Surprisingly, Sebastian said nothing. He simply held her hand and gave Luke an expectant look.
“Yeah, Max leaving had nothing to do with me. Or the team! An idiot? You have no idea what you’re talking about, girl. Leave the game to the men.”
Sebastian’s jaw ticked. Oh, he so wasn’t happy. But for some reason, he remained quiet at Jami’s side.
“Umm, how about you go fuck yourself, Luke.” Jami grabbed the bouquet of flowers off the table and threw them at Luke. They hit his chest with barely a sound, then separated in to a colorful mess on the floor, petals everywhere, only wet splatters left on Luke’s white T-shirt to show they’d hit him. Jami jerked away from Sebastian and strode across the room, shoving Luke toward the front door. “Get out!”
“Fine! Let me know when you’re off your goddamn rag!”
Akira put her hand over her mouth, not sure whether she should try to restrain Jami before she killed her boyfriend, or be a good friend and find a good spot to bury the body. She felt warmth behind her and a firm hand on her hip. Sebastian had already gotten to Jami and was speaking softly to her as Luke stormed out, but all Akira could see was Cort.
“Good morning, Tiny.” He kissed her nose, amusement in his tone. “Did they wake you up?”
Shaking her head, Akira glanced back at Jami and Sebastian, not sure whether to chance going into the kitchen or just head back into her room until things had calmed down. “I was going to get some coffee. Do you want some?”
“I do.” Cort placed his hand at the base of her spine, guiding her into the kitchen as though he sensed she couldn’t make that step without some encouragement. “Don’t worry. Her fights with Ford were much worse. And I was there for most of them. If she doesn’t want to see anyone, she’ll hide in her room.”
“I know that.” Akira frowned at him. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more. His bringing up Ford, or the past he had with Jami. She found herself stepping away from him, not even glancing toward the couple at the table, and opening the cupboard door a little too hard to get the mugs. She winced as the back of the door hit the side of the fridge. “Sorry.”
Jami lifted her head from where it had been pressed to Sebastian’s chest. “Oh, Akira. I didn’t mean to be so noisy.” She pursed her lips as she noticed Cort. “Ugh, really, Cort? You spent the night?” She let out a heavy sigh and gave Akira a pointed look as she moved to slip off Sebastian’s lap. “Can we talk for a—”
“Sure.” Akira folded her arms over her chest but didn’t bother heading for the door. Jami’s comment to Cort didn’t have Akira feeling very accommodating. “What was that all about? I’ve never seen you get that angry with Luke.”
“He’s being a dick.”
“I agree. Bringing up a chick’s rag is never smart.” Cort moved around Akira to take the coffee mugs and fill both. He smiled at her. “Sugar?”
Akira nodded, then turned back to Jami. “He shouldn’t have said that, but you’re not being fair. He’s allowed to be upset that Max abandoned the team.”
“But he didn’t! And I’m not on my rag!” Jami dragged out a chair and dropped into it. Her nails gouged her palms. “I should have punched him. Or kicked him in the balls. Fucking jerk.”
“Gatita, stop.” Sebastian pried her hand open, then held it within his own. “Have some coffee. I’ll bring you to work so we may speak alone.”
Cort cleared his throat, the challenge in his green eyes as he eyed Sebastian over his coffee cup contrasting with his deceptively calm tone. “And you’ll be having a chat with your boy. He doesn’t talk to her like that. You tell him or I will.”
Sebastian moved away from Jami, his lips thinning. He was only a couple of inches taller than Cort, but the rage that darkened his eyes made him look dangerous. Akira almost wanted to pull Cort back. Face Sebastian because she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but she wasn’t all that happy with Cort taking Jami’s side and threatening Luke. Sebastian had every right to stand up for the man he loved.
Cort asked for it. She stepped sideways, not too keen on catching a fist if things got nasty.
“My gratitude only goes so far, hombre.” Sebastian’s tone was the smooth slice of a freshly honed blade. “You do not get involved. You do not touch Luke.”
Jami slipped between Cort and Sebastian, her hand on Sebastian’s face, drawing his attention to her. “He won’t. Cort’s just being overprotective.” She snapped a glare over her shoulder at Cort. “You really need to go now.”
Akira slammed her mug on the counter. The handle broke and a jagged piece stabbed into her palm. “Shit!” She waved Cort away, grabbing a piece of paper towel to staunch the blood as she scowled at Jami. “This is my house! I asked him over, so don’t tell him to leave.”
Cort looked impressed, but Jami and Sebastian just stared at her like she’d suddenly grown fangs and started sparkling.. Jami’s bottom lip trembled.
She gave Akira a curt nod. “Fine. Then I’m leaving.”
“Jami, that’s not what I’m saying.” Akira put her hand to her throat as Jami strode down the hall, grabbing her jacket and shoving her feet into her boots. She slipped past the men and touched Jami’s arm. “I would never do that to you. I let Luke and Sebastian come over whenever they want and—”
“Let them?” Jami snorted. “And here I was thinking paying a third of the rent made this my place too. My mistake.”
“That’s not what I’m saying either!”
“You know what? Right now, I don’t think I care.” Jami walked out. Sebastian followed, giving Akira’s shoulder a little squeeze before following.
What the hell had just happened? Akira’s whole body shook hard as she stared at the closed door. She and Jami never fought. Not like that. Maybe she should have stayed in her room. Kept her mouth shut.
“Tiny, come sit down.” Cort waited a beat, then, when she didn’t move, came to her side and guided her back into the kitchen. He lifted her up to sit on the edge of the table. “You’re her best friend. You know she has a temper.”
“So do you.” Akira stared at her bare, dangling feet. “You need to leave Luke alone.”
Cort sighed. Kissed her cheek. And whispered, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that shit. I just get a little worked up when guys talk to women like that.” He shook his head as she peered up at him. “Not as bad as Ford’s new bodyguard. That man would have laid Luke out. I’ve grown out of that.”
“I thought you were just sticking up for Jami.” Ugh, you’ve got to stop that. Things with Jami are bad enough without your being jealous. She just couldn’t seem to help it.
Frowning, Cort took her wounded hand and gently moved the paper towel. “I would have done the same for Sahara. Or any other woman. Except you.”
Real nice. Akira tried to pull away. “Got it. Look, I really need to—”
Cort continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “For you, I would have just clocked him.”
“Really?” Damn, that should sound horrible. She didn’t want Cort punching anyone for her. And yet . . .
“Really. What kind of man lets a guy swear at his woman? Do you have a medical kit?”
“Here.” Sahara stepped into the kitchen, holding out the big, white metal box. She wouldn’t look at Cort as he took it. Just edged close to Akira, giving her a one-armed hug and resting her hip against the table. “I heard everything and started coming in, but it looked like it was gonna get violent, so I chickened out and went back to my room.”
“Are you okay?” Akira let Cort clean her small cut, grateful for how carefully he kept away from Sahara. The amount of attention he gave her hand was sweet, but that he’d caught on to Sahara being uncomfortable around him was very much appreciated.
“Yeah, I was just . . . Grant used to yell at me when we fought. He told me I was a bitch when I was on my period.” Sahara bowed her head. A teardrop landed on Akira’s knee. Her throat tightened as Sahara shook her head and wiped the rest of her tears away. “I am supersensit
ive when I’m on it. Jami’s probably starting soon. And so are you. You’ll both make up over some brownie chunk ice cream tonight, right?”
Akira’s cheeks heated as she glanced at Cort, who had a big grin on his face. She nudged Sahara’s arm. “Not a discussion to have in front of my new . . . boyfriend.”
Oh, she really liked the sound of that. And from Cort’s broad smile, he liked hearing her say it.
Sahara laughed. “Well, it’s only fair that he knows when to avoid this place.” She finally looked at Cort. “I call it Shark Week.”
“Shark Week?” Cort’s brow raised as he smoothed a Band-Aid over Akira’s palm.
“The uterus looks just like a shark’s brain. One of my friends shared the image with me on Facebook.” Sahara rolled an elastic off her wrist and put her long blonde hair up in a ponytail. “So it’s fitting.”
“I agree.” Cort sighed as his phone rang. He checked the number. “Sorry, girls. I gotta take this.”
He went to the living room to take the call.
Fetching them both some coffee, Sahara slid into a chair, smiling at Akira as she lowered onto another. “I don’t know what Jami’s problem with him is. He seems nice enough. I give my temporary stamp of approval.”
“Temporary?” Akira warmed her hands on her mug. She needed to turn up the heat—or put on some gloves. She tried to keep the electricity bill down by not blasting the heat, but maybe she was going too far. “Ugh, it’s chilly in here, eh?”
“Just a bit.” Sahara popped out of her chair, sliding across the floor in her socked feet to turn up the dial on the wall. “And yes, temporary.” She slid back into her seat and leaned forward, tone low. “Soon as he pisses you off, he’s on my shit list.”
“Sounds fair.” Akira giggled, glancing innocently at Cort as he returned. She bit her bottom lip at his strained expression. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “Gotta get myself a suit. Silver’s gonna be at the meeting today, and seems best if I’m there to represent Ford. He’ll wanna know how she’s doing and what else is going down.”
Akira nodded sympathetically. “You didn’t want to go to the meeting.”
Leaning down, he kissed along the side of her throat, murmuring. “I wasn’t in a hurry to leave.”
“Mmm.” Akira almost wanted to ask him to play hooky. But she wouldn’t like it if he did that to her. So she simply turned her head to steal a quick kiss before speaking. “Maybe, if you’re not busy tonight . . . do you want to come watch me and the girls perform?”
“Think I will.” He pulled her to her feet. “See me to the door?”
“Sure.” She went with him, letting out a surprised laugh as he held her against the wall, groaning as he kissed her until her whole body hummed with need. She bunched her hands in his hair and sighed. “That just made it harder to let you go.”
“Good. Makes it just that much better when we get to see each other again.” He winked, stroking her lip with his thumb. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.” She backed up so he could open the door. Then yelped as he grabbed her and kissed her again.
He chuckled against her lips. “I laughed at men who acted like I am after just a few days.” His cheek slid along hers and he whispered, “You did this to me, Akira.”
Her heart stopped. She gaped at the door, long after it had closed. It took Sahara joining her to get her brain working again. He hadn’t called her “Tiny” like he usually did. His buying that her name was Ace had been a joke. It took Sahara saying Akira’s name with concern for her to get the words out.
“He knows.”
* * * *
Cort hated the way the stupid, shiny black shoes sounded on the pavement as he strode up to the Delgado Forum. Might as well be wearing fucking tap shoes. His suit was plain, black jacket too snug on his shoulders because he hadn’t had time to get one custom-made—not that he would have forked out the insane amount if he had. White shirt, black tie. He looked like a damn stiff.
Just put me in a casket and call it a day.
Suits weren’t his thing, but after the call from Cam, he knew he couldn’t ditch the meeting. There was a whole lot of drama going on with the Delgados, and the only way to keep Ford out of it was for Cort to deal with it himself. He wasn’t quite sure what he could do to keep Silver from stressing, or protect Ford’s negligible position with the team, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t a planner. Spur of the moment was more his style.
A long town car he immediately recognized pulled up in front of the Forum and he paused midstep, eyes narrowing as a short black man with large, thick brown-framed glasses stepped out of the front passenger’s side seat. He gave Cort an expectant look but didn’t speak as he opened the back door of the car.
“Want something from me, Patty?” Cort shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His fancy shoes felt like thin ice encasing his feet, but he wouldn’t let his discomfort show in front of Roy Kingley’s little assistant-slash-weasel. “Kinda busy.”
Patty’s dark skin took on a hint of red—hard to catch, but the sun glaring off the snow into his face brought out the color. He pressed his thumb to the bridge of his glasses and cleared his throat. “Mr. Kingsley would like to speak to you.”
Cort snorted. “Good for him.”
Cort put his hand on the long metal door handle, ready to step into the Forum and clue Roy in to exactly how much the summons meant to him, but then Patty spoke up, his nasally tone sharp. “I received an update from Ford’s doctor this morning. He’s resting well. I would hate to have him disturbed.”
For fuck’s sake. The bastard would do it too. Cort shrugged as he made his way to the car, keeping his strides slow and relaxed—despite the urge to put Patty’s head through the window and send the car rolling off the closest cliff.
He gave Patty a lazy smile. “I’ll talk to him. Seeing your ugly mug wouldn’t be good for my boy’s health. Not sure it’s good for mine.”
Nostrils flaring, Patty drew himself up as much as he could, his forehead almost level with Cort’s chin. “I suggest you treat Mr. Kingsley with more respect than you’ve shown me. His patience is wearing thin.”
“Yeah? Well, mine’s shot. Get the fuck out of my way, Urkel.” Cort slid into the backseat, slouching as he glanced over at the old man. Roy looked well put together as always in a sharp, dark gray suit, his almost pure white hair slicked back. His face was so sharply angled his wrinkles didn’t soften his features at all. The shadows under his eyes made them seem even darker. Like the narrowed eyes of a snake spotted in a deep, dark hole.
“You’ve ignored my calls, Cortland.” Roy pulled a gold cigarette case from his thick, wool jacket and plucked a thick cigarette out with shaky, age-spotted fingers. His hands betrayed his age much more than his face. But his tone was as cold and steady as ever. “Some would say that was rather unwise.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, Roy. And some would say what you pulled with Ford was damn stupid.” Cort was tempted to take the week-old pack of smokes out of his pocket and light one up, but that would make him look nervous. And he wasn’t. He could manage this old fucker without a drag.
“How I deal with my son is none of your concern.”
“You’ve made it pretty damn clear you don’t consider him your son anymore.”
“I raised him. He owes me some loyalty for that at the very least.” An icy smile slit Roy’s lips. “Besides, you know me better than that, Cortland. He is mine until I have no use for him. As are you.”
“Is that so?” Cort laughed, the muscles in his forearms twitching as he realized he’d taken out his pack. Putting it away now would look worse than lighting up, so he shook his head, casually placing the filter between his lips. He flicked his lighter, then laughed, letting out a wisp of smoke. “I think you’re forgetting, you can’t intimidate me, old man. I put up with you because I liked your kid. And you hired me because you wanted my connections. Starting shit with me is not something you wa
nt to do.”
Roy arched a brow. “I believe you’re overconfident in your ‘connections.’ Your stepfather is one of the many who benefited when the games were fixed. Perhaps you should speak with him to see where he stands on the issue.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.” Cort knew his dad liked gambling once in a while, but if they wanted to talk loyalty, he knew exactly where Sutter Nash’s lay. With his family. “We done here?”
“No. You’re a smart man, but sadly uninformed. Ford took what didn’t belong to him. I will not let that slide. Consider carefully before you dismiss my offer. I am a proud man, and you know very well how I handle those who’ve wronged me.” Roy snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray on the door. “Ford becoming close to his sisters has given me a way to make him pay for defying me, but he knows that. Which is likely why he contacted you.” His head tilted slightly. “Seeing Delgado’s relaxed treatment of his daughters has misled my son. Perhaps he needs a reminder of how I do business.”
“I think he got that.” Cort’s jaw hardened. “I’m warning you, Roy—”
“Perhaps you need a reminder as well. Do call your stepfather. I hope he can reason with you before I must take action.” Roy made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You may go. We will be speaking again shortly. At which time you will tell me how this team will benefit me. It will be unfortunate if I have to find a way to make it profitable on my own.”
“You better be clear, Roy. You threatening me?”
Roy laughed. “Now, that would be stupid of me. As you pointed out, you are very well connected.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “But I can make you pay in a way that won’t be worth Sutter—or any of his associates—getting involved. In a way that will be very clear. This isn’t Detroit, Cortland. You are quite isolated here. So much can happen to you and yours. Think on that before you turn down my offer.”
Cort had to clench his fists to keep from shaking with rage. The son of a bitch was right. Cort might be able to intimidate Roy’s thugs to a point, but there was only so much he could do to protect Ford. Or anyone else.
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 12
