Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (9 page)

Not his first, but . . .
damn.
No
woman had ever made him feel so thoroughly used.

Mentally putting the thought on ice, Dean
focused on the problem at hand. Anthony Delgado had meddled in team
affairs more than most owners, but even he rarely went against his
advisors. Emotion based decisions could usually be put off until he
was in the right mind to see reason.

Why the hell had Dean thought Silver would be
as easy to handle? He should have anticipated her unpredictable,
self-indulgent attitude. Had he really been stupid enough to
believe she'd demurely sit in her father's office and wait for Dean
to make decisions for her?

Actually, he'd expected to have to hunt her
down and coax her into accepting the barest minimum of her
responsibilities. She didn't really care about the team. For years
she'd been oblivious to it.

Anthony had thrust his Judas child into the
deep end to fend for herself. She couldn't be more unprepared for
the task at hand. But she hadn't run away—from her father anyway.
Not that it mattered. He had to concentrate on her motives.

She's doing this for 'Daddy'. She wants to
prove herself.

Too fucking bad. He refused to let her run
his
team into the ground with idiotic moves like this.

He lifted the contract and handed it to
Bolleau, needing it out of his sight. "File this. And contact
Demyan's agent. I expect him at training camp by Wednesday morning.
Fax him the schedule."

"Yes, Mr. Richter." Relief smoothed the
deepest wrinkles from Bolleau's face. "I will be in my office if
you need me."

"That's fine." Dean's jaw ticked and he
clenched his fist to maintain his controlled demeanor. For just a
few moments longer. "You may go."

As soon as Bolleau closed the door behind
him, Dean shot to his feet and swept all the contents from his
desk, barely stifling a roar between his teeth. His muscles jumped
under his flesh and his pulse beat at his skull. He pressed his
hands to his desk and hauled air into his burning lungs.

Get a grip, Richter.
He nodded as
though the words had been spoken out loud by another—perhaps his
mother who'd had the makings of a Domme, who'd run her polyamorous
household the way a general would run an army barrack. Even her
'alpha' lovers had bowed to her efficient rule of the household.
When she'd said 'Come here' the children marched into her
presence.

Assured of his control, he left his office
and headed to Delgado's. He threw the door open without knocking
and glanced dismissively at Asher, Silver's lover and apparent
co-conspirator. "Get out."

"Hey, you." Silver took one look at his face
and frowned. "All right, is this how it's gonna be? Fine. But just
so you know, Asher is the president, so he outranks you. And this
is
my
office."

"The president? I assume you didn't know I
already hold that position along with that of the general manager
of this team?" Dean arched a brow at her confused expression and
shook his head. "You really need to hide behind him?"

"Hide?" She let out a sharp laugh. "From who?
You? Do you think I'm afraid of you?"

You should be.
He almost voiced the
words, but decided against it. This was business. "We're not at the
club, Silver. I was hoping we could be professional about
this."

"But . . . after last night." A flush spread
over her cheeks. "So you won't touch me?"

"No. I won't touch you." His nostrils flared.
Egotistical little bitch. Did she seriously believe he'd come here
as a jilted lover? "
Last night
is irrelevant."

She blinked and gave her head a tiny shake.
"Irrelevant? Then why are you—"

"I'm going to get us some lunch, Silver."
Asher patted her shoulder and moved away from the desk. "Good
luck."

Silver glared at Asher's back as he walked
out, then jumped when Dean slammed his hands on her desk.

"Please explain something, because I'd really
like to understand." He watched her lips move soundlessly,
continuing when she nodded. "What possessed you to make a 2.5
million deal without consulting me? When we spoke on the phone
months ago, you admitted that you knew
nothing
about hockey.
Have you suddenly become an expert?"

"Scott is a good player." She sat back in her
chair and folded her arms over her chest. "He'll be an asset to the
team."

"According to who? Do you have any clue what
the team needs? Are you aware of the fact that we just brought up
three rookies that can play his position?" He groaned at her blank
stare. "Do you even know what position he plays?"

She jutted her chin up. "He's a sniper."

Dean snorted. "And what does that mean?"

"He can get the puck in the net." Her fingers
dug into her arms. "You don't have to be a genius to know that's a
good thing."

"Maybe not, but we have half a dozen players
who can do that as well, if not better, than he can. We are in
desperate need of defensemen." He stepped back and lowered wearily
into the seat in front of the desk. "You've screwed up the
available cap, Silver. I've spent months reviewing prospects and
now I'll have to trash all my plans and start over."

"If it's just about the money, I have an easy
solution." She leaned forward and flipped open a file on her desk.
"Sloan Callahan is making 5 million a year. Get rid of him."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Get rid of him? Are
you serious?"

"Why not?" She slid the folder toward him.
"Think about it. Me and Asher went over his stats. He's still worth
something, but he's not half as good as he used to be."

"He's recovering from an injury. He hasn't
been back long enough to know whether his performance will
improve."

"So what?"

Deep, deep breaths. The image of hauling her
over the desk and baring her ass for another good spanking flashed
behind his closed lids, but he'd asked for professional. As
ill-suited for the job the girl was, she was still the owner. "So
he's an asset to the team. I'd considered trading him when it
seemed like his ego was causing a rift between the coach and the
players, but the fact is he's a good leader. And an asset to the
team."

"But there are other 'good leaders'." Her
forehead creased as she bent over the desk, running her finger down
a long sheet that contained the team's stats. "Dominik Mason had
almost as many goals as he did last season. And he's a defenseman.
Why not just make him Captain?"

"Have you checked his penalty minutes? He's
got a temper and makes a damn fine enforcer, but unless we want the
whole team to turn into a bunch of thugs, a leadership role is out
of the question." Dean rolled his shoulders and gave her a tight
smile. "Admit it. You want to get rid of Callahan because you don't
like him."

"Why should I? He's an asshole." Her bottom
lip stuck out. "Shouldn't I like my players?"

"You should want your players to win and
leave your personal opinion of them aside." He rolled his eyes.
"And what you just said sounds pretty silly considering you've
contracted Scott Demyan."

"What's wrong with Scott?"

It irked him that she used his name so
casually, but he pressed on. "Demyan recently claimed the spot of
the most hated player in the league. He's a PR nightmare. His
exploits constantly make headlines. He's been charged for
solicitation five times since he went pro."

"And?"

"And he won't fit with the team. Everyone on
our roster wants to prove themselves. To live up to fan
expectations." Tension settled in the center of his brow at her
stubborn look and he did his best to rub it away. "This team is
floundering. It took years to convince the league we could support
a franchise in the Maritimes. If we don't get attendance up, the
team will be shipped to somewhere like Vegas. This wasn't a good
investment for your father, but he believed in it enough to put his
entire capital on the line. He trusted me to make something of this
team. Can you trust me to do the same?"

Her expression softened and her eyes lit up.
"Oh, Dean. I'm not questioning you. I just want to do everything I
can to live out Daddy's dreams. You understand that, right?"

Now they were getting somewhere. He could
work with this. Granted, she'd messed up, but she'd been dumped
into a role she wasn't equipped for. "I understand."

"Good." She grinned. "So, where are we
sending Sloan?"

The question caught him off guard. Hadn't she
heard a word he'd said? He placed his hands over hers and met her
steady gaze without blinking. "We're not sending him anywhere."

"Yes we are." She jerked her hands free.
"Make it happen, Dean, or I will replace you."

His brows shot up. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will." She fiddled with her papers,
all business once again. She put on a good act anyway, but he noted
the tremor in her hands. "I'm not a puppet. Get used to it. I will
have a say in how this team is run. My father chose me for a
reason. You don't have to like it, but you will do things my
way."

Holding back his laugh took every ounce of
control in his being, but he managed. As he stood, he straightened
his tie and gave her a curt nod. "Thank you for making that
clear."

"You're welcome." Her nose wrinkled. "About
last night . . . ."

His went still. "What about it?"

"I hope you know it was just a onetime
thing." She frowned at her desk, as though it had denied her the
right words. "I'm not usually like that . . . but as you pointed
out, I've never seriously gotten into 'the lifestyle'."

"That was pretty obvious to everyone in
attendance," he said. "Have you heard from you sister?"

"Of course I haven't heard from her. She's
still on her honeymoon . . . ." Silver chewed on her bottom lip.
"I'm sure we'll talk when she gets back. I'm a little surprised she
didn't call me after what happened though . . . ."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit." Dean smiled. He'd already taken
off the kid gloves. Silver didn't need them. "Oriana is a
submissive through and through. You made a spectacle of yourself.
She may wonder if you wanted the attention."

"I didn't!" Her defensive posture had his
protective instincts sitting up, but her next words shoveled them
under disgust. "I exposed Sloan for the sick freak he is. She's
just not ready to face it."

"Sick freak? Sloan gave your sister
exactly
what she needed."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me." His lips curled away from his
teeth. "I proved last night how capable I am at reading a
submissive's needs."

"You're so fucking full of yourself. You had
a hard dick. That's
all
I needed."

"Apparently that's all you
ever
need."

Silver sucked her teeth and nodded. "Yeah,
well, how about we just forget it ever happened."

"I plan to."

"Good!" She stood and pointed at the door,
shaking so hard her teeth chattered as she spoke. "Now get out of
my fucking office!"

"Gladly." He stormed out and slammed the door
behind him. The echoing
bang!
reverberated in his bones as
he strode towards the elevator. Silver's sob slammed into his
gut.

She's feeling sorry for herself. Don't worry
about it.

He knew it was true, but still, something
inside urged him to go back and comfort her. He'd been cruel.

His legs locked as the elevator chimed. He
reminded himself of the folder on her desk. One of his men needed
him to stop her from messing up his career and his life on a whim.
She neither wanted, nor needed his help.

Asher stepped off the elevator with his arms
full of take out bags and drinks. Dean forced himself to step
inside.

She's got everything she wants. Men.
Money.
He cracked his neck and glared at the doors as they slid
shut.
She's not getting my team.

* * * *

Landon wiped the sweat from his face with a
towel, holding his cell phone to his ear with his slippery palm.
Training had his pulse thumping, but it seemed to pound a little
harder as the phone rang. Silver probably wouldn't answer. Who knew
how many guys she gave her number out to? And she'd disappeared
with Richter—

"Hello?"

"Hey!" He glared at a man who'd rolled up a
towel, looking ready to whip it at him. The man held up his hands
and shuffled away to torment the younger rookies. "It's Landon—the
guy who brought you the blanket?"

"I remember." Her tone sounded tight. She was
probably busy and wondering why he was wasting her time. "What's
up?"

Moving away from where most of the team
huddled around the refreshment table, making all kinds of noise
about how
this
was the year they'd claim The Cup, he did his
best to keep his tone casual. "Not much. Just wanted to see how you
were doing."

"Oh." The line went quiet. "That was nice of
you."

Yep, that's me. All kinds of nice.
She
probably thought he was a loser. But . . . hell, he really needed
to know that she was okay. And if she needed a friend as much as
she'd let off last night.
Seriously? You're good with the friend
label?

Took him less than a second to answer
himself. Absolutely.

"Listen. I've got an hour to chill before
getting back on the ice. I was wondering . . . ." He hated how
unsure he sounded. He could maintain complete control between the
pipes, in a scene, in every other aspect of his life. But this was
something new. He'd never been friends with a girl. "Do you want to
have lunch? Or maybe we can have drinks later?"

She let out a curt laugh. "If you want to
fuck me, Landon, you don't need to try so hard. I'm easy. Ask
anyone."

He almost dropped the phone. "What?"