“Mom died over a month ago. He didn’t say nothin’.” Ford couldn’t meet Cort’s eyes. But he could feel his friend’s level gaze on the side of his face. “I thought I could handle it.”
“Like I said. Stupid.” Cort shook his head, moving away to pull a chair up to the side of the bed. “You knew he was fucking ripping about you selling your shares of the team. And the goddamn Forum. Who’d he send after you? And what did they ask for?” Cort’s brow furrowed. “You’ve got nothing left.”
“But my sister does. Her and her man own forty-nine percent of the team between them. Kingsley could use that.”
“What exactly did they ask you to do?”
“See what I can get out of my sister. My dad thinks she’ll give me her shares—and she might if I pushed. Tell her she can’t handle it. I’d have considered it just to get him to back off, but . . . Silver’s fragile. She’s getting stronger, but who knows what the wrong trigger would do to her.” Ford scraped his bottom lip with his teeth, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t seen his little sister much lately. His half sister, who’d once hated him and now invited him over for family dinners. To her daughter’s baptism. For the first time, he’d felt like he had a real family. But he’d had to push her away after the first call from Kingsley’s men. “I gotta say, he gave me more chances than most, even if he didn’t give me a heads up. I got three . . . messages. Two over the phone. The third at the club . . .”
Bile filled his throat. His waitress, Angel, had been raped in the alley. She’d begged him not to call the police, but he’d called Laura, the cop he’d met at the BDSM club he’d started going to months ago. Laura had convinced Angel to go to the hospital. Managed to convince his waitress that she’d be safe.
“You better tell me everything, kid.” Cort sat back, perfectly still as Ford gave him all the details of what had happened over the last few weeks. His eyes narrowed as Ford trailed off at explaining how the thugs had shown up at his door and forced their way inside. “Go on.”
“What else is there to tell? They put me here.” Ford held out his arms to indicate the hospital—instantly regretting it. Sharp pain rose over the cushion of drugs, causing his stomach to clench, which made him hunch over, gasping for air. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too fucking bad. If they . . .” Cort’s chair toppled over as he stood. He raked his fingers through his short, brown hair. “Damn it, Ford, I know how this works. I wanna kill them for what I can see. I’ll kill ‘em slow if they—”
“They didn’t. They threatened to. Copped a feel while they did.” Ford shuddered as his balls shrank at the recollection. A big body on him. Hands all over. He wanted to skin the men who’d done so much worse to Angel. “Kingsley would have been real specific about that shit. I might not be his real son, but that’s how everyone sees me. It would look bad on him if someone made me their bitch.”
“But they hurt your girl. She was under your protection, Ford.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? You’ve got no one to back you. This can’t happen under your watch.” Cort paced, shaking his head. “Your girls deserve better. And it makes you look weak.”
“I’m out, Cort. I don’t want to deal with Kingsley and his ‘connections’ anymore.” Ford frowned, wincing at the tug on broken flesh held together with string. He had enough stitches in his face for the scars to rival almost any of the hockey players on the team Kingsley wanted to control. He took a deep breath and met Cort’s eyes. “I thought you wanted out too?”
Cort nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do. Did when I got free, but you still needed me.”
Fuck. Ford thought about when Cort had gone to jail for two years. Not because of his job as an enforcer, but covering for Ford’s brief stint as a car thief. Ford had wanted to turn himself in after Cort got caught cleaning up his mess, but Cort pulled the “you owe me” card. Of all the bullshit he’d had on Ford, he’d brought up the time they’d liked the same woman. Shared her. She’d chosen Ford, and he hadn’t even been that into her. He was a stupid seventeen-year-old, and she’d been closer to Cort’s twenty-six. Cort had stepped aside after warning Ford that she’d move on to the next “made man” who could get her out of her stripping gig. Said he’d let Ford make his own mistakes this time, but next time Ford would “fucking do what he was told.’.”
At nineteen, Ford had still been dumb enough to think he could repay Cort by going straight—well, as straight as someone like him could be. He’d talked to Cort once a week when he’d gone to visit him in jail, taking all Cort’s advice. He’d gotten his college degree in business. Shown Kingsley he’d be ready to take the reins when the old man stepped down, handle the legit shit and the family business. Drug smuggling and gambling just scratched the surface. What Kingsley was into made Ford’s dealing pot and jacking cars nothing but child’s play. But his father didn’t trust him while he was playing at being a petty criminal.
While Cort was in jail, Ford had become the perfect son. He’d gotten along real well with Kingsley. Things were calm for a while. Cort got an early parole and had a stable job as Ford’s bodyguard and bouncer at Ford’s bar. Everything had been fine until Ford found out he wasn’t Kingsley’s son.
Ford dropped his gaze to the rumpled sheets covering his legs. His chest tightened. He mumbled his next words so low he wasn’t sure Cort would be able to hear what he said. “I still owe you.”
Cort barked out a laugh. “Fuck that! Kid, I am out. But that’s because of you. You think I didn’t know how much you looked up to me? A little punk still hanging on to his mom’s apron strings while trying to be all badass. If you’d done time, you’d be dead. Or worse. Ruined. My older brother tried to go legit to show me better, but he couldn’t. I came a lot closer. To show you.”
“Yeah, I really fucked that up.” Damn, he was tired. And fed up. Kingsley managed to destroy anything good he tried to do. Everything Cort had tried to accomplish. With Kingsley out of the picture, Ford could have his bar, his real family, and the girl he . . .
No point in thinking about her. She fucking hates you, man.
True, but Cort could have his garage. They could both have good lives.
But Kingsley wouldn’t let that happen.
“Kid, you did something I never would have done. You brought the cops in for that girl. You’re on your way to the straight and narrow. Legit.” Cort turned his chair, straddling it, a big grin on his face. “Just what I wanted for you.”
Great. So I get to walk away free and clear? Again? Ford stifled a cough with his hand, shaking his head. “What about you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Cort shrugged, his gaze slipping from Ford’s for the first time. “Might have a reason to stay clean anyway. And she’s a lot less trouble than you are.”
A woman? That Cort’s serious about? Ford smiled, biting back the pain that tore at his stitched-up cheeks. “What are you doing here then? Go get her!”
“You really are a fucking idiot. You think any woman can keep me from checking on you?” Cort stood again, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “I broke into your place. Saw the blood and . . .” Cort tipped his head back, eyes shut. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I thought you were done for. Reggie wasn’t much help. He was ‘thinking you weren’t dead.’ And I’m thinking of beating him sober.”
Reggie. Ford laughed and it hurt. Bad. Reggie was a good bartender. A pothead, yeah, but they’d been friends when Ford was dealing, and Reggie was the only person who had stuck around when Ford wanted clear of that shit. He wasn’t sure Cort would get that. Or that he could explain how much the few friends he had left mattered. His eyelids were dragging. “Don’t. People love him. He always comes in fine. Never fucks with the cash like some of the girls. I think he went off the deep end when he found out I was messed up. I cleared some of his debts because he’s solid.”
“Not solid enough to keep things going while you’re laid out.”
“That’s why you’re
here. I called you because I was gonna lay low for a bit.” Ford pressed his eyes shut tight, trying to push past the weight of the drugs urging him to let go. “I’m still a manager with the Cobras. Handle the paperwork Silver doesn’t have time for anymore, go to meetings, stuff like that. And I’ve got my bar. I need you to take over for me. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Shut up.” Cort patted his arm. “Ford, I’ve got you. Get some rest, and I’ll handle anything you need me to. But get better quick. If I have to wear a suit for more than a month, I’ll lose it.”
“You won’t. Give me a week and I’ll be—”
“A week?” Aggie slipped into the room quietly, giving Cort an assessing look. “I apologize, but I couldn’t help overhearing that. There’s no way you’re getting out of here for at least two. There were complications in your surgery. That drip I keep refilling isn’t for show. Honey, your kidneys need time to heal. The infection alone almost did you in. From what I heard, you were lying on that floor for hours before—”
“Please give us a moment.” Cort growled, all the color leaving his face as he stared down at Ford. He waited for the nurse to step out before continuing. “You stay. You stay until you’re better. I deal with everything else. Got me?”
“Cort—”
“Say ‘Yes, Cort.’” Cort bent over him, a hard glint in his eyes, his voice a harsh whisper. “Say it, and I won’t kill anyone until you’re on your feet. I have a feeling you’ll want to lay those fuckers low yourself. I’ll sharpen the knife for you. They dared touch you? They will pay.”
“What about your girl, Cort?” Ford didn’t want to kill anyone. Not even the guys who had wanted to rip open his asshole. They were pathetic douchebags on a payroll. On the payroll of the man he’d called “Daddy” for most of his life. But he knew Cort wouldn’t let this go for him. For him, he’d dig them a grave near the ocean. Hopefully this chick meant enough for Cort to use his brain. “She the ‘conjugal visit’ type?”
“No. But I’ll steer clear of her if I have to.”
“You don’t have to.”
“We’ll see.” Cort sat back in the chair, like he was settling in for a while. “Get some sleep. I’m pretty sure you haven’t been doing so good knowing ‘Daddy’ might send some flowers. Or another fist to the gut.”
He hadn’t been, but he didn’t want Cort to feel like he had to stay. “That’s not how he works, Cort. He sent his message. I got it. And I’ve got time before he’ll expect an answer.”
“Yeah, I’ve got his answer.” Cort shocked Ford by grabbing his hand, squeezing hard before releasing it. That same hand had steadied Ford when he was young and got drunk, keeping him from walking into traffic. Or any kind of danger Ford couldn’t see coming. “He can go fuck himself. I know how you feel about your sister. When you wake up, we’ll talk some more about keeping someone at your door. And finding someone to keep an eye on Silver. Until then . . .” Cort dropped his boot on the table by the bed. “I’m staying.”
Chapter Three
Something pounced on Akira’s bed, and her heart leapt out of her chest. She sat up, bringing her pillow with her as she spotted Jami, kneeling over her, howling with laughter. Akira thunked her with the pillow.
“You scared me!” She shook her head as Jami caught her breath, trying to say something. Akira could guess what. “Revenge?”
“You’re damn right! At least I didn’t knock you off the bed like you and Sahara did to me last time!” Cheeks red, Jami shifted to sit cross-legged, facing Akira. “And neither of you was nice enough to bring me coffee.”
“Coffee?” Akira scooted up, bracing her back against her headboard as she retrieved the mug from her night table. Black, rich-scented coffee, so fresh just the aroma woke her up a little. She took a tentative sip. “Mmm, I love you, Jami.”
“Oh good, because I felt real bad when I saw all the stuff you got.” Jami’s brow furrowed. “I should have come back last night to help you with groceries—but you said you’d be okay! I thought you were just getting salad or something.”
“I was okay.” Akira took another sip, then sighed and set the cup back on the table. When Jami had gotten hurt, she’d gone quite a while without telling Akira, or anyone else, about everything her stalker had done. Akira had told her off for not sharing that very important info with either her boyfriends or . . . well, Akira. It would be a little hypocritical to pretend like nothing had happened last night. “Actually . . . I wasn’t. But it’s not your fault.”
“What do you mean? Did you get hurt?” Jami sprang off the bed and ripped the blankets off Akira’s legs. “Did you twist your ankle? Hon, you can’t perform hurt. I won’t let you. Sahara can take care of practice while I—”
“I’m not hurt. I was . . .” No other way to say it. “I was mugged.”
Jami covered her mouth with her hand, paling. “You . . . what? Oh my God, Akira! Baby, I’m so sorry.” She slipped onto the bed, pulling Akira into her arms. “Are you okay? He didn’t touch you, did he? I’ll kill him! I’ll find him, then I’ll kill him.” She paused long enough to breathe. “Did you call the police?”
“Umm . . . not yet.” Akira rested her forehead on Jami’s shoulder, relieved to find there was no lingering fear from the night before. Only . . . her cheeks heated. She quickly answered Jami’s question. “Laura will find out. And she’ll tell Chicklet. And Chicklet—”
“Will tell Dominik.” Jami rubbed Akira’s arms soothingly, easing back. “Maybe you should tell him before she has to. You have to report this.”
“I know.” Ugh, that brief moment where she’d been able to think of the good that had come of last night was gone. Now she had to focus on talking to Dominik. And the police. Replacing her bank cards, her ID. She’d make a few calls to notify her banks and stuff, but the rest could wait. “Are you coming with me and Sahara?”
“Naw, I want to stay here and clean a bit.” Jami lifted one shoulder, a sheepish smile on her lips. “Least I can do after what you went through. But before you go anywhere, you’re gonna tell me why you’re blushing.”
“Am I?” Akira’s cheeks were burning now. She wouldn’t be able to keep this from Jami either. But for some reason, she didn’t want to give details just yet. She knew Jami wouldn’t judge her, but she might question Akira moving so fast with a virtual stranger. Akira fiddled with a loose thread on her blanket. “I met someone.”
“Really? Who? When?” Jami bounced up on her knees. “Oh, I was hoping you would ever since Dominik started training those twits.” She rolled her eyes. “You can hear them across the club when he plays with them. ‘Master! Oh, oh, oh, Master!’”
Akira giggled, shoving Jami lightly. “I can hear you just as loud when you’re with your guys.”
“Touché.” Jami stuck her tongue out. Then nudged Akira’s shoulder with her fist. “Stop changing the subject! Tell me about your new man! Is he hot?”
Very. Akira chewed her bottom lip. Actually, he might not be hot by Jami’s standards, but everything about him appealed to Akira. She let her gaze drift past Jami, a small smile creeping across her lips. “He’s . . . amazing. Actually, he found me after I got mugged. I kinda freaked out. I was sitting in the snow—”
“Oh, sweetie.” Jami’s face crumpled and she took Akira’s hand. “I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known that would happen, Jami. Besides, it turned out all right. He came to check on me. Stayed while I called Scott to see if he could give me a lift—” She held up her free hand when Jami’s lips parted. “I figured Scott would be the least likely to freak out. Scott’s still in Gaspe, but he knows the guy and told me he was safe. So I let him drive me home.”
Jami nodded slowly. “He didn’t just drop you off, did he?”
“Ah . . . no.” The heat on Akira’s cheeks spread to her ears and down her chest. “We hung out here for a bit.”
“Uh-huh.” Jami pursed her lips. “Scott knows him? Not so sure that’s a good thing. W
hat’s his name?”
“Cortland Nash.” Akira took her cooling coffee off the night table and took a big gulp. Tried to ignore her own reaction to just saying his name.
It was impossible to ignore Jami’s reaction, though. Her eyes had gone wide. Her lips gaped open. “Cort?”
“Yes . . . do you know him?”
“Yeah. He saved me from . . . he’s the reason I wasn’t raped.” Jami hugged her knees to her chest. “I thought I’d told you about—”
“You told me about the man who killed your stalker with a baseball bat! You never told me his name!” Akira groaned, draining the coffee as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. Her brain couldn’t process the information. Her skin flushed hot, then ran cold. “He works for Ford. Oh God, I . . .” She laughed, rubbing one hand over her face. “I lied about my name. I thought it would be better to not give away too much—well, too much information anyway. And being someone different for a change . . . I didn’t think about anything else.”
“What are you talking about, Akira?” Jami slid up beside her. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Not quite.”
“Not . . . oh, honey, he’s bad news. You have to stay away from him.” Jami took her hand again. “I’ll talk to Ford, make sure Cort knows he can’t—”
Okay, now that pissed Akira off. Did Jami think Ford was somehow better than Cort? Jami could be friends with Ford, but Akira had to stay away from a man who worked for him? Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to talk to Ford. Cort saved you. He was there for me. How is he bad news? You told me the guy who saved you was a bouncer at Ford’s bar—does he even work for Ford anymore?”
“I don’t think so, but—”
“Then he’s a smart man.” Akira stood, her cup clinking hard on the night table as she set it down. She paced away from the bed. Scowling, she went to grab her Ice Girl practice uniform from the closet. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle this yet, but whatever I choose to do will not involve Ford.”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 4
