Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (34 page)

Dean nodded and carried the books to the
kitchen table. He dropped the neat—and now clean—stack with a
thunk. "Yes. Let's. After you put these in your carry on."

"Dean, I—"

"Now, pet." His face remained still, even
though he wanted to laugh at the way she ground her teeth. "I
suggest you hurry. I'd hate to start off our trip with a
punishment, but I will. And I guarantee you won't enjoy it."

She swallowed and picked up the books. Then
hugged them to her chest. "You know who sent them."

"Yes." He walked by her to collect her
suitcases from where she'd left them by the door. "He chose
well."

* * * *

Are we flying to Buffalo or Hong Kong?
Landon pressed a white knuckled fist against the armrest,
struggling, as he had for the goddamn everlasting flight, to stay
put.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?"

Landon tore his eyes away from the back of
Silver's head and scowled at Carter. "Why don't you continue your
story about blowing kisses to the Bruin's bench after you won the
shootout?"

Carter grinned. "That was something else, but
I finished and you weren't really listening anyway. I added a naked
ref doing the Macarena in the middle of the rink and you just
grunted."

Fuck.
The last thing he needed was the
guys catching him staring at Silver. He'd done his best to distract
himself, first by taking a nap with his ears plugged with hardcore
music from his Ipod—which lasted through the first three songs from
AC/DC's greatest hits—then by engaging in conversation with Carter.
He liked talking to the kid, but Silver was too close, and too
distant, and he'd given up on looking away.

"You were with her Saturday." Landon recalled
the way she'd stripped for the kid and clenched his jaw.
Not
your business, Bower.
He had to ask. "I didn't stick around to
watch, but you two seemed to be getting along pretty well. What
happened?"

Rubbing his hands on his knees, Carter
shrugged his bowed shoulders. "Hell, I can't Dom a woman like her.
Actually, I'm not sure I can Dom anyone. She made me look like a
real pussy. Worse, actually. I thought Dean was going to kill me
until Chicklet stopped him."

"Kill you?"

"I slapped her."

I'm going to fucking kill you!
Landon
leaned forward and hissed through his teeth. "You. Did.
What?
"

The younger man paled, but he didn't back
away. "See, that's how everyone's going to react when they find
out. Doesn't matter that she told me it would get her in the mood,
that she needed it to get into the scene. I was supposed to be in
charge and I let
her
top me."

Damn.
Anger switched to pity as Landon
sat back. Carter was right, most people wouldn't understand how
slapping a woman would be okay in
any
situation. The kid was
still growing into his Dom boots, wasn't even experienced enough to
scene in the club without his mentor close by, and one mistake
would have the subs he might be able to top avoiding him like the
plague.

"You sure you're a Dom, Carter? Maybe
Chicklet can show you—"

"She's tried. Nothing big, just some bondage
and flogging when she first took me on. It was weird, taking orders
from a woman, but kinda hot. I liked how the ropes felt." Carter's
brow furrowed as though he was thinking hard. "We tried other stuff
too. With . . . ."

"With?" Landon's brow shot up when Carter
shook his head. "Hey, don't go all secretive on me now. After the
overshare with the two chicks and the tampon string—seriously?"

Carter laughed. "That was some awesome
freakiness. Strippers rock!"

Landon rolled his eyes. All right, the kid
didn't want to talk about it. Fine with him, so long as—

"So, what's going on with you and
Silver?"

Dropping his head to his hand with a groan,
Landon muttered. "You're a fucking pain in my ass. Let it go,
man."

The kid went on as though he hadn't heard.
"You should send her a present. Girls forget everything you done
wrong when they get presents."

"It's not like that."

"What-fucking-ever! Just try it."

"I have."

"Oh." Carter frowned and scratched at the
peach fuzz on his jaw. "Well, she was a model—or an actress? If you
sent chocolates maybe she thinks you don't understand that she's
watching her weight. Try flowers. Chicks dig flowers."

Landon snorted. "Have you ever
had
a
girlfriend?"

"Tons." Carter smirked. "But I thought it
wasn't like that with you two?"

Asshole.
"I sent her books, okay. Had
a new one delivered every morning for three days. She's not ready
to talk to me so—"

"Of course she's not! You sent her fucking
books?" Carter barked a laugh. "Have
you
ever had a
girlfriend?"

"Yeah." A trigger went off in his head,
breaking the dam of memories. His jaw ticked. He had to move. Had
to walk before he did or said something he'd regret. His tone went
rough as he stood and sidled past Carter. "Just one."

Eyes straight, he strode down the aisle
between the seats. A flash of golden waves stopped him short.
Silver had her back to him as she climbed over Richter, giggling at
his stern look. When she straightened, he blocked her path.

"Hey." He glanced at Richter, who inclined
his head. "Can we talk?"

Her chin hiked up. "No."

He blinked. "No? Just like that? I thought we
were friends?"

"I thought so too. Now I know better." She
glared at him. "Can you please get out of my way, Mr. Bower?"

Why the hell didn't you leave her alone?
Give her some space, she'll get over it.

If only that was true. He had a feeling, if
he let her, she'd forget him.

But he still got out of her way.

* * * *

The bathroom door clicked shut. Silver leaned
against it and covered her face with her hands. Being with Dean had
gotten so easy lately. His intensity still scared her sometimes,
but the balance between their relationship, and their partnership
in running the team, kept her from being overwhelmed. She had a
feeling he was taking it easy on her, which made her lo-
like
him even more. Landon hardly ever crossed her mind.

Liar.

Okay, so she thought about him when he
called, even though she never answered and erased his messages
without listening to them. And for the past three mornings she'd
stared at the packages delivered to her doorstep for about an hour
before opening them. Then held them for another few minutes before
tossing them in the trash. But they were just books. They weren't
him.

She missed him.

You don't need two Doms in your life,
Silver.

Probably not. Hell, she wasn't sure she
needed one. But she did know she needed one who'd take care of her
after bringing her to that place where she felt exposed and
fragile. She loved and hated feeling that way. Loved it because sex
was fucking mind-blowing, mostly because it wasn't just a dick
attached to some random man. It was Dean. And Dean looked at her
like she was more than just a hot cunt.

Hated it because if she hadn't been so
exposed, Landon couldn't have hurt her so bad. He'd reminded her
that no matter how hard she tried, she'd always fuck up, so why
bother trying?

All it would have taken was one word, one
touch, hell, even if he'd
looked
at her the way he had all
the other times she'd felt completely alone, in the way that said
'You've still got me' . . . . Out of everyone she knew, he was the
only person she'd convinced herself would love her no matter
what
she did.

You've seriously got to drop that word from
your vocabulary. Love is just a word people use when they're
stupidly wrapped up in someone. Landon doesn't love you.

Not that she needed anyone to love her. Well,
maybe Oriana, but that came with being sisters. And it would be
nice if her kids loved her—no guarantees there, she was pretty sure
out of the three kids, she'd been the only one who really loved her
mother. And Daddy . . .

Daddy loves the game.

The game. Yes. If she focused on the game,
she could ignore Landon.

Inhale. Exhale. She straightened and looked
in the mirror. Damn she was pale. One look at her and Dean would
know something was wrong. She brought her hands up to her cheeks,
pinching them for color. And noticed they were shaking. Bad.

Her purse hung on her arm. Inside was
something that would calm her down and make the rest of the trip go
real smooth. She'd have the strength to stare Landon down without
saying a word.

She palmed the little vial and tipped it from
side to side to watch the powder coat the glass.

No.

Before she could cave in and take the easy
out, she stuffed the vial into the zipper compartment in her purse
and zipped it out of sight. There were other ways to deal with
this. Like talking to Dean.

Oh yeah, there's an idea. 'Sir, I'm having
trouble with another man'.

She snickered and tried to picture Dean's
expression. Her mind made it fierce, but then it changed into the
one that made it okay for her to say she was scared. She bit her
lip.

Maybe she could talk to him after all.

The plane shook with turbulence and the
seatbelt light flashed. Dean frowned at Silver as half her vodka
spilled on the front of her shirt and she giggled. This was her
third and she was obviously feeling it. Which made it her last.

"Silver, slow down." He put his hand over
hers on the glass and helped her lower it to the cup holder. Then
he buckled her in. "The men shouldn't see you like this."

"Like this? What? Drunk?" She giggled again.
"Oh, Dean, you have no idea. I'm not even close."

Like hell you're not.
He cut off her
grab for her glass. "You wanted to say something before Tim asked
to speak to me. What is it?"

"Oh." Her gaze darted across the aisle. She
started to turn, but then held herself in place with her hands
gripped to the armrests. "I—"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Carter! Seriously,
you ever speak her name again and you'll be breathing through a
fucking tube!"

"Oh, chill out. I just said pregnant chicks
are hot and she's got that glowy thing going for her. You worried
it's not yours? I would be."

Can't someone gag that kid?
Dean
glared at his brother, who shrugged. As long as they were stuck in
their seat, Mason and Carter were on their own.

"Carter, seriously?" Bower let out a tight
laugh. "Mason, relax. He's just jealous. If a chick doesn't strip
for a living, he doesn't know what to do with her. Oriana's a fine
woman and we all know it."

At Dean's side, Silver went perfectly
still.

"Yeah, the Delgado women are something else."
Demyan leaned over his center aisle seat and shot Silver a wink.
"And they've got some brains. Or I wouldn't be here."

The men, scattered throughout the plane,
grumbled, but none argued with him. Silver slid down as far as her
seatbelt would allow. For a woman who enjoyed the spotlight, she
certainly didn't look like she wanted it now. Of course, with how
hard she was working to come off as professional, Demyan's blatant
flirting was bound to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps he and the
man should have a little chat.

But not here. Actually, the plane wasn't
really the place for any conversation that didn't directly relate
to the game. Whatever Silver had to say would have to wait.

Dean sighed and took her hand. "We'll talk
after we land."

She gave him a grateful smile. "I think
that's a good idea."

He inclined his head and relaxed into his
chair. As his eyes drifted shut, he heard her shuffling through her
bag. Through slitted lids, he watched her take out a Cosmo
magazine.

His lips quirked. "This is a business trip,
Silver. You'll have plenty of time to catch up on the latest
fashions at the hotel. If you're trying to make a good impression,
you might want to find more appropriate reading material. Which is
why I had you pack those books."

Her grip tightened on the magazine. "You
don't get to dictate my reading material, Dean."

"It was a suggestion, sweetheart. Not an
order."

"Calling me 'sweetheart' isn't appropriate
for work either." She said through her teeth before slamming the
magazine back into her bag. After pulling out
The Game,
she
plopped it open on her lap and gave him a 'happy now?' glare.

He smiled with his eyes closed. "You're
right, Miss Delgado. I apologize."

"Good."

"Ken Dryden was a goalie, you know. Vital to
his team and complex—as goalies tend to be. I think this will give
you some good insight into our Mr. Bower. He's quite the fan."

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

Dean chuckled, then drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Most of the men were paired up in standard
rooms with two king sized beds, but Dean had paid extra for a
suite, wanting to make sure Silver was comfortable. If she'd
objected to sharing with him, he would have left her the room and
bunked with his brother, but thankfully, she simply walked in and
plunked onto the sofa with a happy sigh.

"Oh, this is perfect!" Tucking her feet under
her, she smiled at him. "Classy hotel, a suite with a hot tub.
Honestly, I thought we'd be crashing at some sleazy motel. I was
fully prepared to be 'roughing it' for the next week."

Dean tipped the porter and carted Silver's
bags to the bedroom. "Sticking millionaires in a motel would be
odd, don't you think?"

"Maybe, but they're jocks. I figured they
wouldn't care."

"Some don't, but it's in our best interest to
make sure they're reminded of their worth. We expect a certain
level of conduct from them on the road—more than we'd expect from
them at home. Having nice rooms to come back to before and after a
hard game is a nice perk. Courtesy of the team. It gives us the
right to come down on them if their behavior isn't above par, but
it's not usually an issue." He went to the mini-fridge and took out
two bottles of water. "The rookies may be a little overwhelmed by
all this, but they've all been paired up with veterans. Trips like
this bring the team closer."