Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (24 page)

"I will." Silver held the bundle
of keys by the one the concierge showed her and put her hand on his
shoulder. "And if the landlord needs to throw him out, tell him or
her not to worry. He has friends he can stay with. We'd hate for
him to bother your other tenants."

"I say, are you Silver Delgado?"
The man squinted at her. "You are! He's no good for the team, talk
to Mr. Richter, he's a smart guy. He'll set you straight."

Dean moved up behind her
and put a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Delgado and I are working
together to make sure the team meets fan expectations. This
includes Mr. Demyan. I think you'll be surprised at how dedicated
he really is."

"I hope you're right,
sir." The old man straightened as much as he could and looked from
her to Dean in a way that made her wonder if Dean's
support
wasn't a bad idea. "She's a young thing and I know the
damage a pretty miss can do. I've got two lookers of my own. Heaven
help the men they reeled in."

Door 5. Silver didn't wait to
see how Dean would reply. Seriously, if any woman could be accused
of messing with a man's head, it would be her. That aside, she was
perfectly willing to mess with Scott's head. He didn't deserve her
pity.

She unlocked the door and
wrinkled her nose at the stench of rotten food and sex. Meer steps
away from the door lay Scott, limbs tangled with two women and
mismatched, stained sheets. Silver crept by them and paused by the
tiny kitchenette to put her finger to her lips as Dean stomped in.
He scowled, then nodded.

Scott hadn't been here long, but
he'd managed to make the entire apartment into a place she'd be
ashamed to invite guests. Much as she wanted to embarrass him, she
couldn't bring the press in here and pull off the misunderstood
philanthropist act. Which meant she had to get him out of bed and
dressed. Fast. And the sleazy chicks would have to go.

None of his dishes were
clean, but she found a bucket under the sink that hadn't been used.
She filled it with cold water in the bathtub and carted it out to
the living room. With one last glance at Dean's open mouthed stare,
she tossed the cold water onto the sleeping trio.

The women screamed. Scott
woke with a start and reached under his pillow. Her bucket landed
with a
clunk!
as he pulled out a gun. "Come get me, you
fuckers!"

Silver froze. Her blood turned
to ice. The last time a man had pulled a gun on her she'd been with
Asher. A client he'd failed wanted revenge and she'd been caught in
the crossfire. The gun went off and she couldn't hear in one ear
for a month. But that hadn't affected her as much as the flesh
wound which had left a small, hidden scar a few inches above her
ear. So easy to hide, but a constant reminder that if the man had
wanted to kill her, she'd be dead. Asher talked him down after, but
that nervous twitch on the trigger could have ended her life. Her
fingers found the smooth spot covered by hair. Her eyes locked on
the black barrel aimed at her head.

"Are you fucking insane?" Dean
pulled her behind him and picked up a crowbar. Why the hell was
there a crowbar by the door? "Put it away!"

The gun shook and again that man
was screaming at her. Screaming at Asher.

"Nonono!" Her mind went blank.
She went deaf again and the sound blasted in her skull. "Please! I
didn't know! I don't know! I won't say anything!"

The sound came over and over,
ripping through her. She crouched down and suddenly she was
floating, leaving the place where the sharp stench of gunpowder
took over and left her helpless. Maybe she was already dead. She
hung around bad people. All the drugs and the deals would catch up
with her. Asher lied. He couldn't protect her!

"Silver!" Dean's voice came
through the fog and she latched onto it. "Please talk to me. I
don't know if this is a movie you starred it that hit you bad or
from real life. Talk to me!"

"Real. Too real!" She shook her
head but the buzzing from the past remained. And the doctor,
telling her the bullet didn't do any real damage. "But my ears
hurt. I can't breathe!"

"I got you, baby."

Something was closing around
her, trapping her. She lashed out, freed herself and lunged for the
door.

This time she was fast enough to
get away.

* * * *

Dean moved to follow Silver.
Scott grabbed his arm—ducking just in time to avoid getting a fist
in the face. Red flashed in Dean's vision and he forced himself to
drop the crowbar before he was tempted to use it.

"Get out of my way," Dean
said.

Scott stashed the gun back
under his pillow, then held his hands up. "I'm trying to help, man.
I didn't mean to freak her out like that, but she's having a panic
attack and you grabbing her will only make it worse. Get her to
walk around the block or something."

Giving Scott a curt nod, Dean
headed out the door. He called back over his shoulder. "You better
be dressed when I come back."

Outside, Dean had to run to
catch up with Silver. She stopped when she noticed him and he
watched her slip a calm mask over her face. A good act, but neither
her breathing, nor her pulse, had slowed. The way her gaze darted
sideways told him she still wanted to run.

"Hey . . . ." Her tongue traced
her upper lip as she gave him a little smile. "Sorry for acting
like a spazz. I have this thing about guns."

Clearly.
He had so many questions
he wanted to ask her, but now wasn't the time for an interrogation.
He knew more than a little about panic attacks from the club and
his stint in the military—forcing someone to talk while they were
having one could make things worse.

"You need to do something for
me, sweetie." His jaw ticked as she rubbed her arms. He wished he
could hold her, but after what had happened last time—Demyan was
right. He settled on taking her hand while paying close attention
to her pale face to see how she'd react. So far so good. He gently
stroked her knuckles and focused on keeping his tone neutral.
"You're breathing fast. Too fast. Slow it down a little."

"Yes. Yes I should." She shook
her head quickly and resumed walking. Her grip on his hand
tightened. "Can't seem to manage it though."

"You can. All you have to do is
listen to me and do exactly what I say."

She laughed and a bit of color
returned to her cheeks. "Or you'll tie me up and spank me?"

He smirked. "After this morning,
I think I'll use spanking as a reward."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed.
"You're too much. So what do you command, oh great and mighty
one?"

"Breathe and count with
me. And let me know when you're ready to head back."

"Back . . . ." She groaned.
"Damn it! I have to get Scott ready! The press will—"

"Inhale. Now exhale 5, 4,
3—you're not counting."

"That's not the way I learned to
do it." Staring at her feet, she mumbled under her breath. "I like
'I'm safe'."

Already her breathing had calmed
somewhat, but her admission made him want to keep it going a little
longer to make sure she stayed level. He brought his hand up, very,
very slowly, so not to startle her, and cupped her cheek in his
palm.

"Do you feel safe?"

Her eyes drifted shut. Her
lashes rested on her cheeks. And she smiled. "Yes, I feel safe.
That never would have happened with you. You're smart. And
careful."

What wouldn't
have happened?
He swallowed against the
question he couldn't voice and simply nodded. "Let's try it your
way then. Inhale. Now exhale. I'm safe."

They continued this way for a
few blocks, whispering those two words, walking at the same pace,
breathing as one. As they headed back towards Demyan's apartment,
Dean realized he didn't want to kill the man anymore. He would find
out why the hell he slept with a damn gun, but even that didn't
seem that important right now. All that mattered was Silver wasn't
faking anymore. She really was fine.

"I suppose I owe you an
explanation," she said, glancing towards the news van that had
pulled up across the street. "But we don't have much time, so maybe
after . . . ."

"Whenever you're ready."
He took one last deep inhale. "I don't imagine you want to go back
in there. Care to stall the press while I fetch our newest
altruist?"

"That would be great." She
tugged on his hand before he could walk away. "Thank you."

Rising up on her tiptoes, she
gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then blushed and hurried across
the street to meet the reporters.

Dean shook his head as he
entered the building and made his way up to Demyan's floor. With
all they'd done—never mind their one night stand, but just this
morning, why in the world would she be all shy about kissing him?
Was she afraid the press might catch her? No, more likely she
wasn't sure if she could instigate a kiss since he was a Dom. Did
she think she needed permission?

He snorted at the thought.
As much as he believed Silver was submissive, she wasn't
that
submissive. She had no problem trying to instigate
sex.

One hand on the doorknob, he
brought the other up to rest his fist against his lips. Suddenly he
knew why this kiss had been different.

This kiss had nothing to do with
sex.

A faint clicking behind the door
drew his attention. He knocked.

"Come in," Demyan called.

Dean stepped into the apartment.
The women were gone. The lights were off. And Demyan was sitting in
the dark, hunched over on his sofa, wearing a rumpled suit, opening
and closing the gun's cartridge.

He didn't look up as he spoke.
"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. But we need to
talk."

"So talk."

"Why don't you put away the
gun?"

Demyan laughed. "I probably
should. Hell, after that, I should probably get rid of it. Guess it
doesn't matter that the thing isn't loaded."

It didn't, but Dean shrugged.
"I'm slightly less tempted to beat you to a bloody pulp for
pointing it at her." He took a seat as Demyan stuffed the gun
between the sofa cushions. "Now, since we came in uninvited, you
were technically within your rights to defend yourself and your
property. And so long as you've got a licence for it, I've got no
say in you possessing it. But you can't bring it on road trips and
I would really appreciate you telling me why the hell you need to
sleep with a gun."

"I probably don't. Not anymore."
Demyan stood and approached the window. He winced as he peered
through a slit in the curtains. "So you decided to bring the press
here?"

"Yes. And Silver made excuses
for you not showing up for the initial press conference." Dean
stood and brushed some crumbs off his pants. "I expect you to go
along with them."

"Sure."

"And the gun?"

"After, man." Demyan smirked as
he straightened his tie and sauntered past Dean. "I don't owe you
an explanation. But I do owe her one. I don't mind if you sit in on
it."

For a split second, he'd almost
felt sorry for the man. Thought maybe he'd misjudged him. He was
still pretty young and who knew what kind of trouble he'd gotten
himself into. Maybe he needed help.

But that temporary inclination
was gone. There was no misjudgement. Scott Demyan was an
asshole.

And Dean and Silver had to
somehow convince the media he was a bleeding-heart superstar.

"Silver, love." Dean muttered to
the empty room. "I hope the man can act."

Hours after the press
conference, Silver sat with her sister on the floor in Max's living
room, watching Scott on the big screen while she nibbled on a slice
of pizza. Behind her, Landon played with her hair while he chatted
with Max about how Scott might actually be a decent guy.

Silver leaned over and whispered
to her sister. "That man deserves an Oscar for that
performance."

Oriana winked at her and rose up
on her knees to lay her head on Dominik's lap. "You and Sloan are
being awfully quiet. Aren't you excited that you get to play
tomorrow? For such a good cause?"

"I'm looking forward to
it, pet." Dominik smiled down at Oriana, the gold in his eyes
glowing in the light from the TV. "But I think the wrong person got
credit for the idea."

"What?" Landon tugged Silver's
hair and frowned when she glanced up at him. "You didn't seriously
put this together to make him look good?"

Her teeth dented her
bottom lip as she eyed her sister. She hadn't gotten a chance to
talk to Landon since last night, what with her and Dean rushing to
organize everything. Actually, she was supposed to be having supper
with Dean, but his daughter had called and he'd reluctantly asked
for a rain check. Not that she'd minded too much. She knew he'd
want to talk about the gun thing.

Which she wasn't ready to
discuss. Avoiding unpleasantness with her sister was easy, she'd
been doing it for years. But Dean wouldn't let her and Landon . . .
Landon made her want to tell him everything.

Thankfully, with the other men
around, she could avoid getting into anything serious. A little
tricky without blatantly lying, but Scott's next words on screen
gave her an out.

"I'm so grateful to be part of a
team that gives me the opportunity to do some good."

Sliding into a position
that almost mirrored Oriana's, she grinned at Landon and pretended
not to notice his frown. "We gave him the opportunity to change his
image. I mentioned the Leukemia foundation event this weekend and
asked Dean if it was too late to put a game together between The
Cobras and their farm team. He said it was cutting it close, but he
thought we could pull it off. Scott jumped on the idea."
Stretching the truth isn't actually
lying.
"There was no time to prep him for
the interview, so all those words are his own."