Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "Whenever you're ready." He took one last deep inhale. "I don't imagine you want to go back in there. Care to stall the press while I fetch our newest altruist?"

  "That would be great." She tugged on his hand before he could walk away. "Thank you."

  Rising up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then blushed and hurried across the street to meet the reporters.

  Dean shook his head as he entered the building and made his way up to Demyan's floor. With all they'd done—never mind their one night stand, but just this morning, why in the world would she be all shy about kissing him? Was she afraid the press might catch her? No, more likely she wasn't sure if she could instigate a kiss since he was a Dom. Did she think she needed permission?

  He snorted at the thought. As much as he believed Silver was submissive, she wasn't that submissive. She had no problem trying to instigate sex.

  One hand on the doorknob, he brought the other up to rest his fist against his lips. Suddenly he knew why this kiss had been different.

  This kiss had nothing to do with sex.

  A faint clicking behind the door drew his attention. He knocked.

  "Come in," Demyan called.

  Dean stepped into the apartment. The women were gone. The lights were off. And Demyan was sitting in the dark, hunched over on his sofa, wearing a rumpled suit, opening and closing the gun's cartridge.

  He didn't look up as he spoke. "Is she okay?"

  "She's fine. But we need to talk."

  "So talk."

  "Why don't you put away the gun?"

  Demyan laughed. "I probably should. Hell, after that, I should probably get rid of it. Guess it doesn't matter that the thing isn't loaded."

  It didn't, but Dean shrugged. "I'm slightly less tempted to beat you to a bloody pulp for pointing it at her." He took a seat as Demyan stuffed the gun between the sofa cushions. "Now, since we came in uninvited, you were technically within your rights to defend yourself and your property. And so long as you've got a licence for it, I've got no say in you possessing it. But you can't bring it on road trips and I would really appreciate you telling me why the hell you need to sleep with a gun."

  "I probably don't. Not anymore." Demyan stood and approached the window. He winced as he peered through a slit in the curtains. "So you decided to bring the press here?"

  "Yes. And Silver made excuses for you not showing up for the initial press conference." Dean stood and brushed some crumbs off his pants. "I expect you to go along with them."

  "Sure."

  "And the gun?"

  "After, man." Demyan smirked as he straightened his tie and sauntered past Dean. "I don't owe you an explanation. But I do owe her one. I don't mind if you sit in on it."

  For a split second, he'd almost felt sorry for the man. Thought maybe he'd misjudged him. He was still pretty young and who knew what kind of trouble he'd gotten himself into. Maybe he needed help.

  But that temporary inclination was gone. There was no misjudgement. Scott Demyan was an asshole.

  And Dean and Silver had to somehow convince the media he was a bleeding-heart superstar.

  "Silver, love." Dean muttered to the empty room. "I hope the man can act."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hours after the press conference, Silver sat with her sister on the floor in Max's living room, watching Scott on the big screen while she nibbled on a slice of pizza. Behind her, Landon played with her hair while he chatted with Max about how Scott might actually be a decent guy.

  Silver leaned over and whispered to her sister. "That man deserves an Oscar for that performance."

  Oriana winked at her and rose up on her knees to lay her head on Dominik's lap. "You and Sloan are being awfully quiet. Aren't you excited that you get to play tomorrow? For such a good cause?"

  "I'm looking forward to it, pet." Dominik smiled down at Oriana, the gold in his eyes glowing in the light from the TV. "But I think the wrong person got credit for the idea."

  "What?" Landon tugged Silver's hair and frowned when she glanced up at him. "You didn't seriously put this together to make him look good?"

  Her teeth dented her bottom lip as she eyed her sister. She hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Landon since last night, what with her and Dean rushing to organize everything. Actually, she was supposed to be having supper with Dean, but his daughter had called and he'd reluctantly asked for a rain check. Not that she'd minded too much. She knew he'd want to talk about the gun thing.

  Which she wasn't ready to discuss. Avoiding unpleasantness with her sister was easy, she'd been doing it for years. But Dean wouldn't let her and Landon . . . Landon made her want to tell him everything.

  Thankfully, with the other men around, she could avoid getting into anything serious. A little tricky without blatantly lying, but Scott's next words on screen gave her an out.

  "I'm so grateful to be part of a team that gives me the opportunity to do some good."

  Sliding into a position that almost mirrored Oriana's, she grinned at Landon and pretended not to notice his frown. "We gave him the opportunity to change his image. I mentioned the Leukemia foundation event this weekend and asked Dean if it was too late to put a game together between The Cobras and their farm team. He said it was cutting it close, but he thought we could pull it off. Scott jumped on the idea." Stretching the truth isn't actually lying. "There was no time to prep him for the interview, so all those words are his own."

  Scott came out with another gem at exactly the right moment. "My niece was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was five years old. She . . . she didn't make it, but funds like this have made a lot of progress in treatments since she passed away. Hopefully the money we raise will result in more children beating this. I plan to contribute whenever possible. This is just the first step."

  She had to believe this part of his interview was real. And what he'd told her and Dean after convinced her it was. He carried a gun because his brother was a heavy gambler and when his brother failed to pay his debts, the thugs he dealt with went after Scott. His brother was too proud to ask for his help, even when the medical bills threatened to put his family out on the street. Scott had handled his brother's debts, but that hadn't been enough, because his brother wouldn't stop borrowing to feed his addiction. Losing his daughter, then his wife only made it worse. So Scott continued to pay until one day he'd had enough. He ignored the phone calls and met 'the collector' at the door with a gun of his own. The guy hadn't expected it, so he backed down, but that only bought Scott a bit of time.

  He still expected the goons to come after him.

  What if they do?

  "Silver." Landon snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What are you thinking about? You just went white."

  "The pizza." She leapt to her feet and rushed to the bathroom. And bent over the toilet as her excuse became the truth. Someone crouched behind her and gathered her hair away from her face.

  She prayed it was Oriana.

  "You will tell me what's got you so upset," Landon said. When she sat up, he wet a facecloth in the sink and knelt to dab her lips. "Once you're feeling better. Do you think you can stand?"

  She nodded, and made it to her feet before the floor tilted like it was trying to pitch her off. But Landon caught her and the world steadied as she settled into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

  "Ma pauvre petit, you've had a rough day, haven't you?"

  "Uh uh. Just tired." She pressed her eyes shut and sniffed his throat. "Mmm, I like your cologne."

  "I'm not wearing any."

  "Oh." She huffed out a breath and sighed as he lowered her somewhere soft. "I think I need to sleep."

  "I agree." Landon's fingers delved into her hair, plucking out all the bobby pins she'd used to secure her bun. "I'll crash on the sofa. You can stay here."

  Landon's bed. She was in Landon's bed and she really shouldn't be. "Give me a few minutes and I'll get up and go home."

  "In a few minutes you'll be fast asl
eep."

  Probably. She burrowed her head into the pillow. The darkness behind her closed lids swept her away. And narrowed until she was staring into a circular hole. Bang! She jumped and her eyes shot open. "What was that?"

  "What?" Landon strode across the room and took her hands, rubbing them as though they were cold. "You fell asleep, Silver."

  "No, I wasn't sleeping." Shaking her head, she looked past him. The other men and Oriana were speaking softly in the living room. The TV had been turned down low. "I heard something loud, like a door slamming or—" She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. "You didn't hear it?"

  "No. Oriana came in awhile ago to check on you. After I told her you were sleeping, she went out and everything has been really quiet since." He fingered the collar of her shirt. "You were probably uncomfortable in all this. Why don't I get your sister to bring you something comfortable to sleep in?"

  She started nodding, but when he stood acidic fear spilled up from her gut. Her nails dug into flesh, but she didn't feel pain. She looked down and let go when she saw the bloody half moons on the back of Landon's hand.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

  "Don't worry about it." He pinched the flesh between his eyes and shook his head. "I hate feeling useless, mignonne. Tell me what you need."

  "I need—" Just say it! She scooted over and stared at the empty space on the bed. "Could you stay with me?"

  He nodded, then went to the small pile of clothes on the dresser. He returned with a t-shirt and some boxers. "Get comfortable. I'll be right outside—"

  "No!" Pathetic! You're so pathetic! Damn it, she didn't care. "I promise, I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just don't leave me."

  His lips pressed together, he studied her for a moment. Opened his mouth a few times. Then spun around and spoke with his back to her. "How's this?"

  "Perfect." Changing quickly, she left her clothes on the floor and slipped under the blankets. "It's safe now."

  "Do you want the light on or off?"

  What am I? Two? Some cruel voice inside seemed to be laughing, but Landon wasn't. She considered for a moment and realized, with him beside her, the darkness wasn't all that scary.

  "Off."

  The lights went out. The mattress creaked as Landon climbed into the bed. For awhile, the only sound was his steady breaths, rhythmic and comforting. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw he was laying on his side, stiff as a board, watching her.

  "You don't look comfy." She inched closer to the wall. "There's plenty of space."

  "I'm not sure . . . ." He groaned. "Look, I don't want things to get awkward between us."

  "Oh." She really wasn't being fair. This was his bed and they'd both agreed to stay friends. And friends didn't share beds. "This was a bad idea. You've got to get up early for the game tomorrow and I should go—hey! What are you doing?"

  Yanking at the blankets, Landon nudged her aside and spread them over both their bodies. Stretched out on his back, he curved his arm under her shoulder and dragged her towards him until her head rested on his chest. She wiggled a little, bending her knee over his thighs, deciding that he made a very good body pillow.

  He took her hand and held it over his heart. "Much better."

  As the heat from his body, and his steady pulse, and his presence lulled her to sleep, she smiled.

  Yes. Much.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Landon's head weighed on his pillow, still heavy from a slumber he was reluctant to shake. He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. The scent of some kind of pastry beckoned, along with the sweetness of Silver's laughter. Cuddling up with him last night seemed to have done her some good.

  Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. His body had tried to make an issue of it at first, but his conscience won out in the end. Knowing Silver trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms without even a question of him wanting more—that was enough.

  That would have to be enough.

  Friends, Bower. Maybe you should have it tattooed on your ass so you'll see it when you pull your head out.

  He grunted and pushed off the bed, swinging his legs over the side to stand. No one should be expected to think straight in the morning until they'd had at least two cups of coffee. He padded into the hall in the long black shorts he'd picked up the day before for lazing around the house—modesty and all since it wasn't his place—and straightened his tank top to cover the bulge of his semi.

  "I still can't believe you made these from scratch! Mmm!"

  The sound of pleasure Silver made tightened his balls. And when he stepped into the kitchen he knew he was a goner.

  Loose bedroom hair caught the sunrays from the kitchen window and cascaded the glow in a wave down her back as she bent over the ironing board, chewing on the strawberry turnover her sister had fed her. His large white t-shirt hid her curves, but when the light hit her just the right way the shadow of her body revealed everything. Then her legs—fuck! how had he missed them last night? Or when he'd held her at the club, completely naked. Was it those evil red shoes she was wearing that made him wonder . . .

  Moving up behind her, his fingers twitched as he fought to keep them out of her hair, fought to keep his hands off her body and his dick from pressing against her ass. His every inhale was a struggle. He exhaled fast and hard, right by her ear.

  She went perfectly still.

  "Silver." His lips brushed that soft, soft flesh and he wrestled with the urge to taste it. "Please go get dressed."

  After carefully placing the iron in the holder at the end of the board, she turned and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I was just getting your shirt ready for you. You only have two and they're both wrinkled."

  "She did a really good job too." Oriana slinked over, her own nightclothes covered as usual with a large robe. She held out the plate of turnovers and waited for him to take one before she continued. "She doesn't know how to work a washing machine, but she can take the creases out of anything. I can't even get a collar that perfect."

  "That looks great, thank you, Silver." He tried to catch her eye so she would do as he'd asked. He didn't want to say anything that might embarrass her in front of her sister.

  Silver sidled away from him and unplugged the iron. "I find things look fresher when you iron them before putting them on. I do it every morning." She glanced over at Oriana. "Thanks for helping me with the washing machine. I couldn't have worn the same clothes again. I know you think I'm a snob—"

  "I do not."

  "You do too! You said it every day when we were kids!"

  My cue to leave. "Excuse me, ladies. I'm going to go hop in the shower—"

  "Max is using the one downstairs and Dominik is upstairs." Oriana nodded towards his untouched turnover. "You'll have just enough time to eat and get dressed. Sloan said he wanted to get to the rink by 10 since the game's at 12."

  "You don't smell bad." Silver picked up the shirt and stepped up to him. "If that helps."

  Helps? Hell no it doesn't help. His heart raced like he'd just run up a flight of stairs in his goalie gear as she held out the shirt for him and her breasts brushed his arm. "Why are you wearing shoes?"

  "The floor's cold. I didn't have socks."

  Oriana had gone back to the stove. He took the opportunity to pull Silver close and spoke in a firm tone. "I would appreciate it if you'd go get dressed."

  "I don't see what the big deal is."

  "Silver—"

  "You're wearing less than I am."

  "Silver—"

  This time a snarl cut him off. Well put together in a charcoal suit, black silk shirt, and tie, Callahan stood in the doorway, scowling at him. Then at Silver. "Can we save the foreplay and fuck-me-shoes until after breakfast?"

  Silver's eyes narrowed. "Why? Are they giving you ideas?"

  "It's too early for this shit." Callahan strode up to the table and grabbed the newspaper. "Be nice if you had enough respect for your sister no
t to strut around like that."

  Bright red blotches spread over Silver's cheeks. "Fuck you, Sloan."

  "For the—what is it, tenth time?" Callahan smirked. "The answer is no."

  Landon smoothed his hand down Silver's side, trying to calm her even though he wanted to lay his fucking captain out for being such an asshole. He let Silver nudge him into a seat and grinned when she swiped the turnover plate out from under Callahan's hand and offered it to him.

  "Stop it you two." Oriana frowned at Callahan when he opened his mouth. "Why don't you go in the living room? I'll bring your breakfast in a minute."

  "I don't need you serving me." Callahan said.

  Oriana poked him in the chest. "You serve me supper every night."

  "I serve supper at the kitchen table. That's hardly the same."

  "Ugh! You're impossible in the morning!"

  While the couple bickered, Silver began creeping towards the door. Landon hated Callahan embarrassing her, but at least she'd come back covered up and his sanity would be saved. He took another turnover.

  And dropped it when Silver screamed.

  Landon shot to his feet. Perron burst out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Mason thundered down the stairs in a pair of boxers.

  Callahan burst out laughing. "A spider, Silver? You're incredible."

  Eyes flashing with rage, Silver pried off one of her shoes and threw it at Callahan. The other was slapped down on the spider and quickly followed the first. "I hate you!"

  "I'm heartbroken, really." Callahan said, dryly.

  Without another word, Silver stomped down the hall, into Landon's room, and slammed the door.

  No one moved. Landon looked to Oriana, expecting her to go comfort her sister, but she was too busy glaring at Sloan. He turned away from them all, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt. Focusing on the dull ache kept him from cursing them out.

  "Leave her for a bit," Oriana said, her tone dangerously low. Then she continued, sounding so fucking pissed he turned again to make sure she wasn't talking to him. "I can't believe you just did that."