Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  And there he was. Roy Kingsley. Ford blinked, laughing bitterly into the hand he used to cover his mouth, hating that there were tears streaking down his unshaven cheeks. He should be celebrating. Breaking out a bottle of champagne. The old bastard had gotten exactly what he’d deserved.

  He was dead.

  Kingsley’s flesh was gray, his eyes closed, no color to be seen except for the thick line of black and purple bruises on his neck. No one believed Kingsley had hung himself in his cell. Not once had he betrayed any fear that the charges wouldn’t be dropped. One of his brothers had visited him in prison. Was being investigated now because he’d said goodbye and told Roy he’d gone too far and there was no turning back.

  No turning back.

  Ford had expected his uncle to call him, and maybe he would, but right now he had a feeling the Kingsley family knew he wanted to cut all ties and pretend he’d never had any part of them. But what if coming here changed that? What if they thought he’d want revenge?

  He didn’t. Yeah, it was hard not to look down at Roy’s still face and remember the few occasions the man had been his father. When his mom had brought Ford home after a T-ball game when he was five and Roy had left his office to ruffle Ford’s hair with a smile and a “Good job, buddy!”. The day Ford graduated from elementary school with honors and Roy had brought him out for dinner at a local buffet. The first time Ford shot a gun and took out the center of the target with ten rounds, which earned him Roy’s prized 1896 Colt. When Ford came to him and promised to take the Delgados down and the old man said he was proud of Ford for the very first time.

  Then again, maybe he was grasping for the good things he’d wanted to believe in. Something had always been off. The same man who’d hug him in front of his mother would speak casually of killing him for fucking up when she wasn’t around. Had gotten so angry he’d held a gun on Ford in front of her because he was done pretending to care about her bastard child.

  That was what Ford wanted to remember. That would make it easy to stand over the body of Roy Kingsley and be happy he was dead. This man had hurt his mother, never letting her forget that he barely tolerated her son. Jami, Cort, and so many others had suffered because of this man. Tim and Madeline were dead because of him.

  He didn’t deserve a single tear. Ford rubbed the moisture on his cheeks away with his fists. He nodded when the chaplain spoke, but didn’t look at him until the chaplain held out a clear plastic bag.

  “I’m sure your father would want you to have this.”

  “This” was Roy’s effects. The suit he’d worn coming here since his brother was providing another. His wedding ring, his wallet. Not much else. Ford retreated from the bed and dumped the contents on an empty metal table. He grabbed the wallet and found pictures of his mom, so many pictures, from her as the eighteen-year-old girl Roy had married to the broken woman of almost forty before she died. Ford held on to them and backed up to the door.

  “Burn the rest. I don’t want it.”

  The chaplain looked sad. “You may change your mind, son. I will keep it in case—”

  “Keep whatever you want. I won’t change my mind. He’s dead.” Ford shook his head hard. Spun around and burst through the door. Only the guard kept him from running right out of there. From getting far, far away. He kept a quick pace as the guard brought him back to the main exit. Gave him back his own things. Had him sign out.

  The fresh blowing snow outside, the biting cold, was a relief. He’d left Roy Kingsley behind. Forever.

  For-fucking-ever.

  Didn’t feel as good as it should. He skidded on the slick pavement and fell into the snow. And stayed there, letting his hands and knees go numb.

  “Ford?”

  No! He shook his head, refusing to look up. He knew Akira’s voice. Felt her presence. Felt Cort’s nearby.

  Neither of them should be here. He hadn’t told them he was coming. Why would he? They didn’t belong here. This was hell and he’d left his last link to it behind. And it would stay there. Because that man didn’t breathe anymore. His heart didn’t beat. He could never hurt someone Ford loved again.

  “C’mon on, buddy. You gotta stand up.” Cort didn’t wait for Ford to move. He latched on to Ford’s forearms, dragging him to his feet and holding on tight when Ford tried to jerk away. “It’s okay.”

  Ford laughed in a way that sounded a little crazy to his own ears. He tried to sound sane when he spoke. “He’s dead. Of course it’s okay!”

  Akira’s soft voice reached him as she cuddled up to his side while Cort hugged him. “No. It’s okay for you to mourn him. He doesn’t deserve it, but you do.”

  “I don’t need to mourn him. There’s no grieving process for a fucking murderer!” Ford saw Tim. Saw Madeline. And then he saw countless others who’d died because of Roy. Shedding a single tear was like pissing on their graves. But he couldn’t stop. He shoved at Cort and tipped his head back, shouting at the swirling snow and the clouds above. “I wanted to do it! I wanted him dead! Thank you, God! Thank you for—for making sure he couldn’t—” His voice broke in a sob. And he didn’t know if the tears were for Roy, or if they were for all the lives he’d broken before finally meeting his end. A sick part of Ford hoped it had been painful. A softer side didn’t want to know. He shouted so loud his throat felt like he’d swallowed acid. “Let it be over!”

  Cort’s hold on him tightened. “It’s over, Ford.”

  Akira kissed his wet cheeks, whispering, “It’s over.”

  They were right. It was over.

  It’s finally fucking over.

  * * * *

  The future was damn uncertain, but after a month of spending most nights at Ford’s apartment above the bar, Akira was fed up. Their life was in a holding pattern, and every effort she made to take things to the next level was met with hesitant enthusiasm. Cort would come home from the shop and sit with her at the small kitchen table while she showed him all the houses she’d found, liking them all, but telling her they should wait a little before picking one. Maybe until after the trial?

  Ford showed a bit more interest, even helping her narrow down the choices, but he wouldn’t let her touch her savings and didn’t have “enough for the kinda place she deserved.”

  Basically, he wanted her to wait, too. And she would if . . . they didn’t feel what she felt when they walked through the doors of the house she’d fallen in love with.

  The men were indulging her, she had no doubt about that, but as Cort pulled up in front of the stone and iron gated property, she watched his expression shift from casual interest to actual consideration.

  He leaned his forearms on the steering wheel. “Nice and secure. I like that.”

  “I thought you would.” Akira threw her door open, the fat droplets of cold rain not bothering her at all as she waited for her men on the sidewalk. Another car pulled up and the Realtor came out, a sweet older woman Sebastian had put her in touch with. Her name was Nancy, and she’d already let Akira visit the house twice. She came right over and hugged Akira like they were old friends. Akira gestured to Cort and Ford. “These are the men I told you about, Ford and Cort. The men I will spend the rest of my life with. Guys, this is Nancy Foley.”

  Cort grinned and held out his hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Foley.”

  One brow arched, Ford glanced from Nancy, to Akira. “You sure you want to be sharing that with just anyone, shorty?” He gave Nancy an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re very nice, but people can be really judgemental.”

  Nancy inclined her head. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Delgado, but one of the perks of this area is there are a number of people who value their privacy. Mr. Ramos, who lives only two blocks away, bought his house for that very reason. Both he and Akira also mentioned that security would be very important.”

  “It is.” Cort walked past them, studying the intercom and the large iron gate. “People gotta get buzzed in?”

  “Yes. There is a camera integrated into
the intercom so you will have a visual of all your visitors. The security company the previous owners worked with is very good, but I have other recommendations if you’d like.”

  Cort nodded slowly, stepping aside so Nancy could tap in the code on the keypad. He spoke quietly to the Realtor, then strode across the grass, disappearing around the side of the house.

  Akira bit hard on her bottom lip, not sure if she should follow him, or stay with Ford who was staring at the length of fence like it disturbed him somehow. Nancy, thankfully, just went straight to the front door to unlock it, leaving it open when she went inside.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” Ford came to Akira’s side, taking her mitten-covered hand in his bare one. He held his hand out toward the fence. “Knowing we probably need this?”

  She squeezed his hand, tugging a little to get him to the wide porch. “I don’t think we need it, but I think it will take a long time for either you or Cort to believe that. I want a place where you’ll both feel safe.”

  The edge of his lip crept up a bit. “It’s more about you being safe, but Cort’s gonna be the one to decide that.”

  “And you’ll trust whatever he decides. In the meantime, you get to be the first to see exactly why I think this place is absolutely perfect.” She drew him into the house, holding her breath as he stood in the entryway. There was a mirrored coat closet, and white French doors open wide to reveal the spacious living room. From here they could see the kitchen, the areas separated by a white marble island that had three white leather stools lined up on one side.

  Any woman who enjoyed cooking would die for a kitchen like this, with all the counter space, the steel appliances, the neat gadgets and light pouring in from the picture windows. But Akira could see them all in there, making meals together. Or maybe Ford sitting at the island doing paperwork while she and Cort cooked. The trees in the backyard were just tall enough to give them plenty of privacy, so she had a few fantasies of surprising the men with an elaborate breakfast in the morning, wearing nothing but a cute little frilly apron.

  Actually, she’d already bought the apron.

  “Your cheeks are all pink.” Ford came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, his lips close to her ear. “What are you thinking about, pet?”

  Turning in his arms, she gave him a sultry smile. “Oh, I can’t tell you. I can only show you—if we get the place, that is.”

  “Brat.” He tipped her chin up with a finger and kissed her softly before whispering. “Show me the rest.”

  She brought him around the house, getting more and more excited as he asked her about her plans for each and every room. His eyes were hooded as he checked out the huge Jacuzzi bathtub in the bathroom. He went quiet when they left the master bedroom, a thoughtful smile on his lips as he walked around the third bedroom.

  “The smaller room will be the guest bedroom?” he asked as he stood at the window, looking down into the yard where Cort was speaking to Nancy. “And there’s office space in the basement?”

  “You can use this as an office if you want.” She bit the tip of her tongue, curious to know what was on his mind as he shook his head.

  “No, I’d have other plans for this one. I mean, hypothetically. And if Cort liked it too.”

  “You like it?” Akira bounced up on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck. “Because I love it, and I hoped you would too, but I wasn’t sure—”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “It’s perfect, shorty, and I would love for the three of us to have a place like this. But I’m not rich anymore, and a place like this won’t be cheap. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

  Before she could tell him she had it all figured out, the sound of the doors opening downstairs drew his attention. He took her hand and led her down to the kitchen to join Cort.

  “There’s place for all our cars. I’m not crazy about the lighting outside, but we can fix that,” Cort said, sounding distracted as he checked the locks on the windows over the sink. “It’s secure.”

  For some reason, Cort checking out the house like he was there as a bodyguard, instead of considering it as the place they’d all live together, irritated her. She listened to him grilling Nancy about the alarm system and rolled her eyes.

  “There’s a pool table downstairs—custom-made, the old owners are willing to leave it here for a really good price.” She’d had Nancy ask them about it, sure that a game room would be a good selling point for her men. When Cort nodded while fiddling with the locks on the back door, she held her fists tight to her side, turning to Ford rather than giving into the temptation to throw the fake fruit on the counter at him. “And there’s a bar and enough room for a den if you want to have the guys over—”

  “The guys? We start letting players hang out here and we might never get rid of them.” Ford’s tone was light, but something about how he talked about living here reminded her of when her dad used to talk about winning the lottery. Like it was nice to dream, but that’s all it was. “Unless you’re thinking of letting Sutter and his pals hang out here?”

  Cort didn’t look up from the locks as he practically growled. “No fucking way.”

  Ford chuckled, resting his arm on her shoulders casually, jerking his chin toward the door in the hall. “I want to see this pool table. If they’re willing to sell it, I might buy it for my bar. I’ve been thinking about making the place a bit classier.”

  As they headed downstairs, Akira swallowed against the lump in her throat. All the times she’d come before, the possibilities had seemed endless. But now she had to accept the facts that she’d been dreaming way too big. She’d gotten carried away, and it was time to face reality.

  They might have all this together someday.

  But not today.

  * * * *

  Cort refused to even consider the house if it wasn’t as close to a fucking fortress as possible, no matter how perfect it was in every other way. No matter how much he loved the way Akira’s eyes lit up the second the place had come into view. Damn, he hated that his being so paranoid had dimmed the hope in her eyes, but he was taking this seriously.

  Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  He walked around upstairs alone, leaning in the doorway of the master bedroom, a smile tugging at his lips as he envisioned how the room would look with the huge bed he’d found in an antique shop a few blocks away from the Forum. The snooty salesperson had turned up his nose the second Cort walked through the door, but he’d changed his attitude when Cort paid the huge deposit. He made decent money at the shop, and didn’t have to spend much of it since he was staying with Ford. Which meant he had the money for a few nice things.

  Less saved up now though, since the bed alone cost three weeks’ paychecks—from the garage and the bar—but the solid oak pillars, the overhead, iron canopy frame, gave him some damn kinky ideas he knew Akira would be into. The bed had a leather headboard, which he knew Ford had a thing for—Cort figured it was a comfort thing, more than style, but either way, the bed would suit them all.

  So would the house, but . . . he sighed as he roamed around the second floor, mentally picking the smallest for Ford’s office and the other for future noisy, messy, and adorable possibilities, even though he really couldn’t figure out how they would make this work. The down payment alone was more than the three of them could manage together. Selling his car might help, but then there was the mortgage. He calculated the numbers Nancy had given him and rubbed his temples with his fingers as he made his way to the first floor, then to the basement where Akira was still showing Ford around. He could pay his third, Ford would have no problem paying his, but what about Akira? His Tiny was proud; she’d want to pay her share. Wouldn’t give her much to spare, but he and Ford would make sure she had everything she needed. Anything she could ever want.

  Her Doms are gonna spoil her, whether she likes it or not. His lips slanted as she finally looked back at him, and what she saw in his eyes had her paling, her lips parting as th
ough she’d been about to say something, but changed her mind.

  Ford leaned against bar, built into the wide space under the stairs, and folded his arms over his chest. “Nice place, eh, Cort?”

  Cort inclined his head. The den and the game room looked like the ideal place to hang out and unwind after a long day at work, and that pool table was fucking nice—sturdy like the bed he was buying, probably wouldn’t budge if he bent Akira over it and—

  “Just say it, Cort!” Akira stomped her foot, then blushed, like she felt silly, and mirrored Ford’s crossed-arm pose. “The way you looked at me before I was wondering if maybe you were . . .” She sighed, blinking in that way she did when she was trying not to cry. “Never mind. Coming here was stupid. Let’s go back to Ford’s place so you can fuck me. I can tell that’s all you want to—”

  Covering Akira’s mouth with his hand, Ford looked over at Cort. “Duct tape or a ball gag?” His jaw hardened. “Bite me again, shorty, and I ain’t waiting until we get to my place to punish you.”

  Akira went still. Cort smirked, which had her narrowing her eyes, likely considering all the things in the room she could throw at him. She reached out for a decorative wine bottle on the bar.

  “I’d stop and think about what you’re doing, Tiny.” He watched her jerk her hand back, then latched his hand to his wrist behind his back and strolled across the den, pleased to find another door which lead to a room about the same size as the master bedroom. “I think a spider gag would be appropriate. But only if the attitude doesn’t change after we’ve cleared a few things up.”

  He continued into the room, taking measured steps to see how much space he had to work with. Ford had mentioned Scott Demyan made things with wood in his spare time; he could probably give them a good price on a few custom pieces. Like a spanking bench—or maybe that cool throne they had at Blades & Ice. A bondage frame right in the middle so he could . . . he retreated eight steps from the center of the room. All right, not enough clearance for a full length whip, but maybe—