Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  That sobered him. For a split second. Then he grinned. "Bench or scratch?"

  "Both!" She backhanded his hard chest when he laughed. "Oh, I am so going to learn that stupid game so I can punish you when you don't behave."

  He cocked his head as they stood by the back of the ambulance and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can teach you."

  Her cheeks warmed and she checked to make sure the fire was really out. Besides some thinning smoke, it seemed to be. She wrinkled her nose. "I'd like that."

  A medic approached, her professional mask slipping as she looked from Silver to Landon. "Have you changed your mind, Mr. Bower?"

  "Yes, he has." Silver tugged his arm and pushed him to sit on the bumper of the ambulance. "Sit."

  He made a funny expression, as though a great big conflict was going on in his head. Suddenly calm spread over his features and he nodded. And sat.

  Chapter Ten

  The warm, buttery croissant left little flakes all over Silver's white suit jacket, but she hardly noticed as she sat flush against Landon's side, rubbing his arm to warm his goosebumped flesh. The cold from the ocean washed over them, but he seemed too entranced with the view to notice.

  "I don't think I'll ever get used to this. It's beautiful. Peaceful." He smiled and reached over, wiping away some foam from her latte off her upper lip with his thumb. "Did you miss it when you went to Hollywood?"

  "Not really, I never spent much time enjoying the view." She rested her head on his shoulder and, for the first time, really took in the beauty laid out before her. The boats swaying lazily on the tide, the sun caressing the water in a gentle glow. Thin clouds gave the sky a grayish caste, but it only added to the early morning serenity, making everything seem quiet and still. The color reminded her of Landon's eyes when he looked at her in a way that made her feel calm. Just being here with him slowed the rush of life and the restlessness that always wound around her was gone. She found herself inhaling deep and absorbing everything, holding it in because this couldn't last.

  "Why?"

  "Why?" She blinked and tipped her head up to find him watching her, his head tilted slightly, as though his entire focus was on her. "Well, I was too busy. My mother got me in dancing lessons when I was very young, then singing. I was a model when I was a kid—it's on my portfolio. She did everything to make sure I'd succeed. I won a few competitions because of her. If you ask Oriana, she'd probably tell you all our mother cared about was socializing and shopping, but she did all that for me. She tried to get Oriana into it, but Oriana wasn't interested. She was a tomboy and loved sports and our mother didn't know what to do with her . . . ."

  Her chest tightened. She never talked to anyone about her childhood—well, besides her agent and that was just background stuff. Going over it all she realized Oriana had always been a daddy's girl—but Daddy only saw his son.

  Landon slid his arm around her shoulders. "How old were you when your mother died?"

  "Nine." She thought back and . . . the details were fuzzy. Her mother had cried all day, finishing off two bottles of wine while staring at the second place ribbon Silver had won, muttering that a tap dancing routine would have gotten them first place.

  "Three girls sung 'Tomorrow'! Three!" Her mother had moaned and rocked back and forth while researching something on her laptop. "Next time, you'll dance. I think there's another competition next week. If it's not too late to sign up . . . ."

  "I'm sorry, Mommy." Silver had hovered by her mother's side, wishing she could say something to make her feel better, wishing she hadn't failed her. Her insides hurt and her stomach felt full of curdled milk. Bouncy curls weighed heavy on her shoulders and mascara streaks made her face sticky and dirty. She wanted to rub her eyes, but making them all red would make mother mad. "I'll practice every day, I promise."

  "Yes you will." Her mother had slammed the laptop shut and lurched forward, scaring Silver. The laptop crashed to the floor and Antoine came running.

  "Mom? Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You should go lie down."

  "I said I'm fine! Watch your sisters, I'm going out."

  "No. You're not. Let me call dad."

  Silver jumped as Landon's grip tightened on her shoulder, dragging her back to the present. "Hey, where'd you go?"

  "Sorry." She shook her head hard to clear the haze of memories. "I was just thinking about my mother. The day she and my brother died . . . well, I messed up. Daddy had my brother, who was always coming home with medals and trophies. And she had me. She wanted me to be the best and I wasn't. I just wish . . . ."

  "Don't do that. I'm sure she would be proud of who you've become."

  "Who I've become? Most of my acting gigs were cheesy B movies, flashing my tits and reading corny dialogue. I kept up with the dancing and the singing, but I never used either." Inhaling deep, drinking in the fresh ocean air, she shook her head. "But it doesn't matter. She's gone and Daddy needs me. This team can make it, right? Maybe this will be the year we win that cup."

  "Maybe." Landon trailed his fingers through her hair. "But what do you want? You can't live for your parents. Don't you have any dreams of your own?"

  Did she?

  Uck, the talking about serious stuff was not her thing. Dean had forced her to do that. She didn't want it from Landon too. "Okay. Moving on. I called Dean and we agreed. You're taking a few days off."

  Landon groaned. "Why'd you go and do that?"

  "Because I could." She smirked and stuffed a piece of croissant in his open mouth to keep him quiet. "The doctor said you were fine, but as a precaution you should rest for a few days. And that's exactly what you're going to do."

  He gave her hair a little tug. "All this power is getting to your head."

  "It is not."

  "Well, how about, to make things fair, you have to do what I say now."

  Her breath hitched and heart beat into overdrive. She took a big gulp of cold latte. Swallowed. Stared at him. "Umm . . . ."

  Power sparked in his heavy lidded eyes as he leaned close. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." Her gaze slipped to his full, soft lips. Then snapped back up. "I just forgot."

  He chuckled. "Forgot what exactly?"

  "That you're a Dom."

  "Really?" He cocked his head to one side. "Is that a problem for you?"

  Maybe. She finished off her latte and went perfectly still as he framed her jaw with his hand. "I don't know."

  "If I gave you an order, would you obey?"

  Yes! God yes! She pressed her eyes shut and dug her nails into her palms. A boat horn sounded and she started, speaking in a rush. "Please tell me you're teasing me."

  "I'm teasing you." He patted her cheek and let his hand fall to his lap. "Actually, I was going to ask you to come to the forum with me tonight to watch the game."

  The request completely deflated her and her pulse slowed to a discordant thud. Some part of her wished he'd, well, been serious. Which was crazy. She had more than enough dealing with one Dom in her life. A Dom she could resist.

  Sometimes.

  Snap out of it, Silver. Landon is your friend. Pursing her lips and jutting her chin up, she slapped his arm. "You scared me, you jerk. Yes, I'll come watch the game with you. You promised to teach me more about it anyway."

  "Yeah, about that . . . ." He scratched his scruffy chin, his expression abruptly shifting to the playful one she'd gotten used to. "I need to pick up another suit. My sister helped me stock my wardrobe—I'm a fashion dud. Do you think you can spare some time to go shopping with me?"

  "Are you kidding? I'm a fashion queen! I know just the spot and I know just the style and color to complement your body and your eyes and—" Smacking her hand over her mouth, she blushed. "That came out wrong."

  "Damn, and you had me thinking that I'm not butt ugly." He sighed and stood, taking both their cups to the trash by the bench. "Guess all the simpering fans are only after my money."

  "Oh,
shut up." Rising gracefully, she lightly brushed the croissant crumbs from her jacket and straightened her skirt. "You know very well that you're a stud."

  They made their way along the peer arm in arm, Landon seeming to chew on her words as he admired the view once again. They'd reached Silver's car before Landon stopped and turned to face her.

  "So you think I'm a stud?" His brow creased slightly and he held up his hand. "Wait. Don't answer that. I don't want to know."

  "Then you shouldn't have asked." She shoved him towards the passenger side, then climbed in behind the wheel. All settled in, she gave him a sideways once over. "I'd do you."

  Landon groaned, covered his eyes with his hand, and muttered. "Brat."

  "Yes, Sir."

  The lighthearted remark stole all the fun from their banter. For the first time, Landon couldn't seem to find a joking retort. And Silver couldn't get past how easily the formal address left her lips.

  * * * *

  Hours later, Silver left Landon in the player's lounge to take a nap and headed up to her office to see if she had any real work to do. Anne stood and intercepted her with an armful of files and a few messages.

  "Mr. Richter would like to speak with you when you have a moment." Anne shuffled back to her desk and added distractedly. "Oh, and there's a man waiting for you in your office. He called several times while you were gone—he said your cell phone was turned off?"

  Silver's heels scraped the tiles as she swiveled towards Anne's desk. "What? No it wasn't! I had it on in case Dean called!"

  Anne shrugged. "Well, he mentioned asking for an appointment. He's an investor, you know. You really shouldn't ignore him."

  An investor? She recalled the message left on her cell days ago and shuddered. "You sure he doesn't want to talk to Dean?"

  "He asked for you."

  Uck, I really don't like you. Anne had always seemed so pleasant, answering her phone calls sweetly before transferring her to Daddy. But after she'd gone and told Oriana that Silver was looking into trading Sloan . . . yeah, the woman was a bitch. And probably a gold-digger too. She'd spent an awful lot of time at Daddy's bedside over the summer.

  "You know, Anne." She put a tight smile on her lips and approached the desk. "My ex-boyfriend is a lawyer, and he's been going over the contracts of the employees here. I'm no expert, but I do know what a non-disclosure agreement is. You've already breeched that, so I would suggest you be very careful from now on. I'd hate to fire you, what with a new baby on the way and all, but if you don't show me some respect that is exactly what I'm going to do."

  Anne paled and nodded. "Yes, Miss Delgado."

  "From now on, you do not let people into my office without clearing it with me first. Understand?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "There's something sexy about a woman who knows how to take charge." Dean's deep voice and hot breath had all the hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. His tone dropped to a whisper. "If you weren't so sweetly submissive, I'd peg you for a Domme."

  It took every ounce of strength she had not to melt back into his arms. She sucked air through her teeth and glanced over her shoulder. "You wanted to see me?"

  "Yes. But it can wait until after we see to your uninvited guest." He pressed lightly on the small of her back to get her moving towards her office. Stopping at the door, he held her shoulders and turned her to face him. His lips curved slightly as he flicked a flake of croissant from her jacket. "May I make one request before we go in?"

  A request? Be still my heart! She wrinkled her nose and stared at his gold hockey stick tie clip. "Sure. What?"

  He tapped her nose and chuckled when she skidded out of reach. "Stop looking so terrified. I have no intention of molesting you."

  She let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, well that's good."

  "Tonight."

  "Ugh." Infuriating man! Arms folded over her chest, she glared up at him. "I hate you."

  "Again?" He slid his hand around her throat and drew her close for a light kiss. His brow arched when she rose up for more. "And now?"

  The minty taste of his mouth lingered, leaving a hot and cold sensation on her lips. She glared at him as she reached out to open the door. "I want to kill you and bury you in an unmarked grave."

  "Liar." He pushed the door open and his entire bearing changed so abruptly she shivered. This side of him, pure raw power unleashed, scared her. More than a little. "Can we help you?"

  The short, pudgy man shot out of her chair and quickly moved away from the desk. "Ah . . . I'm sorry. I expected to speak with Miss Delgado alone. You are . . . ?"

  "Dean Richter. The General Manager of The Dartmouth Cobras." Dean thrust his hand out. "I understand you are one of the team's investors?"

  "Charles Lee." He handed Dean a card. "And I am simply a representative of Kingsley Enterprises." His gaze flicked from Silver to Dean and he winced as he shook Dean's hand. "My client is naturally concerned with the changes in management and asked for some assurances—"

  "Naturally." Dean gave the man a cold smile and put his hand on Silver's shoulder. "Miss Delgado is young, but the league would not allow her to take on the responsibility if she did not have advisors to back her. Aside from that, her father has given me a share in the team to run by proxy, which means very little will change."

  Mr. Lee's lip curled slightly. "Really? So am I to understand you approved the team's acquisition of Scott Demyan? I find that hard to believe."

  "And why is that?" Dean asked.

  "To be frank, the man doesn't fit with the team's image. That aside, Miss Delgado signed the contract, not you." Mr. Lee smirked and continued. "Obviously, as the owner, she has more say than you do. My clients need to know the team is stable."

  "You may assure them it is." Dean stepped away from Silver and loomed over the man in a way that made Silver wonder if she should grab him before things got violent. His fist clenched at his sides . . . and stayed there. "And you may also inform them I am well aware of Kingsley Enterprises part in the situation with Coach Stanton last season. No charges have been laid—yet. They would do well to avoid bringing any further attention to themselves. They will profit from the success of the team. Nothing else."

  "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Mr. Lee paled and glanced towards the door. "But I will convey your message. If you'll excuse me?"

  Dean gestured dismissively towards the door. Mr. Lee scurried out.

  Then Dean turned to Silver and she gasped. The rage in his eyes tempted her to follow the potato in a suit out the door.

  "Don't ever meet with that man alone—or with anyone associated with him." He grasped her wrists, making her drop all her folders, and pulled her towards him, trapping her wide eyes with his hard gaze. "Promise me."

  "I promise." She trembled and tugged at her wrists. "But you have to tell me what's going on. What did he really want?"

  "I don't know." Dean relaxed his grip and stroked his thumbs over her inner wrists. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

  "No." She nibbled on her bottom lip. "But you're kinda freaking me out. You must have some idea of why he came if you're this upset."

  Dean crossed his arms over his chest and turned, moving away from her to take a seat in front of her desk. He pressed his eyes shut and inhaled roughly. "You must have heard that Oriana's ex—Paul—was involved in a scandal."

  "I might have heard something." She frowned and went to perch on the edge of the desk in front of him. "Oriana didn't tell me much, but people are talking."

  "People?"

  "Anne. She's a gossip."

  "Ah." His shook his head. "Investors paid him to rig games so they could bet on them. He involved the goalie I traded and the defenseman whose contract I bought out so he could retire. Paul disappeared—it seems like he got roughed up by his 'partners' in the hospital—he tried to blame Max Perron, your new brother-in-law, for the injuries, but then screwed himself over by asking another doctor to clear him to coach an important game. The police looked in
to it and found discrepancies in his initial exam and his condition hours later. The charges against Perron didn't stick."

  "That's good." She smiled and pictured Max with Oriana. They were sweet together and she liked Max. "He makes my sister happy."

  "So does Dominik. And Sloan." His brow arched when she mumbled her grudging accord under her breath. "I'm not surprised that you don't like Sloan, but what's your problem with Dominik?"

  Well that's easy. "He's an uber Dom."

  "An uber Dom?" Dean laughed. "Don't you read all those kinky romance books? Aren't uber Doms exactly what women like you want?"

  Kinky romance books? She shook her head and giggled. "Seriously? I'm so not the romance type. I've read some nonfiction BDSM. Mostly because I had a part I was trying out for . . . there's this movie coming out based on some popular BDSM book and I wanted to get an idea of what the appeal was. My agent asked me not to read the book—she wanted me to have my own take on the character from the script. I started going to kinky clubs when I was nineteen, so I thought I knew everything. Those books proved me wrong."

  His brow creased slightly. "Have you ever been with an 'uber Dom'?"

  Her thoughts slipped to the one time she'd almost fallen into that trap. The man had been hot, powerful, intimidating. She found herself wanting to obey his every command and that had her saying her safeword before he even snapped her cuffs together. The things she might have let him do to her—she shuddered.

  "Once . . . almost. But I'm not a real sub. I like playing around sometimes, but it's never real. He almost made it real."

  Dean rose from the chair and approached her slowly, as though she was a skittish little kitten. "Before he made you feel that way, were you attracted to him?"

  "He was attractive, but . . . ." Damn, how to explain? To Dean of all people? "I would have fucked him, just normal like, but when I fool around with the kinky stuff, it's with guys I know I can control. I totally top from the bottom, I know all the definitions and that's why I know I'm not a sub."