Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  He took a swig himself, not saying a word, determined to just be there in whatever way the man needed him to be. Even if it was only to make sure Bower didn’t make himself sick.

  “I can’t lose her. And not just because of Amia.” Bower dropped his head back onto the edge of the mattress. “I love her, but she scares me. All I seem to do is make her mad.”

  “It happens.” Max spoke carefully, more to ease the man into letting the shit out than to give him advice. “Oriana gets right fit to be tied with me and Sloan sometimes. That woman’s got a temper.”

  “But she’s never . . . never talked like she wants to give up.” Bower’s face crumpled. He turned his head to the side, away from Max. “Silver says things sometimes. I just don’t ever want to find her—damn it, if she thinks she has no place with me and Dean . . . she doesn’t really believe Amia needs her. But my baby needs her mommy. And I need Silver.”

  Christ. That didn’t sound good. No wonder Bower was a wreck. Oriana had told him and Sloan a little about Silver’s postpartum depression, but he’d never gotten the impression Silver would try to end her own life. “I thought Silver was seeing someone.”

  “She did.” Bower shrugged. “No one can stop you when you get to that place.”

  “Maybe you should go home, Bower. Be with your family.”

  “She has Dean. She’ll be fine as long she knows she has him. I just wish I didn’t—didn’t feel like I do about him.” Bower reached for the bottle, then struggled to stand when Max placed it out of reach. “I did this to her. I could have prevented it.”

  “Bower—Landon.” Max shot to his feet as Bower tripped over the side of the bed, almost cracking his head on the night table as he went for his phone. “You need to get some sleep.”

  “I need to call her.” Bower squinted at his phone. “I need to make sure—”

  “She’s not your ex, Landon.” Tim was suddenly beside them. Max hadn’t heard him come in. But he nodded as Tim took the phone, set it aside, then latched on to one of Bower’s arms. “Silver’s strong and she has a lot to live for.” Tim grunted as he and Max dragged Bower onto the bed. “I’ve seen her. Spoken to her. The therapy helped and so did the medication. She’s not the one who needs it now.”

  “She knows I love him and it’s killing her, Tim.” Bower hauled in a rough breath, shaking violently as he sat up. “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.”

  Max snatched up the small black garbage pail just in time for Bower to toss up most of the alcohol he’d guzzled down. It wasn’t long before Bower was leaning against him, covered in sweat, out cold.

  “Stay with him. I’ll get the doc.” Tim combed his fingers roughly through his hair, his face pale and drawn with concern. “Just . . . just stay. Damn it, I should have known he wasn’t ready.”

  “I ain’t going nowhere, Coach, but I need to know something real quick.” Max lifted his head, hardly able to get the words out. “Do you think Silver would—”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Tim rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not sure she ever really got to that point, but after finding the mother of your dead child in a bath full of blood. . . Silver got the help she needed.” The look Tim gave Bower was much like a father would give his very own child, one whose pain he couldn’t take away. “Landon hasn’t. But I’m going to make sure he does.”

  “I think the man needs to go home. If I felt like he does, I’d need to hold Oriana. Fuck, I’d need Sloan.” Hell, he needed to talk to both now. Bower was a strong man. Seeing him in this condition was hard. “We’ll take care of him.”

  “Yes, we will.” Tim rested his hand on Max’s shoulder. “I know that look. He’s out. Go ahead and call your woman. Silver’s gonna need her sister if things go down like I think they will.” The fine lines around Tim’s lips drew taut. “I’m going to call my brother.”

  Richter. Yes, that was an excellent idea. The man was a rock. He could get Bower through this the same way Sloan would do for Max if he ever dropped this low. Alone in the room with Bower, Max dialed Sloan’s cell phone, inhaling and exhaling evenly as it rang again and again. Sloan would help get him level enough to speak to Oriana. Hell, he didn’t want to scare her.

  “What’s wrong?” Sloan didn’t bother with “hello.” They’d known each other long enough to know Max wouldn’t call this late without a reason.

  Sloan remained silent as Max explained the situation. Then breathed out loudly into the phone. “All right, listen to me. Tim’s got this. Bower’s gonna be okay. But, yeah, Oriana needs to know what’s going on. Just talk to me for a minute. This got to you.”

  “They’re family, Sloan.” Max dug his fingers into the tense muscles of his brow. “I wasn’t here. For any of them.”

  “We weren’t there. But you are now and I will be . . .” Sloan made an aggravated sound. “As soon as I can. Don’t you dare start blaming yourself. And don’t let Oriana either.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’d . . . you’d talk to me, right? If things were that bad?”

  Max had never heard this kind of uncertainty in Sloan’s tone. Not in all the years he’d known him. He smiled a little, the answer coming easily. “I would. We don’t got no secrets, man. I trust you to use a whip on my wife. I know you love her, even when you make her cry. Make her bleed.”

  “Sounds fucked up when you say it like that.”

  “It ain’t fucked up. It’s ours.” And knowing that, deep in his fucking bones, made it so he was sure he could talk to Oriana calmly. Aware that nothing could shake what they’d built together. Even without Sloan close, their bond held strong. “I love you, Sloan.”

  “I love you too, Max. You’re my brother in every way that counts.” Sloan’s laugh was hesitant. “Ah . . . if there’s more, we can talk about it. Can’t promise it wouldn’t be weird, but you can—”

  “There’s more than enough in what we’ve got. Don’t worry, I ain’t looking to ride you, pal. Watching you with our woman does me just fine.”

  “Good, because you’d make a lousy fucking bottom. I’ve seen those ass muscles at work. You’d rip my dick off.”

  “You trying to make me laugh?”

  “No. I’m trying to make sure you’re all right,” Sloan said quietly. “Are you?”

  “I am now.”

  “Good. Call me after you talk to Oriana. And . . . give Bower a hug for me when he’s conscious. I like that man.”

  “So do I.” After Max hung up, Tim returned with the doctor, who assured them both Bower was fine. Physically.

  And Max was able to call Oriana with Sloan’s words in mind.

  Tim’s got this.

  * * * *

  Cort frowned at his phone, then glanced over at Akira, who’d stayed in his hotel room rather than going back to her own place. His phone was on vibrate, but he knew it didn’t take much to wake her.

  And when he saw the number, he was grateful the call hadn’t. He left the bed and went to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the shower even as he answered. “Fuck, Roy. Really?”

  “They lost.” Roy’s tone was on the jagged edge of outright panic. Considering that he’d given Cort a month, his behavior was odd.

  Not to mention that Roy Kingsley never fucking panicked. Cort scratched his jaw. “I saw the game. The goalie was having a bad day or something. It happens.”

  “They were supposed to win.”

  “Tell me you didn’t bet on the game.” Silence was answer enough. “Shit, will you give me some time to get this sorted out?”

  “You said you were talking to the coach. I need results. See what you can do with the younger goalie—he played well after the starter was pulled.” Roy’s voice sounded a bit calmer, as though he was confident his idea would work. “One of my manufacturing companies is receiving a large shipment of parts. It’s imperative that you get the books organized.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Cort wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or get in his car and head to Roy’s place to
bust the man’s face in. The greedy motherfucker wouldn’t have his own family’s support if this went south. His “parts” were fucking guns. Not the first time he’d dealt in them, but the rest of the Kingsleys were more interested in the drug trade. Less fucking risk. If Roy was getting nervous, the shipment must have gone smoothly. It was the money he had to deal with now, and he couldn’t filter it through the team anymore. Gambling would do the job, but every bad bet meant losses Roy would have to make up to his partners.

  He was getting desperate. And stupid. If the team didn’t make the playoffs, Roy was a dead man.

  Cort “getting the books organized” meant he had to give Roy some guaranteed wins and losses so the man could even things out. Since he didn’t actually have the coach—or anyone else—the best he could do for now was get some insider info to increase the odds.

  “Give me until the end of the day, and I’ll let you know which way we’ve got to go to make the bottom line.” Which is gonna take a fucking miracle. But he’d figure something out.

  Roy made an affirmative sound, but his next words proved he wasn’t about to put all his faith in Cort. “From what I hear, Ford is doing much better. Perhaps his experience has him rethinking approaching his sister.”

  “You listen to me very carefully, Roy.”Cort’s pulse quickened, his tone dead calm despite the rage that ripped through him. “Involve Ford again and the deal’s off.”

  “Very well. There are things you will do that Ford is too weak to even attempt. But I expect to hear from you tonight.”

  “Not a problem.” Cort hung up, then placed his cell on the bathroom counter and his hands on the ledge. He dropped his head, eyes closed, and seriously considered just killing Roy. Ending this before shit got out of control.

  Not worth jail time.

  But Ford’s life was. Roy had stooped to hiring cheap thugs to handle his son. He would do so again if given any reason. Cort’s options were to keep the man happy, or put him in the ground.

  A soft rap at the door had him standing up straight and glancing back at the shower. Hell, he might not be able to tell Akira everything, but he wasn’t gonna start playing stupid games. He turned the shower off, then opened the door.

  She stopped unbuttoning the white dress shirt she’d borrowed from him to wear to bed. Her teeth dented her bottom lip. “I was going to join you, but . . . you weren’t taking a shower, were you?”

  “No. I was on the phone.”

  “And you didn’t want me to hear what you were saying.” She backed into the bedroom, holding up her hand before he could speak. “With who your father is, I’m sure there’s some things I don’t want to know. But you have to tell me one thing.”

  “Akira, I can’t—”

  “Are you dealing drugs? Or anything like that? I enjoy being with you, but I can’t be with . . . with a criminal.” She hugged herself as though she was afraid of his answer. Then continued. “I’m fine leaving whatever you’ve done in the past. But I don’t want to have to worry about the cops showing up to arrest you someday.”

  “They might, Tiny. Not because of anything I’m doing now. My stepfather knows I’m out of . . .” He chose his words carefully. “The ‘family’ business. He respects my choices.” Reaching out, he brought her closer to him, needing to hold her for as long as she’d let him. He wasn’t quite lying to her, but he couldn’t give her the full truth. “I killed a man. The cops know it wasn’t an accident. They could bring me in and—”

  Akira’s eyes flashed. “He deserved to die. You saved Jami—they can’t punish you for that.”

  “That’s not how the world works, baby. I understand you not wanting to be with a criminal, but that’s what I am.” He sighed as she shook her head with a stubborn look on her cute little face. In her world, there was good and bad. She didn’t understand all the gray space between. And she shouldn’t have to. “If I were a better man, I’d tell you to get lost.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like something a ‘better’ man would say.” She frowned up at him. “I shouldn’t even have asked. I know you wouldn’t do any of the terrible things I see on TV. I just . . . sometimes I watch those biker shows or movies and I’m like, I’d never be like those women. All okay with their man coming home covered in blood and stinking of the whores they fucked.”

  Cort covered her mouth with his hand, all the dire thoughts from before tossed as he backed her into the wall. He wasn’t angry, but he hated how easily she was swearing lately. It wasn’t her. He moved his hand to curve it under her jaw. “What did I say about those words?”

  “I was just trying to make a point.” She swallowed hard, peering up at him with big eyes full of excitement—and a trace of fear. “You f-fucking swear all the time.”

  “’Fuck’ was one of my first words. ‘Bitch’ a close second.” He gave her a lazy smile as her lips parted, her expression no different than if he’d told her his mother had bottle-fed him beer. “I had to be taught not to speak like that at school after doing it at home for years. My first girlfriend slapped me when I affectionately told her, ‘You’re one beautiful bitch.’” He brought his other hand up and began to undo the buttons of the shirt she wore. “So yes, I still swear, but I’m trying to stop.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry.” The fear faded from her eyes and she suddenly looked disappointed. And a little surly. “I’ll try to be a good girl, Daddy.”

  “’Daddy’?” He barked out a laugh, which had her scowling at him. He finished removing the shirt and let it fall to the floor. “I’m sure your daddy would have washed your mouth out with soap. Turn around and put your hands on the dresser.”

  “What?” She gaped at him and brought her hands up to cover her breasts as he stepped back. “Why?”

  “Because this discussion is over.” He spun her around when she didn’t move, using one hand on the nape of her neck to bend her forward. His “good girl” was being naughty to get a reaction. One she may not like. He kissed her shoulder to ease the harshness of his words. “I’ve been handling you all wrong, Tiny.” He slid his lips up her throat, then whispered in her ear, “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

  * * * *

  Akira braced her hands on the dresser and held her breath. This . . . this loss of control was exactly what she’d wanted. But she wanted her nice, easygoing Cort to take it from her. Maybe kiss her to shut her up, then toss her on the bed and take her. His bending her over, naked, felt a lot like when Dominik disciplined her. A little too much like it . . .

  Or maybe just enough.

  He covered her butt with both hands, molding her cheeks, the tips of his fingers grazing her moist slit. His low growl made it clear he was thinking of doing something other than spanking her. Something a lot more fun.

  She liked that idea. Spreading her legs a little more, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and wet her lips with her tongue. “Cort?”

  “Sir.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Call me ‘Sir.’ At least when we’re doing stuff like this. I wouldn’t want to get distracted.”

  “It’s okay to get distracted, Cort.” Akira wiggled her butt under Cort’s hand, needing him too much to start a play punishment scene. She wouldn’t dare pull this with Dominik, but she didn’t see any problem with Cort easing his way into the lifestyle. Very, very slowly. She hissed in a breath as his fingers pressed against her. “Please, please just—”

  Two fingers filled her even as Cort set his teeth into the flesh of her neck. The pain and pleasure swirled through her body, and her nails scratched at the dresser. She could spend all her time with this man naked, with his hands on her, and be perfectly happy.

  “Does your other Dom get distracted so easily?” Cort withdrew his fingers, then kissed the curve between her shoulder and her neck. "No wonder you’re so naughty.”

  His hand connected hard with her ass; the sting made her yelp as she absorbed the impact. She stared at him. “That fucking hurt.”

  “This blog I read suggested starting slow.
Like five smacks.” Cort cocked his head as though considering. “I think you can take more, don’t you?”

  Another resounding smack and she kicked him in the shin. “You fucking bastard! That’s too hard!”

  He went still. “I thought there was a word for that.”

  “There is, but I’m not using it.”

  “Why?”

  Because I don’t really want you to stop. Because I love the fact that you’re ready to take this step with me. But there was no way she could say all that. So she simply shrugged and did her best to stare him down.

  “Your thoughts are all over your face, Tiny.” His eyes hardened and her breath caught as he latched on to the nape of her neck and laid another stinging slap on her ass. “You don’t want me to stop. But you’re not getting the point either. If we’re gonna do this, if I’m going to give you what you need—” The next slap came across both cheeks and her eyes teared at the pain. His tone was rough, but controlled. He hadn’t lost his temper, which was good. But he didn’t sound happy. “—you need to be real with me. Would it help if I talked to your Dom?”

  She shook her head quickly. Having both Dominik and Cort disappointed in her would be unbearable. “He’s not my Dom anymore. You—”

  “I’m not. But I want to be.” He inhaled roughly. “I’m doing this all wrong.”

  “No, you’re not! You’re trying and I love it!” Her whole body shuddered as she gulped back a sob. Tears dripping from her chin to the dresser, glistening in the light glaring through the part in the curtains. “I’m the one who’s not trying. I need . . . I need to feel the limits you place on me. To know they’re there.”

  “They are. But . . .” He barred one arm across her stomach, kissing between her shoulders. “I’ll stop if you ask me to. I don’t want to go too far. Just looking at how red your ass is makes me feel like shit.”

  She giggled as he groaned with his mouth against her back. It was kinda funny, him swearing while punishing her for doing the same. But then she thought about what he’d said. He was raised with cursing as the norm. She hadn’t been. He’d liked who she’d been from the beginning. From shy to tentatively bold. With all her issues and her occasional clinginess. He wanted that person, not the one she was trying to be.