Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  “Still not sure you can, kid.” Cord shook his head. “Sorry, I know you hate when I call you that. You’re not a kid anymore. Fuck, you grew up to be a better man than I’ll ever be.”

  Ford laughed and slugged Cort’s shoulder. “Enough of that crap. You’ll have some interesting stories to tell our grandkids about being their godmother’s hero.”

  “Some hero.” Cort shook his head, his lips slanting in an amused smile. “You and Jami have been spending too much time together. Stop with the baby talk before Akira decides to have you fucking neutered.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Ford grinned, then sighed and took a big step back. “Guess we should stop looking so friendly. How you gonna do this?”

  Cort turned back toward the door to the ballroom with an offhand shrug. “Might as well take advantage of the fact that there’s a cop right here. Don’t think she’s got cuffs under that little red dress.”

  “Chicklet might have a pair to lend her.”

  “Real funny.”

  “No, not funny at all.” Ford stopped him at the door, his brow furrowed. His throat worked as he stared at the door. “But you’re doing the right thing. And even better, you did it before it was too late.”

  Cort gently moved Ford aside and opened the door. “Just tell Akira I’m sorry. And I love her.”

  “I will.”

  “But—” Cort hung his head and closed his eyes. “Make sure there’s no one around. And make sure she understands—”

  “I will, Cort. I’ve got this.”

  “Right.”

  Inside the ballroom, Cort looked around until he spotted Laura. She wore a knee-length, crimson silk dress, her light brown hair in fluffy curls, her face glowing as Chicklet fed her a cherry from the top of her fruity drink. She laughed as she caught her Mistress’s wrist and sucked the juices from her fingertips.

  Chicklet lifted her head as Cort stopped in front of them. She gave him a hesitant smile. “Hey, Cort. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He turned his attention to Laura, and his lips quirked as her eyes narrowed. “Take it you know who I am?”

  “Yes.” Fine creases formed on her forehead. “You’re aware that you’re wanted for questioning? I have to call someone to bring you in.”

  “How about I give you one better? I’m ready to confess.” It was fucking weird, but he felt kinda good. This shit wouldn’t be hanging over his head anymore. He cleared his throat. “I’m the one who murder—”

  “Not another word.” Laura took her phone out of her small, black beaded purse and gestured for him to follow. “First of all, murder is a charge, not an action. Even if you killed Charles Lee, there’s no need to discuss it with me. Or anyone until your lawyer tells you otherwise.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am.” She made an irritated sound as they reached the hotel lobby. “Why now? I’ve seen your file. You don’t have a reputation for cooperating with law enforcement.”

  “Guess now would be a bad time to tell you I’d be gone already if I didn’t have a reason to stay?” He gave her a rueful grin when she scowled at him. “I shouldn’t be discussing this with you?”

  “No. But I haven’t given you the Charter of Rights—damn it, you’re from the States, aren’t you?” Laura paused while dialing on her phone. “It’s a little different from Miranda rights, but the basics are the same. You have the right not to incriminate yourself with anything you say. So just don’t say anything.”

  “Got it.”

  “This won’t take long.” She kept her eyes on him as she made the call. Then led him outside. The second the cop car pulled up, and Cort felt all his muscles tense. He had to force himself not to make a run for it.

  Cameras flashed from somewhere off to the side. Cort turned his head, but they were everywhere. He clenched his jaw as someone stepped up behind him.

  “Give me your jacket, Cort,” Ramos said.

  Ramos’s big body blocked Cort from one side. His sub, Carter, blocked Cort’s other side. Cort let Ramos take his jacket, all the noise around him, the curious onlookers, the reporters trying to get closer, the cops talking to him, all jumbling together so he couldn’t make out a single word. He nodded when the cop asked, “Do you understand?”

  The metal of the cuffs on his wrists was ice cold. More flashes, but his jacket was suddenly hanging over the cuffs. He stared at Ramos as the man backed away.

  “You get one phone call, Cort.” Ramos gave him a bracing smile. “My number is in the pocket of your jacket. I will provide you with legal counsel.”

  “You don’t gotta do that, man.” Cort laughed as the cop shoved him toward the squad car. “Fuck, I turned myself in. No need to be pushy.”

  “Shut up, Cort!” Carter backed up a few more steps when Laura frowned at him. “If you piss them off, they’ll, like, beat you with phone books or something.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” Vanek had joined Carter on the sidewalk, cutting off the reporters even more as Cort was placed in the backseat. “Claim police brutality. You’ll be out tomorrow!”

  “Tyler, get back inside.” Laura looked past him to Chicklet. “He’s not helping.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Vanek’s tone seemed to set Laura’s teeth on edge. And the kid moved even closer to the door before the arresting officer could close it. “You helped Jami. The team’s behind you. Don’t take any shit.”

  Chicklet pulled Vanek back. The door was slammed shut. Cort rested his hands on his lap, thinking on Vanek’s words. Sounded like exactly what his stepfather had said the last time he’d been arrested.

  “The club’s behind you, Cort. Don’t you fucking worry. You won’t be in long.”

  The club hadn’t been able to do a goddamn thing. Not for him, and not for his biological father, who was doing life. But Cort had done okay in jail. He wasn’t as built then as he was now, but he’d held his own. He’d gone two years without getting raped or any kind of shit like that, but he’d spent plenty of time in SCU, or solitary, for “disorderly conduct.” Cracked one guy’s skull in the showers for grabbing him. Got in more fights than he could count.

  It was the hotbox that had almost broken him. The walls so close, like they’d crush him. As a kid, his mom had let him run wild in the fields outside his dad’s club. As soon as he was old enough to ride, his only limits were where the road ended. But waking to those walls around him was a constant reminder that his freedom was gone.

  And he might never get it back.

  He’d done everything he could to avoid going in again. Until now. Now he’d let them put the cuffs on him. He’d gone willingly.

  Stupid. He barked out a laugh that had the officer watching him warily through the rearview mirror. Why didn’t you fucking run, Nash? You should have fucking run.

  He pressed his eyes shut and let Ford’s words play over and over in his head as the car pulled up in front of the station. “You trusted me enough to let me close to the only woman you’ve ever loved. Trust me with this.”

  “I trust you, Ford.” Cort mumbled to himself, trying to block out the confines of the cop car. Trying not to think about the cell he’d be sitting in shortly. Or the hospital bed Ford would be lying in again if he made the wrong move. “Just watch your back, kid.”

  The cop turned to him as he parked. “You say something?”

  Cort shook his head, glaring out the window. “Got nothing to say without my fucking lawyer.”

  “You heard what I said before, right?” The cop’s tone was calm. Almost comforting. And so low Cort had to listen close just to hear him. “You have the right to apply for legal assistance if you need it.”

  Ramos had offered to get Cort a lawyer. And, hell, maybe he should take him up on it. If there was any chance he could get out—fuck, even on bail . . .

  “I think I’ve got a lawyer.” He didn’t move as the cop came around the car to open the door. Got out nice and peaceful-like, because that would look good. And sinc
e the cop wasn’t being an asshole, Cort didn’t laugh when the guy slipped on a patch of ice. He just stood there and waited for the man to bring him through the sally port. “Can I make a call?”

  “After I book you.” The cop’s tone hardened a little as he brought Cort to a small room and handed him an orange jumpsuit. Cort knew the drill. He changed and gave the cop his tuxedo.

  No big deal. Cort went numb as the cop brought him to the booking desk. Just like coming right back fucking home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Not all the Ice Girls were going to the charity ball, but those who were had gathered in the bathroom of the large arena beyond the rink where they’d skated with the high school girls. Akira came out of one of the changing stalls in her dress and joined Sahara at the sink, placing one hand over her exposed chest as she looked in the mirror.

  “Very daring, Akira. I like.” Sahara winked at her as she swept another coat of mascara over her lashes. She faced Akira, looking over Akira’s low cut, V-neck sky blue halter gown, then down at her own pale gold, strapless dress. Sahara brought one hand up to her elegant topknot, then smoothed her fingers over the tendrils framing her face. “How old do I look?”

  “No more than twenty-two.” Akira sighed when Sahara frowned. “Oh, sweetie. Don’t try to look older.”

  “I’m not. Of course I’m not.” Sahara’s chin jutted up. “Why would I?” She grinned. “Think Pischlar will ask me to dance?”

  “I think he’ll ask for more than that.”

  Sahara laughed and bumped her shoulder against Akira’s. “So naughty. You better let Ford and Cort dance with you at least once before you drag them home. I bet they both look lickable in a tux.”

  “As if I could drag them anywhere. I am a good little sub.” Akira winked as she slicked some peach-flavored gloss on her lips. “I do as my Master commands.”

  Their youngest Ice Girl, Justina, stared at Akira as she approached the next sink, fussing with the fluffy skirts of her black gown, her hand covering her chest as well above the pink-beaded sweetheart neckline. “I can’t get used to you calling anyone ‘Master.’ You’re just so . . . strong.”

  Madeline, the wife of the Cobras’ head coach, came up behind Justina and hugged her. “Akira is very strong. It takes a lot of strength to trust a man that much. And to find the one who deserves it.”

  “Like Coach.” Justina glanced back at Madeline. “I hope I find someone just like him. He’s amazing.”

  “He is, but he’s not my Master—unless I ask him to be.” Madeline chuckled. “Between us girls, he’s just as happy kneeling to me as he is when I submit to him. There’s all sorts, honey. You’ll find someone right for you.”

  “Maybe.” Justina tugged at the bodice of her dress. “Some guys like big girls, right?”

  “Don’t make me take out my whip, little girl.” Madeline lightly slapped Justina’s shoulder. “You’re speaking to an old lady who is about fifty pounds heavier than you. If you’re a ‘big girl,’ what does that make me?”

  Oh, I love her! Akira wrapped her arms around Madeline’s waist. “You’re not old!”

  “I second that!” Sahara pushed her breasts up and shook her head. “And please let me come over to dinner sometime! I need to gain some weight! Right here!”

  “You girls make me so glad I’m not young and silly anymore.” Madeline gathered them all in a hug, giving all the other girls she couldn’t reach a big smile. “You’re all beautiful.” She looked at Justina. “And I heard what that nasty bitch said to you. Don’t you dare believe a word of it.”

  “Oh, I don’t! Sahara and Akira took care of that.” Justina blushed and ducked her head. “I’m just . . . I’m happy I finally made it. I’ve never been part of anything this amazing.” She bit her bottom lip. “Did you see my brother out there? He was mad that my parents made him come, but when Scott talked to him—”

  “He was the adorable little redhead, right?” Carey, a quiet little brunette, a few years older than most of the girls, asked in a whisper. “He reminds me of my son. Pierre loves the team too.”

  “Yeah, but I hope he’s not bugging Scott too much. He was still with him when we came in here,” Justina said.

  “I don’t think Scott minds at all. He’s got his own kid, so he’s used to it.” Akira had seen Scott with Casey. From playboy to super dad. When she’d found out he was coming, she’d known all the younger ones in attendance would be fine. “I think everything worked out perfectly. I’m gonna ask Silver if we can do this again next year.”

  “Already done.” Madeline shooed them out of the bathroom. “You’re all perfect. Now let’s give our boys someone to dance with besides rich old ladies!”

  Outside in the parking lot, Akira waited with a few other girls who’d gotten a lift from Scott as he spoke with Justina’s brother while turning his keys in his ignition, his tone light even though he must be getting annoyed at the whine and stutter noise his car was making. Justina pulled her car up in front of Scott’s to give him a jump start. It wasn’t working.

  “I’d love to stay, kid, but I’m supposed to be somewhere,” Scott said to Justina’s brother before dropping back into his seat, groaning. “What the hell!”

  “I can bring some of the girls back with me.” The father of one of the Ice Girls approached, leaning on the door of Scott’s car. “They’re not all going to the ball, are they?”

  “No.” Scott looked up at Akira. “Split the girls going between Max’s car and Mr. Slogan’s. Tim will have too much equipment in his car for more than one person if he’s gotta take the stuff I brought.”

  Max came up to the car and stood beside Mr. Slogan. “You gonna head back with Tim?”

  “Yeah.” Scott chuckled as the crowd around the barrier security had set up thickened. “I’ll go sign some stuff and meet up with you guys in a bit. Tim’s the man, but they don’t really want the coach signing their jerseys.”

  “Maybe I should stay?” Max followed Scott’s gaze to the fans. “I hate walking away from our admirers.”

  “They’ll live. Look at these girls. They’re all prettied up.” Scott got out of his car and shut the door behind him. “If I don’t get there in time . . . just make sure Becky never leaves the dance floor. And tell her I’ll take her out dancing sometime soon to make up for it.”

  “Will do.” Max hugged Scott, then waited for Akira to sort out the girls who were going to the ball.

  Akira put her hand on Justina’s arm before she could follow Scott to the crowd. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “In a bit. I know my dad will bring my brother home, but I have to admit, I love seeing him following Scott around. He gets in a lot of trouble at school. He kinda likes hockey, but he’s not serious about anything.” She smiled as her little brother gazed up at Scott while Scott spoke to an adoring fan. “Maybe he will be now.”

  It took an hour to drive to the hotel in Dartmouth. When they got there, all the girls spread out on to the dance floor, pairing up with the players. Akira spotted Ford. She moved toward him, but he held up his hand and nodded toward Dominik.

  She swallowed, not sure why he wouldn’t come see her first. It was hard not to feel a little rejected. Maybe Ford was busy. This was a charity event, after all. But still, wouldn’t he want to be near her after the time they’d spent apart?

  “Don’t look at him, Akira.” Dominik’s solid arm came across her back. His cheek pressed to hers as he whispered, “Right now, as far as everyone is concerned, you’re still with me.”

  “But . . .” What? That didn’t make any sense. “I’m with Cort. And Ford. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Cort was arrested tonight.”

  No! Akira’s blood ran cold, as though all her veins were filled with melting ice. She went stiff, tried to turn, but Dominik held her firmly as he moved her in a slow dance to “Desperado” by The Eagles. And the song itself made her want to push him away and scream at him. Not Cort. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Why would he
let this happen?

  “Let me go, Dominik. I have to go talk to Ford.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed at his chest. “He’ll know what to do.”

  “He was the one who asked me to keep you away from him.” Dominik made a soft shushing sound. “He’s trying to help Cort. To help the team. But he can’t if he’s worried about you.”

  “He doesn’t have to worry! I’m fine!”

  “Be still, little one.” Dominik’s arms tensed around her. “Ford’s father—Kingsley—doesn’t know about you. If he did, he’d use you. He’d have someone hurt you so much worse than he hurt Ford.”

  She trembled, pressing her face against Dominik’s chest as she saw Silver looking over at her, concern in her eyes as she danced with Dean.

  “If . . . if people see me with you, Ford and Cort will be okay?” Please tell me they’ll be okay. She couldn’t stand the thought of Cort in jail. And what had happened to Ford . . . that couldn’t happen again. “I need to do something.”

  “You’re doing it. Smile, pet. Make it as real as you can.” Dominik kissed her cheek. “Kingsley will be watching. Be my strong girl and don’t give him anything. We don’t know if there are pictures out there with you and Cort. Or you and Ford. If Kingsley sees you with me, not reacting to Cort’s arrest, not even looking at Ford, he’ll move on.”

  “He’ll try to use Silver. Or Oriana.” Where was Oriana? Akira spotted her on the dance floor with Max. Max was pressing his hand to her cheek, saying something to her. “Or . . . damn it, Ford cares about the team now. Kingsley can use anyone!”

  “Shh . . . not you.” Dominik held her head against his chest. “All I can do is make sure it’s not you.”

  Akira couldn’t smile. She wasn’t that good of an actress. But she did lean into Dominik, letting him lead her in one dance after another. Whatever Cort and Ford were dealing with, she didn’t want to be a distraction. Or a weakness. So she clung to Dominik and ignored everyone else, as though he was the only man she wanted.