Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (54 page)

"Yes. Umm." Dean frowned. "You know better.
Apologize."

"I'm sorry." She rolled her eyes. "Sir."

Dean tapped her cheek.
Very
lightly,
but it still surprised her. Her head snapped right out of the
defiant mode and she gazed up at Dean with her lips slightly
parted.

His lips quirked. "Don't think I forgot you
telling Carter to slap you. Don't ever expect me to hit you as hard
as he did—in the face anyway—but I do believe a love tap will get
you into the right head space quite efficiently."

"Yes, Sir." Her eyes were teary again, but
something about it was almost refreshing. She could finally let go.
She sucked on her bottom lip and turned to Landon. "I really am
sorry."

"Good girl." He smiled and took a knee,
kissing her long and hard. "I know this isn't easy. But I promise,
it will be worth it."

He maneuvered her back over Dean's cock and
she stayed in position as he reattached the rope to the clamp. And
this time she didn't go for cock-sucking pro. She simply let Dean
inside without resistance.

Behind her, Landon lifted her skirt. He
insides clenched as his fingers slipped inside her pussy. His thumb
passed over her clit and her body jerked at the shock of pleasure.
White hot pain glazed her nerves as her breasts swung. His free
hand spread her ass cheeks and she winced as he pressed on a sore
spot. Saliva gathered in her mouth and she did her best to gulp
around the dick in her mouth.

Another finger, wet with her own juices,
pushed into her back hole. Once it was fully inserted, Landon
placed his knees between hers and opened her thighs. And thrust his
fingers into her pussy and her ass all at once.

Erotic sparks lit within as he fucked her
with his fingers, moving her over Dean at his own pace, giving her
no choice but to receive them both. They rocked together, back and
forth, a little faster, a little rougher, lost to passion. Dean
groaned as her chin bumped his balls and gathered her hair in his
hands as his dick swelled. He came in her throat in hot spurts.
Landon bent down and bit her ass cheek right over a welt. The sharp
sensation wound with everything pitched her into a violent orgasm.
Ecstasy shredded her into a million pieces. She forgot about the
strings and threw her head back to scream. Agony burst through her
breasts.

"Ah—!"

Dean covered her mouth and dropped down to
help her slack the ropes. "Not here, love. I won't have people
judging you because of this. You were perfect."

She shook her head. Something was missing.
Then she knew. "Landon?"

"Do you want more, Silver?" Landon's fingers
slipped from her as he kissed the small of her back. "I can
wait."

"No. I need you to . . . ."

"Then brace yourself, ma chérie."

A rap at the door froze them all.

"Shit." Dean stood and did up his pants. "One
minute!"

Landon pulled her into his lap and under the
desk. As he undid the ropes, she giggled.

"It's not funny." He smirked. "Don't make a
sound."

Before she could tell him she wouldn't, he
removed a clamp. She bit into her cheek as pain exploded in her
breast. When he took off the other, she slumped into him and sobbed
into his chest.

He covered her breasts with his hands. "I
know, mignonne. It will pass."

"Come in," Dean said.

Footsteps. Then a deep sigh. "Hey, bro."

"What's wrong, Tim?"

"It's Jami." Shoes scuffed on the carpet. Tim
cleared his throat. "She's in the hospital. She overdosed."

"What?" Dean's chair hit the floor and Silver
winced. He moved out of sight. "Overdosed? On what?"

"Cocaine."

Her heart beat so hard, it almost drowned out
the sound of the door slamming. She pressed her eyes shut and
curled into Landon's arms.

No. Anything but that.

Dean took his daughter's hand and sat beside
her on the bed. Her face was drawn and— damn him, how had he not
noticed how much weight she'd lost? She was old enough to make her
own decisions, yes, but she still lived under his roof. He should
have used what little control he still had over her to . . .

What control, Richter? She doesn't listen to
you anymore.

But he should have tried harder.

"Daddy." Tears streaked down Jami's pale face
and for a moment she was his baby again. Six years old and asking
him to check for monsters in the closet. Twelve and writing him
tearstained letters from summer camp, begging for him to come get
her. Which of course he had. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Shh. It's okay, baby. You made a mistake."
He kissed her cheek and spoke low. "Did that boy you were
with—?"

"I don't want to talk about Ford. He's such a
loser."

"What did he do to you?" He actually managed
to sound calm. Not at all like he was tempted to commit murder.

"What . . . oh! Nothing really. He just
didn't like my friends and—okay, maybe he was right about them."
She sighed. "But seriously, I don't need a guy telling me what to
do."

"No. You don't."
Hypocrite.
He shut
down the mocking, internal laughter and squared his jaw. "But you
do need to stay away from the drugs. Is this the first time you
ever . . . ."

She fiddled with the sheets covering her and
stared at her hands. "First time with coke."

"Oh, Jami—"

"I knew it. You're mad." Scowling, she pulled
away from him and sat up. "Why do you think I had them call Uncle
Tim? I knew you'd freak out."

"I'm not freaking out, I'm trying to help
you. You're drinking and doing drugs." He shook his head and closed
his eyes, reminding himself that his daughter needed his support.
Anything else would be taken as a challenge to defy him. Like when
he'd tried to talk to her about her drinking. "What about school?
You seemed so excited—"

"I dropped out. It was boring and I haven't
decided what I want to do yet. I enrolled to make you happy."

"Well, what will make you happy?"

"I don't know yet."

"Maybe I can get you an internship at the
forum. What are you interested in?"

"Jeez, dad, seriously?" She slumped onto the
pile of pillows. "I'd rather pick up trash for a living than have
anything to do with fucking hockey."

He grinned despite her scowl. "Trash
collectors make a decent living."

"That's
so
lame." A snort escaped her
as she gave him her patented 'get real' look. "Besides, I'm not
worried about a job right now. I'm really messed up."

"Okay, I get that." His brow furrowed when
she laughed. He pulled her blankets up to her chin. "Get some rest,
sweetie. We'll figure this out together. I'll take some time off
work—"

"You never take time off work."

"But I will. All I care about right now is
making sure you're okay." He paused as a nurse opened the door to
Jami's private room and nodded when she held up a blood sampling
kit. "I'll be right outside the door if you need me. And when I
come back, we're going to discuss rehab."

"
Dad!
" Jami blushed and glanced at the
nurse. "I don't need rehab."

"Jami, you do." He moved aside to let the
nurse pass. "We'll talk more when you're done."

Out in the hall, he took a deep breath and
pressed his fist into the wall. Silver came up behind him and
wrapped her arms around his waist.

She was quiet for a bit, then whispered. "How
is she?"

"Lucky." His throat locked. He blinked fast.
"What have I done to her? She needed me and—"

"She's a big girl, Dean."

"So what? She's my daughter and I failed her.
I'm all she has." He tugged on his tie and undid the top button of
his shirt. "I don't know how to help her."

"Can I try?" Silver held onto the sides of
his suit jacket as she stepped back. "Maybe she'll listen to
me."

"You're her father's girlfriend, Silver.
Right now she resents you. I don't see how—"

"I've been where she is, Dean. She might
learn from my experience."

"I'd agree if it was trouble with a man—"

"I'm not talking about men." Silver pressed
her lips together and let her hands fall to her sides. "I've done
some messed up shit. We haven't talked about my past much."

"No. We haven't." He smiled wanly and reached
out to take her hand. "And I'd like to, but now isn't the
time."

"Now is the perfect time. I can help her
because . . . ." Her throat worked as she dropped her gaze to her
feet. Normal black heels—thankfully she'd changed out of the school
girl outfit in time to come with him to the hospital. He didn't
need a reminder of what he'd been doing while his daughter was
being rushed to the ER.

Since Silver didn't finish her sentence, he
squeezed her hand and sighed. "Please, love. Whatever you have to
tell me, make it quick. I don't want to leave her alone."

She inclined her head. "Okay. There's no good
way to tell you this. But I've been clean for about nine
months."

"Been clean?"

"I did coke in Hollywood. It got pretty bad.
But I quit."

"No."
Fuck no.
He didn't need to hear
this now. "Silver, what did I tell you about lying? This isn't
helping."

"I'm not lying. You have no idea how many
stupid things I did out there. Drugs are at the top of a long
list." Her eyes looked almost glassy as she peered up at him. "But
like I said, I quit."

"I would have heard if you went to
rehab."

"I didn't."

"So then how did you quit?"

She held up her purse, opened it, and pulled
out a small vial of white powder. "I kept this on me so I knew I
could start up again whenever I wanted to. And constantly reminded
myself why I didn't. I ruined the life I built getting stoned. I
still have cravings, but I use candy to stave them off. It's not
easy, but it works. If she doesn't want to go to rehab—"

"She
is
going to rehab." His vision
narrowed to that vial. How had he missed this? Silver did drugs?
Okay, she said she'd quit. But she had the shit that had poisoned
his daughter in her hand. And he had a feeling it had been on her
this entire time, while they were together. Every time she'd stuck
a lollypop in her mouth, it was because she wanted to use.

What am I supposed to do with that?
He
took a big step back. "You need to go. I don't know what to do with
what you've just told me." Restraining his urge to shout made his
tone sound lifeless. "I could have lost her. I could lose you. I
can't handle this right now."

"I'm not trying to upset you, Dean." She hid
the vial in her purse. "I just wanted to let you know you didn't
have to deal with this alone. Give me a call if you need anything.
I'll swing by later."

"Please don't." Dean looked over as the nurse
came out of his daughter's room. "I'll call you."

Silver's hands locked around her purse in a
strangle hold. Her chin jutted up. "Okay. You know my number."

"Silver, don't be upset—this isn't coming out
right. I—"

Inhaling through her nose, Silver shook her
head and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of
Jami's room. "Don't worry about me. Worry about her. I was strong
enough to get past this on my own, but I didn't have a choice.
She's lucky to have you."

She slipped away and he cursed under his
breath. She'd gone completely unreadable there and he couldn't tell
how much damage he'd done asking her to leave. Not that he could do
anything about it. In any other situation, he'd go after her and
make her talk to him, but he wouldn't leave Jami.

He covered his face with his hands and did
his best to plaster a blank expression on his face before returning
to his daughter's side. Where he belonged.

* * * *

Silver let out a blissful sigh as she sank
into the bath and soaked all her senses in the rich cinnamon scent.
Dean had bought the bath oil for her, told her to use it in a hot
bath when she was stressed or . . . sore. Right now she was a
little of both, but she wouldn't let it bring her down. Jami's
doctor had assured her that Jami would be fine, though he couldn't
tell her anything else. She was worried, she hated what the kid was
going through—but Dean could take care of his daughter. Jami had
gotten a bad scare. She might listen to him now.

And if not, well, she'd made the offer to
talk to Jami and hopefully Dean would consider it once he'd calmed
down. It hurt that he hadn't wanted her around, but she got it. His
baby was lying in a hospital bed and expecting him to be rational
was pushing it.

What if he can't get over you being a coke
head? What if he wants nothing to do with you?

Dean wouldn't do that. He loved her.

You should have told him.

Maybe she should have—she sank deeper into
the tub—but she hadn't. There was no use second guessing herself.
She didn't use anymore. Rarely wanted to even, come to think of it.
She'd stocked up on candy only once in the last couple of weeks. A
new record. She used to do it daily.

The bathroom door creaked open and she turned
her head, smiling as Landon stepped in. Dean must have called him
to check on her.

See, he still cares.

But one look at Landon's face tightened her
gut. He stared at her in the bath as though seeing something else,
his face pale and tight. She sloshed out of the water and almost
did a face plant as she tried to get to him.

"Landon!" She yelped as her hip hit the sink.
"Landon, look at me."

He blinked and yanked her into his arms.
"Sorry. I just—"

"I know."

"Your door wasn't locked. I heard the water
and when I came in here I saw . . . ." He shook his head hard and
kissed her forehead. "Forget it. You're obviously fine and you're
too strong to . . . to do anything stupid." He bent down and
sniffed at her throat. "Mmm. You smell good."