Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Read online

  DELAYED PENALTY

  By

  Bianca Sommerland

  Copyright 2013, Bianca Sommerland

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Cover art by Reese Dante

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning

  This e-book contains material not suitable for readers under 18. There are situations involving sex and violence and extreme emotions as a result. It also contains scenes that some may find objectionable, including BDSM and other rather enjoyable practices. As the characters are prone to exploring their sexuality, it is advised that readers be prepared to see some lines blurred. Or erased….

  Author takes no responsibility for nonexistent lines. ;)

  Author’s Note: The Cobras series has a continuing arc about the franchise, players, and previous relationships. Some plots continue through the series and may involve more than the main ménage. The series is best read in order.

  Also by Bianca Sommerland

  The Dartmouth Cobras

  Game Misconduct (The Dartmouth Cobras #1)

  Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

  Breakaway (The Dartmouth Cobras #3)

  Offside (The Dartmouth Cobras #4)

  Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

  Iron Cross (The Dartmouth Cobras #6) – Expected Mid-2014

  Also

  Deadly Captive

  Deadly Captive (Collateral Damage) – Coming November 2013

  The End – Coming Early 2014

  Rosemary Entwined

  Rosemary & Mistletoe

  The Trip – To Be Re-Released Late 2013

  Dedication

  103 Seasons is just the beginning.

  Acknowledgements

  Spending the summer travelling everywhere from New York to Las Vegas, I’ve met so many people that had an impact on my work and my life that I can’t possibly thank you all. For those who had a drink with me, laughed and talked, made me feel welcome in every way, I appreciate every single one of you. From authors, to readers, to bellhops, and hotel staff, at conferences and for the long stretch where I was the little Canadian gypsy hopping from state to state, you all had a hand in make this summer one of the most memorable I’ve ever had.

  To Cherise, meeting you was incredible. I am very proud of myself for not gushing—though I’m pretty sure I didn’t make much sense considering I went straight to talking about our last email without introducing myself properly! Lol! I can now hear you voice saying “You can do better.” And because of you, I always do.

  My betas, many who I’ve met in person, all who are my dearest friends. Jennifer, you and your family made New York an incredible experience, please tell ‘Sweetie’ I miss her coffee and smiles every morning! Rosie, for my first 4th of July celebration! Heather, the things you showed me out in Kentucky had me falling in love! Can’t wait to be out there again! My other betas, Lina, Missy, Bianca, and Susan, you each gave something to this story to make it even more powerful. Thank you so much!

  Stacey, my dear friend, my assistant, and my savior. I can’t find the words to tell you how much you mean to me. You and Doug were there to help me cope with the cloudless, hellishly hot desert, and then continued to be there when my hell went beyond the weather. From brainstorming, to research, to taking care of all the details of the job that I hate, I’m not sure I could get through a day without you!

  Back to Kentucky—can you tell I’m eager to head back down? ;)—I need to give a great big shout out to the KSP, namely Easy, Carter, and Hopson, for all your insight and patience with my never ending questions. Markus, you were a wealth of information! I couldn’t have managed without you guys and I can’t wait to pick your brains again!

  Anthony Skeans, Heather’s going to give me heck for stroking your ego, but you so earned your place in this book! I don’t know how often I read over the legal stuff you sent me, but it was imperative to the story and I’m so grateful for all your help. I owe you a great big hug—maybe more. ;)

  To my readers, you’ve been awesome—and patient—as always. I went through some dark moments in this book that dragged me down, and you offered your support, lifted me back up, and helped me keep going. My every success is because of you.

  Last, and most importantly, to my daughters. The way you proudly tell everyone “My mommy’s an author” never fails to bring a smile to my lips. But, even more so, just you being the wonderful little people you are. I’m so proud of you too!

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Warning

  Also by Bianca Sommerland

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Dartmouth Cobra Roster

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Game Misconduct Description

  Defensive Zone Description

  Breakaway Description

  Offside Description

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Late December

  The icy wind drew tears to her eyes on the long trek through the snow to her car, parked at the far end of the almost empty superstore parking lot. Akira Hayashi gritted her teeth as she tightened her grip on the bags, the plastic handles having cut off all circulation from her fingers. Her toes were numb in her boots already and her arms were going to fall off. She shouldn’t have gotten so much at once—no, she shouldn’t have come alone.

  I shouldn’t have had to. But what choice did I have?

  Maybe Sir was right. Maybe she was a little too nice.

  But Jami hates grocery shopping. And Sahara’s working on a new routine. We needed food.

  Her roommates were perfectly happy ordering out every night, but it irked Akira to waste money like that. So she did the shopping, and the cooking, and recycled the takeout pamphlets before the other girls could get a hold of them. Her schedule made the times she could restock a little sporadic, but she managed just fine on her own. And she’d been lucky enough to make it to t
he store before it closed for the evening.

  “You’re spoiling them, Akira.” Akira shivered as she recalled Dominik Mason, her mentor, the Dartmouth Cobras’ captain—or as she most often called him, “Sir”—giving her one of his hard looks, his tone deep with disapproval. “You teach people how to treat you. And I don’t like what you’re teaching those girls.”

  Damn it, she hated when Sir was unhappy with her. But at the same time, she had to stop looking to him for direction. They’d both known what they were getting into when he’d agreed to train her. He’d taken on two new subs recently after a long discussion. She’d insisted she’d be fine.

  And I will be. She’d prove it by making decisions like this all on her own. If she wanted to do a little bit extra for her two closest friends, he had nothing to say about it.

  She blew a long strand of sleek, brown-black hair away from her face as the wind slashed at her, adjusted the three heavy bags, and winced as a handle chafed her wrist above her thin gloves. Almost there. She huffed out white air, dropping the bags behind her car to fish her car keys out of her purse.

  Something tugged at her purse strap. She gaped as a man loomed over her, trapping her against the trunk. A ski mask covered most of his face. A savage smile bared rotted teeth.

  “Don’t be stupid,” he said with a growl.

  Twisting away from him, she let out a shrill cry. His hand slapped over her mouth. Her knees locked and she automatically swung a fist at his face.

  A sharp pain went up her arm as her fist connected with his mouth. He reared back, spitting as he swore at her. “Fucking bitch!” He yanked at her purse. “Let it go, or I’ll—”

  Just let it go! Akira released her purse and jabbed her elbow into his stomach. She dropped to her knees as he lunged for her. Scrambled out of reach, slipping in the snow, not getting far. He took a step toward her. Stopped as though just realizing he had her purse.

  Then he turned and ran.

  “No!” Akira sat hard on the pavement. She hardly noticed the snow melting into her jeans. Losing her wallet, her phone, her day planner and her Kindle—her throat tightened. She hated all that, but not as much as she hated the old feelings resurfacing. He’d been so much stronger than her. He could have done anything . . .

  He didn’t. Pull it together, Akira.

  She managed to haul in some cold air. But she couldn’t make herself stand. Her whole body was shaking. She could taste the dried sweat and dirt on her lips from his hand. Her stomach heaved. She lowered her head between her knees.

  The man dragged her into the office down the hall from her father’s. Covered her mouth with his hand, his palm slick with sweat. “You were waiting for us, weren’t you, slut?” He hissed in her ear as his partner closed and locked the door. “If you scream, I’ll go get your daddy. I’ll bring him in here and make him watch.”

  Tears burned like acid in her eyes, blinding her as a hand settled on her shoulder. They were back. They’d found her. She cowered, one arm shielding her face. She should fight, should run, but there was no point in trying to get away.

  She’d never get away.

  “Hey. Shh . . .”

  Look at him. You have to be able to describe him if . . . if he lets you live. Lowering her arm, she stared up at him, staying perfectly still, needing to show him she wouldn’t struggle. That she was small and defenseless.

  God, he was huge. All the training she’d gotten, all too recently, was useless. One swing with those big hands would be no different than a grizzly bear lashing out with a giant paw.

  If she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, maybe he wouldn’t attack.

  Only he didn’t look ready to attack. He asked her something, but she couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of her heart. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from his eyes, eyes the color of her favorite stuffed frog, dull green with age. His eyes shouldn’t remind her of the cuddly toy that had soaked up her tears for weeks after the rape.

  But even his frown was somehow comforting. He moved his hand when she didn’t answer. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

  Muscles strained against the beaten leather of his dark brown jacket. His face was rough, like a much lighter version of his jacket. His thighs, in faded black jeans, were about the size of her waist.

  He could hurt her without even trying. Literally snap her in two.

  But he’d stopped touching her without her asking. He wasn’t trying to drag her away somewhere—or take her right here since no one was around to stop him.

  She managed to breathe. To shake her head. Then, finally, speak. “No. I’m not hurt.” She ignored the hand he held out, sliding up the car for support as she stood. “Someone stole my purse. I just—”

  “Someone what?” He straightened, hands fisted at his sides, the expression on his face so fierce she mentally advised the asshole who’d robbed her to get far, far away. She gulped when the big man returned his hard gaze to her. It softened so quickly the air rushed back into her lungs as she inhaled. His brow furrowed. “Did he do anything else? You don’t gotta tell me, but I can bring you to the hospital or—”

  “N-no. Nothing else. He just scared me.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Not hard to do. I’m fine.”

  Her laugh only seemed to concern him more. His gaze went over her quickly. He shook his head. “You must be freezing. And in shock. Were your keys in the purse?”

  “No, they’re . . .” She glanced toward her trunk. The keys weren’t there. She hadn’t gotten them out. They were gone too. Her bottom lip trembled. Scott Demyan, another Cobra and her closest male friend, had gotten her the car as a late birthday present—secondhand because he’d come to know her well enough to guess that she wouldn’t accept something expensive and new. And now the keys were gone. And she didn’t have a spare set. And she had no idea how much getting new ones would cost.

  Sniffling, she turned away from him, brushing away the single tear that trailed down her cheek. The man didn’t need to see how pathetic she could be. Her stupid panic attack was done. He’d been kind enough to stop to make sure she was all right. She had to let him know she was so he could go on with his evening.

  “Thank you so much for stopping, but I really am fine. I’ll just call one of my friends to come pick me up and—”

  “And I’ll stay with you until they show up.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his lips quirking slightly as he handed it to her. “I hope you remember some phone numbers. I couldn’t even tell you my own, to be honest. Only had it for a week.”

  Akira grinned at the way he ducked his head, like he was embarrassed. “I’ve always been good with numbers, but it takes a while for most people.” She dialed Jami’s number. Voice mail. Tried Sahara’s . . . voice mail again. Her smile slipped. She really didn’t want to call Sir. He’d be so worried, and she hated worrying him. She nibbled at her bottom lip as she dialed Scott’s number. “Why the new number? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  The man shrugged. “Moved back here recently.”

  “Ah . . .” She exhaled as Scott picked up. Tried to keep her tone light. “Hey, you busy?”

  “Not really, but . . .” Scott paused. Chuckled. “Casey, your mom’s gonna freak if she sees you playing with that. Grandma’s crystal animals aren’t really toys. One sec, Akira.” The line went quiet. Scott sounded a bit more serious as he came back on. “Bit of glue and she won’t even notice. Just . . . no more touching, okay? Sorry, Akira.” His attention returned to her. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you were nearby.”

  “Gaspe is a few hours away, sweetie. Why?”

  Ugh. She’d thought he’d be back from Christmas vacation with the Bower family. The Cobras were lucky to have almost a week off around Christmas, but they had a game New Year’s Eve. In two days. Her Ice Girls had practice tomorrow, but the Cobras’ might be optional.

  The point was, he wasn’t close enough to help her. And she didn’t want him all anxi
ous over nothing. So she let out a dismissive laugh. “No reason. Just had some car trouble.”

  “Are you stuck? Call Mason—or Carter. Do you have his number?”

  “I do, but I don’t want to bother anyone else.” Or anyone at all. The concern in Scott’s tone was more than enough. Her close friends always worried when she went out alone. And she hated to do that to them. “I’ll take a cab home. The car’s in a parking lot, so it will be okay here for a bit.”

  The man, who’d stood silently beside her during the conversation, cleared his throat. “Or I could give you a lift.”

  “Who is that?” Scott’s tone sharpened. “Akira, don’t lie to me. If you’re in trouble, you have to tell me.”

  So I can ruin your holiday? No thanks. Akira frowned at the man, hoping he’d be quiet so she could calm Scott down. “I’m not in trouble. Give Casey and Amia a hug for me.”

  “Akira, at least give me the man’s name so I can hunt him down if anything happens to you!”

  “Tell him my name is Cort. Full name, Cortland Nash.” The man leaned his elbow on the top of her car, his tone dry. “And let him know you’re safer with me than alone out here. Kinda stupid for your boyfriend to let you come out here by yourself this late.”

  “Did he say Cortland Nash?” Scott laughed. “I’ve heard good things about him. He knows cars. Tell him to fix whatever’s wrong with it, and I’ll pay him when I get back.”

  Akira scowled. If the men were standing side by side, she’d smack them both. Did they really think she couldn’t take care of herself? “I can pay for my own repairs, Scott.” She turned her scowl to the big man. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t need a bodyguard to go shopping.”

  Cort’s brow lifted as though he thought otherwise, but he didn’t comment.

  Smart man.

  Scott sighed. “Got it. You’re a big girl. Let Cort take you home though, okay? It is getting late. If it makes you feel better, you can borrow the money for repairs or whatever. I know you won’t touch your prize money.”