Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Tyler told Raif, who simply inclined his head. “It was my pleasure.”

  Chicklet sharply cleared her throat. “Was it really?”

  “Nothing like that, Mistress.” However messed up his head was, he couldn’t bear the thought that Chicklet might believe he’d cheated on her. “I wouldn’t—”

  “I don’t think you were in any place to avoid it if he’d wanted you.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  She let out a surprised laugh. “That answer was quick. How do you know? Did you ask him?”

  “Why would I? I’m not like that, Chicklet. Wouldn’t make a difference if he did.” Tyler ground his teeth as Chicklet chuckled. “I don’t see what’s so fucking—”

  “Careful, boy. I’ll put up with a lot because I know you’re upset, but you don’t use that tone with me.” Chicklet’s voice was hard, and he knew better than to test her when he hit her limits. And right now, he was pretty sure he’d gone way past that. Best to pick his fights. Like with what she said next. “I’ll have Laura there within the—”

  “Please, Mistress, if you don’t mind . . .” His mouth went dry as he heard the irritated sound she made in the back of her throat. “With your permission, I’d like to stay.”

  “With my permission, eh?” She laughed. A few seconds went by with him holding his breath, wondering if he’d gone too far. Then she continued. “Fine. But remind him he needs mine.”

  “For what?” Watch your tone, Vanek! He swallowed and spoke calmly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why I need to—”

  “You don’t need to understand. Do as I say.”

  His cheeks were blazing hot as he met Raif’s eyes. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “My Mistress wants you to know you need her permission.”

  Raif arched a brow. A slow smile spread across his lips. “I understand. Say goodbye, Tyler. I’d like to speak to her again.”

  “But I—”

  Chicklet clucked her tongue. “You’re being very difficult, boy. Must you question every command? Goodbye. I love you. Now put Raif on the phone.”

  “I love you too, Chicklet. And I miss you.”

  “There’s my good boy. Behave yourself, all right? Obviously you trust this man, so I will too.”

  Once he’d passed the phone to Raif, Tyler sat on the sofa with his throbbing head in his hands, wanting to sink into it and disappear as he listened to one side of the conversation. He’d said it before, but this time, he meant it.

  I’m never drinking again!

  Raif took a seat on the armchair across from Tyler, his eyes never leaving Tyler’s face. “I have no designs on his innocence, if that’s what concerns you.” He grinned. “No, I didn’t say that. I may touch him, but it will be strictly . . . how do you say—yes, platonic. I will handle him as though he were my own child.”

  Someone freakin’ shoot me.

  “I am aware that he is not a child. But he is not mine, and I have no interest in making him so.” Raif laughed. “Oh, I probably could, but that is not a game I play. His lack of experience keeps him safe from me.”

  Again with the virgin shit. Fuck you, man!

  “Yes. There is no need for concern. Ah, I see matters within the locker room are common gossip. But I don’t care to discuss the history Zach and I have with you.” Raif smirked. “No, Zach’s lovers have no need to worry right now. Yes, I do mean right now.” His eyes went over Tyler in a way that made Tyler’s pulse jump. “And neither do you.”

  After hanging up, Raif stood and held his hand out to Tyler. Tyler stood without taking it, glaring at Raif as he tried to figure out what game the man was playing. “What did you go and say that for? She was cool with me staying here.”

  Raif cocked his head slightly, studying Tyler’s face. “And you think she won’t be after our conversation?”

  “Not likely! You made it sound like eventually something might—”

  “I did no such thing. She’s a delightful woman and she was testing me. We have an understanding.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to. Come.” Raif held his arm out, gesturing to the bedroom. “There is a team meeting in several hours. I will see to it that you are well rested before then.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes and strode past Raif into the bedroom. He glanced over at the bed, then down at his towel. “Mind if I get dressed?”

  “There’s no need.” Raif folded over the thick comforter. “Get in.”

  Being in nothing but a towel had Tyler feeling a little vulnerable. Not a feeling he liked without Chicklet around. But he was damn tired. And as he crawled into the bed, rolling his eyes again when Raif tucked him in, the ache in his chest returned. There would be a team meeting today. Probably to talk about how they’d go on without Tim.

  He gave Raif his back as the man stretched out on the other side of the bed, on top of the blankets. Pressing his face into the pillow, he ground his teeth as the urge to break down again smothered him.

  “None of that. Come here.” Raif pulled Tyler close and made him turn. Brought Tyler’s head to rest on his shoulder. “I can offer you comfort, young one—”

  “Stop calling me that.” Tyler wasn’t sure he liked that he was so comfortable lying next to Raif. The man was acting like a Dom, and Tyler couldn’t help but respond. He held himself stiff, mentally counting out all the reasons this was wrong. “I have a name.”

  “But I will choose my own for you. We are friends, no?” Raif sighed when Tyler shrugged. “You, my boy, need your Domme very badly. I am a poor substitute, but I will do my best.”

  Tyler didn’t say anything for a while, but then it started hurting again and he had to talk just to prove he could still breathe. “Can you make the pain go away?”

  “I wish I could, Ty.” Raif smiled as Tyler tipped his head back, the stiffness leaving him. His friends in high school had called him “Ty.” “The name suits you?”

  “Yeah. I like it.”

  “Good.” Raif squeezed Tyler’s shoulder. “Sleep. And remember what I told you. He is watching, even now.”

  Tim was watching. Tyler’s throat felt tight and narrow as he imagined Coach being so close, but so far away. But at least Tim wouldn’t be worrying about him. Tim wouldn’t care who Tyler was with. He’d always made one thing very clear, each and every time he sent them out on the ice.

  “We’re family. We win or lose together. That’s the one thing you can never forget. Do your best, but you’re not out there alone.”

  * * * *

  Max lifted his head at a tap on the door. He’d been sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with Oriana, holding her hand and watching her sleep after she’d finally exhausted herself crying. He eased his hand from hers and went to answer the door.

  Then choked on a laugh full of relief as Sloan crossed the threshold. Grabbing Sloan’s wrist, Max jerked him forward for a rough, backslapping hug. “Fuckin’ good to see you.”

  “I got here as soon as I could.” Sloan stepped aside to let Chicklet in. Chicklet nodded to Max and went straight to the bedroom without even stopping for a hello. He could hear the women whispering softly. Within seconds, Oriana joined them. She wrapped her arms around Sloan’s neck, hiding her face against his chest as fresh tears spilled. Sloan spoke softly to her, then met Max’s eyes. “How’s everyone holding up?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve been . . . here.” Max felt a little guilty about shutting himself away with Oriana, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything else. “There’s a team meeting today. Around one.”

  “Good. Fuck, I wish I’d come sooner. I wish I could’ve—” Sloan’s eyes were haunted, full of the pain they all felt, but he didn’t look like he’d been crying. Max knew if Sloan had cried—or would cry—he’d be alone. He watched Sloan square his shoulders and the resolve tighten his features. Some might think Sloan was being cold, but Max understood his best friend. He’d handle his grief with action. “I’ll speak to Keane. See if
he wants me at the press conference. Richter . . .” He shook his head and his brow creased. “Richter needs to be with his family.”

  Max nodded slowly. It would be good if they could take some pressure off Richter. He couldn’t imagine how broken the man must feel, losing his brother like that. Just grasping losing Tim as their coach, their leader . . .

  As my friend. Max couldn’t think of anyone besides Oriana and Sloan that it would be harder to lose. He had to open his mouth just to draw in enough air as it really hit him that he’d go to the Forum today and Tim wouldn’t be there. The world had tilted on an unstable axis and every step was a challenge.

  Oriana shuddered, but straightened to look into Sloan’s eyes. “The team won’t welcome you. They would be bitter no matter what, but this will make it so much worse.”

  “I know.” Sloan inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. He didn’t speak again until they were all seated around the table. “Some will lash out, because there’s nowhere else for their pain to go. But I’ll take it. They’re right to be angry. I abandoned the team.”

  No. Max couldn’t sit by and let Sloan take this on. Sloan was hurting too, and the backlash would leave him emotionally battered. No one had the right to do that to him. Max wouldn’t allow it. “We need you. They have to see that!”

  “They will, but it’s going to take some time. And that’s fine. I’m not a masochist, but part of me needs this. I need their rage. Need to earn their forgiveness.” Sloan tucked Oriana to his side as she dragged her chair close and put his hand over the one Max had fisted on the table. He smiled at Chicklet as she placed her hand over theirs. Some might think she shouldn’t have stayed, but she was the only reason Sloan had made it here. She had a way with Sloan, could keep him from losing himself to the darkness when no one else could reach him. Which meant Sloan had to feel the pain like the rest of them, but at least he was letting himself. “I don’t need a fucking welcoming committee. I’m back. And I need to prove that means something. Tim wanted me here, and that’s all that matters. I’m gonna make him proud.”

  Max felt like his ribs were being cracked open to expose his heart, beating hard, so stubborn because it was like the blood-filled organ wanted to remind him that he was still alive. That he had to keep living.

  And he would. Sloan’s words took a while to reach him, but when they finally did, he lifted his head, not trying to hide the tears that came even as they spilled down his cheeks. Both he and Sloan had strayed, but they were back where they belonged. And the Cobras would make it.

  “The point is, you’re back.”

  Sloan’s lips hitched up at the edges in a hesitant smile. “Yeah. I’m back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ford settled in his office, spreading out all the accounting papers for the Ice Girls, the folders containing the names of the hopefuls and all their stats, all kinds of straightforward shit on his desk. Stuff he knew how to deal with. But every figure, every word, was a blur.

  Not that he’d really expected to get much done today. He just had to look busy. His hand shook as he picked up a pen to sign approval on an advertising contract for the girls. He glanced up at the clock above his door. Shouldn’t be too much longer now.

  It’ll be fine.

  Only, it wouldn’t be. There was no taking back what had happened. No preventing how easily Kingsley had removed any obstacles without a second thought. All Ford could do was make sure the man paid.

  But there were a lot of ways this could go wrong.

  I have to try.

  He pictured Tim, smiling at him with some deep knowledge in his eyes. As though he really saw Ford. Accepted him. Few had done that. Oriana had been the first, but he hadn’t wanted her to. He’d done everything in his power, without really meaning to, to make her reject him. He’d never had siblings, never had anyone who would love him unconditionally besides his mother. Facing Silver’s rejection had been so much simpler than actually letting himself feel Oriana’s pure acceptance. But with Tim . . . all the shit Ford had done didn’t matter. Almost as though Tim believed in the man he could be and would support that man. No matter what.

  Who else would do that? Ford lowered his head to his hands as he thought of Cort. Because Cort was that person. No matter how hard Ford pushed, no matter what he said, Cort would always be there. They weren’t blood, but they might as well be. Loving the same woman had brought them even closer once they’d dropped the alpha dog bullshit.

  Only . . . Cort wasn’t here now. He’d taken Ford’s advice and turned himself in. He hadn’t wanted to because he was worried about Ford. And really, he was right to be. What had Ford ever done without Cort watching his back? Without his father’s money and power?

  I finished school. I got my bar. And my job here.

  None of which mattered.

  Maybe not. But this will.

  Raised voices outside his office brought his head up. He checked his watch. They were early.

  Ford took a deep breath as his secretary shouted that she was calling a lawyer. A “Step aside, ma’am” had Ford cutting across his office and swinging the door open before his secretary could say or do the wrong thing and get herself in trouble.

  “It’s all right, Rosie.” He moved toward her, placing his hand on her shoulder and giving the two cops standing in the reception area a tight smile. “Can I help you, officers?”

  “Ford Delgado, you are under arrest for the charges of obstruction of justice and aiding and abetting in the murder of Charles Lee. I wish to give you the following warning.” The older cop, with sharp green eyes and a head full of bushy gray hair, faced Ford. “You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say may be given in evidence. It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel in private. You may call any lawyer you want—”

  Ford widened his eyes. Laughed and shook his head. “You’re joking, right? Why would I need a lawyer? I’ve been through all this shit before. I was cleared.”

  The second cop, mid-thirties and buff with a shiny bald head, grabbed Ford’s shoulder and pushed him over Rosie’s desk. “You aren’t planning to add resisting arrest to the charges, are you, Mr. Delgado?”

  “I’m not resisting—this is fucking mental! Get the fuck off me before my father’s lawyers sue you, you goddamn pig!” Ford winced as baldy put the cuffs on him. Tight. He toned down the struggling as the officer pulled him up straight. “It’s fucking February! You gonna get me my jacket or what?”

  “I’ll get it, Mr. Delgado.” Rosie frowned at him before heading into his office, her head held high. “They have nothing on you. Try to relax. I know you’re upset, but you don’t want to make things worse.”

  “Listen to the lady. She’s smart.” Baldy shoved Ford toward the elevator and Ford tripped, landing hard on his knees. The older cop’s tone tightened with irritation. “Hey, cool it, Hayes.”

  Down the hall, a few office doors opened. Silver’s secretary stared at him as he got back to his feet. Rosie ran down the hall to hand his jacket to the older cop before they got on the elevator. Ford stifled a smile as she quickly returned to her desk and started making a call.

  The elevator door shut. Ford scowled at baldy, Hayes. “You wanna loosen them up a bit? Be good if I make it to the station with both hands.”

  Hayed looked down at Ford’s hands. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I say red and that dumb expression on your face is gonna become permanent, eh?”

  The older cop coughed loudly, keeping his hand over his mouth as he eyed Ford. “You’re pushing it. Save the act for the cameras.”

  “I’m serious. My hands are going numb.” Actually, at this point, Ford could hardly feel his hands at all. He clenched and unclenched his fists to get some circulation back. “Should get Laura to teach you to do it right.”

  Laughing, the older cop put his hand on Ford’s shoulder to lead him from the elevator, through the lobby on the main floor of the Delgado Forum. “
I taught her.”

  “And you left this idiot to fend for himself?” Ford squinted as a camera flash blinded him. There were only a few reporters present since the press conference wasn’t happening for a few hours, but those who were there immediately got out their mikes and cameras. Before they reached the end of the lobby, the number of reporters had doubled.

  “Ford, what are the charges?”

  “No comment.” Ford took a deep breath, carefully turning his wrist to take some pressure off a spot that was getting pretty raw. Outside, three cop cars blocked the street, lights flashing. This was going to end up breaking news.

  I hope.

  “Mr. Delgado, does this have anything to do with the death of the Cobras head coach, Timothy Rowe? Are you a suspect?”

  Ice water filled his veins. His jaw hardened. “Tim’s death was an accident.”

  “But there’s still an investigation?”

  “Will this affect the Cobras’ game on Tuesday?”

  “Do your sisters know about this? Were they involved?”

  “No comment.” Ford bowed his head as the older cop put him in the backseat of the squad car. He kept it down as the door was slammed shut. Didn’t sit up until they were at the police station. Then he shot the older cop an apologetic smile before he straightened, jerking away from Officer Hayes, who’d come to collect him. “I’m a goddamn Canadian citizen. You can’t treat me like this. I’ll sue you if there’s a fucking mark, you hear me?”

  “I think everyone on the block can hear you. Are you done?” Officer Hayes asked.

  “I’m done. Just let me talk to my lawyer.”

  “We’ve got a few things to take care of first.” Officer Hayes strong-armed Ford from the car all the way into the booking room. While the older cop spoke to another officer, Officer Hayes led Ford past the main area to a long hall.

  Then shoved him into one of the many interrogation rooms. Baldy shut the door behind them.

  And Ford’s lips inched up at one side as he spotted the familiar face inside. “I take it they’re letting you take the case?”