The reporter listed off the charges, never forgetting to state that the crimes were “alleged.” There were so many Dean would never have suspected, even though he’d heard a bit about Kingsley’s reputation over the past couple of weeks. But it was the last that made it hard to breathe.
“Come, hermanita.” Sebastian came to Dean’s side, patting Dean’s shoulder before holding his arms out for Amia. Amia gurgled and went readily to the other man, who’d been treating her like his precious hermanita, “little sister,” since she’d been born. The only reason Dean didn’t hesitate to let him take her. Because he couldn’t acknowledge Sebastian. Couldn’t shift his gaze from the screen.
And then he couldn’t hear anything but what the hard-eyed, crimson-lipped reporter was saying, “In addition to current charges, there is a pending investigation into the recent deaths of Tim and Madeline Rowe in which there are suspicions that Roy Kingsley hired the driver involved in the collision—who is still at large—to arrange the accident, though it is still unclear why the beloved coach of the Dartmouth Cobras would have been a target. The gambling charges laid on the previous coach and several players lead to the speculation that Mr. Rowe was offered a similar deal. And turned it down.”
Dean laughed and the sound was disturbing to his own ears. He felt Jami’s eyes on him and blinked back the threatening tears. “Of course he turned it down. My brother was a good man.”
“The best.” Luke cupped Jami’s cheeks, drying her tears with his thumbs. “Justice, boo. I know it doesn’t bring him back, but it’s something.”
Jami simply curled up in Luke’s arms, not saying a word. And Dean couldn’t blame her. It was hard to see how Kingsley being arrested made a difference now. Who gave a damn about justice?
Tim would have. Dean went to sit beside his eldest daughter, stroking her back and whispering to her all the things he knew Tim would have if he was still here. “Uncle Tim would have hated knowing Kingsley was still out there, that the man could hurt others. He’ll be at peace now, baby.”
“But Kingsley’s still alive.” Jami finally lifted her head, glaring at the TV as Kingsley was placed in the backseat of an unmarked car. “Why should he get to keep living, while someone like Uncle Tim—”
“That’s the thing, Jami. He doesn’t get to keep living.” Dean followed his daughter’s gaze, a tight smile on his lips. “Look at the bastard. He doesn’t know it yet.” A grim satisfaction filled Dean, numbing the pain just enough to make it bearable. “But his life’s already over.”
* * * *
Max tried not to wince as pain shot up his arm. Sloan didn’t seem to realize his hand was on top of the bandages on Max’s shoulder.
Until Oriana elbowed him in the gut. “Will you be careful?”
Sloan grinned at her, not fazed by the jab. “There’s my brat. I was wondering when you’d get enough spunk back to earn a punishment.”
Standing by the foot of Max’s bed, leaning against Bower’s side, Silver shot a narrow-eyed glare at Sloan. Her lips curled away from her teeth, and Max had a feeling she was going to say something unfortunate.
Until Bower’s hand shifted from her shoulder to the back of her neck. Bower arched a brow at her as though to say “Speak, and you’ll regret it.”
Silver huffed and snapped her gaze back to the TV. She cleared her throat. “Do you think the charges will stick?”
Oriana frowned, reaching blindly for Sloan’s hand as she stared at her sister’s back. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Good question. Max watched Silver shift away from Landon as though she wasn’t sure he’d want to touch her as she spoke. “With a good lawyer, you can get out of almost anything. Why would they listen to the testimony of a drug addict? What if telling Ford about the assistant was just enough to give everyone false hope? Kingsley didn’t look all that worried.”
“Silver, his assistant was competent enough to handle all his business. I don’t think they’d have gotten a warrant on his testimony alone. He’d have to have some evidence or . . . ?” Landon looked over at Sloan and Max, like he was sure one of them would know. His lips thinned when they both shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You were able to use your past to do something good, pet. If not for you, your brother would have spent the rest of his very short life looking over his shoulder.”
Oriana held her hand out over the bed, taking Silver’s even as Landon took his place by his fiancée’s side. She caught Silver’s eye. “Face it, sis. You’re a good person. What you did for Ford—”
“What I did? What about your husband?” Silver grinned at Max. “You just had to be a hero, eh, cowboy?”
Max’s cheeks heated. He shrugged, which sent the sensation of being branded like one of his dad’s calves right through his chest. And Sloan, the fucker, grinned. The twisted bastard really needed some quality time with Oriana and his favorite whip.
There was no way Oriana would leave the hospital while Max was stuck here though, so he decided to torture his best friend a little. He gave Bower a warm smile. “Apparently you missed Bower tackling the guy with the machete. Sweet moves, goalie. I was worried about you. Couldn’t handle losing you, and not just ‘cause of what you do for the team.” He swallowed real hard. Real loud. “You know what I’m sayin’?”
“I do. But I did what I had to. Seeing you go down wasn’t easy for me . . .” Landon winked at Max, then rested his chin on Silver’s shoulder. “Damn. It’s times like this that make me realize how important you guys are to me. We’re all family and—”
“Fuck, do you two need a minute alone?” Sloan made a sound of disgust, inching away from the bed like all the sappiness was contagious. “Hug it out or something. You sound like a couple of chicks.”
The “chicks” burst out laughing, Silver turning in Bower’s arms to kiss him while Oriana patted Sloan’s cheek, her tone indulgent. “Are they making my big, bad sadist uncomfortable? Do you want me to tell them to go?”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll all have to leave,” the nurse said briskly from the doorway. She held up her hand before Oriana could object. “You may stay with your husband, Mrs. Perron, but he needs his rest.”
Silver and Bower left the room with a quick goodbye, but Sloan didn’t budge. His fist pressed into the pillow behind Max, the muscle in his jaw ticking with irritation. One look at him had the nurse paling a little. Oriana licked her lips and glanced nervously at Max.
“May we have a moment, ma’am?” Max asked, digging his fingers into Sloan’s forearm before his best friend could snarl at the nurse like he looked ready to. He spoke low when the nurse nodded, backing out without closing the door. “We don’t want no trouble, Sloan. She’s just doing her job.”
Sloan hunched his shoulders. Bowed his head. Nodded. “Fine. Just get better so I can get you the fuck out of here. I fucking hate hospitals. Never thought I’d be in one because some son of a bitch goes and shoots you.”
That was as close as Sloan would come to saying he’d been afraid for Max. All the emotional stuff lately was getting to be too much for him, and he was shutting it out completely. Max was tempted to send Oriana home with Sloan just to keep an eye on him, but Sloan would never allow it.
“Call me in the morning. I’ll bring you some biscuits and gravy. I know how much you like it.” Sloan moved to straighten, scowling when Max refused to release him. “What do you want, Max?”
Like hell he was letting Sloan go anywhere like this. He met Sloan’s dark eyes. “We’re a family—”
“Don’t start that shit, pal. I’m not—”
“Stop it. I want you to stay.” And Max really did. He didn’t want to make things difficult for the nurse, but he needed both Oriana and Sloan with him. He kept his tone polite as he called out to the nurse. “Ma’am, if they can’t both stay, I’d like to be released.”
Oriana opened her mouth. Closed it. She wasn’t gonna question his decision. Good girl.
The nurse, however, had no problem doing so. “Sir, I really c
an’t advise that. You were very lucky, but there’s still the risk of infection and—”
“Then you agree he can stay?”
She pursed her lips. “Need I ask why you need both of them?”
Max smiled at her. “Reckon you don’t unless you really want to know.”
Blushing, the nurse shook her head and retreated from the room.
At his side, Sloan groaned. “Great, now she’s gonna think I’m fucking you.”
“And since when do you care what anyone thinks?” Max watched Sloan drop into the big gray armchair that would convert into an uncomfortable bed for him to sleep in tonight. He noticed that the tension had left Sloan’s shoulders. Now he just looked tired. “Admit it, you’re just glad you get to stay. Tell me you love me and quit your damn moping.”
Wrapping his arms around Oriana’s waist, Sloan dragged her onto his lap. Kissed her cheek as she leaned back. Then grinned at Max. “Yeah. I’m glad.”
With one long finger, Oriana traced the collar of Sloan’s black T-shirt, speaking in a mock whisper. “And you love him.”
“He knows I do.” Sloan reached over, putting his hand on Max’s forearm. And said one of nicest things anyone had ever said to him. “I lost my fucking mind when I saw you were hurt. Almost killed that guy. Still want to. If that don’t prove I love you, too fucking bad.”
* * * *
They slept pretty well in the motel room, so well that Cort woke up first and only because his phone was buzzing. He picked it up and he saw he’d missed a few calls. He dialed for his messages, slipping from the bed to listen to them. One from Sebastian. Two from Sutter—he went over to the window to look out into the parking lot—his dad had gone back to crash at the club. Which he wouldn’t have done if they weren’t safe.
And they were safe. All the messages gave Cort the same information, enough to make it true.
But he couldn’t quite absorb the facts. Not about Roy being arrested. Not that Roy’s brothers had cut all ties with him. That every associate the man had ever worked with had already done all they could to erase any trace of him from their businesses, legal or not. Sutter made sure to point out no one would take up a hit on Ford now, not with all of Roy’s assets frozen and his entire corporation under investigation.
“Cort?” Akira sat up, holding the sheets to her chest, her wide eyes full of fear. He hated what all this shit had done to her. The fear was bad enough, but the way her eyes hardened when he didn’t answer was worse. “How fast do we need to get out of here? Is Ford stable enough to—”
“We don’t have to go anywhere.” Cort strode up to the TV and turned it on. Surfed through the channels until he found what he was looking for. “It’s over.”
“Over?” Akira stared at him like she didn’t know what the word meant. When he jerked his chin at the TV, she locked her eyes on it. Didn’t move. Held her breath.
Folding his arms over his chest, Cort leaned against the wall, splitting his focus between the TV and the bed. Ford was awake now, had himself propped up on the pillows Akira had piled up for him. He fisted his hands in the ugly leaf-print comforter, his throat working as he swallowed again and again. He hardly blinked until Akira rested her head on his shoulder, shaking and crying as though she was completely overwhelmed with relief.
“It’s really over?” Ford put his arm around Akira and stared at the TV. “But . . . he has connections.”
Cort shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“Money?”
“Nope.”
“This can’t be . . . fuck, look at him, Cort!” Ford glared at the TV like it took all his strength not to get off the bed and shatter the screen. “Maybe you’re right, but he’s not feeling it. He’s not afraid, and he would be if I had him choking on the barrel of my gun!”
This was true. If Ford had ever gotten close enough to put a gun in Kingsley’s face, the man would probably have been afraid. Cort went over to the bed and sat on the edge, meeting Ford’s eyes as Akira whispered soothingly to him. “He’s not scared because he still thinks he’ll get out of this. Wait until he goes to trial after a few days behind bars. He’ll be cocky as hell until they sentence him to life.”
“If he gets out on bail—”
“Then we’ll deal with it. I don’t want to be stupid about this. The three of us still have to be careful, but I’m not too worried. My dad is keeping an ear out, and he decided we don’t need to be watched anymore.” Cort smiled when Akira let out the breath she’d been holding. She was trying so hard to be strong for them, but this couldn’t be easy on her. “We can all relax today.”
“I’m happy with today.” Akira sat up, holding her tongue between her teeth as she trailed her fingers over Cort’s scruffy cheek. “You both need to shave. Will you let me do that for you, Master?”
Damn, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her calling him that. During a scene, the title felt natural, but beyond that . . . unless she didn’t want to be outside of those dynamics right now. Offering to shave him might be her way of saying she needed the security of giving up control for a little while. She was paler than he liked. There was a tension around her eyes and she was being pretty quiet.
He rubbed his chin and his lips tilted up at the edges. “You can shave me after, pet. But I need your help with something first.”
She gave him a hesitant smile, her gaze following him as he went to fetch the medical kit. He sat behind Ford, shoved the blankets aside, and held his hand up when Ford opened his mouth.
“The wound needs to be cleaned, Ford. Give me your hands.” He snorted at the wide-eyed stare Ford shot over his shoulder. “Where’s that trust, buddy?”
“My hands are fine. I don’t know what you’re doing behind me, but . . .” Ford’s forehead creased as he continued to look back at Cort. “If you’re planning to play, Akira needs to be in the middle.”
“Not this time. Just give me your fucking hands.”
Ford put his hands behind him, grumbling. “Pushy bastard.”
Cort smirked, then used some medical tape to bind Ford’s wrists. Surprisingly, Ford didn’t bitch. He just cocked an eyebrow as if to say “What the hell are you doing?” Instead of explaining, Cort glanced over at Akira. “Unzip his jeans, Tiny. I’ll help you get them off him.”
Muscles tensing, eyes narrowed, Ford tried to twist away from Akira. She gave him an impish grin as she quickly opened his jeans, exposing his fully erect dick so she could lay a gentle kiss on the tip.
Groaning, Ford strained against his restraints, his hips rising of their own accord to keep his cock close to her mouth. Cort took advantage of the movement to lift Ford by his arms. Supported by only Cort’s hold, knees bent and feet flat on the bed, Ford couldn’t stop Akira from pulling his jeans down.
“Shit, Cort. What are you doing?” Ford shuddered as Akira lowered her head between his thighs, taking him slowly between her lips. “I’m not a sub. This doesn’t feel—”
“Doesn’t feel what, Ford? I’m not asking you to submit to me.” Cort shifted over, carefully removing the bandage to inspect the wound on Ford’s side. Didn’t look too bad. No infection, but it still needed to be cleaned. He folded one leg on the bed by Ford’s hip, bracing the other behind Ford’s back in case he needed the support. “I’ve gotta take care of this. Just seeing what I can do to make it fun.”
“Fun?” Ford’s lips parted as Akira began sliding her lips faster up and down his cock. He didn’t seem to notice Cort opening the bottle of vodka, but when the liquid spilled over his broken flesh, his back bowed. “Fuck!”
“Don’t let him come, pet.” A dark rush of power spread through Cort’s veins, as though a tap had been turned on full blast, letting loose a stream of pure heat. He wasn’t trying to Dom Ford, but there was something about taking control of him that was heady. There was nothing sexual about the sensation. Just a primal need to dominate fully.
Ford went still as Akira slowed her pace and wrapped her hand tightly around the base of hi
s dick. His tone was firm, but lacking the anger Cort had prepared for. “My turn next time. This time . . .” He let out a sharp laugh. “That fucking hurt, but . . .”
Cort bared his teeth in a feral smile. He’d been hoping a bit of pleasure would help Ford get through the pain, but this was so much better. “It felt good, didn’t it?”
“Damn you! Yeah, it did.” Ford hissed as Cort poured a little more vodka over the wound. He spoke through his teeth as Akira swirled her tongue around the head of his dick. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna start kneeling for you.”
The idea of having Ford kneeling to him wasn’t really appealing, but at the same time—would depend for what. Even thinking about Ford sucking his dick or anything like that felt wrong, but . . .
“What if you’re on your knees while I’m practicing with the flogger? I need more experience—wouldn’t be more than you helping out a friend.”
“I could do that.” Ford jerked as Cort pressed his fingers into his side, just below the wound. He seemed to be having trouble getting enough air to breathe. “And just so you know, a Dom can like all kinds of things. Can get off on pain.”
“You getting off on this, Ford?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Good. Very good.” Cort pressed a little harder as he checked the small bandages, replacing the ones that weren’t holding securely. He caught Akira’s eye and his dick went from half-hard to fully erect, throbbing and straining in the confines of his jeans. There was a lust-filled glaze to her eyes and her cheeks were flushed. Ford’s reactions might trigger one part of him, but Akira’s set him off completely. Toying with Ford wasn’t enough anymore.
He kept himself in check long enough to finish patching up the wound. Then he pulled Ford away from Akira, trying not to be too rough as he positioned Ford against the headboard. The movement had Ford growling and struggling—apparently the man’s trust only went so far when he was naked and Cort was manhandling him.
Giving Ford a crooked smile, Cort stood and jerked Akira to her feet. A wild, reckless part of him wanted to rip her clothes right off her, but he forced himself to take his time. Handle her gently as he removed her shirt, her bra, and kissing along her throat as he cupped her breasts in his hands. She moaned, writhing against him as he rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs.
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 52
