Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (59 page)

"And now he's giving it to me."

"He's not in his right mind."

"Prove it."

Silver sucked her teeth and smiled. Inclined
her head and headed for the door. "I plan to."

Ford's laughter trailed after her. "Good
luck, sis!"

She slammed the door to cut it off and
stumbled towards her car. Her hand slammed against the door and her
stomach heaved. Vomit splashed the pavement and she choked on
acidic bile.

Weak, as though she'd taken a beating, she
climbed into her car and rested her head on the steering wheel.

And just think. The night's not over
yet.

That last save looked like it had to hurt,
but Dean spared only a moment to make sure Landon got up on his own
before he resumed pacing and checked his watch. Almost an hour and
a half. Where the hell was Silver?

Not where she said she'd be.

To be fair, she hadn't specified where she
was going, he'd just assumed that she'd meant the bathroom. And she
wasn't a child. She didn't need permission to go wherever she
pleased.

Without calling. Or answering his calls.

Damn it, it's called respect. I wouldn't do
this to her.

Silver didn't have much experience with
relationships. Maybe she didn't realize he'd worry.

Bullshit. She's a smart girl.

Maybe something had happened to her. Maybe
she'd gone outside to get some air and . . .

The buzzer sounded. The game went into
overtime. Dean didn't give a damn. It might be too soon to put out
a missing person's report, but there was no way he could stay and
focus on the game without knowing where she was. Hopefully he'd
find her at home, preferably just tired, more likely nauseous, and
he could take care of her for tonight and save the lecture for the
morning.

Dean turned his back on the rink and nodded
to Bolleau. "Take some notes for me. I have to—"

Silver slipped into the press box, a shaky
smile on her lips. Her makeup looked freshly done, but it couldn't
hide the fact that she'd been crying. And her tone wasn't as light
as she tried to make it. "Sorry I took so long."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her
hair. "What happened?"

"Ah . . .we'll talk about it later."

"Or now. Something upset you." He tipped her
chin up to study her face. "You've been gone quite awhile."

Her gaze shifted away from his. "Something
came up."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Something came
up."

"Yeah." Silver glanced nervously at Bolleau.
"What's the score?"

Bolleau looked at Dean. "If you won't be
needing those notes . . . ?"

"Please stay, Bolleau. We'll finish watching
the game." Dean caught Silver's elbow before she could take a seat.
He kept his voice level. Calm. Every word measured and articulate
so she couldn't claim any misunderstanding. "Give me your
shoes."

"My shoes?"

He didn't even pause. "Then you may sit at my
feet, close enough for me to feel you right there. That should give
you time to think about what you'd like to say to me when the game
is over."

"But—"

"There's no need to talk until then, Silver."
He held out his hand and gave her a curt nod when she stepped out
of her heels and handed them to him. "And just to give you a clue,
I don't want to hear another 'sorry'."

Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.
Her jaw shifted as she ground her teeth.

The overtime period started. Dean returned to
his seat near the glass, not so much angry as disappointed. Her
apology meant nothing if she thought that goddamn word would make
things all better. She might not get why he was upset right now,
but once she did he knew very well submitting to a small
punishment—and he was taking it pretty damn easy on her—would go a
long way in making her feel that her actions were unacceptable, not
unforgiveable.

Seconds later, Silver stepped up to his side.
She took his hand, kissed his knuckles, and lowered gracefully to
her knees.

Dean quietly let out the breath he'd been
holding and stroked her hair as she laid her head against his
thigh. They were all right.
She
was all right.

They won the game in the last seconds of
overtime and the crowds erupted in a cacophony of victory cheers
for the Cobras and boos for the Sabres as the players left the ice.
Dean stood and shook Bolleau's hand with a brief, "See you
Monday."

Silver fiddled with a loose string on her
blouse cuff as he watched her from a few feet away. She bit the tip
of her tongue and seemed to struggle not to look up at him.
Obviously a little nervous about what was coming next.

Time to put her at ease. He approached with
quiet steps, touched her cheek, then helped her to her feet. "Are
you ready to talk to me?"

"Yes, but first . . . ." She frowned down at
her bare feet and he was certain she'd ask for her shoes. But then
she shook her head. "I'm sor—I mean . . . I probably wouldn't be
too happy with you if you disappeared without telling me. I should
have called or something. I promise I'll never do it again."

"Thank you, Silver. I'd appreciate that." He
took a knee and helped her slip back into her shoes. After
straightening, he hugged her to his side and kissed her forehead.
"Would you like to speak to me about what 'came up'?"

"Da—My father wanted to see me. Anne left a
message and it sounded pretty serious. I had to go."

"Yes, you did." Dean rubbed her arm as they
left the press box. "Is he all right?"

"Good as can be expected, I guess." Her brow
furrowed. "That bothered me, but there was more . . . remember that
guy that was dating Jami?"

"Ford Kingsley?"

"Yeah, only, he's not a Kingsley. Apparently,
he's a Delgado."

"A Delgado."
Fuck.
This could get
messy. "As in your father's son?"

"I take it you know what that means? My
father will give him everything. I don't care about the money and
the house, I've got my own money, but the Kingsleys are behind the
whole mess last season!" She pressed closer to his side,
redirecting him away from the elevator to the stairs. "I need more
exercise, I swear, the way you're feeding me is like you're trying
to fatten me up or something!" She laughed, then shook her head and
sobered right up. "Anyway, Ford's going to destroy this team if we
let him."

"Oh, I doubt that very much." Dean ground his
teeth and did his best to stay close to her side as she practically
skipped down the steps. "Can you please walk normally? You're
making me very nervous in those heels."

"Do you want to take them off me again?" She
hopped to the second floor landing and gave him a cheeky grin.
"Would that make you feel better?"

"Don't tempt me, Silver."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll be careful.
But can you please tell me why you don't think Ford will be bad for
the team?"

"I didn't say that. But I'm not overly
concerned.
If
Ford is your brother and your father gives him
the team, you are in a very good position to fight the transfer in
court. Your father gave the team to
you
and he's obviously
unstable. I don't think it would be difficult for Asher to
prove—you might as well make use of the man since you've decided to
keep him around."

"Okay, that I can do." She chewed on the edge
of her bottom lip. "But what if I lose?"

"I still hold controlling interest in the
team, Silver. Only by proxy, but as long as your father is alive,
Ford can't override my decisions any more than you can. And I'm
willing to bet he knows that. He'll be in a better position to try
to bribe players himself, but I don't see him trying that." He
smiled at her confused look. "I managed to avoid any serious issues
with the league over what happened last season, but they will be
watching us for awhile. The guys are also a bit gun-shy—which is
why they aren't welcoming the new players with open arms. There's a
lot of tension in the locker room. Ford won't get far with any of
them, not for any amount of money."

"What if Ford doesn't use money? What if he
tries—"

"With who, Silver?" Dean put a hand on her
shoulder before she could step out onto the main floor. "He needs
an impact player. We both know he'll never get Landon. Demyan's
dealt with assholes like Kingsley before, I don't see him going for
it. Your sister's men struggled through having a two-faced goalie
and having one of their friends sell out, and they're all dedicated
to the team. Who else could he get to that could actually decide
entire games, Silver? Think about it."

She nodded and exhaled noisily. "I guess . .
. ."

"Sweetheart, Ford is young and ambitious. He
gloated and it made you nervous, I can understand that. But what
you need to understand is that he doesn't have as much power as he
thinks he does. Don't give him any more by letting him get to you,
okay?"

"Okay." She dug in her heels as he turned her
towards the last flight of stairs. "Umm . . . but what about my
father? He's not doing good."

"You said he was doing as good as could be
expected. Did his nurse give you any reason to doubt that? Do you
feel like you should have stayed?"

"No. She told me there was nothing I could
do."

"Do you believe her?"

Silver frowned and shrugged. "She's a nurse.
I guess I have to."

"And the stress really isn't good for you, is
it?" He chuckled as she blushed and hid her face against his
shoulder. "I think it's about time we have a conversation with
Landon."

She peaked up at him. "We?"

"Unless you'd rather speak to him alone."

"No! No, I want you with me. With us. You
know that right? And, I mean, he might decide he doesn't want
anything to do with me and that will be a lot easier to deal with
if—"

He covered her lips with a finger. "Silver,
don't assume anything. Just tell him. I'll stay with you."

That look, that utter trust in her eyes, made
his chest swell as if his heart had somehow gotten bigger, filled
up, expanded, and damn, it felt good.

"I finally see what Landon meant." He bent
down to kiss her and smiled against her lips. "I can't let you go.
Not anymore."

"Stupid man." Her breath came sweet and hot
as she deepened the kiss. "How many times do I have to tell you?
I'm not going anywhere."

"Just one more time."

Giggling, she nipped at his bottom lip, then
rose up on her tiptoes as she tugged him down to whisper in his
ear. "I'm not going anywhere."

He groaned and picked her up carrying her
down the last few steps, kissing her, hardening as he forgot where
they were going and why. He wanted her. Here. Now.

She gasped as he bit the side of her throat.
"Landon . . . ."

"I know we share you, dragonfly." He nibbled
along her jaw, then teased the hollow behind her ear with his
tongue. "But it would be nice if you could remember who you're
with."

"Did you hit your head this morning,
dumbass?" She pursed her lips and gave him a little shove. "Did you
not tell me I should talk to Landon?"

Ah, yes. That.
He nodded. Let her
turn. Then latched onto the nape of her neck, hauling her back to
speak quietly into her ear. "Once you're done with him, we will
discuss you calling me names. Privately. With a bar of soap, some
rubber elastics, and a pair of chopsticks."

"Chopsticks?"

"Mmmhmm." He smacked her butt and laughed
when she scampered forward. "Now let's go congratulate our
goalie."

She shot him a look over her shoulder.

"For the win." Dean winked. "He played
well."

* * * *

Steam filled the large, dark blue tiled
shower, but Silver's mouth went dry. Water cascaded over long
muscular planes, drizzled down smooth, hard curves, washing away
green tinged, ocean fresh foam. Landon tipped his head back under
the shower and her pussy clenched as his pecs and abs bulged. He
looked huge, all the way from his wide shoulders, down to his
thick, well defined thighs. And his dick, hanging, mostly soft
under the warms spill of water, was impressive.

Dean had stayed behind to empty out the
locker room and give them some privacy. She'd flushed as she'd
passed the half dressed men, all fucking big and strong, and most
so damn hot she wondered if the hockey gene gave them an unfair
advantage. But none of them affected her the way this man did.

She kicked off her shoes and padded silently
towards him, wanting to touch, to taste, just once before things
got all serious. His eyes met hers just as she reached him and his
lips curved as he latched onto her wrists and pulled her under the
spray.

The shower soaked through her blouse as their
lips came together, their kiss slick and hot and wet. Hands on his
chest, she pushed him back into the tiles and bent down to lick a
nipple. She brought her eyes up to his as she lowered, teasing him
with her teeth. He groaned and fisted his hands in her hair.

"Silver, we shouldn't." His grip tightened
and her nipples twinged in response to the slight pain in her
scalp. His hips jutted forward despite his protest. "Not here."

"Yes. Here." She flicked her tongue over the
slit at the tip of his hardening dick. "Then we need to talk."

He went still and gave her a hard look. "No.
We talk first."

"Landon—"

Yanking her up, he changed their positions,
trapping her against the wall, tearing at her shirt as he shook his
head and rasped out a harsh breath. "Talk. And make it quick
because I want you right fucking now."

Her drenched blouse slapped the floor. Her
bra followed, half torn from her body. Landon's large hands covered
her breasts as he claimed her mouth once again. The painful throb
of her nipples flattened under his palm made her breaths shallow.
He stole the rest with his hungry lips, taking her mouth, his
tongue snaking in and out over and over.