattern on his cheek with the other.

“I'm not all that tired anymore,” she said.

Inwardly he groaned. This couldn't happen. In a couple of hours, she'd hate him. Wouldn't she?

“Madison, we should talk.”

“Why? What do you want to talk about?” She didn't let him answer. She kissed him, her warm, soft body melting, her arms wrapping around him.

“Tomorrow,” he managed to get out between kisses.

“Fuck tomorrow.” She buzzed his lips then chuckled. “Actually, fuck me instead.”