Vegas Baby: Lady Sinners Series, #1

Chapter 1

Thursday, October 13

"I agreed to drop the puck, but not this. I don’t need help onto the ice. I’m not…"

Disabled? Miranda Evans let go of the wheelchair handles, stepped back, and glanced at her boss, Saralynn Reese, the head of the Las Vegas Sinners public relations department. What was the proper response to that? Technically, he could go out with his walker, but Saralynn hadn’t been willing to risk him falling in front of almost twenty thousand people. Ben Collier, ex-Sinner, stared at them with defiance snapping in his dark brown eyes. He could roll himself.

Saralynn’s face was blank, but the gears were turning behind her focused gaze. She wasn’t known for sugar coating, but she was an expert at figuring out how to get people to do what she wanted. After a second’s hesitation, she nodded. You’re right. Miranda will walk beside you, and the other dancers will follow. We’re not here to pity you, Ben. You’re doing us a favor by dropping the puck. The fans will be happy to see you.

His jaw was tight, his massive shoulders rigid. Just when it seemed he would refuse and head back for the dressing room, his chin dropped the slightest bit in a nod.

Miranda released a slow, discreet breath. It was the team’s home opener. Unexpected bumps were not welcome. She may be captain of the Lady Sinners dance team, but she was also Saralynn’s assistant. It was doubly her duty to make sure things ran smoothly.

The announcer introduced Ben, and he rolled down the carpet toward the ice. She reached for the chair handles reflexively but brought her arms back down to her sides before he could see. Offering help was second nature, but he seemed to be offended by it. When they got to the lip of the rink, his wheels stuck. She covertly lifted one handle to ease him over then joined the rest of the dancers in clapping as they walked down the runner with him. Lightning quick, he glanced up at her, but acknowledging what she did would defeat the purpose, so she kept her eyes on the fans. She raised her arms to get them even more pumped up. The louder they cheered the less he’d feel pitied or judged.

Dylan Cole, the Sinners captain, dropped into a mock face off crouch with the captain of the Stars. Looking like he’d rather lie down on hot coals, Ben tossed the puck between them. Dylan slid it over to the ref, who picked it up. Both players shook Ben’s hand. Dylan leaned in and said something that made Ben nod. The crowd whistled, screamed and clapped, but nothing got a smile from the wounded ex-player.

Miranda’s heart clenched. What would it feel like to lose the one thing you’d worked for your whole life? The only thing you loved? And then how would it feel to be paraded around by your old team, your tragedy used for publicity? Judging by how miserable Ben looked, pretty bad. He started rolling off ice, and she followed right behind so the other dancers would have to line up after her, narrowing the view. When he got to the edge, she carefully lifted the handles on his chair again until he was on an even surface. He kept going and didn’t look back.

Mir. Hey, Miranda.

A light tug on her ponytail turned her around.

Melody, her roommate, best friend, and fellow Lady Sinner stared with perfectly manicured, raised brows. Where are we first tonight? Throughout a Sinners game, the girls moved through the stands, sometimes dancing in the aisles and sometimes on platforms at either end of the ice.

Miranda gave her best shot at what was hopefully a confident expression. It was hard to shake Ben’s pain, but her responsibilities didn’t end with him. We’re in 108. Follow me.

Mel looked skeptical but nodded. There would be a conversation. Later. Miranda led them down the runner. Before they got to the locker room, she hooked a left and kept an eye on the section numbers painted on the cinderblock walls. When they got to 108, she climbed the stairs and tried to shake the heavy, negative feelings that’d surrounded Ben like a cloud. Before stepping into public view, she put on her performance face. Big smile, sparkling eyes, one goal—energize. It was the Lady Sinners’ motto and had always done the trick getting her into the spirit before a performance. This time it felt a little hollow, but if she did her job, no one would be able to tell.

The loudspeaker broke into the murmuring of the crowd after a whistle blow and announced them. She led the charge, jogging up the steps between the aisles and began the cheer while Vegas Girl blasted. It was easy enough to complete on autopilot. She’d done it hundreds of times, and the music did its part to cue and fuel her movements: pumping arms and swaying hips. Then the reverse. Having it memorized was a blessing and a curse. Ben just wouldn’t leave her head.

As a player, he’d never been disrespectful to the dance team, but word around the rink was that the Sinners’ locker room was split down the middle about him. He’d been a good center, winning more face offs than he’d lost, a real playmaker, but rumor was his intensity and love for the game meant he didn’t have the best social skills. And that had been before his injury. After the crash into the boards that had paralyzed him from the waist down, he’d become a ghost. Once a month, he came to the rink to play sled hockey with his old team—she’d seen and heard them a few times during dance practice—but otherwise? It seemed like he didn’t interact with anyone. All this had been mostly hearsay. Aside from her limited observation and interaction with him over the last few years, there hadn’t been proof of his salty personality. Until tonight.

Rude comments during a performance weren’t new, but one in particular slingshotted her back into the moment. Go home, puck bunnies! You don’t belong here! You’re a disgrace to women! Common barbs, but they still stung, especially now coming from a woman wearing a jersey with a line through a pink rabbit with boobs. Seriously?

After five years as captain of the Lady Sinners, these kinds of things shouldn’t affect her. Her girls weren’t a disgrace and were never impolite no matter how much disrespect they were shown. You don’t belong here. That was the claim that got to her. To some fans, the Lady Sinners were unnecessary decoration. They were so much more than that. There had to be a way to prove it.

The night progressed just like any other, but it was hard shake the fog of concern for Ben and the puzzle of re-branding her group. By the end of the second period, the Sinners were down 3-1. She sat on a folding chair and tied on her skates. A bump to her shoulder made her glance to the side.

From the chair next to her, Melody wrangled her own skates, double-knotting at the top. What’s up tonight? Where are you?

I’m right here. Miranda tried for a smile.

"You know what I mean. I saw the way you were looking at Colly. I know you have a weakness for wounded puppies Mir, but that is a bad idea."

I have no ideas about Collier.

Mmm hmm.

Okay, there were thoughts about Ben, but no ideas. He just looked so sad.

I love your heart. But some problems end up hurting the people who try to fix them more than the people who have them. He is not your problem. The crowd tonight, however…

You saw her, too?

We all did. We ignored it like usual, but an offensive jersey? That’s hostile.

I know. She bit the inside of her lip. What can we do?

Just as Melody shrugged, the announcer called them out for the period break scrimmage.

Miranda strapped on her helmet and led them onto the ice. A row of sticks awaited them, leaning against the players’ bench. Tonight they were wrapped in neon pink glitter tape from almost top to bottom. They looked ridiculous. Who thought of this? Saralynn. The woman would do anything to appeal to the most fans, including turning the Lady Sinners into Hockey Player Barbies. Her team broke into two groups. She took the face off against Mel and lowered her voice. This is a joke.

I wish.

The ref dropped the puck, Mel got it by a fraction of a second, and she pushed it back to one of her wingers. For the next five minutes, the on-ice mini battle required complete concentration. Because the scrimmage was so short, they didn’t take breaks, and because there were only ten of them, there weren’t many line changes. It was no-contact, which was good because they weren’t wearing pads except for Chantal and Amber, the goalies. Poor girls had to wear Sinners’ leftovers that were too big, and dear lord the smell. They did their best, but scoring was easy on both ends, and when the buzzer sounded, Miranda’s group won 5-4. They raised the stupid, pink sticks in victory, and applause and cheers rang out. Hard to say if the crowd appreciated the skill or view, but it was better than being mocked or insulted. The Sinners ended up coming back in the third and winning 4-3. Even that wasn’t enough to lift her mood, but practiced poise ensured no one could tell.

Chapter 2

Thursday Night

Melody sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window on the way home. Her silence was deafening. When Miranda couldn’t take the tidal wave of unasked questions any longer, she switched off the radio.

Okay. You can start.

That got a glance and a half-smile from her roommate that grew into a grin. Thank God. I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me tonight. I haven’t seen you like this since … you-know-who.

Steven. Almost five years ago, but just thinking about him made the pain fresh. He’d been emotionally abusive and a manipulator. Had taken her puppy after the break-up, but threat of legal action had gotten Baby the Chihuahua back. It’d been one of the darkest times in her life, but things had gotten so much better. What she felt tonight didn’t compare to that, but the way she shut down probably looked the same on the outside no matter what was going on inside. It’s not like that. You’ll feel justified to know I’m still thinking about Ben.

You can’t fix broken people, sweetie, and I don’t mean his body. Let Allie fix his attitude.

Allie Kallen-Reese, the Sinners’ sports psychologist, often counseled the dancers, too, and she was well loved by all. Well. Almost all. I was curious, so I caught her before the game to ask. He hasn’t been in to see her. Or the other shrink. The only one he sort of talks to is Grayson Gunn, the new GM.

See that? He’s in capable hands. Gunn’s a good guy. When he played for us last year, he did the most charity work. Maybe Colly’s his latest cause.

"Yeah, it’s just … I know I barely know him, okay? I can’t explain it, but tonight I felt his pain. Like it was mine. I saw how tortured he was, and I can’t shake it. I want to do something."

Melody’s expression went from compassionate pity to rational determination. You’re such an empath. Okay. Say you reach out. Based on tonight, how do you think that will go?

Ben’s defensiveness and anger from earlier replayed and took her motivation down a notch. Maybe not great.

I’d say that’s a safe bet. He’s a bear who doesn’t want to be poked, no matter how well intentioned the poke. Now. What else is on your mind?

Three years of being roomies and growing up like sisters had given them an almost psychic connection. Most times it was a blessing, like now. I had an idea tonight when we were out there with the fairy princess sticks.

Is this idea a revolt? Because I think I could get behind that.

No, sort of the opposite.

Mel lowered her brows. If you suggest to Saralynn that we wear bikinis while we play, I’m moving out and quitting the squad.

"No. Jeez."

Because you know she’d go for that.

Scary, but true. Saralynn was a bottom line kind of woman, and her bottom line was putting butts in arena seats. "Yeah, well, my idea is also the opposite of that."

Okay, now you lost me.

"I want to start a Lady Sinners intramural team. We can play in the city’s league. It’d be a great way to interact with fans and find new ones. Excellent publicity, so I think Saralynn would agree. Plus, it would mean getting actual equipment, and we could really play, not just pretend to play."

"That sounds awesome! You know how I’ve felt about these scrimmages. I mean, they’ve worked for us in a way, but haven’t made us legitimate to fans like Miss Anti-Puck Bunny. And how rude, calling us puck bunnies anyway. Does she even know about the rule banning dancer-player relationships?"

I’m not sure it’d make a difference. So far everything about us has been designed to flaunt how we look, and I know that’s part of the point, but there’s so much more to us. People won’t see that until we find a way to show them.

Then let’s show them.

Miranda smiled. At least her best friend was on her side. Everyone else … might take some convincing.

His pocket vibrated, and Ben Collier jerked awake on his sofa. The glow of the muted TV lit the otherwise dark room. What time was it? He scrubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his ringing phone. Eleven o’clock, and Grayson, Big Gunns Gunn was calling. Ben debated for a brief second before answering. Yeah.

Hey, man. You sound beat. Did I wake you?

No, I’m … I’ve been up. Was watching the game.

From home.

Ben hesitated, but there was no use denying it. His old teammate and the Sinners’ current GM clearly already knew he’d bailed after dropping the puck. Yeah.

This time it was Big Gunn’s turn to be quiet. The silent disappointment and pity was suffocating.

I’m sorry I didn’t stay, I just…

No, I get it. I mean, I don’t—I’ve never been in your position—but I understand why you’d want to leave.

I love you guys, but I didn’t want to be there in the first place. Honestly, I would have said no, but Saralynn has this way of poking and prodding until you’d rather peel your skin off with a spoon than fend her off for another second.

Big Gunns barked a laugh. Yeah. That’s her reputation. Don’t always agree with her tactics, but she’s done well for the team. I’m sorry you got roped into it.

I’m not saying I’m not grateful for everything the Sinners have done for me. I am. All of it. You guys have gone above and beyond. Especially you.

Not going all Hallmark on me, are you, Colly?

He snorted. Fuck off. I’m just saying—

It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. If it makes a difference, I don’t think Saralynn lured you in just for the publicity. It’s not a secret you don’t talk to many people around here anymore. They want to know you’re okay.

I’m fine. It came out short and gravelly, so opposite