Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Wording it that way finally got through to her. She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. But how likely is it that he’ll say something we can use tonight?”

  “I don’t know. He might.” Ford rolled his eyes when Detective Hamilton shot him a hard look. “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think there was a chance.”

  The detective placed the tiny, felt bug against the inside of Ford’s belt, his fingers hooked to the leather as he met Ford’s eyes. “Don’t lead the conversation. Let him talk.”

  Ford smirked. He couldn’t help it. Kinda had to get “in character,” right? “You’re getting kinda friendly, Detective.” He smirked as the man’s eyes hardened. “If I’m gonna be your bitch, maybe a few beers first? I’m a cheap date.”

  “I bet.” Hamilton scowled as he released Ford’s belt. “Don’t be an idiot about this. You’re no use to anyone dead. And I’m your only hope of getting out of there alive if things go south.”

  “If I do everything you say?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Pal, I play things your way—be a good boy—Kingsley will know something’s up.” Ford tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling of the van. His heart raced to the point that he could feel the web of veins pulsing hard in every limb. He was being a complete asshole, but what else could he do? The only other option was showing how fucking scared he was. And if he couldn’t hide that here, he couldn’t hide it once he got past those gates. So he didn’t worry too much about pissing off the cop. “So, yeah. I’m gonna be an idiot. Don’t come in and rescue me or anything. I’ll be fine.”

  Laura grabbed his arm, her tone harsh. “We’re here if you’re not. I get why you’re doing this. I respect it because Akira’s a good girl and Cort . . . he did what he had to for Jami. I want him out, too.” Her brow furrowed. “But I’ll be the uniform at their doors if anything goes wrong. I’ll insist. Don’t make me do that.”

  “I’ll. Be. Fine.” Hell, maybe if he repeated it often enough, he’d believe it himself. “Record everything. Hopefully we’ll be halfway done when I walk out those doors.”

  “You need something to say if you’re in trouble, Ford.”

  Now that was just funny. Again, he was the “safeword Dom.” His brows shot up. “How’s that gonna work? A safeword is something you wouldn’t normally say.”

  “Not with us. Pick something normal for you.” Laura raked her fingertips through the slick hair above her tight ponytail. “Like . . . ‘this is fucked-up.’”

  All right, he could do that. Kingsley wouldn’t even blink at those words. And Ford kinda liked knowing saying that could save him. But . . . “Fine. What do I say for I’m okay?”

  Laura glanced over at Hamilton. “’I get it’? We’re listening to everything, so we won’t react if things sound in control. But if we’re not sure, that would be a good sign that you’ve got things handled.”

  “Right. I can slip either in easy. Just don’t do anything unless I say either one.”

  “Ford—”

  “Swear it.” He refused to do this halfway. Going in there had some risks. But they’d just get worse if he had to worry about cops storming in. “I’m a big boy. This is what I know. I’m trusting you to be there if I need you. All I ask is that you don’t fuck this up if I don’t.”

  It was Hamilton who gave Ford the assurance he needed. He smacked Ford’s shoulder hard, then gestured him toward the back door of the van. “You’ve got it, kid. We’re here if you need us. And we won’t make a move if you don’t.”

  “Thanks.” Ford cracked his neck and cast one last sideways glance at the detective. “You still think I’m one of the bad guys, don’t you?”

  Brow arched, lips quirking, Hamilton inclined his head. “Damn right, I do. But that could change.”

  “Watch me.” The edges of Ford’s lips curved slightly as he stepped on to the street. “And it will.”

  Ford felt pretty damn good as he sauntered up to Kingsley’s front door, but his bravado faltered as the lock clicked open. The butler let him in, and suddenly Ford’s common sense had something to say.

  You might not be a bad guy, but since when are you some kind of hero?

  No, he didn’t think he was a hero. Cort had been Jami’s hero when he’d saved her from Lee. Tim had been a hero to the Cobras. Ford was just finally doing something good. Something that should have been done a long time ago.

  The reasons for Akira’s lasting hatred came back to him as he followed the butler down the long hall, familiar priceless trinkets on ornate tables at either side of him, an elegant, thick runner dulling the heavy thunk of his boots. He hadn’t spoken up before, hadn’t tried to stop his father, and too many people had been hurt. It was too late to fix that.

  But he could make sure it never happened again.

  Kingsley was in the kitchen, his suit jacket abandoned on the back of one of the wooden chairs around the small, glass breakfast table. He stood at the sink, back to Ford, staring at the water filling the sink. Something about his stance made Ford’s pulse pick up speed. Common sense was shouting for him to turn around and get the fuck out of there.

  Common sense had never held much sway with Ford. No point in letting it call the shots now.

  “You were arrested.” Kingsley’s tone was cold, every word spoken with exaggerated clarity. “Because of Cort, yes?”

  “Yes.” Ford held his breath, unable to find strength in the cockiness he’d planned to lean on. There was something in the air, a sense of being on the edge of a cliff without the power to step back to safety. He’d played this all wrong—he could tell just by the way Kingsley stared at him over his shoulder. The man was questioning Ford’s worth. And Ford had to remind Kingsley he was still good for something. “They’ve got nothing on me. Your lawyer had me out of there really fast, and I was able to—”

  “To what? Please tell me you’re not going to take credit for the Cobras winning that game. I watched it. The assistant coach managed to reach some of the players. One of the young ones . . . Vanek, I believe?” Kingsley shrugged when Ford didn’t reply. “He moved beyond the ‘tragedy’ and seemed to recall what he’s being paid to do.”

  Ford didn’t like that Kingsley was singling out Callahan and Vanek. That wouldn’t lead to anything good. And the passing mention being recorded would only be useful if Kingsley made a move. He watched as Kingsley picked up a bottle of bourbon off the counter and filled two tumblers. “Working around the coach’s death won’t be easy.”

  “I expected as much. But the team must make the playoffs.”

  “I agree.”

  “Good. Then, so far, we’re on the same page.” Kingsley handed Ford one of the glasses, then took a sip from his own. His calm was unsettling. “The backup goalie played better than expected.”

  “He’s talented.” Ford gulped down his bourbon, mouth as dry as sun-scorched sand. The liquor only made it worse. But he held Kingsley’s level gaze, trying to read the man. “That’s why we drafted him.”

  “’We.’ It’s amusing that you word it that way. As though you were somehow involved.” Kingsley shook his head, laughing quietly. “Only, you weren’t. For all your ‘involvement’ with the team, you don’t seem to have much influence.”

  “I’m where I need to be. The GM won’t be around much—he’s grieving. My little sister is trying to be there for him. Keane is new, so he’ll need someone who knows the team. That’s my angle.” Sounded good, but it didn’t look like Kingsley was buying what Ford was trying to sell. His expression never changed. So Ford tried a different approach. “The players come to my bar. I’m in a good position to get inside information and—”

  “Nothing more than anyone who reads the team blogs can learn. You cannot change the outcome of the games.”

  “I can. I’ve just gotten started. Give me a chance to see who I can use.”

  “Why would anyone trust you? They all know you’re a criminal. Your face was in the papers. The news coverage was qui
te embarrassing.” Kingsley clucked his tongue as he held his hand out for Ford’s glass and refilled it. He circled Ford slowly as he spoke. “Tell me how you plan to play this. I’d hoped to hear all about it when my lawyer freed you, but you decided I didn’t need to be kept informed.”

  “There was nothing to say. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

  “You are wasting my time. I’ve yet to be convinced that you’ll be of any use to me.” Kingsley stopped behind Ford, and it took all of Ford’s willpower not to bolt. He swallowed hard as Kingsley whispered close to his ear, “I won’t spare you for your mother. That time has passed.”

  Ford’s heart stuttered at the mention of his mother. His throat locked. He pressed his eyes shut. “I know that. But she loved you. She’d want me to do what I can for you.”

  “Perhaps.” Kingsley’s hand fell hard on Ford’s shoulder. “But I’m not sure there’s much you can do. And your defiance is trying. All I ask is a little gratitude, and you couldn’t even give me that.”

  I fucked up. Damn it, he wasn’t dealing with the man who’d raised him. He was dealing with someone much more dangerous. Unpredictable. He cleared his throat. “I’m grateful. And I will repay you.”

  “How?”

  “The team will make the playoffs.”

  “I don’t need you for that.”

  “Don’t you? Losing a man like Tim, a coach that handled his team like they were all blood, could easily put the Cobras in last place. I’ve gotten to know the players well enough to work around what you—” Ford cut himself off. Too late. He wasn’t supposed to lead the conversation, but his last statement came too close to an accusation.

  “Ford, I don’t like what you are implying. Do you think I had something to do with the coach’s death?” Stepping away from Ford, Kingsley moved to stand at the counter, casually resting his hip against it. “It was an accident. Very sad. Tim was such a strong man. So dedicated to the team. I admired his conviction.”

  “I’m not implying anything.”

  “Good. So back to your situation. Cort’s little crisis of conscience is quite unfortunate. You could have been considered an accessory to his crime.”

  “Your lawyer fixed that.”

  “He did.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “A ‘thank you.’” Kingsley’s tone changed. Became sharp, betraying his tenacious grip on control. He reached out and latched on to the back of Ford’s neck. “Know this. You are nothing to me. Nothing but a reminder of so many mistakes. A reminder I don’t need.”

  The old man was strong, but it was the shock of being forced face-first into the sink that kept Ford from fighting back. Eyes wide open, he struggled against the grip on his neck, thrashing as water filled his mouth. He clamped his lips shut, struggling to hold his breath. His mind raced as he tried to find a way to survive and came up with nothing. How many times had he lay at Kingsley’s feet as a boy, staring up at the man, hearing his mother pleading for her husband to stop? All Kingsley had done then was shove Ford and reach for the gun at his belt. He’d done that many times, but Ford had known his mother’s screams would save him.

  Ford had learned when to shut his mouth, but at some point, he’d stopped being afraid. Because Kingsley’s love for his mother had spared him more often than not. But now that she was gone, nothing could stop Kingsley from ending Ford. From getting rid of his one last shame.

  Lungs burning, Ford pushed at the edge of the sink, his life flashing like a stream of stills behind his closed lids. Akira finally turning to him with love in her eyes. Cort smiling over a bowl of cereal as he made it okay for them to share a woman who they’d both live and die for. He wrenched his head back and gasped in air, shouting before Kingsley could shove his head back into the water.

  “I get it!

  Wrong words. If he was smart, he’d call in the fucking cavalry. Only, if he was rescued, he’d really be useless. Kingsley had set Lee on Jami. He’d had Tim killed. Yes, maybe he would kill Ford as well. He clearly wanted to.

  But Ford had one last card to play. And if he was gonna die, at least he’d know he’d laid it on the table first. “I get it!” The words to keep the cops from coming in. Now for something to make Kingsley want to keep him alive. “I’m the last Delgado! The only one they know can get past this!”

  “I’m not sure you want to remind me you’re a Delgado, boy,” Kingsley said, even as he released Ford. “The Delgados have no power. Because of you.”

  “They have some. And it’s all mine now that my sisters are dealing with Tim’s death. They trust me. They want to believe I’m a good person.”

  “Silly girls. One would think they’d know better, considering how quickly their father turned on them.”

  “The man’s senile. When they look at me, they see their dead brother. They’ll expect me to step up for the family.” Ford braced his forehead on the edge of the sink. His body shuddered as his muscles tensed for fight or flight. “Keane hasn’t shut the Delgados out. He’ll listen to me.”

  “And what do you think you can do? Give me a name. Cort did that, at very least.”

  Ford kept his head down as he winced. Damn it, he didn’t need a reminder of the guilt Cort would carry once he found out about Tim. And he couldn’t fucking take that on himself. He knew what giving a name would mean. He coughed weakly, hunching his shoulders. “I need time.”

  “I’ve given you time. And support.” Kingsley snarled. “To which I received nothing but disrespect.”

  “It won’t happen again. I was . . .” Ford coughed hard, still feeling like he was drowning. Even though he knew very well, once his brain started working right again, that Kingsley had never intended to kill him. If it ever came to that, Kingsley would leave the job to someone else. This was just another form of discipline. Another warning. One Ford would take seriously. “I was stupid. I assumed I had plenty of time to figure this out.”

  “Because you’re ‘my son’?” Kingsley snorted as he pushed away from Ford. “You really are stupid. I’d cherish my own blood. You were never more than the bastard of the woman who meant everything to me. Now that she’s gone . . . if you weren’t her child, you’d be dead already.”

  “You were a father to me. I tried to be a son you’d be proud of.” Just saying that hurt. Ford knew he’d never succeeded. Even before he’d found out that Kingsley wasn’t his real father. And Kingsley’s sharp laughter cut deep. He ground his teeth. “But you’re right. It was always for her. I think I knew all along how little I meant to you.”

  “Then give me something, Ford. You don’t want to waste my time? So far you’ve done nothing but. And wasted my resources as well. If Cort implicates you –”

  “He won’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You chose him, Dad.” Calling Kingsley “Dad” made Ford feel sick. But he could tell the word put a little chink in the man’s ice-cold armor by the telling twitch of his lips. So Ford pressed on. “I was your son for years, and you chose him to protect me. He’s still doing it.”

  “Is he really? He might get a lesser sentence if he gives up information. And he knows too much.”

  Shit. If Kingsley believed that, Cort wouldn’t make it out of jail alive. Ford scrambled for a way to shift the man’s attention away from Cort. “He’s got his own family to deal with. I don’t know why he turned himself in, but I don’t think he’s stupid enough to make a deal. Either way, I’ve got nothing to worry about. He’s got nothing on me.”

  “Fine. So you believe you have enough power to help me with the team?”

  “I’d be dead if you didn’t know I do.”

  “True. And what will you do with that power?”

  “Whatever you want me to.” Ford cleared his throat roughly, fighting the urge to cough against the wet feeling in his chest. All he had left was to give complete control to his “father.” And hopefully that would be enough. “I don’t have a name for you now, but I’ll get you one.�
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  “You have two days.” Kingsley used the dishcloth hanging on the stove handle to dry his hands. “And you will give me someone easier to manage than the coach. I’d hoped eliminating him would put us in a position to bring in our own man, but that’s proved impossible since Callahan accepted the job as assistant coach so quickly. However, if he is useful, perhaps it will work out after all.”

  Ford’s jaw ached as he fought not to smile. I’ve got you, you bastard. He inclined his head, tone level. “You’re right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Outside, away from the security cameras at the gate of Kingsley’s property, Ford walked past the cable van parked in front of a neighbor’s house, then got into his own car. He drove for a few blocks and stopped at a gas station. Got out to wait for the cable van to pull up.

  And couldn’t contain his grin as Laura joined him. “He admitted to having Tim killed. You heard him, right? You waiting for a warrant so you can arrest him?”

  Laura frowned. Not the reaction he’d expected. She looked him over and shook her head. “You’re soaked. Whatever he ‘admitted’, we didn’t get it. I wanted to go in when we lost the transmission, but we heard you shouting that you were okay. What happened?”

  He’d been all excited, warmed by adrenaline despite his wet clothes and the sub-zero temperature, but that faded as he absorbed her words. He’d thought he’d had it all.

  I have nothing.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Ford couldn’t meet Hamilton’s steady gaze when the man came out of the van. He knew what he’d see in the detective’s eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised that Ford had failed. Raking his fingers through his hair, Ford stared at the packed snow on the pavement beneath his feet. “Just give me another chance.”

  “Ford, we can’t let you put yourself in danger.” Laura touched Ford’s arm, letting out a heavy sigh when he jerked away. “We’ll find another way to bring him down.”