Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "But you said we needed a sniper . . . ." A blank look. Didn't he remember leaving the message? She barreled on, willing to take the heat for following his directions to avoid agitating him more than necessary. "We have to entertain the fans, Daddy." She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. "I know how to do that. I thought that's why you chose me?"

  "No. I chose you because there was no one else."

  "But—"

  "Shut up!" The veins in his neck swelled and his face reddened. Her hand hovered over her throat as she prepared for him to collapse, but his face shifted into a chilling calm. "I have made Richter your partner. Because of your stupidity, I was left with no choice but to give him proxy control of fifty percent of the team. Fortunately, the doctor found me fit to make the decision. Otherwise, you'd still have the power to destroy everything I've built!"

  Destroy it? Her eyes teared up. "Daddy—"

  "I said 'shut up'." His monitors made a frightening sound as he dropped back onto the bed, quivering with rage. "You do nothing unless Richter approves it. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Daddy." Tears spilled down her cheeks and she hastened to wipe them away. "I'm sorry."

  His shaky smile took her off guard. "I know you are. You're a good girl. I will forget everything you've done in the past if you can do this."

  "I can." She clenched her fists at her sides. "I will."

  "All right." He settled into the bed and the monitors stopped making that awful noise. She noticed the nurse hovering, but kept her focus on her father as he spoke. "Why don't you get some renovations done in the boxes? Maybe hire a new PR agent. I've asked Richter to let you handle those kinds of things. Much as I hate it, you do have some experience with the media. Make them happy."

  She rubbed her wet nose and nodded. "I can do that."

  "I know you can." He patted her hand as his eyes drifted shut. "Make me proud."

  Whatever it takes. She vowed as the nurse waved her away.

  Dean met her at the door. "Silver—"

  "Unless it's about business, you have nothing to say that I want to hear." The soreness in her throat burst into sharp little shards of anger. So much for an amicable working relationship. She wouldn't give him his own way, so he'd found a way around her. "I never took you for a tattle tale, Richter."

  His shoulders squared as he looked down on her. "This isn't high school, Silver. You wouldn't listen to me. I knew you'd listen to him."

  "With him in that condition? Of course I'll listen to him. This upsets him so much . . . ." She crossed her arms over her chest, hating that with him this close, she was tempted to move in for the hug he looked tempted to give her. "Just stay out of my business, all right? Like Daddy said, I'm in control of renovations. And more importantly, PR. I wonder how long you can hang onto Sloan after it gets out that he can't play for shit anymore."

  "I believe you are in for an unpleasant surprise if that's what you think."

  "We'll see." She gave him a sweet smile. "And as for Scott, I hope you can handle him. He's the kind of man fans wants."

  "As if you know what the fans want." His lips curled into a sneer. "Learn the game. Then we'll talk."

  You want to hit below the belt, Mister? Hell, his ratting her out cut deep enough to scar, but as long as the marks weren't physical, she could ignore them. They ranked as high on her scale of importance as her lingering attraction to him. Or her insane longing for his respect. Their verbal battles worked on so many levels. They kept him at arm's length where he belonged. And I've got a few low blows of my own.

  "I don't have to know the game to understand men." She thrummed her fingers on his chest. "Men idolize those who can get any woman they want. Scott can do that."

  "Can he?" Dean leaned forward and spoke low. "Will you be on his list of conquests?"

  "May-be." She smirked and shrugged. "He'd be a step up from the last guy I fucked."

  She felt his eyes on her back as she spun on her heels and made her way down the stairs. Confident as he was, she sensed that she'd taken this round. If he wanted to keep up with her, he better up his game.

  Chapter Seven

  The kid circled sideways and waved his stick in Landon's face, his latest, lame-assed attempt to distract Landon a bit more effective than his previous efforts, but no less annoying. Landon shoved Carter aside and skidded across the blue ice to make an easy pad save.

  Carter whooped and patted Landon's helmet with a gloved hand. "Not too bad, Bower."

  "Yeah, thanks." You pain-in-the-ass. "You're not too bad yourself." You're lucky you're on my team or I'd make you swallow your teeth so you look like a pro. He watched the younger man take his position for the puck drop and decided to take his revenge. "So how long before they send you back to the farm team?"

  Carter didn't look at him, but the distraction kept him away from the net long enough for Landon to get a clear view of the puck. He snatched the snap shot out of the air a second before Coach blew the whistle.

  "Slick." Carter shot him a gun-shaped glove salute before skating away.

  Slick. Right. Landon nodded at the guys who skated by to give him half-hearted props. Aside from Carter, the team was still a bit stiff with him, but he didn't blame them. Goalies held the fort. The last one had thrown games for profit. They trusted the backup goalie, but he just couldn't cut it as a starter. Which meant they had to put their faith in Landon.

  He hadn't earned it yet. But he would.

  After lingering on the ice long enough to make sure the locker room would be mostly empty by the time he went in, Landon lumbered down the hall, stopping short at the sight of shapely, tanned legs gripped around the waist of the big defenseman, Dominik Mason.

  "What did you say to me, bunny?" Mason wrapped his hands under the woman's knees, hefting her up a little higher. "Sure sounded like 'mentally challenged'. What do you think, Perron?"

  "I think we should give the lady a chance to explain herself." Perron grinned around the mouthpiece he was chewing on. "So what do you say, sugar? Did we hear wrong?"

  "Yes!" Oriana squirmed. "I was talking about someone else!"

  "Were you?" Mason's tone dropped, taking on a hard edge. "First of all, I do not tolerate lying. Second, your response was to my question of 'who are you waiting out here for, dressed like that?'"

  Perron shook his head. "You've gotten yourself in a heap of trouble, Oriana. Might as well come clean."

  Oriana let out a squeak, then a moan. "Please, Master. Don't do that here."

  "Then be honest with me," Mason said, nuzzling her neck.

  "Fine." She sighed as he set her on her feet. "I insulted you. I lied. I'm a very bad girl." She bit her bottom lip. "I beg you to take me home to punish me."

  Mason rubbed his chin. "Well . . . ."

  "No." Perron held a finger up and frowned when Oriana sputtered a protest. "You've been mouthier than usual lately. I think a few nights pleasuring yourself while we watch should get the point across. Then, to make sure you don't forget, perhaps a public scene at the club?"

  "I wasn't that bad!"

  "Really?"

  Oriana shuffled her feet, head down, the perfect depiction of a contrite little sub. "I'm sorry."

  Landon couldn't hold back a smile. Such natural submission was a beautiful thing.

  "You're lucky Landon is too much of a gentleman to embarrass you by making his presence known, bunny." Mason lightly cuffed her chin, then gave Landon an offhand salute. "Would you like her to apologize to you for this willful display, Master Landon? On your knees, pet."

  Brow furrowed, Landon quickly shook his head before Oriana could kneel in front of him. "That won't be necessary. I won't—"

  "The offer was for a simple apology, Landon." Mason's jaw hardened. "Do you honestly think we'd pass her off to someone else as a punishment?"

  Landon's eyes narrowed. "If you have any experience in the lifestyle, you know it happens."

  "If?" Mason laughed. "You're awfully young to claim much experience
, Bower."

  "You're awfully narrow-minded for a man in the middle of a ménage."

  "Is that so—?"

  "Actually, most would consider it a polyamorous relationship," Perron arched a brow at Mason and pulled Oriana to his side. "So, you've both proved you've got long shlongs. Can we bring our baby home so we can watch her play with the new toys I got her?"

  Heat spilled over Landon's cheeks. Pretty ridiculous, getting into a pissing contest with his teammate. Granted, people in the lifestyle commenting on his youth often got his guard up, but that was no excuse. "Excuse me. I meant no disrespect."

  "Don't bother." Perron smacked his shoulder. "Dominik is in thug mode. You'll be grateful for it on the ice, but it's a pain in the ass because he gets stuck in the role for hours after a game."

  Oriana giggled. "Which is why you got me the kinky ref outfit."

  Mason rolled his eyes. "I think Bower's heard enough. Say goodnight to the nice man, pet. We will finish this in private."

  Breathe quickening, Oriana moved closer to Mason and mumbled. "Goodnight, Sir."

  Landon watched the trio walk away, shook his head, and went into the locker room. The captain, Callahan, was sitting on the bench in front of Landon's stall.

  "You did really good out there." Callahan stood and moved aside to give Landon space to get changed. "But you were late coming back from lunch. Paul told me you had an impeccable attendance for training with your last team. Something going on I should know about?"

  "Not at all." Landon peeled off his sweat dampened practice jersey and tossed it onto the pile in the corner. "Just lost track of time."

  "I see." Callahan sighed. "Fuck, man, you've got a shitload of pressure on you, and it sucks, but this team is recovering from a serious blow. To top it off, I just found out Scott Demyan was added to the roster. We've got a spoiled little diva running the show and—"

  "I consider Silver a friend, Callahan, and I'd appreciate it if you don't talk about her like that." Landon grinned at Callahan's stunned look. "I get that it was a bad trade, but so what? One man doesn't make us less of a team." He shrugged. "And who knows, he may surprise us and make her look like a genius."

  "I doubt that."

  "Hey, don't give up on the guy before he even gets here. He agreed to play for the team. That's got to mean something."

  "Yeah, it means no one else wanted him." Callahan massaged his eyes with his fingertips. "Look, he's my problem. I'll figure it out. My main concern is making sure you're comfortable with the men in front of you. You let me know if there's any way I can make this easier for you."

  "Will do."

  Callahan nodded and headed for the door. Halfway there, he paused. "And Bower?"

  Landon looked up from where he was undoing his pads. "Yeah?"

  "Don't be late again."

  Chuckling, Landon shed the rest of his equipment and then made his way out to the empty player's lounge. He liked the captain, even though he seemed like a bit of a tight ass. Perron seemed pretty cool—though he couldn't fathom a Honeymoon that lasted less than twenty-four hours being shared . . . And then there was Mason. He couldn't read the man. His reputation at the club was sterling, but he was a different animal on the ice. He'd reserve judgment.

  After changing into street clothes, he pulled out his phone and checked his messages. One from Silver and one from his sister.

  He called Silver first.

  "Hello?" A man, probably Asher, answered in a brisk tone.

  "Hey, is Silver there?"

  "Who's asking?"

  "Landon." Landon waited for Asher to call Silver, but was met with silence. "She called me."

  "She's not accepting calls right now. But I'll give her a message if you'd like."

  "No, that's all right." Landon shoved his feet into his shoes. "Thank you."

  Hanging up, Landon headed straight out, one destination in mind. He didn't need the pompous asshole giving Silver a message for him. He was perfectly capable of delivering it himself.

  * * * *

  Silver hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, oblivious to the shards of glass littering the floor. Alcohol created puddles on the kitchen tiles where she'd missed the sink and the scent beckoned.

  "I don't have time for this, Silver." Asher's soles crunched in the glass as he paced in front of her. "You knew I had plans with Cedric."

  Her bottom lip quivered. "Then go! I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience!"

  "Don't be like that." Asher threw his arms in the air. "This isn't fair! I do my best to split myself evenly between you two, but you're an attention whore! The world doesn't stop turning because you want it to! The rest of us have the right to keep living!"

  Cold spilled over her flesh and she turned her tear burned eyes up to him. "Is that what you think of me?"

  "I've always known who you are." Crouching in front of her, Asher held out his hands, palms up. "And I accept you. I'm just not crazy about all the drama."

  All the drama? She shook her head. Their whole relationship had been all carefree and fun, going to parties and smoozing with the rich and famous. The lifestyle Asher liked, but couldn't get on his own. Until her father had his heart attack, she'd never asked Asher to deal with any family drama . . .

  He dealt with you coked out of your head. And your diva tantrums. Maybe this is just too much.

  True. She sighed and pressed her forehead to her knees. Her throat ached from screaming. Her chest felt hollow and sore. And for what? Getting Asher's attention didn't make her any more important to him. It just proved him right. "It's okay, Asher. Really. You and Cedric go out." Her voice hitched. "Tell him I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out like that."

  "I'll tell him." Asher ruffled her hair, and then the sound his heels grinding glass drifted away. The door opened and Asher spoke with uncharacteristic hostility. "Can I help you?"

  "Where's Silver?"

  Landon? Silver's eyes went wide and she dragged herself up the counter to see down the hall. Little sparks danced inside her belly as she caught sight of him, towering over Asher.

  "There you are!" Landon elbowed past Asher and came towards her with a strained smile planted on his lips. "You called?"

  "I did." She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, looking around at the mess she'd made. "But that was before—"

  "Before you decided you needed to tidy up a bit?" Landon grabbed the broom leaning against the wall in the hall and crunched through the glass until he was standing right in front of her. "No problem. I'm not much of a neat freak."

  His words made her smile, but still, she shook her head. "Landon—"

  "I told you she wasn't taking calls," Asher said.

  Landon nodded. "Yes, but I'm not on the phone, am I? If she wants me to leave, she can ask me herself." He swept some glass away from her socked feet and arched a brow at her. "So what do you say?"

  Her chaotic brain calmed at his level tone. She had no right to ask Asher to put up with her like this. She had even less right to ask Landon. But the word came despite her reasoning.

  "Stay."

  "All right. Up with you." He picked her up and sat her on the counter. Then he glanced back at Asher. "Don't let us keep you. There's a man waiting for you in the hall. Hot date?"

  "None of your business." Asher went to the coat rack by the door and grabbed his coat. "Listen, you. If you hurt her—"

  "You'll sue me?" Landon laughed and the sound was ragged, like a knife hacking at wood. He gave Asher a look like the other man was shit he'd found stuck to his shoe. "Sorry, pal, but the whole building heard exactly how you feel about this situation. Not like Silver doesn't know exactly what most people see when they look at her, but you needed to make your point loud and clear."

  Asher snorted. "Whatever, man. Honestly, I hope she tears your heart out and eats it raw. You're stupid enough to deserve it."

  Landon ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded slowly. "Got it. Anything else?"

  "Don't be here whe
n I get back," Asher said before striding out and slamming the door behind him.

  "We'll see." Landon swept up the rest of the mess without looking at her. "Now that he's gone, you want to tell me what happened?"

  "Anne, the secretary, told Oriana she overheard that I had plans to trade Sloan. Oriana called me and . . . ." Tears spilled over and her throat locked. She struggled to get out the rest. "She asked what else I planned to take away from her. I tried to explain that I didn't want any of this, but she hung up on me. She hates me."

  "I doubt that." Lips in a thin line, Landon stared at the colorful pile of glass of the floor. "So, after she hung up you threw a few bottles?"

  "Not exactly." Silver brought her fingers to her mouth and nibbled off the opal colored polish. This was it. This was the moment when Landon would decide he didn't want to hang around her anymore. "When I tried to talk to Asher, he closed his bedroom door in my face."

  "Some boyfriend."

  "No, it's not like that. You don't get it. I can be very . . . ." She dropped her gaze to her toes. "Demanding."

  "So let me get this straight," Landon said. "You got the door slammed in your face, so you just came in here and started breaking things."

  "No. I knocked."

  "What did he say when he answered."

  "He didn't."

  "Ah." After patting her jean clad knee, Landon resumed cleaning up the glass. Then, without a word, he turned and headed for the door.

  Don't go. She pressed her hand to her throat and whispered the words.

  Landon stopped. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

  "I said—" Her voice sounded weak. Pathetic. She swallowed twice to get it back to normal. "Please. Don't leave yet."

  "Why not?" He returned to the kitchen and rested his hip against the counter. When she didn't answer, he tapped his fingers on the countertop. One dark brow arched, he waited a little longer before calmly saying. "This is called an adult conversation, Silver. It goes both ways."

  Condescending bastard. Her spine went stiff and she scowled at him. "Forget it."