Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  “You fucking coward.” Silver strode up to Landon, stabbing her finger into the center of his chest. “Why don’t you just say it? You want him.”

  “Silver, that’s enough.” Dean tested his leg as he stood, pleased that the pain was all but gone. But much less pleased with Silver’s attitude. Both he and Landon had shown patience when she wanted to try something new, like needle play or a fucking machine. Understanding when she decided not to try it at all. Landon had earned the same consideration, no matter where things went from this point on. “You will not speak to him that way.”

  “He needs you to talk for him, too?” Silver sniffed derisively. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this. Now you’ve got two subs.”

  “No.” Landon stepped toward her in a way that had Silver taking a big step back, her lips parted, eyes wide. “Is that what you’re afraid of Silver? That I’ll somehow take your place?”

  “You won’t take my place. I just won’t have one with you.” Silver’s lashes clung together with her unshed tears. She hesitated, moving as though to go to Landon, but instead came to Dean’s side, latching on to his hand as though he was the shore and facing Landon was like facing a storm trying to drag her out to sea.

  Dean drew her closer, but didn’t say a word. They might all be together, but this issue was between Landon and Silver. The best he could do was be here for them both.

  Silver hauled in a breath that sounded close to a sob. “I’m losing you. I know it sounds selfish, but I could handle being the one between you. The one you both loved. If that changes . . . if it’s Dean between us and nothing else . . .” She shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “No. Wait. We have a kid.”

  “’A kid’?” Landon glared at Silver, and Dean suddenly understood Silver’s fears. The child that should have brought them closer together had instead driven them further apart. “Amia. Our daughter. Yours, mine, and Dean’s.”

  “I know that.” Silver practically spat out each syllable. “Haven’t you heard? Two daddies can raise a child just fine.”

  “That is very true.” Landon closed his eyes. “Is that what you want? Are you tired of being a mother already?”

  “I was never tired of it, you asshole! I was sick!”

  “I know that! I’m trying to understand what you’re getting at! I don’t understand why you hate me so much!” Landon brought his hands to his short hair, raking his nails over his scalp. “One minute, everything’s fine, then this! There’s nothing . . . nothing between me and Dean that you need to worry about! I just . . .”

  “Just what?” Silver tightened her grip on Dean’s hand, her whole body shaking against him. “Say it.”

  “I love him.” Landon stopped breathing and went perfectly still. He stared at Dean as though he’d shocked himself and desperately needed Dean to make it okay. But Dean wasn’t given a chance. “I love you, and I love him, but it’s different. Does your sister worry about Max and Sloan?”

  “No. They might as well be brothers.”

  Don’t, Landon. Now it was Dean who stopped breathing. Silver had just given Landon a way to make all the emotions that confused him so much go away. An excuse to put up a wall that might never come down.

  And Landon took it with a firm nod. “Dean and I are no different.”

  “Really?” Silver looked doubtful, but hopeful. She glanced over at Dean. “You don’t kiss your brothers.”

  Dean shook his head, not sure what he’d expected. Landon and Silver had too much to work through to add further complications. And that was all he could call what he’d imagined between himself and Landon. “Landon and I have never kissed.” He gave Landon a level look, letting the other man know he accepted the choice he made. But not letting Landon see how much he hated it. “And we never will.”

  * * * *

  Max leaned his elbow on the bar, glancing around at the pressing crowd as Demyan planted a loud, smacking kiss on Vanek’s cheek while Carter ruffled Vanek’s golden curls.

  “You’re so cute.” Demyan told Vanek while refilling the four shot glasses on the bar, having temporarily taken over bartending duties since the waitress had let them into the bar. The bartender who should be here, Reggie, was late. And Demyan was taking full advantage of his absence, and the liquor.

  Apparently, Ford wouldn’t mind.

  “He really is.” Carter propped his elbow on the bar, sliding a little as he tossed back his shot. He sat up, raising his voice to be heard above the noisy throng, half the patrons surrounding them, demanding to know why they hadn’t gotten their drinks yet. They all looked annoyed at Carter distracting Demyan from filling their orders. “Zovko’s on! Halo boy’s gonna wanna hear this.”

  Vanek, who hated all the angelic nicknames the team gave him, made a face as he choked down his own shot. “You guys should wanna hear this, too. The Cobras are on the list of teams he’s willing to be traded to.”

  Demyan turned up the volume. Then looked over the crowd. “No more drinks unless everyone shuts up!”

  Well, that worked. Max nursed his beer and lifted his head to watch the interview on the huge screens above the bar.

  “Zovko, is it true you put the Dartmouth Cobras at the top of the list of teams that interest you? Above the Pens?”

  “Yes.” Raif Zovko gave the young reporter a rakish smile, which made the woman blush. His unruly brown hair fell over his forehead as his dark brown eyes locked on the camera in a way that made it seem like he was speaking to his audience and not to the reporters. “The team is very appealing. I’ve told my agent to accept any offer.”

  The reporters started shouting questions at him, but Zovko didn’t speak again until they calmed down. He nodded to an older man.

  “Do you believe you’ll fit in with the team’s . . . proclivities?”

  “I do.” Zovko laughed as the reporters began firing questions again. “Am I kinky? Shall I show you?”

  Damn. Max shook his head, glancing over at Demyan who was snickering and Carter who was showing some random girl pictures of his puppy. Vanek had his empty shot glass against his lips and was swallowing convulsively.

  “You okay, kid?” Max reached over and smacked Vanek’s shoulder to get his attention. “Had a few too many?”

  Vanek shook his head. He motioned toward the screen with his glass. “He’s flirting with them. The men and the women.”

  “That he is.” Eyeing Demyan and Carter, Max moved a little closer to Vanek, not sure how the other two men would react if Vanek said the wrong thing with his inhibitions shot. Demyan’s jaw had hardened and he’d turned the TV off. Carter had turned his back on the girl he’d been chatting with. Max shot an easy smile at both, then focused on Vanek. “I might’ve heard a few rumors about him being bisexual. Makes sense he’d want to join the team.”

  “But he was engaged.” Tyler’s face fell, as though the revelation bothered him. “He was dating this cute little country singer. They looked great together. I didn’t think he was—”

  “What? Gay?” Carter noisily gritted his teeth. “Shit, Vanek. I didn’t think you were a fucking bigot. Is it only cool when it’s two hot chicks?”

  “Fuck you. I’m not a fucking bigot like your dad, Carter.” Vanek slammed his shot glass in front of Demyan, staring at him until he filled it. Then he slurped it back, shuddering as he wiped his mouth with his hand. “I just . . .” He hiccupped, then laughed. “I thought Chicklet would like Zovko’s girlfriend, and we could all hang out or something.”

  Demyan grinned, taking a swig right from the bottle. “That’s hot. Chicklet, Laura, and Maggie whatever-her-name-is.” He looked Vanek over and his grin broadened. “No getting in bed with a man though, right, Vanek? Guess you and Zovko would just watch?”

  There was no mistaking the implication in Demyan’s tone, so Max laughed and patted Vanek’s back. “Nothin’ wrong with watching.”

  “Says you.” Vanek made a face as he stole Max’s beer. “It’s hot the first few times, but Laura isn’t big on s
haring.”

  “So you and Laura don’t—” Carter frowned abruptly. “Hey, what were you saying about my dad? Don’t bring up that asshole. I’m not his son anymore since he found out I’m with Seb.” He smiled, placing his phone on the bar. “I love Seb. And Jami.” His smile faltered. “Jami’s mad at me.” He turned to Max. “All your fault.”

  Max’s brow shot up. Looked like Carter was drunk enough to start sharing. Taking his beer back from Tyler, Max spoke as he brought the rim to his lips. “My fault?”

  “Yeah, she don’t like that I’m pissed at you—hey, where’s my beer?” Carter gave Demyan a dirty look. “You drank it, didn’t you?”

  “You weren’t drinking beer, dumbass.” Demyan went to the fridge at the other end of the bar and returned with four beers. He uncapped the bottles, then handed them out. “I got a hard time from Zach, too. Becky says she’s staying out of it.” He shrugged, glancing at Max. “I’m over it, I think. Just . . . hell, we needed you. Things kinda fell apart after you and Callahan took off. Hard to just make things okay because you decided we’re worth your time.”

  “We’re not.” Vanek mumbled into his beer, shoulders hunched. “He didn’t come back for us. He came for her. If Oriana wanted to stay in Calgary, Perron wouldn’t be here.”

  “Exactly.” Carter grumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he gulped down half his beer. “We could’ve managed without you. I’m fucking sick of people saying how important you are to the team. We’ve got lots of good people. You can’t just come back and expect everything to be cool.”

  “Like your dad.” Max wouldn’t have taken that approach if Carter was sober, but the buzz of the alcohol had the young man reacting slower. And more honestly than he would otherwise. Max knew enough about Carter’s past to put two and two together. “He came back to claim all the glory after you and your mom struggled for years.”

  “Fuck him.” Carter took a deep breath. “I hate him. But I almost . . .” He pressed his eyes shut. “I almost forgave him for what he did to my mom. For cheating and everything. Took a while, but I thought I should. Then I told him the truth and he decides I’m no good anymore. So fuck him. And fuck you.”

  “Luke.” Max wrapped his hand around Carter’s wrist, using his first name to get his attention as he stopped Carter from taking another swig of beer. Carter stared at him, his eyes glistening. “I didn’t want to leave, but I’m back. I love this team and I’m fucking proud of y’all for keeping the team going after me and Sloan took off. I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell your dad that you’re in love with a man. You’re right, though. Fuck him. You’re good and tough and I’m happy that you found people who love you like you deserve. Ramos and Jami.” His lips twitched. “Gotta tell you though, Jami’s like a little sister to me. So you better treat her right.”

  Carter nodded solemnly. Then lunged into Max’s arms. “I take it back. I love you, man.”

  “I love you, too.” Max laughed, rubbing Carter’s back as the kid hugged him. He should have known Carter’s “daddy issues” had something to do with his resentment. Luckily, the young man had enough invested in the game to “love” what Max could bring to the team once he let the rest go. “We good now?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” Carter ducked his head. “Sorry I was a dick.”

  “I’m not sorry.” Tyler tried to stand, but ended up tipping sideways off his stool. He sputtered as half his beer spilled over his face. “You were supposed to make Oriana happy. She won’t be happy here.”

  “Yes, she will.” Now this was unexpected. Max had figured Vanek was over Oriana. Was too happy with Chicklet and Laura to focus on her. But maybe some of his old feelings lingered. He set his beer down and helped Vanek back onto his stool. “Where is this coming from, kid? I thought you and Oriana were fine as friends.”

  “We are, but Sloan hurts her.” Vanek stared at the bar, fidgeting with his beer. “Dominik could have kept her safe, but he’s not with you anymore. And all you do is watch. You can’t keep her safe.”

  There we go. Max shook his head, pressing his hand to Vanek’s cheek to force the boy to look at him. “I don’t need to. Oriana knows what she wants. And I trust Sloan.”

  “I don’t.” Vanek cleared his throat. “But it’s none of my business. That’s what Chicklet said.”

  “She’s right.” Max softened his tone, recalling the last time he’d seen Vanek like this. His mother had a habit of dating abusive men. Vanek had grown up knowing just when to get the ice pack to tend to his mother’s latest swollen lip. Not long after Vanek had been drafted, he’d asked his coach in the minors for some time off so he could check on his mother in the hospital. When he’d returned, he’d been brought up to the Cobras to replace an injured player. He’d been only eighteen and overwhelmed.

  He’d gotten drunk that night and Max had taken him aside when he started crying. He’d held Vanek as the boy whispered that he was no better than the men who beat his mother. Because most of them got drunk all the time.

  Max had told him, drunk or sober, he’d never be like them. Because he knew how they treated his mother was wrong.

  It had taken some time, but Vanek had finally started seeing that there were good men out there. And that he was one of them. But that wouldn’t change how he’d react to seeing a sadist with a masochist. Consent wouldn’t matter. All Vanek would see was abuse.

  Oriana’s return brought it all back. But Vanek wouldn’t focus his anger on the woman. He might have reacted to seeing Dominik not part of the relationship, but when they were gone, it was easier for him to accept that there was nothing he could do.

  Vanek probably thought there was something Max could do. And resented the assumption that Max would do nothing.

  There was no way Max would justify the dynamics of his, Oriana’s, and Sloan’s relationship. But maybe he could say something to make Vanek feel a little better.

  “Has Chicklet ever punished you?”

  Vanek sat up. He inhaled sharply. “Yeah. I hate the cane. It hurts.”

  “But that’s not abuse?”

  “No! Chicklet loves me.” Vanek’s cheeks reddened. “I feel better when she shows me what I did wrong. Makes me pay. Then it’s over.”

  “Not everyone would agree.” Max paused, letting his words sink in before he continued. “You need to know you’ve taken the penalty and made things right. You’ve consented. So it’s not wrong.”

  Inclining his head, Vanek blindly reached for his beer. “It’s not wrong.”

  “And when she uses the flogger? And you enjoy it?” Max assumed Chicklet had done so. She wasn’t a tender Mistress. But Vanek might not see pain a woman gave as equal to the pain she received. “Is that wrong?”

  “Nothing Chicklet does is bad. It’s not the same.” Vanek propped his head on his hand, sliding until his elbow met Carter’s. He frowned at Carter, who seemed completely distracted by the texts he was sending. Then he sighed. “When I spank Laura . . . it’s bad, but not. Because it’s what Chicklet wants. Which can’t be wrong?”

  Oh boy. Max gently took Vanek’s beer away. He liked that the boy was relaxed enough to speak openly, but any more and he’d pass out. “It’s not wrong. Are you ready to go home?”

  “Reggie!” Demyan shouted before Vanek could answer. Demyan swayed as he crossed the space behind the bar to meet the very late bartender. “What’s all this?”

  The skinny man with bright blue hair dropped his bags on the floor. “Sorry I’m late. Had two full sleeves that ran long. Didn’t even stop at home to drop my stuff off.”

  “You any good?” Demyan braced himself on the bar, staring at the bags. “I want a tattoo.”

  “Hey, I’ll give you a good price since you covered for me.” Reggie took out his phone and showed Demyan a few pictures. “This was the last one.”

  “Nice.” Demyan dropped into a chair and rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I want a doe—like, the outline. And Casey’s birthday in Roman numerals.”


  Very sweet. Max had never pictured Demyan as a daddy, but he was obviously fully invested in the role. The doe idea was questionable, but getting his stepdaughter’s birthday on his arm wasn’t something Max thought Demyan would regret.

  “I can do that.” Reggie started pulling out his equipment. He grabbed a pen from the bar and drew on Demyan’s arm, holding his tongue between his teeth. “Something like that? What’s the date you want?”

  “Oh, you’re good.” Demyan took a deep breath and gave Reggie the date. He nodded once the drawing was done. “Perfect. Do it.”

  Shaking his head as he studied the picture, beautiful as it was, Max put his hand on Reggie’s arm to stop him. The tattoo was pretty big. And Demyan was in no condition to decide on something this permanent. “Can you trace it and do it tomorrow? Just so he’s sure this is what he wants?”

  Demyan frowned. “Fuck, Perron, really? It’s a tattoo for the woman I love and my baby. You think I’ll change my mind?”

  What to say? Max felt the weight of his phone in his pocket. He should call Pearce. Or Becky. But Demyan was a little old to need permission.

  “I want one too. Cats.” Carter cocked his head. “I think that’s Jami’s favorite musical. Something from that.”

  “I’ve got the perfect idea for you.” Reggie picked up the pen. “But . . . how old are you?”

  Carter stared at the man. “Seriously? I’m old enough to drink in the States. Just do it.”

  “What about you?” The skinny man seemed to see the three drunken players as a payday He turned to Vanek and all Max could think was that he liked his balls. And Chicklet would kill him if he let the boy get a tattoo.

  Vanek cocked his head. “No ink. Thanks.”

  Good boy.

  Reggie smiled. “Piercing?”

  “Nipples!” Carter folded in half, laughing so hard he couldn’t seem to breathe. “Jami will love it if I get mine pierced!”

  “Oh, that’s hot. You do that?” Demyan asked.

  “Yeah, got all my stuff and some nice silver rings—a few new barbells too.” Reggie jerked his chin at Vanek. “You in?”