Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (39 page)

Her face was twisted in rage when she turned.
Dean tensed, not sure if he should let her go on. This was too
personal. Too painful.

But she continued before he could make up his
mind to stop her. "He went on a road trip, came back, and found her
waiting for him. She was pregnant! Wasn't it wonderful?"

"He went back to her."

"Of course he did. My brother isn't the type
to turn away a woman carrying his child. But . . . the baby was
stillborn." Her voice hitched. "He was so in love with the idea of
being a father! It tore him apart. He tried to make it work after,
but she hadn't changed. She got worse and worse until he couldn't
take it anymore. She was smothering him!"

"Rebecca, you don't have to—"

"She committed suicide a week before the
second anniversary of their baby's death. She called him and begged
him to come back to her. It was training camp, he couldn't just
leave. And she'd been calling and calling . . . ."

Jesus Christ.
Dean stood and pulled
Rebecca into his arms as she sobbed. "It's not his fault. I get it.
Breathe, sweetie."

"He blames himself!" Her whole body trembled.
"She slit her wrists in his bathtub and made sure he found her
there! He hasn't been in a relationship since. I can't . . . I
can't let her destroy him! I hate her! I fucking hate her!"

"Shh . . . ." He stroked her arms and let his
voice lower to a soothing, yet firm tone. "Thank you for telling
me, Rebecca. I couldn't help him if I didn't know. You're an
amazing sister. He's lucky to have you."

She sniffled, then groaned. "He's going to be
so mad that I told you."

"I won't tell him you did. Here, clean
yourself up." He took out the grey silk handkerchief from his suit
pocket and handed it to her. "You go tell him off for playing
hung-over. He's probably at the hospital. Do you want a lift?"

"No." She dabbed her wet cheeks and took a
deep breath. "I can get there on my own. Just . . . just make sure
he knows he's worth something. I thought he and Silver were . . .
but they're not. They're friends. And he could use a friend right
now."

"He has several." He smiled. The woman pulled
it together quick. If her face wasn't red, he wouldn't have guessed
that she'd just bared her soul. "Do you mind if I tell Silver? I
think he needs her more than anyone."

"Tell her." Rebecca's jaw went hard. "And
tell her if she ever hurts my brother, friend or not, I'll turn her
pretty face into road kill."

"So noted." Dean gave her a moment to compose
herself, then gently guided her to the door. "I really don't think
you need to worry about Silver though. I think she'll be good for
him."

"So do I." Rebecca hesitated and frowned up
at him. "But you—"

"Let me worry about that." Dean gave her a
hard look when she opened her mouth to protest. "Rebecca, I don't
appreciate subs questioning my actions."

Her cheeks reddened. Then she laughed. "Yes,
Sir!"

"Good girl." He inhaled as she walked away,
then spotted Silver and held out an arm, welcoming her into his
embrace.

She snuggled against him and mumbled. "You've
got something bad to tell me, don't you?"

"Yes, my love." He kissed her hair and
sighed. What if he was wrong? What if believing her 'Me and Landon
are friends' was an indulgent fantasy? Would she still want him? He
had to believe she would. And make sure she made an informed
decision. "But all you have to do is listen."

And not leave me in the dust once I'm
done.

Antiseptic and—Silver's nose wrinkled—blood.
The scent didn't bother her as much as the length of stitches,
piecing Carter's swollen mouth back together, marking a black track
from the left side of his bottom lip almost down to his chin. As
she watched he laughed and leaned forward so Scott and Landon, who
both stood by his temporary ER bed, could see the stitches inside
his mouth.

The room spun like a twirl-a-whirl and Dean
caught her elbow. "Breathe, sweetie. He's fine. Just showing off
his 'war wounds'."

Must he?
Her concern stepped aside and
common sense took over. She didn't need to be here. She needed to
be . . .
In a nice hot bath with a bottle of tequila. Enough to
completely blank out what I just saw.

As her gaze flitted away from Carter, it
locked with Landon's. He opened his mouth—then stood and lightly
punched Carter's arm. "I'm going to go pick up a few things for
you, patch-face. Demyan, you mind giving him a lift back to the
hotel when he's cleared?"

"Sure thing," Scott said.

Landon shuffled past her and Dean, pausing
when Carter called out to him.

"What?"

Carter pointed at his mangled lip and managed
a painful-looking, lopsided grin. "Few more of these and I might be
as ugly as you!"

Chuckling, Landon gave him the finger and
walked out.

Wow, not even a nod? A smile? Nothing?
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, confused by how much it
bothered her that Landon hadn't even acknowledged her presence.
Fine, she wanted some space, but . . .

On the drive here, Dean had told her all
about the shit Landon had been through with his ex. Part of her—a
big part—wanted to talk to him. To get him to tell her himself.
They were supposed to be friends and if he was having a rough time
of it, he needed to know she was there for him.

But she wasn't. Which made her feel guilty
and pissed off all at once. It was his fault they weren't speaking.
Should she just forget he'd hurt her because he'd had a rough
life?

No. Forgetting it wasn't an option. They had
a long way to go before they could be friends again.

Still, she couldn't just let him leave. And
anyway, she
was
his boss. It made perfect sense for her to
remind him of that after what had gone down on the ice. They had
some things to discuss.

Even though he obviously wanted nothing to do
with her.

Doesn't work that way.
Silver squared
her shoulders.
I'm the one who's mad. If I have something to say
he's damn well going to listen to me.

Following him out to the exit, she cleared
her throat and folded her arms over her chest. "Mr. Bower."

He stopped short. His back muscles tensed
under his snug grey t-shirt. "Yes, Miss Delgado?"

"Don't get all pissed off and go on another
bender. You'll still be expected to show up for practice."

With a gruff laugh, he turned to face her.
"Is that so?"

"Yes. And you don't have to run away the
second I walk into a room."

His brow arched. "Run away? Is that what you
think I'm doing, mignonne?" His lips curved into a dark smile. "You
wanted me to stay away. I'm staying away. Don't push me."

She dug her nails into her palm to stifle a
shudder. "Is that a threat, Mr. Bower?"

"Landon." He moved closer, his grey eyes
holding the heat of molten steel. His tone took on a knife's edge
as he backed her into a wall. "Say my name, Silver."

There wasn't enough air to say his name. She
gasped as her lips formed it, and that appeared to be enough. His
hands delved into her hair, tearing it free from her loose updo.
Her scalp tingled. Her heart forgot to beat. His lips came down on
hers and she lost herself to the taste of him. Mint and salt.
Brutal, bruising pressure. Pain, so fucking sweet. The smooth
thrust of his tongue, possessing her mouth until she whimpered
because it was all too much.

His kiss gentled, massaging her lips as the
tip of his tongue teased hers. He eased his hands from her hair and
curved them around her face. "I'm sorry. I had to."

Her brain snapped back into her skull. She
shoved him and her hand whipped out, catching his cheek with a
loud, satisfying
Smack!

"No.
I'm
sorry." Her eyes teared and
her whole body quivered. "I'm sorry bad things happened to you, but
you don't get to do that. You don't get to hurt me, then leave me,
then do that."

Landon gave her a curt nod, then lifted his
head. "I'm afraid I must apologize again for trespassing, Sir. I
swear this is the
last
time it will ever happen."

He walked away and she locked her legs
against the insane urge to follow him again. To scream at him. To
give him a few more slaps.

To demand another kiss.

Strong arms came around her and she
stiffened, then relaxed into the familiar embrace. Hot and musky.
Solid. Her man. Dean.

Dean . . .
she glanced over her
shoulder and held her breath. Was he mad? He smiled and shook his
head, as though answering her thoughts.

And then he did. "I'm not angry. Actually,
I've been expecting this."

"You have?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Of
course you have. I'm a slut and—"

"Enough." He turned her and hugged her tight.
"
He
kissed you, pet. That doesn't make you a slut. What I'd
like to know is what exactly were you hoping to accomplish?" Dean
whispered into her hair. "I'm assuming that wasn't it?"

"No." She groaned, miserably. "I don't know.
I guess . . . I don't want him to forget about me. I won't pretend
I'm not mad, but I want him to know . . . I'm still here."

"He's not likely to forget, my love." Dean's
pulse beat slow and steady against her cheek. "You know how he
feels about you."

"I do not. And it doesn't matter how he
feels." Fisting her hands in Dean's shirt, she glared up at him.
"I'm with you. And you need to stop acting like I'm going to leave,
because I'm not going anywhere. I . . . ."

Dean shook his head and sighed. "Silver, you
don't have to say—"

"Shut up." She smacked his chest and grinned
when he frowned at her. "Interrupting is rude,
Sir.
"

"And smacking your Dom is not very
smart."

Oh shit.
She let him go and backed up.
"We're still at work."

"Work hours are over, little one. But we'll
discuss this at the hotel." His eyes crinkled as he looked her
over. "I do believe we'll have to try out the new gag I bought for
you. Your screams may disturb the staff."

Heat flashed over her cheeks. "Umm . . .
."

He smiled. "Now. You were saying?"

What was I saying?
She nibbled on her
bottom lip and shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you. So
Landon—"

"We'll figure out how to deal with Landon
when the time comes." He took her hand and kissed her forehead.
"Just keep one thing in mind." He tipped her chin up. "I will never
make you choose."

Won't make me choose?

The night air stirred her mussed up hair as
they made their way to Dean's rental. She stared at the side of
Dean's face all the way there, then again when she got inside the
car and he climbed in behind the wheel. He didn't say another word
on the drive to the hotel, which was good, because her mind was
racing and she probably wouldn't have heard him anyway.

He won't make me choose.
She stared
out the window and chewed the inside of her cheek in thought.
What the hell does that mean?

* * * *

Dean closed the door to the hotel room and
leaned against it, thumbs hooked to his pockets as he observed
Silver, aimlessly wondering around the room as though not sure what
to do with herself. Likely over thinking things.

We can't have that.

"I mentioned punishment, didn't I?" He smiled
slowly as she spun around and tripped backwards into the sofa. "Oh
no, pet. I'm not chasing you. Strip. Then kneel by the sofa."

Her skin paled even as she peeled off her
shirt. "But—"

"Ten my love." He held up a hand before she
could get herself in more trouble without a fair warning. "You're
getting off easy. Consider that before you say another word. And
know I will add five for each one."

She finished stripping and dropped hard to
her knees with a wince. "You can't—"

"That's twenty. You were saying?"

She pressed her lips together and
scowled.

"I should add five for that look. Be a good
girl. The seats in the LA press boxes are rather hard." His lips
curved into a smirk. "And I don't think they provide pillows."

The scowl disappeared. Her teeth grazed her
bottom lip, so damn distracting he almost lost his train of thought
as he recalled how that mouth felt sliding all the way down his
cock. Fortunately, his sense of responsibility took over before he
went to her and abandoned all thoughts of discipline. She needed
this. Tonight more than ever. If he let her get away with hitting
him, she would expect him to let her get away with everything. He'd
shown her respect as a partner. He'd earned the same as her
Dom.

Lucky for her, he was taking into account her
inexperience. He had a whole arsenal of creative punishments for
naughty little subs. But he would save those. For now they would
stick with something a bit more traditional.

"I'm going to our room to collect a few
things." He moved in close to her and nudged her knees apart with
his foot so her glistening pussy was fully exposed. Much better.
"Don't move."

A quick nod as her lips parted.

"Let's not forget ourselves, pet."

Her throat worked. She shut her mouth and
nodded again.

He let his approval show in a soft smile.
Then went to the bedroom to get what he needed.

Silver hadn't moved in his absence, which
earned her another smile. He stepped up to her side and pet her
hair before dropping his small black toy bag and his walking stick
on the coffee table in front of her.

Eyes wide, she groaned and stared at the
long, thick polished wood. "Oh . . . ."

"Not exactly a word, so I'll let it go." That
got him a dirty look. He chuckled. "I rarely use this for
punishments, but I keep it with me at all times incase my knee acts
up."