Vegas Vixen: Lady Sinners Series

By Katie Kenyhercz

Violet Lockhart is a Jill of all trades. Five to be exact. Cheerleader, defenseman, personal trainer, mermaid, and dance teacher. Her part-time life fits her perfectly. Attachments are for people who don't have her complicated and painful past. But when she runs into the newest call-up for the Las Vegas Sinners, her life goes helmet over skates. The hot, charming, and oddly grounded hockey player seems hell-bent on opening her up and earning her trust. She's starting to want things she'd never imagined, and he's at the top of the list. But his time in Vegas is limited. Could he be worth the chance?

 

Dashel Knight always played it safe. He delayed an NHL career for college and found himself on the farm team once he graduated. When he gets called-up to his first big game, the last thing he expects is to collide with a goddess in a clamshell bra. Violet gets under his skin in the best way, and the more he learns about her, the more he wants to know. She's funny, complex, and guarded as hell. As a journeyman going back and forth between two leagues, getting involved doesn't make sense. But the biggest risks come with the biggest rewards, and this sexy riddle just might be the answer he's been looking for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katie Kenyhercz
• Release date: Apr 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393844051

Book preview

Chapter One

Friday, April 2

Late. Late. Late. That’s what happened when your mermaid replacement skipped her shift at the Silverton Casino and you had to cover for her or be fired. Not fair, but neither was life, and Violet Lockhart couldn’t afford to lose that job now that she had a big apartment all to herself, including the rent. She couldn’t afford to lose this job either. Running through the basement hallway of the Las Vegas Arena, long, wet hair clinging to all exposed skin, she plowed right into a moving target that exited the corridor she needed to enter at the exact wrong moment. They bounced off each other like bumper cars, her pom-poms and his hockey bag flying like shrapnel.

Fuck, I’m sorr— His sentence broke off as he stared at her with confusion and a little heat if she weren’t mistaken. Uh … are you lost?

She grabbed the shiny black and green pom-poms off the floor and subtly glanced down to make sure her clamshell bra hadn’t abandoned her. I know where I’m going. Do you? When she finally looked up at him, some kind of arrhythmia put a hitch in her breath. The word Adonis came to mind. Silky brown curls framed a chiseled face, and clear, stormy gray eyes flecked with gold appraised her with equal admiration. Obviously a hockey player. His lithe, muscled build said he was probably a forward. Couldn’t be a goalie as the Sinners’ starting tender, Reese, was in top form, not to mention New Guy’s bag wasn’t big enough for goalie gear. And he didn’t look hard enough to be a D. The unintentionally dirty thought made her smile in spite of herself.

Ah. No, actually. This is my first game here. I got called up from Carson City and my bus was running late. They told me the basement entrance would lead me to the locker room but—

You went in the wrong one. The locker room you’re looking for is right there. She nodded straight down the hall toward the double doors that read Whatever It Takes, We Walk Together.

Thanks, …?

"Just call me Kind Stranger. Love to chat but I have to get to my locker room."

His large frame didn’t leave a lot of space to wiggle past in the narrow corridor, and the heat he gave off felt good to her cold, damp skin. Better than she wanted to admit, and he didn’t seem to feel any inclination to lean away but there was no time to linger. She took off at a jog, though a quick look over her shoulder confirmed what she’d already expected—his backside was just as impressive as the front. Off limits. Dancers didn’t date players. Besides, as a call-up he wouldn’t be around for long.

The Lady Sinners’ locker room all but vibrated with the roar of the crowd as the announcer got the fans pumped. No other team in the league went for the pre-game fanfare that Vegas did—pyrotechnics, holograms, a dramatic musical intro, and new last year, a giant devil head lowered from the rafters that the players could skate through—and that was equal parts a point of pride and a little embarrassing. Violet exchanged her mermaid bra and boxers for her skin-tight Lady Sinners top and hot pants. Pulling on the tall boots took extra effort as her legs were still slick from swimming in the casino’s enormous indoor tank. She fixed her makeup in the mirror she shared with fourteen other women but there wasn’t much she could do with her hair, so she settled for a low ponytail.

As tight a fit as it was, the other girls gave her extra room, and that was a double-edged sword too. They were kind of afraid of her. It was a little her fault. The Lady Sinners were not only the official dance team for the Las Vegas Sinners, but they had their own intramural hockey team as well. She spent more time with these women than anyone else, though that wasn’t saying much. Her own company was preferable to anyone else’s, and her teammates seemed to pick up on that. Most of the time, she liked it that way. Not always. Not that she’d ever told them that.

Melody, their captain and her old roommate, glanced at them sideways as she applied more blush. Lot of talk about the new guy called up from Carson City. Dashel Knight. They say he’s the next Dylan Cole.

Vi paused in primping. So that was his name. Well if that weren’t tailor-made for Vegas. She rolled her eyes. Yeah, probably only he says that. I ran into him in the hall. It’s his first call-up to the big league? If he were that good, wouldn’t Vegas have started him here after he was drafted?

I guess he wanted to go to college first at UNLV on a hockey scholarship. Apparently he was so good the Sinners gave him a spot on the Carson City Saints team upon graduation to hold onto him until they could call him up.

Okay, that was a little impressive. If it were true. It was crazy to think he’d been on the UNLV campus at the same time she had, but it was a big enough university that it wasn’t a stretch she’d never run into him before. Melody’s husband Spencer coached the UNLV Aces. That meant he’d known Knight. Doesn’t matter.

I can’t believe we have to wear this. Claire, new to the squad, made a disgusted face in the mirror at her short-sleeved, crop-topped, blinged-out jersey with matching hot pants and black, pleather boots. The rest of them burst out laughing. What? Claire frowned.

Vi took pity on her. This is a vast improvement over what we used to wear. We had to fight for this much coverage. Honestly, if they hadn’t made us start playing hockey scrimmages during period breaks, we’d still be in bikinis.

"Bikinis?"

"Almost. That might be a slight embellishment. Slight. Point is, this job comes with a lot of teeth-gritting, but when we actually get to play in the community league and feel the bones of our opposition crunch under a hard check, it’s all worth it."

Claire stared at her in the mirror, opened-mouthed in shock. Vi couldn’t help a grin. Melody patted the newbie’s back and shot Vi a don’t-scare-her-away look. It’s not that bad. We have a lot of fun, too. You’ll see.

Come on, Mel; we never get fresh blood. I was just having a little fun. Sorry, Claire Bear. As nicknames went, the newb got a decent one. Better than management’s play on her own name—Violent. Okay, so it was accurate. She was the Lady Sinners toughest D. But it wasn’t flattering. Not even in rhinestones across the back of her jersey. Vi shrugged innocently, grabbed her pom-poms then fell into line as they headed for the tunnel.

Up close, the crowd was deafening, almost louder than the music, but somehow that made it easier to block them out and focus on shaking her ass. It was an art form, really, timing it just right to line up with her teammates and coordinate with swinging their pom-poms to the beat. Nothing she’d put on a resume, but a skill she’d perfected over the last few years. It was all so ingrained, so automatic, that when the players started shooting out of the giant, fiberglass devil’s mouth, they were hardly noticeable. Until Dashel Knight skated by and winked right at her with the cockiest grin to grace a human face.

It threw her off-tempo for a second, enough that the girls on either side of her noticed, and she clenched her jaw, resuming the choreography. But damned if her gaze didn’t find Knight wherever he went. He was hard to miss. Most call-ups kept their heads down, tried their best, didn’t make eye contact with anyone. The first puck hadn’t even dropped and Knight did a lap around the rink, raising his stick and hip thrusting at the front row. She wasn’t the only one to notice. Beside her, Melody chimed in through a smile and clenched teeth. Holy shit. Can you believe that? Kid better live up to his reputation. Was it wrong to hope he didn’t? Because that would be hilarious.

Vi kept her stage face in place, too. He knows this is his one-and-done. No way is he staying in Vegas. He’s making the most of it.

Don’t think I missed that wink or how it stopped you. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he stayed.

You’re lucky I’m holding these pom-poms instead of my hockey stick.

Mel’s smile brightened even more. That’s why I said it.

The arena lights went up, the giant devil head ascended back into the rafters, and the Lady Sinners left the ice for designated sections throughout the stands. Vi’s spot was in the front row. A celebrity singer currently doing a residency on the Vegas Strip stepped out on a glittering red carpet and belted the anthem. The starting lineup stood center ice, heads bowed, shifting foot to foot, chewing on their mouth guards. One or two kissed a cross before tucking it inside his jersey. Knight? Hard to say for sure, but his sidelong glance appeared to be aimed directly at her, that dumb, handsome, cocksure smile curling his lips. Arrogant. Annoying. And damn it, kind of hot. How did he even get in the starting lineup his first game in Vegas?

Miss Celebrity Songbird finished up and dropped the ceremonial puck. Handshakes, pictures, and finally, the start of the first period. Normally, Vi’s gaze automatically tracked whoever had the puck, but Knight’s jersey kept catching her eye. Probably because he darted around the other team with such speed and precision and managed to appear in the right place at the right time that he always seemed to be front and center. Even the seasoned Sinners raised eyebrows as the kid racked up assists.

With five seconds left before the first horn, his highness took a slap shot from the point just inside the offensive zone and lit the lamp. The goalie seemed dumbfounded, like the puck must have magically materialized inside the net. Knight yelled Fuck yeah! He punched the air, embraced his teammates, and did a celebratory lap, humping the glass, one leg in the air, all the way around the rink with surprising hip flexibility. The way the fans ate it up pretty much guaranteed this would happen every time he scored. As he passed her, he winked again. She wanted to punch him. Among other things. What is happening?

When she was interested in a guy, she let him know, not the other way around. Most were too intimidated to even look at her, and she worked hard on putting out that vibe. She dictated the terms of the flirtation and how far it would go, which was never past a second date. Not that Sir Humps-a-lot would get a first date. His gaze never left her as he skated off-ice and that stupid smile never left his full mouth. Honestly, how was it fair for a man to have lips like that? His smile widened, and the effect transformed from seductive to corny thanks to his mouth guard. A laugh snuck up on her and escaped before she could stop it. He saw, and satisfied accomplishment shone in his light eyes before he followed his team down the tunnel to the locker room.

The rest of the night floated by as usual punctuated only by Knight’s brief but frequent and confounding glances in her direction. Melody elbowed her in the side as they stood in the aisle of section 102 during the third period, waiting to cheer. Must have made some impression on him. You okay? I can’t remember seeing your face like this before. You look … happy?

I don’t know. It’s kind of like anxiety? But not as heavy. And weirdly exciting.

Melody’s eyes widened and she gasped. Oh my God, you have butterflies.

Take that back.

No, it’s good. It’s—I didn’t think you were capable of butterflies. And Knight is … well I’m married, so I can’t finish that sentence, but he’s a good choice for your first crush.

"It’s not a crush. I’m not ten. And I don’t get crushes. I crush things. This is nothing. He’s attractive, okay? I can admit that."

It’s mutual the way he’s been eye-boning you all night.

Okay, first, you’ve been hanging around me too long. Hopefully you moved out before I caused permanent damage. And second, I don’t know what his deal is, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll be back in Carson City tomorrow. Watch.

Melody smiled in that annoying, sunshiny way she did when she was sure she was right. It was annoying because she was never wrong. We’ll see.

Do you know something I don’t?

How could that be possible seeing as you know everything?

Damn right was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back as the sarcasm and kernel of truth sank in. She did have the tendency to assume she always knew best, and in anyone else that trait would be foolish, so what did that make her? Maybe she was protesting too much. Fuck, I have a crush. What was she supposed to do with that? In her pre-teen and teenage years, she’d gone out of her way to avoid anything with a Y chromosome. In her early 20s, she’d reclaimed her sexuality, taken control of it. But a crush? This was foreign. Unsettling. Unwanted. Undeniable. I don’t like this.

I know. Mel slung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. It was patronizing but came from a good place, so Vi didn’t shove her away. Mel still took the hint and stepped back. Look, nothing has to come out of this if you don’t want it to. But aren’t you curious?

"I think you’re curious." But if she were being honest, uncharted territory tended to call her name.

The ref blew his whistle for a puck out of play, and the sound system cued them up for one of their mini routines. Five minutes after that, the horn sounded the end of the game and the Sinners celebrated their win thanks in large part to Dash the Flash Knight as the announcer liked to call him. He ate up the accolades from his teammates, looking perfectly comfortable as if he’d been a part of them all along. Definitely not the average rookie.

Back in the Lady Sinners locker room, Violet had no sooner pulled a T-shirt over her costume top than a semi-familiar team intern bounced in, glanced around, then bee-lined straight to her, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she held out a note.

Violet stared at it. What’s that?

Phone number of one Dashel Knight with the instructions to give it to the angry, sexy mermaid. I’m guessing that’s you. Her gaze darted to the clamshell bikini top hanging from Violet’s locker then back.

Violet blew out a sigh. She wanted to shoo the intern away, but Tina, as the badge on her lapel proclaimed, looked tenacious. This was probably the juiciest thing she’d gotten to do for the Sinners yet, and she clearly wanted to eat up every second. A brush-off wouldn’t work; it would just prolong the painful seconds of Vi’s entire squad staring at her open-mouthed and eager like the fish in her casino tank during feeding time. There was only one way to end this. She took the slip of paper and shoved it in her bag. Thanks. That all?

Tina looked like a puppy who’d taken an unexpected newspaper to the nose. Some guilt surfaced about that, but Violet had never been a Grease gossip-with-the-girls kind of woman. She didn’t want to sing about summer lovin’ or shape anyone up because she didn’t need a man. And she definitely didn’t need to talk