“I am, just . . . my life wasn’t something to want until lately.”
Max bumped against Demyan’s side. “Lately is what counts.”
“True.” Demyan gave them both a stiff smile. “So that it? If I know Casey, she’s pretending to sleep until both me and Zach are home.”
“A good half of the Ice Girls that are going don’t have cars. I figure we could drive them between the three of us.” Tim counted the girls out on his hands. “Three in my car. Four in yours, four in Perron’s. Two are maybes, but they have their own cars.”
“Works for me.” Demyan saluted to them both, answering his buzzing phone as he headed out. “Figured that!” He laughed. “Put my baby on the phone . . .”
Tim spoke before Max could follow Demyan out. “Max, I hesitated asking you, but mostly because I know Oriana wants to go to the ball. And she’ll be alone.”
“She loves this team. And they love her.” Max could already see Oriana, all dressed up, dancing with every player while talking about the game. “I’ll ask her, but we both know what her answer will be.”
“Sorry, give me a sec.” Tim answered his buzzing phone. “Yes? No. I’m not sure what you mean.” Tim paused. “Yeah, I was given that offer. A couple of years ago. And my answer hasn’t changed.” Hanging up, Tim dropped his phone on the desk and sighed. “I’d feel better if Sloan was here.”
“So would I.” Max let his curiosity about Tim’s odd conversation slide. And concentrated on the matter at hand. Sloan could move on from the loss. Tell him he’d dance with Oriana and convince him the season wasn’t over. But from what Tim had said, Sloan would have been getting calls all night. He’d have turned his phone off, hopefully having made his decision.
The man was a Cobra. This was where Sloan—and Max—had started. And as far as the game went, this was where it should end.
Chapter Twenty-One
A fancy hotel ballroom, with round, white linen-covered tables circling the huge, glossy pale wood dance floor, crowded with the hundreds that had come for a chance to be close to the Cobras. Women who giggled behind their silk gloves, men who spoke loud after a few too many drinks. A band that switched between classical in slow rich tones, to covers of old and new songs, both a male and female singer that did pretty impressive covers. The music made the whole thing almost bearable.
But this still had to be one of the lamest things Cort had ever done. The tuxedo Ford had rented for him was too fucking tight—the idiots hadn’t measured him right. The buttons holding the jacket together were straining. If he bent over he was pretty damn sure the pants would rip.
And . . . shit, the drool from the chicks throwing themselves at him was gonna leave stains. The “ladies” were all fucking bunnies and they thought he was a player. Or someone connected to the team. He got a bit of a chuckle every time they asked if the Cobras had a chance for the Cup, and they gaped at him when he said the Red Wings would take it.
Yeah, maybe that made him an asshole, but he hadn’t asked to be here. He didn’t belong here. Fuck, he was the reason the team was gonna lose whatever slim chance they had at making the playoffs. The idiots would have to go on an impressive fucking winning streak to clinch a spot, and he didn’t see it happening. He glared at the starting goalie, the man who the fans had screamed for during the last game. Yeah, he’d kept the other team from scoring again in the third period, but so what?
It should have been a win. He’d told Roy it would be a win. And now the goddamn sociopath wouldn’t answer his calls. Which meant he was dealing with the unexpected loss in his own way.
I need to get Ford out of here. Cort watched Ford bowing low to Jami in mock formality as “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden began. In a pearl white gown, her short brown hair swept away from her face in a cute little updo, Jami looked so young, and too fucking fragile. She gave Ford a little shove, laughing at him until he straightened. Ford offered her his hand after looking to her father, and Sebastian Ramos, for permission. Both men nodded and Ford spun her around the dance floor. Holding her as though she was an old friend and not the girl who’d almost ruined him. Or who he’d almost ruined.
Hell, Cort couldn’t tell anymore. He half wished Akira was here to give him something to do other than watch Ford like one of the dancers was gonna pull a gun on him. Ford was probably safe enough here. The team’s security detail was pretty efficient. They were dressed in dark suits and blended pretty well, but Cort had seen them closing in on the groups of men near the refreshment table when things got rowdy. Besides, Akira would be here soon enough. Her mentoring thing should be almost over.
But when she came, he’d have to keep his distance. With all the camera crews hovering around the crowd—damn it, all he needed was for Roy to catch one image of Akira in his arms. There was no way Cort could pretend she was just another woman. He couldn’t hide how he felt about her. They’d been lucky so far, but Cort’s luck had a tendency to run out pretty fucking quick. Things were about due to go to shit.
I fucked up. Roy would make Cort pay for the money he’d lost on the “sure bet.” Cort needed to know when. How. But there was no way to tell. He’d been awake for three days, sleeping on Ford’s sofa with a gun in his hand, sure Roy would try to use his son again.
After a flask full of whiskey, Cort had even called Ramos, asking about Jami, probably sounding like he was fucking crazy. Roy had sent someone after her once. He wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. Ramos hadn’t laughed him off and hung up like Cort had expected. He’d asked a bunch of questions that Cort couldn’t answer, and from the shadows under his eyes as he watched Jami in Ford’s arms, the man hadn’t slept much either.
Twice now, Ramos had turned to look at Cort, like he wanted to have a chat. And both times Jami’s other man, Carter, distracted him. Once by taking a glass of champagne from a waiter passing with a tray—Ramos immediately retrieved the glass and returned it to the tray. The second time, Carter cut in on a dance, playfully taking Vanek away from the old lady who was groping him. Ramos shook his head, smiling at the boys as they danced in a tipsy two-step.
When Ramos caught the eye of Vanek’s Domme, Chicklet, and got a nod, Cort knew the man would head right over. He had the sudden urge to grab the closest lady and get in on the dancing himself, but he couldn’t avoid this. He couldn’t look out for both Jami and Ford. The man needed to know enough not to let his guard down.
Ramos didn’t say anything at first, simply stood beside Cort, his gaze trailing Jami and Ford’s progress around the floor. His jaw hardened as he glanced over at Cort, his arms folded over his chest. “You understand, I cannot protect her if I don’t know what the danger is.”
“Roy Kingsley. Pretty sure I told you that on the phone.” Cort rubbed his lips with his fist, trying to figure out what he could give the man. If he told him too much . . . he shook his head. “You saw what he did to Ford. That was just a warning.”
“He wants Ford to work for him again. Jami mentioned that she suspected as much,” Ramos said. “Ford clearly refused. It’s been over a month. What has changed?”
“He thought he was getting what he wanted. Then you guys lost.”
“It is the way of the game.”
“I get that, but there are ways to make it lean a little more in your favor if you’re a gambling man.” Cort was getting close to spilling more than he should. He chose his next words carefully. “All I can say is he’s done giving warnings. His next move will either be to make sure he’s taken seriously, or—”
“Or what?” Ramos turned to face Cort, his tone dangerously low. “I am not a stupid man, Mr. Nash. You clearly attempted to pacify Roy Kingsley in your own way and you failed. What will he do now?”
“I don’t know.” Which was the truth. In the state of mind he was in, Roy could do just about anything. There was only one sure way to stop him. He gave Ramos a tight smile. Might as well let him in on the rest. He didn’t see the man having any objection. “He wouldn’t be able to hurt
anyone else if he was dead.”
Ramos inclined his head, not looking at all shocked by the statement. He stared out at the dance floor as he quietly spoke. “Jail would likely limit his power as well.”
“It would. But I go to the cops, and I’ll end up behind bars myself. I won’t be able to protect Ford while Roy’s lawyers are sweeping whatever shit I can give them under the rug.” A dull ache settled between Cort’s eyes. He tried to rub it away with his finger and thumb. Rats didn’t have long life spans in jail. Even if Cort gave up enough to condemn Roy, he’d never make it to trial. “I should grab Ford and get the fuck out of here.”
“Perhaps you should discuss that with Ford. I doubt he’ll be willing to leave the others at risk behind.” Ramos’s expression turned grim. “The problems didn’t disappear the last time you ran, Cort.”
“No, but I’ve told you plenty. You can make sure everyone else watches their back. Ask for a fucking trade and get Jami and Carter out of here.”
“And what of Akira? Will you leave her to ‘watch her back’? Or will you force her to abandon everything she’s worked for to hide with you?” Even though Cort didn’t so much as blink, Ramos seemed to read something in his expression. Ramos’s jaw ticked. “There is a reason you’re not as worried about her. Roy doesn’t know she’s involved with you. You aim to keep it that way.”
“Yes.” Cort inhaled deeply, but he couldn’t get enough air. It was like someone had pulled a bag over his head, and he’d just taken his last breath. He’d had it good for a while, but it was over. “You’ll keep an eye out for her? She’ll probably go back to Dominik—he’s a good man.”
The music changed and Carter met up with Jami and Ford at the edge of the dance floor, offering Ford Vanek in exchange for Jami. Ford laughed and ruffled Carter’s hair before calling out to his sister. Oriana joined them and Vanek’s face went red. He looked to Chicklet, who motioned for him to go ahead.
Oriana whispered something to Vanek that made him laugh and stole the tension from his body. He took Oriana’s hand and led her in a slow waltz. So much history between all these people, and Cort didn’t know all of it, but he did know Akira was happy here. So was Ford, but Ford’s staying wasn’t an option.
Ramos surprised Cort by putting a hand on his shoulder. “He is a good man, but you are the man she loves. I owe you much for saving Jami, and I will repay that debt in part by telling you this. Give those you love the truth. Do not make this decision alone.”
“Right.” Cort watched Ford make his way along the table with a charming smile for all the rich old ladies who called out to him. A year ago he could have almost guaranteed Ford would agree to however Cort decided to handle things. Ramos was right; Cort had to talk to Ford. But he was more than a little reluctant because Ford would probably tell him the same thing Ramos had. Don’t run.
As Ford approached them, Ramos squeezed Cort’s shoulder, saying one last thing before he walked away. “We will speak again. Hopefully when I come to the police station to post bail.”
Shit. Cort frowned at Ramos’s back as Ford stopped, his expression making it clear he’d caught the last words. Ford jerked his head toward the door leading outside. Once they were away from all the smokers huddled on the recently shoveled path, Ford faced Cort, shoving his hands in his pockets to grab his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
He offered Cort one and sucked his teeth before placing the cigarette filter between his lips, speaking around it as he lit the tip. “Time to fucking talk, man. Why you need bail?”
Cort lit his own cigarette, watching the cloud of smoke that left his lips slink into the darkness. “I had to warn Ramos that your da—that Roy might come after Jami. We got to talking about how I’ve been working for the son of a bitch. And how I fucked up.”
Ford went perfectly still. Dropped his cigarette in the snow. And punched Cort in the face. “You dumb fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? That shit the other day had nothing to do with your stepfather, did it?”
Jaw throbbing, Cort swiped a trickle of blood from the edge of his lip, tamping down the instinct to strike back. “No.”
“How long has this been going on?” Ford took out his pack, put it away. Started pacing as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Wait, don’t bother answering, I can figure it out. He came to you while I was in the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why he hasn’t approached me again. He already had you.” Ford glared at Cort. “Were you paying off someone? You must have done something to keep him happy.”
“I did.” Cort stared at the dirty snow at the edge of the path, his guts churning, almost as disgusted with himself as he knew Ford would be. “The rookie goalie—”
“You had him throwing games? But he doesn’t seem like the type who would . . .” Ford’s eyes snapped. He looked ready to punch Cort again. “Angel. You had her playing fucking head games with him? That’s just sick, Cort. You’re messing with some kid’s career just to make my old man some money?”
“I did it because he almost had you beat to death the last time you stood up to him. He knows I killed Lee, so I didn’t have too many fucking options!”
“You stopped Lee from raping her! No way you’d do time for that!” Ford’s hand came out fast, but instead of punching Cort, he latched on to the front of his tuxedo jacket, speaking through his teeth. “I know you don’t wanna go inside again, but you gave that bastard too much power. Is all this shit worth avoiding a couple of years inside for involuntary manslaughter?”
Cort wrenched Ford’s hand from his jacket and jerked him close so the stupid kid wouldn’t miss one goddamn word. “This ain’t about me not wanting to do time. There’s nothing standing between you and him if I’m inside.”
“Then let’s put him away!”
“I plan to put him in the fucking ground.”
Ford let out a rough laugh. “Yeah, because two bodies, rather than one, will make this whole mess go away.”
Letting Ford go, Cort took a step back. “You got a better idea?”
“Actually, I do. All that education you made sure I got is good for something.” Ford rolled his shoulders and straightened his jacket. “You’re gonna turn yourself in. And I’m going to make a deal to get you cleared—if the law don’t work in your favor anyway. Either way, I can get plenty on Kingsley.”
The kid was living in some kind of fantasy world. If Cort didn’t know better, he’d ask if Ford was high. “You can’t get shit on him. I was working for him, and I don’t got nothing solid.”
“He’s desperate, right? If you get taken in, he’ll know he can’t use you. I tell him I want back in the fold, prove to him that I can rig the games, he’ll jump on the chance. He never hid anything from me before.” Ford smirked. “It’ll be just like old times.”
“And how exactly do you plan to rig the games? I thought you cared too much about this team to fuck with it.” There had to be some way to talk Ford out of this crazy plan. Cort thought of all the people Ford loved here and had his answer. “Your sisters, Jami, they’d fucking hate you if they found out—”
“My sisters are gonna know what I’m doing. Jami doesn’t need to be involved.” Ford scratched his jaw. “Besides, I’m not gonna need to actually rig any games. If I get someone in and can call even one game—”
“With your psychic fucking powers?”
“No, using the fucking odds. He wants the team in the playoffs. We need a winning streak. To make it seem real, I can talk to Tim—see if he can get the guys to hold back a little in the first period without letting anything in. Tell them not to burn themselves out too early or—”
“How many people you plan to get involved in this?” Cort asked irritably. He could just see Roy taking down the names of all the people who knew too damn much. All the people that would be in his way. “This can end now with no one else getting hurt. If we leave—”
“We’re not leaving. You’re gonna fucking trust me.” Ford put his hand on C
ort’s forearm. “You trusted me enough to let me close to the only woman you’ve ever loved. Trust me with this.”
Low goddamn blow. Cort tipped his head back and sighed. “I trust you, but I’m not sure how you think this will play out. Best scenario, I’m in jail and you start working for your dad again for real. And you never piss him off because I won’t be around to watch your back.”
“No. Best scenario, you get cleared, and he’s out of both our lives for good.” Ford grinned like he was so damn sure it was gonna work. “You come home every day stinking of grease, and I come home looking all sharp in my suit. And Akira is there, waiting for us both.”
“Barefoot and pregnant?” Cort chuckled, half ready to pack up his shit and move into Ford’s little dreamworld. “Or does this fantasy involve her waiting on her knees? Naked?”
Ford shrugged. “Either way. Don’t think she’ll want kids for a few years since she wants to open that figure skating school, but I ain’t in no hurry.”
“Good to know.” Cort sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He’d pretty much just agreed to all the insanity. Once he confessed to the cops, there’d be no turning back. Ford would be on his own. And Akira . . . fuck, they had to keep her safe. He couldn’t do this unless he knew she’d be safe. “Think we can get Akira to go on a trip?”
“No, but I’ve got an idea to make sure my dad don’t know she’s with us.” Ford got out another cigarette, his hand shaking slightly as he brought it to his lips. Just enough to show Cort he knew how serious this all was. “I’ll have her stay with Dominik.”
“Dominik would be good. He’ll take care of her.” Cort took Ford’s lighter and lit the cigarette for him. “Just . . . promise me something. You won’t take no stupid chances. Roy is fucking unstable, and if he thinks you’re setting him up—”
“I promise.” Ford looked around quickly, then grabbed Cort and gave him a tight, backslapping hug. “Pisses me off that you didn’t come to me sooner, but I get it. Guess I wasn’t in any condition to deal with the old bastard while I was still pissing blood.”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 35