Cocky Shot
The Dartmouth Cobras ~ A Cobra Short
Bianca Sommerland
COCKY COBRAS
The Dartmouth Cobras
Off Ice Novella
By
Bianca Sommerland
Copyright 2018, Bianca Sommerland
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover art by I’m No Angel Designs
Contents
Also by Bianca Sommerland
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
Also by Bianca Sommerland
Also by Bianca Sommerland
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The Dartmouth Cobras
Blind Pass
Butterfly Style
Game Misconduct
Defensive Zone
Breakaway
Offside
Delayed Penalty
Iron Cross
Goal Line
Line Brawl
Also
Deadly Captive
Collateral Damage
The End
Celestial Pets: Evil’s Embrace
Solid Education
Street Smarts
Forbidden Steps
Rosemary Entwined
The Trip
Untamed (Feral Bonds)
Winter’s Wrath Series
Backlash
Diminished
Inversion
Acknowledgments
This year seems longer than most, and there’s been so much going on I wasn’t sure I’d ever get a book finished. The trademark battle was the first in a long line of roadblocks that couldn’t be ignored. Because those things were part of the romance community and I’ve always believed it could be better. That it was worth fighting for.
To my readers, who’ve supported me when I’ve spoken up about different things over the years, this book is for you. So many authors were writing ‘Cocky’ books in defiance, and I thought that was really cool, but I just kept thinking about the time I’d taken away from writing my next book. Time I thought was worth it.
I don’t want to forget that time, so I decided to add my own Cocky title, and include part of the Cobras’ story that comes before the next novel. As many of you know, the Dartmouth Cobras will be coming to an end after the next two books—not including this one—and this will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
But it will also be a new beginning, on a journey you’ve been on with me for almost ten years. A journey I wouldn’t be so excited for if you all didn’t love this team as much as I do. The Dartmouth Cobras are a huge part of who I am today. And as we continue down a different path, they’ll always be there.
To the readers who will still be there with them, thank you.
To Stacey, my dearest friend, without you, I don’t think I’d be taking this step. Thank you for listening to all my crazy ideas and believing in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself. I treasure our friendship every single day and I’m so grateful to have you in my life.
And to my daughters, yes, I promise I will get some more sleep. And we can play that game, and listen to that music and dance and sing, and do all the fun things you wait patiently for me to do after yet another insanely long day. No matter how hard I work, you bring me back to what’s really important. Another day. Another memory. A balance that took me a long time to achieve, but I’ve mostly, kinda sorta found! Lol
I love you so much and you amaze me every day by how strong and compassionate you are. How you encourage me to fight for what I believe in. Like I’ve always taught you.
Some people are scared of what will happen with the next generation.
I’m not the least bit worried.
You’re an example of what the future holds. The story yet to be told.
And it will blow us all away.
Humboldt Strong.
Chapter 1
Mid-Summer
Nothing beat a pickup game of street hockey with some local teens in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, all brought together with the Cobras who’d stuck in town for the summer.
Well…except for pranking rookies.
Scott Demyan smirked as Dave Hunt shifted uncomfortably between the pipes. A few feet to the right of the young goalie, the youngest Cobra, one of the few Australians in the league, Heath Ladd, rubbed his side, obviously fighting the urge to scratch himself. Braxton Richards moved off to the left, red face and tugging at his snug grey Cobra T-shirt.
Poor kid looked so uncomfortable.
“Ya’all right there, Ladd?” Luke Carter, one of Scott’s best friends, sounded almost genuinely concerned. His crooked grin ruined it though. He cleared his throat, schooling his features as he rested his stick on his shoulder. “You need a break?”
Standing around the sides of the makeshift ‘rink’, the teens glanced between the players, some looking confused, others exchanging knowing looks. News had spread over the past few weeks about the pranks going back and forth between the ‘Trouble Triplets’—which Scott was part of—and the three youngest Dartmouth Cobras, who seemed to be trying to earn the title.
As far as Scott was concerned, they could have it. He’d finished playing these kinds of games when he’d hit thirty. Well, unless he needed to teach some cocky little punks a lesson. They thought they could best him with their childish antics? Ha!
He was a veteran hockey player and he’d been pranked by some of the best. A bit of rose powder in the guys’ shirts was just a preview of what was to come. Wouldn’t take long before they wished they’d never hacked his email account and offered every news outlet in Canada an exclusive interview about why he was leaving the Cobras to go play in Germany. Reporters had been camped outside his house for days when he’d refused to answer their stupid questions. His agent had about lost her mind.
And that wasn’t as bad as the sex toy sponsorship they’d signed Luke up for, photoshopped pics on a billboard and everything—which had almost gotten him fined—or the party they’d thrown at Tyler Vanek’s house for a bunch of college students. Not that they’d admitted to either, but he didn’t buy the innocent act.
After helping Tyler clean up the mess of his house with Luke, then sticking with him to make sure his Masters, Chicklet and Raif, understood he wasn’t to blame, Scott decided it was past time to put these kids in their place.
They’d start off slow. Give the punks a chance to come clean.
If they didn’t?
Gloves were coming off.
Ignoring Luke’s questions, the rookies stripped off their shirts, grabbing water bottles and emptying them over their heads. Cameras flashed and the crowd of teens started laughing and letting out teasing catcalls.
Luke leaned against the brick wall of one of the apartment complexes, watching the rookies with a slanted smile. He tipped a bottle of Gatorade to his lips, then reached over to rub Tyler’s back when the youngest of their trio bent over, laughing so hard he was gasping. Ladd was trying to shield himself with his soaked T-shirt, while scratching like a puppy with fleas, which was freakin’ hilarious.
Vengeance is sweet.
Folding his arms over his chest, Shawn ‘Easy’ Pischlar, the oldest member of the team who’d come out to play, gave Scott a level look. “I can’t see this ending well.”
“Aww, it’s harmless.” Scott shrugged, nodding his thanks when Pisch handed him a bottle of water. “And
this’ll make them easier to deal with during the season. Imagine them pulling the shit they’ve pulled on us with White. He’d lose it.”
Stroking his jaw, Pisch nodded slowly. “True. But what makes you so sure it’s them?”
“Motive.” Scott checked to make sure Tyler had calmed down, then brought his attention back to Pisch. “Technically, Luke started this. He cut all their laces at the end of the season, but that was just an official way to tell them they were one of us.” He shook his head. “They’ve taken it too far.”
“I see.” Pisch looked past him, his lips quirking. “Game’s over.”
“Huh?” Scott followed his gaze.
Oh shit.
Dominik Mason, team captain and pretty much Ladd’s adoptive father—he was in the process of legally adopting Ladd’s younger siblings—cut through the crowd, practically growling at the reporters before moving to shield Ladd from view. The muscular black man had been the team’s enforcer before being chosen to lead the team, and he still had the edge that made him so dangerous on the ice.
Off the ice he was calmer, but as one of the many players in the BDSM lifestyle, and a Dom, his calm was much more frightening than his rage.
And he looked perfectly calm as he looked around, spotted Luke, Tyler, then Scott, and gestured them over.
“What’s going on here?” He grabbed a towel from the edge of the refreshment table, handing it to Ladd before locking his gaze on Scott. “Did you do this?”
Scott wasn’t a liar.
He also wasn’t an idiot.
Rubbing his hands over his lips, he glanced over at Luke, who shifted uncomfortably.
A few steps behind him, Tyler had gone white.
He wasn’t going to be much help either.
Scott sighed. “Look, Mason, we’re all just having some fun. It’s been a long summer. The kids have pulled a few pranks and we’re just getting back at them. No hard feelings, right Ladd?”
Ladd rubbed the towel roughly over his chest, his curly reddish-blonde hair spilling in damp strands over his face as he scowled at the street. He wasn’t a big talker on a good day, never mind when he’d been humiliated.
Scott would almost feel bad if he didn’t remember how stressful getting his step-daughter past the mob of reporters parked on his lawn had been. She was only seven and the crowd had scared her. Even with two professional hockey player fathers—only Zachary Pierce, the man who’d married her mother, could officially claim the title, but Scott was never treated as less—she’d never been exposed to the insanity of the media until this summer.
It was a lot harder to feel pity when he recalled the terror on his daughter’s face as the paparazzi had tried to cut his car off a block away from their house. The only reason he wasn’t angrier was because he doubted the rookies had planned for it to get that bad.
Unlike Ladd, Hunt wasn’t shy. He stepped up to Scott and slammed his hand into the center of Scott’s chest. “We haven’t pulled any fucking pranks. I thought you’d dropped the stupid accusations. That you just wanted to come out here and have fun. Do something cool for the community. What the fuck, man?”
“You’re full of shit, Hunt.” Tyler joined Scott, glaring at the young goalie. “Funny the chick you’ve been fucking showed up at ‘my party’, huh? I guess that’s just a coincidence?”
“Yes! There aren’t many colleges around here. And I only went out with her once!”
“And the pictures on that billboard just happened to be taken at the barbeque I invited you to, right?” Luke’s tone sharpened as he moved close to Scott’s other side. “Face it, you wanted to get back at me for cutting your fucking laces. You thought you were being cute, but you pissed off the wrong guys. Enjoy the rest of your summer, kids.”
Richards came over, much calmer than Hunt, but sounding almost hurt. “So this is how it’s gonna be from now on? I thought we were friends.”
“We were.” Luke’s jaw ticked. He jerked his chin toward the edge of the crowd. “You gonna sic your boyfriend on us?”
Richards’ throat worked as he looked over at the cop car that had pulled up. “No. And don’t call him that. Carter… Look, man, I fucking hate that you think I had anything to do with the shit that was pulled on you. I still consider you a friend.” He paled as the crowd thinned, letting the detective pass. Several reporters had taken the place of the teens the guys had been playing with, moving closer, likely expecting some drama to report on. “Please don’t out me. Don’t out him. We’re not…we’re not there yet.”
Some of the heat left Luke’s hard gaze. He inhaled slowly, voice low. “I wouldn’t do that. No matter how pissed I am…” He pressed his eyes shut. “Fuck this, I’m going home.”
Luke took off. Scott moved to follow, but Mason put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
The big man let out a deep sigh. “Demyan…Scott, this has to stop. I like you. I like your boys and I respect your man. But the team comes first and we can’t start the season like this.”
Scott ground his teeth, but didn’t look at the other man. He couldn’t without making things worse. “I didn’t plan on it.”
“Good. Then go cool off. I’ll talk to the rookies—”
“I’m not a rookie anymore.” Hunt approached Ladd, glancing over at him, then away. “And there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Stop acting like a rookie and we won’t call you one, Goalie.” Mason’s sharp tone had the young goaltender dropping his gaze and standing silently at Ladd’s side, idly scratching his neck. Mason pressed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “We’ll discuss this again some other time. I need to know what they did—” He stilled as Ladd lifted his head with a glare. “—what you think they did.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m right on that.” Scott reached out and grabbed Tyler’s arm, knowing the kid wouldn’t move with Mason’s looming presence triggering all his submissive urges. He’d been fine speaking up to Hunt, but he wouldn’t take on the captain.
Actually, he probably wouldn’t have gotten involved in the revenge plot at all if Scott hadn’t talked him into it. Scott frowned as they walked back to his car. Luke’s, which had been parked beside it, was already gone.
“Chicklet and Raif are going to lock me in the basement for the rest of the summer.” Tyler leaned against the side of the car and rubbed his hands over his face. “With a cock cage and a gag and—”
“And Laura, giving you that disapproving look that’s more effective than anything?” Scott chuckled before mussing up Tyler’s spiky blonde hair. “They won’t do that. But they might punish you if Mason rats you out. Sorry about that.”
Tyler groaned. “Don’t be. I wanted in. It was fun hanging out and planning this together.” He tipped his head back. “When all those people showed up at my house, I had no clue what to do. I’ve been working my ass off to make sure things are good there, you know? That Raif feels…safe. Losing his sight changed things I’d never thought of. Leaving something lying around can hurt him. He’s still learning to use the cane. Learning how to let Thora lead him…”
Scott’s throat tightened. He remembered getting the specially trained dog for Raif with Tyler and Luke. Raif had joined the team as an insanely good acquisition because he’d been one of the best shots in the league. That had ended after he’d cracked his skull on the ice and lost his vision. His career was over.
Thankfully, he hadn’t been home during the party, but he’d returned with Chicklet while Tyler was still trying to restore the house with Scott and Luke. He’d been shaken. Played it off as irritated, but any change to the one place familiar enough for him to feel safe in permanent darkness threw him off.
Having it invaded that way? Not knowing where he could walk without slamming into something that shouldn’t be there?
Tyler wasn’t a vengeful person, but anyone who hurt the man, or the women, he loved? No holds barred.
Still, it was impossible to look at Ladd, Hunt, or Richards and not wonder if they were punching down on
a bunch of kids. The rookies hadn’t meant any real harm. They didn’t know how crazy things could get. Maybe, now that they’d gotten a taste, they’d know better.
Scott could keep this going indefinitely. Luke and Tyler would follow any crazy plan he came up with and he knew it. He’d been looking forward to trying out some new pranks, harmless stuff, really, but that would only escalate the situation.
Hunt finding his truck in a public pool wouldn’t be terribly—
Nope. Done. I’ll be the adult and end this now.
Climbing into the passenger seat, Tyler eyed Scott as he got behind the wheel. He sighed and thunked his head against the back of the seat. “It’s over, isn’t it.”
Inclining his head, Scott started the car. “Yeah. Mason’s right. We can’t start the season like this and there’s only a few weeks to make peace.”
“Not sure I want to.” Tyler hunched his shoulders and stared out the window. “Chicklet’s favorite vase got broke at the party.”
Spitting out a laugh, Scott punched Tyler’s shoulder to get him to stop sulking. “It did not. Luke broke it while we were cleaning. And he replaced it before she’d even noticed.”
“I guess.” The edge of Tyler’s lips quirked. “Still. Adding coloring to Ladd’s body wash and watching him walk around looking like a Smurf for a few days would’ve been hilarious.”
“True.” Scott chuckled, picturing it. He’d been impressed that Tyler had come up with that one, researching ways to do it safely and everything. Ah well. “I’m serious, though.”
“So, we’re done?”
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