“You’re what, twenty-six?” Akira propped her foot on the back of the chair in front of her, grasping her hands around the bottom of her running shoe and bringing her head to her knee for a deep stretch. “Stop whining. And yeah, you really should cut back on the drinking. Jami won’t like the drool stains you left on her sofa. She loves the funky old thing.”
“I didn’t drool! And I’m only gonna be twenty-five in April, thank you very much!” Sahara rolled her eyes. “But damn, that sofa is ugly! I got a nice one in storage, but Jami wants to keep hers.”
“It was her grandmother’s. On her mom’s side. She was the only person on that side of Jami’s family that she was close to. The rest are just like her mother.” Akira eased out of the stretch, shaking her head. The only reason she knew about that was because Jami got really maudlin the rare times she drank. Which she had—a lot—after the last time she’d spoken to her mother. Her mother had invited Jami to her baby brother’s first birthday, then called again a week later to uninvite her because, “They were going to Florida to celebrate with Jami’s stepfather’s family, and Jami wouldn’t feel comfortable around them.” Jami’s mother hadn’t asked how Jami would feel; she’d simply played it off like no big deal.
Jami did just fine without her mother, but those odd calls, the little effort her mother made to be “close,” tore her apart.
Akira thought the sofa was ugly too, but she knew what it meant to her friend.
And now Sahara did too. There was no point in leaving it to Jami to tell her. Jami didn’t bring up her mother or her mother’s family unless she was in a really bad place. And Akira wanted to make sure Sahara could help Jami get through those times if she wasn’t there.
Sahara bit her bottom lip. “Damn. Okay, I’ve heard a bit about her mother, so thanks for telling me. I won’t say another thing about the sofa.”
“That would be good. She didn’t even tell her dad about the conversation with her mother. She doesn’t want to bother him since he’s got the baby to take care of—I told her he’d want to know, but she wouldn’t listen.” Akira considered the way she’d pulled back from her parents when they’d taken in a few foster kids. Not because it bothered her, but she didn’t want to be a burden. Her father had seen right through her after a bit, and both her parents had sat her down to clear that right up.
She was sure Mr. Richter would do the same with Jami. Once he knew what was going on.
“So Jami doesn’t talk to anyone in her family anymore?” Sahara sat forward, concern in her eyes. “What about Silver?”
“She talks to Silver, but everyone’s careful about what they say to Silver, so . . .” Akira shrugged. “I think she talked to Tim.”
“Oh, that’s good. Tim will tell her dad.”
“Not if she asks him not to.” Actually, Akira was pretty sure Jami had talked to her uncle. She’d had lunch with him anyway, and had come home looking much more relaxed. “Maybe we should—hey, is that . . . ?”
“Max Perron!” Sahara stood, as did all the other Ice Girls. They jumped around, flailing their arms and cheering.
The chill from the ice was nothing compared to the looks some of the men cast their way as they stopped practicing. Akira paused, halfway out of her chair herself. She’d always been a big fan of Perron. And Callahan. She’d been heartbroken when they’d left, and the possibility that Perron was back on the team thrilled her.
But that was the reaction of a fan. The team obviously didn’t feel the same.
“Bring it in, boys.” Tim skated to the center of the ice, gesturing for the team to join him. Perron stood by his side, his expression hard to read behind his visor.
A panting breath and a thump brought her attention to the girl who’d joined them, kicking up a folding chair so she could stand close to the glass. Jami’s back was to her, but Akira could imagine the tense look on her face.
“Luke better not give him a hard time.” Jami shoved her hands in the pockets of her thick, black parka. “If he’s back, that means Oriana is too. And Mom—I mean . . . I mean, Silver will be so happy.” Her voice caught. “Max being here is good. Really good.”
“I’m sure Luke will be fine,” Akira said, reaching forward to put her hand on Jami’s shoulder.
Of course, Luke had to prove her wrong.
His voice could be heard clear across the ice. “Are you fucking kidding me? So who loses their spot? Richards? White? Me?”
“Perron plays well on defense. I haven’t said anyone is losing their spot.” Tim didn’t shout, but his voice carried well as he faced Luke. “He was an important part of this team for years. He will be again.”
“Sorry, Coach, but I agree with Carter.” Tyler Vanek, a young right wing who’d been out of the game for over a year due to a concussion, slid up to Luke’s side, glancing around as some of the men nodded. “I know you were disappointed in how we played last game, but we can do better.”
“Where do you boys get the idea that this is up for discussion?” Dominik moved to stand beside his coach, and though Akira couldn’t see him clearly, she knew his eyes were hard. Cold. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about Max—and likely, Oriana—being back. Right now, he was focused on the team. And his expression showed he wasn’t pleased with those who followed Luke and Tyler’s lead. Disappointed didn’t cut it. She shivered, glad that she’d rarely given him any reason to turn that look on her. It had happened, but usually when she was being a brat just for fun.
Which didn’t happen often. She wasn’t sure why she did it—sometimes she was just looking for a reaction. For . . . more.
More what exactly? She couldn’t say.
Luke’s venomous comment interrupted her thoughts. “Right. So we don’t get a say. How ‘bout we get back to practice while you guys work on fucking up this team even more.”
“Niño,” Sebastian Ramos, Jami’s other lover, both her and Luke’s Master, said sharply. Akira had watched enough practices to know Sebastian didn’t use that tone with Luke on the ice. Ever.
She found herself going still in response. But Luke just laughed.
“You know what? Fuck you. Sir.” Luke’s skates cut into the ice as he drove toward the other end of the rink. He took a few wild shots at the net, then just tossed his stick and headed off the ice.
Jami hooked her fingers to the rim along the glass separating them from the rink and whispered under her breath, “Damn it, he can be such an asshole sometimes.”
Before Akira could think of a thing to say to comfort her friend, Tyler made things even worse with his own comment. Sliding away from the other men, he gave Perron a mock bow. “Welcome back, man. Apparently the big guys think you can ‘fix’ the team. Good luck with that.”
As Tyler turned, Perron nodded, then spoke up sharply enough to stop Tyler in his tracks. “This is still my team, boy. A few months didn’t change that. Life happens. You should know that better than anyone.”
Tyler fisted his hands by his sides. Turned slowly. “I didn’t have a choice when I couldn’t play with the team, Max. You did. Don’t compare the situations.”
“I’m not. But I won’t apologize for doing what I had to for the woman I love.”
“No one’s saying you should.” Tyler glared at Perron. “But you have no right to call this your team.”
Tim put his hand on Perron’s shoulder before he could follow Tyler off the ice. He shook his head and said something Akira couldn’t make out. Max tightened his grip on his stick as he replied.
“Prove it right here, Perron. That’s all that counts.” Tim blew his whistle and shouted to the other men. “Anyone else want to be a healthy scratch for the next game? We’ve got forty-five minutes left to get our shit together. Let’s go!”
Akira glanced back to see her girls trailing up the stairs, talking quietly amongst themselves. Sahara hadn’t moved. And neither had Jami.
“This isn’t fair,” Jami whispered, hugging herself. “At least he came back. He cared enough to come back
.”
Exchanging a look with Sahara, Akira climbed over the seats to stand beside Jami. Sahara squeezed in on Jami’s other side. They both wrapped their arms around her and watched the rest of the practice. Something was off about it at first, but then Scott Demyan hissed something to his boyfriend Zach Pearce and took the Zamboni exit. Pearce watched him go, then joined the short scrimmage as the team split into two groups.
There was something . . . different about the way the men played. More obvious on the team donning white and gold practice jerseys with Max. The black and gold jerseys took up the challenge and met them with a passion the team hadn’t shown in months. By the time they were done, half the men were slapping Perron’s back and talking excitedly about the next game. Dominik hugged him tight, skating by his side as they made their way to the bench where the coach was waiting.
Tim looked over to where Akira, Jami, and Sahara stood, crooking his finger in a
“get over here” gesture.
The three of them rushed up the stairs, then took the elevator down to join the men at the benches. Tim took Jami aside, leaving Akira and Sahara with Dominik, Pearce, and Sebastian—the latter didn’t pay any attention to them. His entire focus was on Jami.
Dominik tugged at a loose strand of Akira’s hair, cocking his head as she glanced up at him shyly. He nodded slowly. “Is this how it will be now, little one? You’ve stopped calling me.”
“You’ve been busy.” Akira shook her head when Dominik frowned. “No. Before you ask, the other subs don’t bother me. I just . . .” She looked over to Sahara, who was flirting with Pearce, and rolled her eyes. “I’ve been busy too.”
“Have you considered what I said?” His focus narrowed on Sahara. His jaw hardened. “She’s a sweet girl, but she’s . . .”
“Trouble? Oh, Sir, I know.” Akira flattened her hand on Dominik’s chest, curious about the fact that the “Sir” still came so easily when she spoke to him, but he was now just “Dominik” in her head. The sudden shift . . . she wasn’t sure it was a good thing. But she managed an impish smile as she peered up at him. “I’m still a good girl.”
Snorting, Dominik wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I sincerely doubt that. I like that you’ve relaxed enough to be a little naughty—even though I don’t enjoy playing with a brat. And I do understand wanting to be there for your friends. But take care of yourself as well.”
“I will, Sir.” Akira considered telling him about Cort, but thought better of it. What had happened on the ice meant more than discord amongst the team. She curled her fingers over Dominik’s collar, resting her head against his chest. “What about you? Are you taking care of yourself?”
“Yes.” Dominik nudged her chin up with his fist. “Why do you ask?”
No better way to put it. So she took a deep breath and didn’t hold back. “You seem fine with Max, but . . . Oriana’s back, right? How do you—?”
“I haven’t seen her. But I’ll be fine.”
“That’s good.” Akira rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You will tell me the truth before we see each other on Friday.”
Dominik gave her a lazy smile. “You’re coming to the club?”
She nodded, her pulse racing a bit as she considered how that would go over when she saw Cort tonight. When she told him what she knew about him. And what he needed to know about her.
“Good.” Dominik slid his thumb into her mouth in the strangely possessive way he did that made her melt inside. He whispered in her ear, “I will expect some truths from you as well. Something’s changed.”
He was right, but she could do nothing but nod again as he let her go. Something had changed. With his help, she’d stepped out of her shell, but he’d given her a new safe place to hide. With Cort . . .
She wasn’t hiding any more. Well, not really. Her fake name was her last childish fort built of couch cushions and sheets. All those fragile walls were toppling over around her, but she wasn’t afraid. Because she could face the world again. All on her own.
So long as Dominik held her hand for that final step. She blinked, catching his hand, needing to really feel that he was still there. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe she was going too fast. Maybe she would fall on her face, and who else would be there to pick her up and dust her off? She still needed Dominik. Damn it, she should have gotten over relying on him when she gave the okay for the other subs.
“Akira, look at me.” Dominik framed her jaw, not giving her a choice but to meet his eyes. “I’m still here. For as long as you need me.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She felt herself trembling and was grateful for the strong arms he wrapped around her. And she gave him all the truth she could. “I still do.”
Chapter Five
Ford tried to sit up in his hospital bed, the effort making his side feel like a knife was being twisted in deep. A low growl from Cam, a laugh from one of the two big guys that he’d blocked outside the door, had Ford wondering how far it was from the window to the ground. Fuck, he wasn’t the type to run, but he was in no shape to defend himself. Cam could only do so much against those thugs. Ford had never seen Cam really tested—he handled fights in the club well enough—but the guys who wanted to “see” Ford would be armed.
Cam’s got a gun.
Yeah, but would he use it? Kingsley’s men wouldn’t hesitate.
Shoulda considered that before you hired him. Idiot.
Another voice came loud and clear from the hall and Ford grinned, sliding back a bit to rest against the headboard.
“Problems, Cam?” Cort asked, sounding amused.
Cam snorted. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Good to know.”
“If you guys were smart, you’d clear out. Kingsley wants us to give his son a message,” one of the thugs said, not sounding so cocky anymore.
Ford smirked. They’d probably thought their odds were good against one guy no one had ever heard of. They wouldn’t fuck with Cort.
“Ford got his message. Care to give Kingsley my answer?” Cort’s tone took on a sharp edge. One of the thugs yelped. “Tell him ‘I’m back.’ You know who I am, right?”
“You’re breaking my fucking arm!”
“Noticed that, did you?”
“Oh! Oh, please stop!” The familiar voice of Ford’s nurse, Aggie, made him wince. Her next words had him trying to get out of the bed again. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling Security!”
Shit. Security meant the cops. As far as Ford knew, the case of how Jami’s would-be rapist had died was still open. Cort was a person of interest because of the fact that he’d disappeared right after Lee’s death. Because of his connection to Ford—who’d been cleared. If he got arrested for fighting here, the police might take the opportunity to look into what had happened a little deeper.
“Shut that bitch up!” the thug who wasn’t yelping snarled.
A thunk and quiet. Ford swore, managing to slip halfway off the bed before Cort spoke.
“Go take a walk, Cam. I’ll clean this up.”
“You don’t talk to women that way.” Cam sounded like he was about to lose it. If he hadn’t already. “These are probably the assholes who roughed up Ford.”
“Probably. We’ll deal with them somewhere private. I know you’re new at this shit, but put the fucking gun away. You ain’t shooting him in the goddamn hospital.”
“Right.” Cam’s voice faded away. Ford sucked on his teeth, shaking his head.
Guess Cam would use his gun. Thank God Cort was here, though. Last thing Ford needed was his new bouncer in trouble with the law too.
This was getting to be too much. Maybe he should call his da—Kingsley. Make some kind of deal. The man wasn’t showing his usual patience. The team winning games wasn’t worth someone getting killed.
He looked up as Cort came into the room with the nurse. Past the open door he could see security guards, some orderlies, and a doctor. The nurse pushed the door shut behind her and l
eaned against it.
“I told them your friend helped stop a fight, but . . .” She shook her head, bringing one hand to her throat. “I don’t understand! What did those men want?”
Cort replied before Ford could, dragging over a chair, his guitar case under one arm. “Best you don’t ask, sweetheart.” He sat, giving the nurse a reassuring smile. “The one Cam knocked out will leave as soon as he’s awake. Neither will be back now that they’ve seen me.”
“That’s good.” She pressed her lips together. “But you can’t stay here all the time.”
“Cam’s coming back, right?” Ford looked over at Cort, relaxing at his nod. Which made him feel even more pathetic. But he knew without either Cort or Cam to watch over him, he was as good as dead.
The nurse shook her head. “I know it’s none of my business, but Cam couldn’t keep them away before—”
“They don’t know him. He’s a live wire. They’ll think twice before fu—before trying him again. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t trust Cam to keep Ford safe.”
All right, that was quite enough. Ford rolled his eyes. “Now that we’re done making sure I’ve got babysitters lined up, you wanna tell me why you brought your guitar? I need a lullaby too?”
He says yes and I’m gonna deck him.
Cort gave Ford a lopsided grin. “Naw. Me and your doc talked. He said you’re doing good, but your sulking isn’t ‘conductive to healing.’ You used to like singing while I played.”
“I was a kid. Doing anything with you was cool.” Ford’s face heated as the nurse gave him an indulgent look. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“Yeah, you’re a big boy. We get it.” Cort smiled at the nurse. “You wanna stay?”
“If you don’t mind?” She kept her eyes on Ford as she asked, which made him like her a little more. A blush spread across her cheeks. “I find a man who sings very attractive.”
Well now. Ford winked at her. It was gonna be a long time before he got out of here—‘least a week. Making his pretty nurse happy could work in his favor. “In that case, I guess we could do a song or two. What you got in mind, Cort?”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 7
