Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7)

by Sommerland, Bianca

  Damn it, he had to stop picturing her in unrealistic roles. He’d done well giving her time and space to get where she needed to be before even considering a relationship. He refused to put any pressure on her. Or himself.

  But he had to admit, over the months that they’d gotten closer, he’d considered how easily she’d fit into his life. Even when he’d struggled with the idea that Oriana was no longer part of his future, the idea that Sahara might be kept slipping in.

  The next step was up to her. Which was hard to swallow. He could only stand back and hope the carefree life Pischlar offered wasn’t all she wanted. Anyone could ignore their own needs. And she had more reason than many to prefer things uncomplicated.

  He had to stop seeing her with his collar when he still hadn’t decided if she craved the weight of it around her neck. He had only just accepted that he wouldn’t turn his back on the lifestyle; he’d simply stop training subs he couldn’t keep.

  Thankfully, he pulled into the hospital parking lot before his mind could delve any deeper into things he had no control over. He joined Shero halfway across the lot and let the man distract him with the rookie he’d be inviting into his home.

  “He should be arriving in about an hour. I hate to rush you, but I need to give the driver picking him up your address. If you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure. But tell me more about the kid. Does he need a babysitter or just a place to stay?” Dominik followed Shero down the hall, figuring he knew where Zovko’s room was. “You said he had responsibilities? Will I need to make any big changes right away or do I still have time for a nap before the game?”

  “I don’t see that being an issue. He’ll need to rest as well.” Shero shook his head as they took the elevator up to the sixth floor. “The information I have is limited, but I know he has family in Ontario. You may have more than one person invading your home.”

  “You haven’t even given me his name yet.” Dominik grinned at Shero’s flustered look. “Give the driver my address. I’m assuming the whole entourage won’t be there today?”

  “No, of course not. There hasn’t been much time…” Shero said. “His name is Heath Ladd.”

  The name was familiar. “I’m sure I’ve seen his stats. A smart choice. And no drama that I know of.”

  “He’s a good kid. His coaches think he’ll fit in without making waves.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to find out specifics? We’re asking a lot of you.”

  “He needs a bed to sleep in. Some guidance. If he has a mother or a sister that needs to stay with him while he settles, I’m fine with that. I have a few spare bedrooms.” Dominik tried to think of anything else that could make things difficult. “I can drive him where he needs to go if he doesn’t have his own car. I can keep him away from the press. He’s eighteen, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a drinker? Is he prone to being late or slacking off?”

  “No.” Shero seemed much more comfortable discussing the young man’s habits than he had been making the request. “He’s always the last to leave the ice. His coach did mention he’s not very talkative, but he takes instruction well. He had a trainer he was close to in London, but I have several in mind to work with him. He’s dedicated. A sniper. I’ll put him on the third line to start off, but I see him making it to the second or first easily.”

  “Which is exactly what we need.” The idea that Zovko wouldn’t be playing with them indefinitely was hard to swallow, but that was the reality of their sport. And the reason management kept their options open. He reached for the door. “Are they expecting us?”

  Shero nodded. “They knew I’d be stopping by today. Even I wouldn’t drop in unexpected with Chicklet standing guard over him. But I don’t see them having an issue with you being here as well.”

  Inclining his head, Dominik rapped his knuckles softly on the door. Chicklet opened it seconds later. She met his eyes, trying to put on a brave face.

  He was having none of that. “Come here.”

  Her strong body leaned into his as he wrapped his arms around her. She was a tall woman, all wiry muscle and badass attitude, but she loved unconditionally and had claimed Raif Zovko as one of her own. That he was a Dom as well didn’t matter. She’d be hovering over him, all her protective instincts on high alert until he was strong enough to tell her it was unnecessary.

  Which, hopefully, wouldn’t take long.

  “How is he?” Dominik asked when she pulled away, letting her wipe her tears before joining her in the private room.

  She went to Zovko’s bedside, putting her hand on Tyler’s shoulder. The young man was half-asleep in a chair he’d dragged right next to the bed. He barely lifted his head to greet Dominik, struggling to keep his eyes open as he put his hand over Chicklet’s.

  “Surgery went well. They put a metal plate in because parts of his skull caved in. He’s sleeping a lot.” Chicklet shook her head, looking helpless and frustrated. “I wish I could tell you more, but it’s day to day. He needed a blood transfusion yesterday. Thankfully, we’re the same blood type.”

  “I can donate to anyone. I could have done it.” Tyler dropped his hand to his lap. “Still don’t get why you didn’t let me.”

  “Because you’re getting back on the ice as soon as Coach here thinks you’re ready.” Chicklet turned to Shero. “He hasn’t slept in two days, so I don’t know if…”

  Shero shook his head. “We’ll manage without him for another game.” He focused on Tyler. “If you can’t come to New York, the team will understand. But we could use you out there.”

  Tyler nodded, but he didn’t comment. The game clearly wasn’t a priority.

  Not that Dominik could blame him.

  Looking at Zovko, Dominik had a hard time seeing the same strong, vibrant man he’d come to know over the past few months in the pale, lifeless form on the bed. Zovko’s usually perfectly styled, chin length hair was limp. Dark shadows surrounded his closed lids. The heart monitor showed his pulse was strong, but he looked vulnerable and drained.

  Maybe it would be different if he woke and showed the indomitable spirit they all knew him for, but he needed to rest and heal. And his loved ones could do nothing but wait and hope for the best.

  Damn it, Dominik wished he had more to offer than the same platitudes they’d likely heard from everyone. At least with Oriana, he’d been able to calm Sloan down. Talk to Max. And her. The accident had been frightening for them all, but compared to what Zovko was going through, Oriana had been lucky.

  Approaching Tyler, Dominik crouched down to meet the younger man’s eyes. “Don’t worry about the game. If you need anything, you give me a call. All right?”

  Eyes tearing, Tyler nodded quickly. He grabbed Dominik’s wrist before he could stand. “Thank you.”

  The gratitude made it hard to leave, but apparently Dominik had something to offer after all. With everyone reminding Tyler it was the playoffs, the team needed him, Zovko would want him with his team…all the kid wanted to hear was that he was exactly where he needed to be.

  But, while this was where Tyler needed to be, Dominik had to get home. Welcome the new rookie. And pray he could manage a power nap before he hit the ice.

  He got to his truck and sat there for a while, craving a few moments of silence to get his shit together. The past couple days had been so hectic focusing on the game himself was going to be a challenge.

  Taking out his phone, he flipped it idly in his hand. Then he went through his callers and pressed Sahara’s number.

  “Hello?” She sounded happy to hear from him, but uncertain, as though worried something was wrong.

  The smile on his face lightened his tone. “Hello, sunshine. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

  “Not at all. I’m just relaxing a bit before the game.” She paused. “Don’t you guys take naps? Like toddlers?”

  He couldn’t hold back his laugh. Yes, calling her had been a very
good idea. “Something like that. I had to come see Zovko first.”

  “How is he?”

  “Stable. Which is the best that can be expected right now.”

  “I guess, but that was scary. And poor Tyler…this is too much like his own injury. He’s not playing tonight, is he? I know you guys are supposed to tough it out, but he loves that man.”

  My feelings exactly. Not a conversation he could have with most of those on the team, but Sahara wasn’t in the game mentality. And neither was he, obviously. “I made sure he knew he can take the time he needs. Zovko will probably insist that he play, but maybe, once he’s able to do so himself, Tyler will be ready.”

  “I’d imagine so.” Sahara’s voice relaxed, as though she’d settled into a comfortable chair. “So aside from that, how are you? I heard Oriana went home today… You don’t mind me mentioning her, do you?”

  “Not at all. She’s a friend. I saw her, spoke to Max, and I think they’re going to be fine. How are your boys?”

  “Pischlar and White? Good, I think. Being here is…uncomplicated.”

  “Good.” He wasn’t feeling the word, but he was happy for her. She needed uncomplicated after what she’d gone through. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “Yes, but you guys better win!” She giggled. “Don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but the last game sucked.”

  “I agree.”

  “Can you score one for me tonight? I’ve always wanted someone to do that.”

  He opened his mouth, tempted to tell her to ask Pischlar or White, but that would be petty. He’d told her he was fine with her doing whatever worked for her right now. And he was.

  But her asking him something like that caught him off guard. He needed a few minutes to come up with a logical reply.

  Any reply.

  Any time now.

  “Dominik?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll score one for you.”

  “That means something, doesn’t it?”

  He steadied his breaths, leveling his tone. “No more than you want it to, sunshine.”

  She hesitated. Then exhaled loudly. “I kinda want it to. Is that weird? I’m a head case, right? Don’t worry, you can be honest.”

  “I always will be, Sahara. And no, you’re not a head case.” He rested against the headrest. “I’ll be in New York for a few days, but when I come back, I want to see you.”

  “Won’t I see you tonight?”

  There was something in her voice, a quiet longing. Which shouldn’t be there if Pischlar had succeeded in distracting her. If they were both her Doms, Dominik would give the man a call and see what more could be done.

  But this wasn’t a partnership and Pischlar was no more than a casual, temporary lover. Very temporary if Sahara decided she needed more.

  He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I’ll introduce you to my new roommate.”

  “Uh…I didn’t know you were looking for one.” She released a small, irritated sound. “Is she nice?”

  Her jealousy was something they’d have to work on. He could point out that she was hardly in a position to judge who he lived with while she was staying with two other men, but he’d rather build up her confidence than press her insecurities.

  So he clarified. “He. And I don’t know, I haven’t met him yet.”

  She laughed with obvious relief. “So stupid…I’m sorry. I guess he’s a rookie you’re looking out for? I should let you go so you can focus on him.”

  “Yes, I’m about to join him at my place. But do me a favor, pet.”

  A soft, rapid intake of breath, so close to the phone she must have it pressed right against her face. “Yes, Sir?”

  “Don’t call yourself stupid. I don’t like it.”

  Nothing. Then she laughed nervously. “Sorry. I nodded, but you can’t see me. I won’t anymore.”

  “Good girl.” He shook his head at himself, both loving and hating how natural the dynamic between them felt. Loving it because he didn’t doubt they could have a good, strong relationship. Hating it because they weren’t there yet. “I have to go now, sunshine. Watch for that goal.”

  After he hung up, he drove home, feeling fully at ease for the first time in a while. Things may be complicated with Sahara on the whole, but tonight, they’d be very simple.

  Light the lamp. Make her smile.

  And win the game.

  * * * *

  Sahara bit back a grin as she stood with Akira in the bedroom Jami shared with Sebastian and Luke. Holding up one of each of their home jerseys, Jami dropped back on the bed and groaned. She had a tough decision to make.

  And both Sahara and Akira were trying very, very hard to be sympathetic.

  In nothing but jeans and a bra, Jami lay on the bed, the jerseys on either side of her, her hands over her face. “This sucks! Why isn’t it this hard during the regular season?”

  “Because they take turns?” Sahara bit her lip. Exchanged a look with Akira.

  They burst out laughing.

  “You’re both horrible bitches and I hate you.” Jami sat up and smirked. “Besides, they don’t always take turns. Sometimes—”

  “TMI!” Sahara slapped her hands over her ears and hummed loudly.

  Akira was just about on the floor, hardly breathing through her laughter.

  Sticking out her tongue, Jami returned her attention to the jerseys, petting the numbers with a fond expression on her face. “They both know I love them. They lost while I was wearing Luke’s jersey, so… But I don’t want him to think I blame him—”

  The sharp snick of boot heels came from the hall as Chicklet strode into the room, right up to the bed, and picked up the jersey with “Ramos” and “11” on the back. She held it out to Jami. “Get dressed. You will not be late on my watch, and you’re being ridiculous.”

  Jami wrinkled her nose the second Chicklet turned to leave the room again, but she quickly donned the jersey. And kept her voice to a whisper when she spoke. “How much longer are you going to need your own security detail, Sahara? Not that I don’t love Chicklet, but…damn. She’s miserable. And before you remind me, I know how scared she is for Raif, but why isn’t she with him? Can’t Cort or Cam trail you?”

  That would probably be easier on everyone, but the conversation before Chicklet had come to pick her up hadn’t gone well. Sahara’s attempt to release Chicklet from her team-appointed job as bodyguard had been taken as an insult.

  “I promised to tell you when I was leaving Pischlar’s place, but you don’t need to come. He’ll drop me off at Jami’s. Tyler and Raif need you more than I do.”

  “They need me sitting in the damn hospital, completely useless, more than you need me watching your back?”

  Sahara winced, wishing she’d worded that better. “No! I mean, I’ll be fine and you should—”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Be ready.”

  Chicklet had been hired because Mr. Keane thought Sahara would be more comfortable with a woman, but she’d be fine with Dominik’s brother. Having Cort watch her would be awkward after what she’d said to him, but she’d rather swallow her pride than keep Chicklet away from her men when they needed her.

  “I tried to suggest she stay at the hospital, but she gets all the details of the case from Laura, so… Well, she’s not convinced that I’m safe out on my own.” She hugged herself, grateful for the long, black wool jacket that covered her uniform. She was suddenly very cold. “Grant’s out on bail, but I haven’t heard anything from him. The crazy calls I’ve been getting are from his fans. As well as the Facebook messages—”

  “Death threats.” Akira corrected with the same irritation she showed anytime Sahara tried to downplay the situation. She folded her arms over her chest. “And one of the crazy bitches found your apartment.” Her lips thinned when Jami’s eyes went wide. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know. Sahara doesn’t want us to worry. Because that’s the priority.”

  “Damn it,
Sahara.” Jami drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “What happened?”

  Sahara dropped her gaze to the floor. “My landlord said someone spray-painted ‘Lair’ all over my door.”

  Akira’s brow shot up. “You mean ‘liar’?”

  “I think whoever wrote it meant liar.” Sahara rubbed her arms. Laura had tried to joke about it when Sahara had called her, but finding any humor in it was difficult when both the team and the police were taking the threats seriously enough to have her constantly watched. Despite Chicklet’s presence, there was a unit parked outside Jami’s house. The last straw had been the message posted on Sahara’s Facebook wall, detailing an orgy of violence that took a truly twisted mind to think up.

  At least the woman who’d left that hadn’t been difficult to track down. The arrest had brought even more attention to the case.

  Sahara had changed her phone number and texted the new one to all her close contacts. Stopped going online at all. Didn’t spend much time outside. Or anywhere public.

  If she hadn’t had Jami and Akira, she would have felt very alone. Fooling around with Pischlar and White had been fun the first night, but after that, simply…shallow. Not that they weren’t sweet to her. Tender and attentive, always making sure she enjoyed herself.

  “Uh-oh. She’s all lost in thought again.” Jami nudged Sahara into the hall, hooking her arm on one side while Akira took the other, making the hallway very crowded. “What’s wrong, babe? You know you’re safe, right? Whether it’s Chicklet or—”

  “Or?” Chicklet slapped a magazine on the coffee table as they stepped into the living room. “Why would there be an ‘or’?”

  Damn it, Jami’s getting as bad as Luke and Tyler at keeping her mouth shut. Sahara worked her arms free and held up her hands. “No reason, I was just saying I felt bad keeping you away from Raif. And that maybe we could get Cam to take over.”

  Chicklet grunted and grabbed her leather jacket. “I’ll talk to Mr. Keane. He’s the one who hired me, and the team needs Cam on the road. Cort would be a better option. He’s got a hearing soon.”

  She didn’t sound mad. Or insulted.