Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Tim . . . and Madeline.

  How could they just be gone? She didn’t understand. Didn’t want to try. All she wanted was for Cort to be here, telling her . . . telling her it would be okay. Even though it wouldn’t.

  Or Ford. He’d been right there, but she couldn’t go to him. He’d left her with Dominik.

  He had to.

  But . . . she didn’t want Dominik. Which made her feel horrible. Dominik had been all she’d needed for so long, and suddenly, he wasn’t enough? It wasn’t fair to him. And, yet, she wasn’t in the mood to be fair. Anger had settled deep in her stomach, like a meal that wasn’t sitting well. She couldn’t say why she was so mad. On a basic level, she understood why things had to be this way. But the understanding couldn’t keep away the irrepressible need to lash out.

  “Say something, Akira.” Dominik reached out one hand to take hers, his lips turning down a fraction when she kept her hands around her cup and just stared at him. “Pet—”

  “I’m not your pet!” Akira slammed the mug down on the table and shoved out of her chair. Then she slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes tearing yet again. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I’m sorry. Sir, I’m—”

  “I’m not your ‘Sir.’ You will call me so at the club, but right now, I’m Dominik. A man who still cares about you very much.” He stood and came around the table. Curved his hand under her elbow before she could back away. “Your men can’t be here for you. But I am.”

  She groaned, leaning toward him, shifting away. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “What would Cort do?”

  Eyes shut tight, she pictured Cort, with her instead of locked away somewhere. He’d wrap his big arms around her and everything pent up inside her would spill out, and she’d come apart, and maybe, just maybe, feel a little better. But she didn’t want to be held.

  Rubbing her arms, she shook her head. “He’d try to comfort me. Listen if I needed to talk, but that’s not what I—”

  “And Ford?” Dominik drew her a little closer. “He wouldn’t handle you the same way, would he?”

  “No.” A little tension burrowed between her brows, and she could practically feel Ford, putting his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him. “He’d tell me not to hold everything inside. Not to hide how I feel. And I’d get mad at him—” She let out a shaky laugh. “I get so mad at him! But it would work, because I am mad and I just want to . . .” Her jaw ached as she ground her teeth together. She opened her eyes and glared at Dominik. “Why are you asking me these things? Neither of them can do anything!”

  “You’re right. Ford is dealing with his father. And he told Cort to stop hiding too. So neither of them can do anything.”

  “And you have to keep reminding me?” The rage was boiling over. She dropped her hands to her sides. Fisted them. And forced herself not to hit him like she so desperately wanted to. Like she’d hit Ford. Like she might even hit Cort. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Grabbing her wrists, Dominik pressed them against his chest. “Go ahead, Akira. Let it out. Either tell me why you’re so angry, or show me.”

  The last tendril of restraint holding her back snapped. She wrenched her wrists free. Hit Dominik’s solid chest with both fists. “They’re keeping something—everything—from me! Tim is dead and Cort chooses tonight to turn himself in? Ford’s father is involved, I know it! But they’ve left me alone to think the worse!”

  “You’re not alone, sweetheart.” Dominik gathered her hair in his hands even as she continued to strike him with weak, little punches. He dried her tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead. “You will see them soon. And you’ll have a chance to tell them all this. A chance to demand answers.”

  “Don’t you want answers?” She peered up at him, jamming her fists against his chest and leaving them there. He was still wearing the black shirt and crimson tie from the charity ball, hadn’t bothered changing even though he’d given her one of his big white Cobra T-shirts when they’d gotten here so she could get out of her dress. He looked well put together. And calm. So goddamn calm. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. “How can you be like this? You knew Tim for so long and—”

  “And it hurts like hell to know he’s gone.” Dominik’s jaw ticked. He stared past her, at the wall. “I could be getting drunk with some of the other guys. I could easily start looking around my house for things to break—God help me, it’s tempting.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “But this, just being here for you, makes me feel like I’m doing something. I wish you could be with your men. I know you need them, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  His . . . logic, for lack of a better word, deflated her anger. She suddenly felt tired. And useless. Dominik had found comfort in taking care of her, but all she’d done was lash out at him, demanding answers he couldn’t give. She leaned into him, relaxing a little as he hugged her. Maybe she wasn’t completely useless. At least she could give him this.

  “I get it. I’d be doing the same if I could. Be nice to focus on something besides how much it hurts.” She sniffled and Dominik reached over to the table to hand her a tissue. She mumbled thanks, then drew away from him to blow her nose. “I don’t suppose I can get you to talk about how you’re feeling?”

  Dominik gave her a weary half smile. “I don’t feel much like talking, sweetie.”

  “Do you want to go to bed?”

  “No. Do you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well . . . I’m not sure how much good it will do, but I know Pischlar took Sahara home. Would you like to see if they’re still up? Have them come here?” His smile grew a little. “We can sit together and not discuss anything.”

  “I’d like that.” Akira lowered back into her chair, finishing off her milk as Dominik made the call. They sat together in silence until the doorbell sounded, then they all went to the living room after hugs and a few quiet words.

  Didn’t make a huge difference, but Akira found herself dwelling less on Ford and Cort as she brought out some beer for everyone after a soft request from Dominik. As she wrapped her arms around Sahara when the other girl broke down in sobs. And finally, as she went and got some sheets for Pischlar when he gave in to Dominik’s insistence that he stay for the remainder of the night.

  She shared the bed in Dominik’s guest bedroom with Sahara, and though she couldn’t sleep at first, she felt so much lighter just being there to comfort Sahara. As though her grief had shifted a little. Not gone—it wouldn’t be gone for a long time. But she’d found a place for it for now. A way to handle the flood of emotions so they wouldn’t drown her.

  Still lying there awake after what seemed like hours later, Akira heard the door creak open and looked up to see Dominik. He nodded toward Sahara, who’d been drifting in and out every ten minutes or so. “How is she?”

  “I think she’ll be okay.” Akira smoothed the blanket over Sahara’s shoulder when she shivered. She bit her bottom lip as she remembered the last thing Sahara had said. “She was very close to Madeline. Especially after . . .”

  Dominik nodded. His lips thinned. “I know. Madeline was the one who went with Sahara to get the rest of her things. She made sure the cops were with them. I still can’t believe her ex got away with what he did to her.”

  “Neither can I. But she’s safe now.”

  “She is.” An ominous shadow passed through Dominik’s eyes. “We’re playing the Islanders in two days.”

  Damn it, what is he thinking? “Dominik—”

  “Get some rest, Akira.” He hesitated on his way out. “And tell Sahara, in the morning, that I’m here if she ever needs . . . just tell her I’m here.”

  “I will.” Akira sighed as the door was eased shut behind him. There was no point in arguing with him about his new cause. He probably wasn’t the only one who’d be targeting Sahara’s ex, Higgins, during the game against the Islanders. Tim had likely been the only one keeping the C
obras from going after the man before.

  Being captain of the team, Dominik should be the one keeping the men in line, but he was obviously using Sahara’s abusive relationship as a distraction. Unless . . .

  As she rested her head on the pillow, she could almost see Madeline, smiling down at her from heaven. Akira wasn’t very religious, but she had to believe Madeline had gone on to a beautiful, wonderful place. She’d been such an amazing woman. And Akira knew Madeline would approve of her new cause.

  Which was making sure two people she loved ended up happy.

  Together.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Everything from the third shot on was a haze. Tyler felt numb. Dizzy. Sick.

  Then cold. Like someone had taken him out of the nice, dark room he was pretty sure he’d passed out in and dumped him in a snowbank. Only the snow was pelting his back and a firm hand was rubbing his bare skin.

  Fuck, am I naked? Tyler pushed the hand away, scrambling, then slipping out of reach. In the bathtub. He was in a tub with light glaring down on him and his head was pounding.

  “Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to make it so cold. Just wanted to get you cleaned up a bit.” Warm brown eyes met Tyler’s and a big hand came out to help him stand. “I’d hoped you’d come to as well. Be best if you call your Mistress before she and her girlfriend hunt me down for taking you.”

  “Taking me?” Tyler’s head spun as he straightened under the spray. Rubbed one hand over his dripping wet face. Damn, his mouth tasted like sour nastiness. His eyes raw all around, like he’d been crying. He braced his hand on the tiled wall, filling his mouth with water, swooshing it around and spitting it out before he spoke again. “I got pretty drunk, didn’t I?” He swallowed hard. What did I do? “Never gotten so drunk that I did anything—fuck, I said I’d never drink again. She forgave me for the stupid piercings, but this—”

  “Jebem ti! That is a grave insult, young one.” Raif crossed his arms over his chest, his expression almost as scary as Chicklet’s when she got mad. “You had a shock. I tended to you. I take advantage of no one. I have no need to.”

  Good going, Vanek. He tried to apologize, but the words seemed to trip over his tongue. “Wasn’t saying you would! Just, maybe I was—” Was what? Not like he’d come on to a man. Wouldn’t matter how plastered he was . . . would it? Damn, what a mess. He hung his head. “Sorry.”

  “You would be if I was any other. Or sore at least.” Raif’s lip quirked. “Virgin?”

  Tyler scowled. The man might be his hero, but that was pushing it. “Fuck no! I’m with two women—”

  “But you’ve never been with a man?”

  “No. I’m straight.” Tyler turned off the water, grumbling thanks as Raif passed him a towel. Having this conversation with the guy, naked while Raif was standing there in jeans, was weird. All right, sure, he would have probably felt different if Raif had fucked him, but . . . well, he hadn’t. So they didn’t need to be talking about stuff he’d never experience. He draped the towel around his waist and got it firmly in place. “You said I had a shock?”

  Raif paused with his hand on the open bathroom door. His shoulders stiffened. “You don’t remember.”

  “I . . .” Tyler’s feet snagged on the hall carpet. A giant claw ripped into his chest. He wanted the numbness back. Wanted another drink. Or twenty. Dead . . . Tim. Coach. He couldn’t be. Air thickened in Tyler’s throat, almost as though he was breathing in exhaust fumes.

  “Come.” Raif put an arm around his waist and guided him to the sofa. “I did not know Tim well, but he made me feel welcome. He will be missed.”

  “I can’t . . . can’t believe it. I’ve known him since I was on the farm team. He was the one I went to when things were bad, you know? When Oriana didn’t love me back. When I started with Chicklet, and Laura . . . anyway, he was always there.” But now he’s not. Not anymore. Tyler chewed at his bottom lip as it trembled, but he couldn’t stop the tears. “Shit.” He scrubbed the tears away with his fists. No wonder his eyes were so raw. He’d probably been doing this all night. “Sorry.”

  “Why be sorry? It is a great loss. There’s no shame in tears for a man of such great worth.” Raif patted his cheek, his accent adding a lulling quality to his tone. “No need to ‘man up’ for me. You are a teammate. I appreciate that you are comfortable with me.”

  Teammate. The word reminded Tyler that there was still a game. A game he’d be expected to play. But how could he? Every time he looked over at the bench, he’d be expecting to see Tim, cheering him on—or tearing him a new one if he did something stupid.

  “Feels like it’s over. I just can’t see how any of us can go on without him.” No, the others would. They’d put on their skates and play the game. Things happened, right? But Tyler couldn’t even picture walking into the Forum, knowing Tim wouldn’t be there. “I never told him . . . I should have, but I didn’t.”

  “Told him what, young one?”

  “I’m not that young.” But I am. Tim always said I’d learn. That I was just getting started . . . Tyler covered his face with his hands as his voice cracked. “I was gonna show him I could do better.”

  “And you will. You will, Tyler.” Raif’s hand curved around the back of Tyler’s neck. And for some reason, that firm grip helped him breathe. As did Raif’s words. “I believe those we love leave this world in peace because they know they can still watch over us. You will show Tim all you learned from him. And you will feel how proud he is of you.”

  “For real?” That sounded good. Tyler wanted to believe that too. He could play if he could picture Tim still watching. Wherever he was.

  “Yes. How about you promise me one thing?” Raif gave him a slanted smile. “Every game we play counts. When the game is in your blood again, when you sense his presence, you will score a goal for him. And we will celebrate together.”

  Tyler’s smile was shaky, but he managed to nod. He could do this. “Deal.”

  “Now.” Raif held out his cell phone. “You dropped yours in the toilet. I called Chicklet so she wouldn’t worry, but she needs to hear from you.”

  “Right. And I need to talk to her. Just hearing her voice will make everything . . . I don’t know, better I guess. It always does.”

  “She is a strong woman. She will help you through this.” Patting Tyler’s back, Raif stood and went to the mini fridge. He took out two bottles of water. “Assure her that you are in good hands.”

  “Yeah.” Tyler stiffened against an involuntary shudder as he took a bottle. Weird that Raif’s words had him thinking dirty things. Maybe it was because he knew Raif was bi. But some of his teammates were bi, and he’d been naked around them without anything getting . . .

  What? Kinky? He let out a shallow laugh as the phone rang in his ear. No reason things would be any different with Raif. He hadn’t reacted at all to “handling” Tyler naked. And it must be the shock that had Tyler feeling a little bitter about that. Carter had hit on him once and Demyan flirted playfully sometimes, so it wasn’t like men didn’t find him—

  Raif thinks I’m a kid. Guess I’m just not his type.

  Pearce was, though.

  Yeah. And Pearce likes guys.

  Tyler had a feeling he was losing his mind. The endless ringing set his teeth on edge. No answer. Chicklet was probably sleeping. He pressed end, then dropped the phone on the coffee table. “I should probably go home.”

  Home where I can see Chicklet. She’ll help me put my head on straight.

  Raif cocked his head. “Do you know that she is there?”

  “Well, no, but—” Tyler tried to stand and the bottle of water sloshed over his bare chest. The phone rang, but slipped out of his hand when he grabbed for it. He felt like he’d gone a few rounds with the biggest man in the league. Beaten and bruised and bloody. So weak he’d have to be helped off the ice.

  In a swift motion, Raif took his phone, answered, and held it to his ear. “Yes. He is better. I watched over him. I wouldn’t have
let him drink, but considering—” Raif’s lips quirked. “I agree. The boy should not drink at all. Would you like to speak to him?”

  Tyler held his breath as he took the phone. Chicklet was gonna be mad. He wasn’t sure where she’d gone, but she would have expected him to be there when she’d returned. He tried for a light tone. “Hey, Chicklet.”

  “Where are you? Laura only had a couple of glasses of champagne, but I was the designated. You know she won’t drive if . . . damn it, where are you?”

  “I’m . . .” Fuck, he didn’t even know. He looked over at Raif. “Where are we?”

  “I have leased a condo close to the Forum. I will give her directions when you are done.”

  “Hear that? Everything’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I don’t know this guy. And you—Tyler, I know what Tim was to you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Laura can probably drive over and pick you up. Been long enough since she drank—”

  Frowning, Tyler fidgeted with the end of the white towel on his knee. He didn’t want Laura to pick him up, she was always so cold when she was alone with him, and he couldn’t deal with that now. “Can’t you come?”

  “No. I got in touch with Sloan last night and he took a red-eye. I’m waiting for him at the airport.”

  “Already?”

  “Tyler, it’s 7:00 a.m.”

  “It is?” Tyler searched the room for a clock. Damn, he’d lost the whole night. He looked over at Raif. “I sleep all full of puke in your bed all night?”

  Raif chuckled. “I wouldn’t have allowed that. You managed most in the garbage pail last evening. It was only when I tried to wake you an hour ago that you didn’t make it in time.”

  “He took care of you through all that, my boy?” Chicklet’s tone was soft, as though she’d been worried about him, but felt a bit better knowing he’d been okay with Raif. “Tell him I appreciate it.”