A chill went down Ford’s spine. He didn’t doubt Anthony would drag him into an ugly court battle. He’d threatened to do it to Oriana, but he hadn’t been strong then. A judge would have taken one look at the case and laughed.
But between Cort’s criminal record and Ford’s relationship, a judge who was big on ‘traditional families’ might side with Anthony.
Ford shook his head, his throat tight. “You’d do that to your own grandson? Use him as a fucking pawn?”
“I’m not using him, I’m securing his future. You’re the one making this difficult, Ford.” Anthony folded his arms over his chest. “I’d like to have my daughters back in my life. To get to know my grandchildren. That isn’t fake, simply amplified in a way that will make things easier for them both.”
“How is that not fake?”
“Oriana was happy today, being here with me. Will you take that away from her?” Anthony sighed when Ford simply stared at him. “Don’t make your decision now, but consider it carefully. I am willing to pretend I’m not disappointed that all three of my children have flaunted their eccentric lifestyles. That they’ve trampled all over the family name while carelessly tearing apart everything I spent my life building. I will be a kind, loving father. A doting grandfather.”
“In exchange for delaying Keane from selling the team? What exactly will that accomplish? You gonna raise a few billion dollars in the next few months?”
“I don’t need to. I simply need a few investors who see the benefit in me controlling the team once again.” Anthony’s jaw hardened. “You’re a smart boy. Why do you think Kingsley began to work with me in the first place?”
Ford’s lips twisted. He needed to get out of here. Talking to this man made him sick. “Because you had your own ‘eccentric lifestyle’?”
“Don’t be obtuse.” Anthony motioned for Ford to join him as he headed back downstairs. “If you find manipulating Keane so objectionable, perhaps you could approach your uncles and—”
“No.” Ford shook his head quickly, his heart slamming into his ribcage. “Fuck no.”
“Very well.” Anthony inclined his head. “I expect you to let me know your decision within the next few days. And you are, of course, welcome to come visit your son whenever you like.”
Damn it, Ford hadn’t even said goodbye to the kid. Not that he thought Jaxon would really care—and he didn’t blame him. Ford was a stranger and he couldn’t just appear in the little boy’s life and expect…hell, he didn’t even know what to expect. Today, next week, a year from now.
There was suddenly a new little person he was supposed to take care of.
He wasn’t ready for a kid. When Cort had assumed Akira was pregnant because she’d been sick, Ford had fucking panicked. But she didn’t want kids yet. Cort was willing to wait a few years.
Years. As in multiple. Maybe, by the time Ford hit thirty, he’d be considered a decent enough human being to be responsible for the life of another human being. Forty might be more realistic, but he’d shave ten years off because he wouldn’t be doing it alone.
He hit the sidewalk and started walking aimlessly. Early Saturday morning on a sunny day like this had a lot of people heading downtown or out to the beaches and the traffic was getting bad. No point in having Cort come pick him up and get stuck in it. Better to meet him at the bar, which was close enough to the warehouse district to avoid the crowds. And heading in early would give him a chance to check out his stock. Or have a drink.
Or ten.
After sending Cort a quick text, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He’d ended up walking in the wrong direction and had to backtrack. His phone started buzzing when he was within blocks of the bar and he pulled it out, grinning when he saw it was Cort.
Who didn’t bother with hello. “Where are you?”
“Almost there.”
“What the fuck, kid? I’ve been waiting for over an hour. What’s going on?”
Standing outside the bar, Cort spotted him coming down the block, hung up, and folded his arms over his chest.
Fuck, the man looked scary, standing there in a snug black shirt and worn jeans, his close-shaved head giving him a militaresque appeal. With his thick arms crossing his massive chest, his wide shoulders taking up most of the doorway, no one would question why he moonlighted as a bouncer. His presence alone guaranteed the bar’s patrons would behave themselves. A glance and even rowdy hockey players, piss drunk, and high on adrenalin, settled down. But his expression shook Ford to the core.
He’d gotten that look from Cort most of his adolescence. Quite a few times as an adult. But it hadn’t had this effect on him until they’d begun their relationship with Akira. Until being close to her meant seeing Cort in a whole new light. Powerful and alluring, the way he moved making it hard for Ford not to stare, even when he’d thought his whole focus should be on Akira.
She managed to split her focus without a shred of guilt. He’d gotten pretty good at following her example.
But he rarely had Cort’s full attention like this. Not that Cort was trying to be all seductive. He’d been worried. Ready to kick some ass. In this mood, he was dangerous.
Which was fucking hot.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Cort scanned the street, automatically on the lookout for trouble, latching on to the back of Ford’s neck to direct him into the empty bar. “What. Happened?”
“No one’s dead. I’m not in any trouble. I just…” Ford wasn’t sure how to tell Cort. Wasn’t ready to. The whole situation didn’t fit in his own brain yet. He lowered his gaze as Cort expression darkened. “Seeing Delgado messed with my head. That’s all.”
“Is that so.” Cort shook his head, then walked past Ford. Stepping behind the bar he grabbed the bottle of Canadian Club, pouring a couple fingers worth in two tumblers. He brought them to the bar, sliding one to Ford. “Have a drink and reconsider that answer.”
Ford’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Cort jutted his chin at the glass, not speaking again until Ford took a slow, burning gulp. “After ten years, I know when you’re lying, Ford.”
“Fine. I don’t want to fucking talk about it, all right?”
Inclining his head, Cort tossed back his own whiskey. “Understood.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Gnashing his teeth, Ford finished his whiskey, then grabbed the bottle to pour himself another. “We might have played the whole power exchange thing, but you’re not my fucking Dom.”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
“You done?” Cort braced his muscular forearms on the bar top, his level gaze locked on Ford. “You don’t wanna be honest? Cool. We won’t fucking ‘play’ anymore. But you’re still my best friend. You feel like talking? I’m not going anywhere.”
All right, this was not at all how Ford wanted things to go down. He frowned at the other man. “What does any of this have to do with what we do at the club?”
Cort’s brow rose. “You think I’ll whip someone I can’t trust?”
“Cort—”
“And parties where other men teach you to suck dick like a pro? Naw. Who knows what that’s doing to your head?” Cort shrugged and pushed away from the bar. “I’m gonna grab the books, then I’ll drive you home.”
Staring after Cort, Ford scrambled for a way to say all the things the man needed to hear. They’d never kept anything from one another. Except when…when Cort had tried to protect him and a damn good man had ended up getting killed. Ford’s throat tightened as he thought of Tim Rowe, once the Dartmouth Cobras’ head coach, who’d been caught in the crossfire of Roy Kingsley’s final attempt to use the team to hide his dirty money.
Cort still blamed himself for Tim’s death, somehow believing if he’d never mentioned the man’s name to Kingsley, he wouldn’t have been a target. Never mind that as the coach, he was the most obvious.
Keeping secrets was huge to Cort because he knew where it could le
ad. He would shut down any sceneing between them, keep things light, and pretend Ford not being straightforward with him wasn’t a bigger issue. Pretend this was about the need for openness between a Dom and a sub.
And not that his and Ford’s criminal pasts made secrets deadly.
The man had gone all legit, wouldn’t even go past the fucking speed limit—hell he wouldn’t even jaywalk. He followed the law to the goddamn letter. No way was Ford dragging him into this mess with Anthony.
But he had to give him something.
He ducked into the ‘Employees Only’ area, which held the small kitchen, his office, and the storage room. Cort was in the kitchen, checking the fridge and cupboards for coffee and cream. He shook his head as he jotted down both on the list Reggie, their main bartender, had left. Dude always forgot something.
“Tell me why we haven’t fired this guy yet?” Cort grumbled as he picked up a nearly empty bag of sugar. “He ever gonna get this right?”
“Probably not.” Ford hooked his thumbs to his belt and leaned against the counter. “Listen, I… I don’t want things to change. Me and you, we’re good.”
Cort placed the sugar and the pen on the short counter by the fridge. “Yeah? Then tell me what happened at your Dad’s place.”
“Don’t fucking call him that, man. Done with ‘Dads’.” Ford’s jaw hardened. He could still see Kingsley, laying on a slab in the morgue. Ford had been relieved and…
And nothing. He refused to let that man take up any more space in his head.
“Look at me.” Cort stepped across the room and raked his fingers through Ford’s hair, meeting his eyes, his own hard. “You’re right. Anthony isn’t your dad. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I know better.” Cort sighed, loosening his grip on Ford’s hair. “You’ve been fucked over by most of the men in your life. I won’t be one of them.” He inhaled roughly. “And I won’t let the bastard hurt you. Or your sisters. Tell me what happened. Let me deal with him.”
Ford’s brow rose. “You’re a good guy now. What are you gonna do? Give him a stern talking to?”
“Don’t be a punk, Ford.” Cort’s lips quirked slightly. “I gotta make you talk or what?”
A chill ran down Ford’s spine and he licked his lips. His pulse quickened as he considered how Cort might get him to talk. Would probably be painful. Very painful.
He’d be a little afraid if he didn’t get off on the pain. When it was Cort giving it to him anyway. The man was still training at the club, but he’d picked up some pretty impressive skills. Not that they had floggers in the kitchen.
Not this kitchen, anyway.
Clearing his throat, he met Cort’s eyes. “You think you can?”
Giving him a hooded look, Cort closed the distance between them, pressing him against the counter as he ran his hand down the side of Ford’s neck. He stroked his fingers against the pressure point in the curve of Ford’s shoulder, the only warning before he drove them in hard, making Ford’s whole body jerk. The pain almost drove him to his knees, but he grabbed onto the counter. Hissed through his teeth as Cort moved his hand to the other side, holding his gaze.
“You sure you want to play, Ford?” Cort leaned in, brushing his lips against Ford’s smooth cheek to whisper in his ear. “I won’t be gentle.”
“Good.” Ford braced himself, but this time the deep, driving pain didn’t let up. “Fuck!”
He lowered his head to Cort’s shoulder, panting as Cort rubbed away the lingering ache. Blood pulsed into his balls and his dick hardened. A sweet haze stole away the chaos in his head and he wasn’t sure if he should tell Cort whatever he wanted to know so the game could change, or hold back so he’d continue exactly as he was now.
He didn’t get a chance to decide. Cort took his hand, effortlessly finding the pressure point there, and stepping back as Ford dropped to his knees.
“Fuck, I like you like this.” Cort pressed his thumb against Ford’s lips, chuckling as Ford flicked his tongue over the tip. “You’re too much of a pain slut for me to torture the truth out of you. You win. And I need to get to the store before it closes.”
Releasing Ford’s hand, Cort grabbed the list and the accounting books from the counter and headed for the door. Not glancing back once.
Cursing under his breath, Ford slammed his head back against the cupboards. He and Akira needed to have a chat. Convince Cort to stop training with Sloan. He was turning into a fucking sadist.
Ford dragged himself off the floor, pulling out his keys as he headed to the door, then locked it behind him. Getting in Cort’s newest restoration, a 1970 Buick GSX, Ford forced himself not to slam the door as he dropped into the passenger seat. His dick being squeezed uncomfortably against his zipper was putting him in a mood, but he wasn’t about to take it out on the car.
Or Cort. Much as he hated the mindfuck, he got it. Cort could have continued. Could have really hurt him, forcing him to spill everything because, as much as Ford enjoyed pain, there were limits. Limits Cort was well aware of and wouldn’t cross.
If he had to come close just to get Ford to open up to him, what was the point?
So Ford waited until they had all the supplies for the bar loaded in the trunk. Until they were on the road, headed for their house in the gated community on the edge of the city. Took a deep breath. And rubbed his hand over his mouth before finally just telling Cort what he needed to hear.
“I have a kid.”
Cort almost swerved the car into a ditch.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ford!” Cort slowed, pulling onto the shoulder. He got out of the car, walking away from it, fingers latched behind his neck.
Yeah, that had gone well. Ford relaxed into his seat, feeling a little better.
At least it was done.
Let the yelling begin.
Returning to the car, Cort lowered to his seat. Rubbed his hands over his face. Then lifted his head to glare at Ford. “If you fooled around on Akira—”
“Whoa there, pal. Go fuck yourself. You know I wouldn’t do that.” Ford sat forward, hand fisted against his thigh. “The kid’s ten.”
Lips parted, Cort stared at him. “Are you sure it’s not—”
“He. And no, he’s not yours. Could have been though.” Ford rolled his shoulders. “Wait until you see him. My fucking spitting image. Got a mouth on him. Is being a punk hereditary?”
Snorting, Cort shook his head. “No clue. But…damn. Who’s his mom? And why’d she wait so long? Did you talk to her?”
“Trista. And she’s dead.”
“Oh.” Cort cleared his throat. “She was… That’s sad.”
“You couldn’t stand her.”
“I dated her for almost two months. And she fucked my dad.” Cort shrugged, glaring at the dashboard. “Not that I cared. He was trying to do for me what I did for you. Because we’re all fucking damaged. Took me a long time to figure out why her going after you pissed me off so much. You were a kid.”
“I was sixteen. Not exactly a—”
“She was almost thirty. Don’t fucking go there, Ford. You know better.” Cort’s jaw ticked. “I thought I at least taught you enough to use protection.”
“You tried.” Ford rubbed his thighs, not wanting to dwell on when he’d been young and stupid. He had more important things to worry about. “Anyway, kid’s staying with Anthony for now. His aunt and uncle are there too, but I don’t…I don’t fucking like it.”
“I don’t blame you.” Cort’s brow furrowed. “Do your sisters know?”
Ford shook his head. “Anthony waited until they were gone to tell me. I’ll call Oriana later…she’ll be cool.”
Nodding, Cort pulled back onto the road, waiting a few minutes before glancing over. “And Silver?”
That was going to be an interesting conversation. But Ford had an idea. “I’ll pay my niece a visit. Make sure Landon and Dean are there. Break the good news over Dean’s awesome lasagna.�
�
Cort chuckled. “It’s cute that you’re afraid of your little sister.”
“I’m not scared of Silver.”
“Uh huh.” Cort scratched his jaw as they reached the house and pulled into the driveway. “I thought we’d be bringing a baby here one day, not a ten-year-old. There’s a good school nearby, but it’s pricey. I’ll check out the public school and we’ll go from there. You and Akira figure out what he needs and we’ll make it work. Have him all set up in a couple days. I know the whole idea freaks you out, man, but we can do this. Give the kid a good family. You’ve missed out on enough.”
“We don’t have to do anything.” Ford opened his door and swung his legs out, but didn’t stand. He braced his hands on his knees as Cort came around to his side of the car. “Akira might not want this.”
A heavy hand on Ford’s shoulder, Cort bent down and gave him a little shake. “She’ll want your son to be part of our lives, just like I do.”
“It might be weeks before he’s ready.” Weeks before Anthony’s convinced I’m willing to play by his rules so he doesn’t destroy this entire family. Again. He forced a smile. “I don’t want to rush things.”
Cort inclined his head and grabbed Ford’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “That’s fine, but I hope you fucking know when he’s ready, we will be too.”
Ford wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
But he had no choice.
Chapter 3
Lorenzo Keane sat in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for yet another doctor to give him a diagnosis that might change his daughter’s life. His throat tightened as he looked over both his girls, sitting side by side near the window. At least they were keeping one another distracted.
Mackenzie and Madison were identical twins, but they couldn’t be more different. Both had long, sleek, dark brown hair and adorable dimples which got them out of trouble more than he liked to admit. Between fifteen and sixteen they’d both gone through growth spurts that had him uneasy. Not so much that he minded having to replace their entire wardrobes, but he noticed men looking at them more. Not treating them like children. And it put his protective nature on high alert.
OverTime (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 9) Page 3
