BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (20 page)

Silence. Then an offhand. "Was that so hard?"

Damn.
She slumped and shook her head. If he was being
this
calm about it, he'd already known.

His next words confirmed her suspicions. "Since that's out of the way, let's talk about the pictures."

Shit.

* * * *

Dean's teeth clinked together as his jaw hardened in response to his daughter's prolonged silence. When had he ever made her feel like she couldn't talk to him? If it was just promo, if it didn't mean anything, why couldn't she just come clean?

He heard the accusation in her voice when she finally spoke. "If you know about the pictures, you knew about everything. Why'd you pretend you didn't?

Massaging the ache between his eyes, he turned away from Silver—and his mother. And tried to sound as reasonable as possible. "I needed to hear it from you, sweetheart. To be honest, when I saw the pictures, I wasn't happy. Sebastian Ramos is as bad, if not worse, than Ford Kingsley. I don't know what I would do if another man took advantage—"

"You
did not
just compare Sebastian to Ford." She let out a bitter laugh. "You have no idea what you're talking about, dad. More importantly, you don't get to choose who I get involved with."

Her words were a cement block dropping right onto his guts. He fisted his hand by his side. "So you're seeing Sebastian."

"That's none of your business."

"Your last boyfriend put you in the hospital with a cocaine overdose! How is this none of my business? The things Sebastian does—"

"The things
he
does? Oh my god, you're such a fucking hypocrite! It's okay for you to do that with a woman just a few years older than me, but there's something wrong with me doing it? Are you serious?"

"Silver knew what she was getting into."

"So do I! And
if
I decided to do any of that stuff, I would figure you'd be happy I chose a guy you trusted enough to be a dungeon monitor at your club!"

"The people he monitors aren't naïve nineteen year old girls acting out to piss off their fathers!"

She didn't respond for a very long time. But when she did, she wasn't screaming. She was very
very
quiet. "I can't believe you just said that to me. I joined the Ice Girls because I wanted to support the team.
Your
team. And I still want that. But now I'm not doing it for you."

The dial tone cut off anything he could have said, but that was probably for the best. He should have waited so he could speak to Jami in person, as she'd asked for in the first place. Instead, he done it in a way that would leave her vulnerable to the very man he wanted to protect her from.

He let his phone fall to the table and dropped to the hard wooden chair in his mother's kitchen, banging his elbows on the table as he covered his face with his hands. All he could hear was Silver telling him how Ramos had scared her away from the scene with his intensity. With the way his words, his presence, made her feel like she could give up control without a second thought. All he could see was his little girl, who he would have kept in pigtails with a sticky, chocolate covered face and angel smile forever if he could.

Then he closed his eyes and he could see her, the first time he'd put a pair of skates on her, all of three years old, clinging to his hand and shaking her head.

"I'll fall, daddy!"

"Oh no you won't. Not this time." He'd eased his hand free from hers and hooked both under her arms. "I won't let you go."

Eventually, he'd had to let go. And watch her fall and get back up. He'd watched her from further and further away, taking bigger and bigger strides. She was strong. Smart. But then he'd stood back too much, constantly reminding himself that she needed to slip up, make mistakes, and learn from them. And one slip had almost taken her away from him for good.

He couldn't go through that again.

"Dean." Silver came up behind him, sliding her arms down his chest as much as she could with her big belly pressed against the back of the chair. "You were right when you told me not to worry about Sebastian. He's a good guy."

"If he was a good guy, he'd stay away from my daughter. He's almost ten years older than her."

Silver laughed. "Umm, excuse me Mister-just-turned-thirty-nine. How much older than me are you?"

"And if your father really cared, he would have killed me for even looking at you." Dean winced as Silver drew away from him and shifted sideways in the chair. "Hey, I didn't mean it that way."

Landon, who'd been watching them from where he leaned on the thick, pine plank counter, scowled and went over to pull Silver into his arms.

Dean's mother made a sharp sound in her throat and picked up a wooden spoon from the counter. She smacked Silver's thigh with it, then pointed it at her. "None of that drama, little girl. We all know your father is an asshole. You have two good men taking care of you." She turned to Landon, jabbing the spoon close to his face. "And you, stop coddling her. A tough woman has healthy babies. You can't push out that baby for her, so you're going to have to start letting her handle some things on her own. Like how she deals with her other man."

She came towards Dean and he ducked as she swung the spoon at his head. His mother had never been abusive, but that spoon had been used on her men, and her children, for several decades. He was pretty sure it had never been used for anything else.

"Do you think I would have let that girl leave my home if she didn't have the sense to stay away from the kind of people that got her into trouble in the first place? It's a scary world out there. She has to live in it." She planted her fists—one still holding the spoon—on her hips. "And you have to let her, whether you like it or not."

Standing, Dean faced his mother. From a safe distance. "Do you expect me to stand back and do nothing while my daughter is hurt by another man who may be using her?"

"Yes." His mother shook her head and sighed. "Dean, honey, I understand. I couldn't stand your wife. I hated the way she treated you and that little girl. You were my baby boy, but I knew no woman would be worthy in my mind. So I treated her decent when she came around because she was your choice. I raised you to be a good man and I respected you enough to accept that. Respect your daughter the same way. She's made her mistakes, but you raised her right. Just you. I don't see any of that bitch you married in her."

"She mentioned the club." Dean needed his mother to understand—he knew he was grasping, but maybe . . . . "What if he goes too far?"

His mother frowned and looked over at Landon. "Do you know this man? He's on your team, isn't he? Do you think he'll abuse my granddaughter?"

Landon opened his mouth. Frowned. Then shook his head. "No. When we were on the road, I was thinking about talking to him, but I knew it wasn't my place. I mean, if he hurt Jami, I'd bury him, but . . . ." He groaned. "Hell, I've seen the way he treats his subs. He's a good Dom."

"Fuck!" Dean turned his back on them all. "I don't need to be hearing this! I don't want to picture my daughter—"

"Then don't. What she does in the bedroom has nothing to do with her daddy." His mother pursed her lips. "And it was damn wrong of you to suggest it did. I don't know how you can expect her to come to you about anything after that."

"I know." Dean paced the floor, wishing again that the conversation had happened differently. At another time. In person. But wishing wouldn't change a thing. "I just hope she has someone she can talk to if she can't come to me. When this goes bad . . . ."

His words trailed off, and even his mother didn't have any harsh wisdom to offer. They all knew he was right. This thing between Jami and Sebastian—and from the way she defended him, there was obviously something between them—would end badly.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Chapter Nine

After slicing an apple, an orange, and some melon into small pieces, Sebastian put the fresh fruit in an earthenware dish and brought it to the kitchen table where Jami sat, staring sightlessly at the wall. The coffee he'd poured for her almost an hour ago hadn't been touched. The newspaper she'd pretended to read while he'd cleaned the kitchen lay open on the same page. Her hands were hidden in the sleeves of his white dress shirt and her hair curtained her cheeks. She didn't react to his approach.

He couldn't recall ever seeing her so quiet and still.

A faint scuffing sound brought his gaze downwards and the edge of his lip crept up. Her bare feet were moving restlessly, toes tapping on the floor, gripping those of the other foot, stretching out, then squeezing in. There was something adorable about her fidgety little feet. Something that made him want to shackle her ankle in his big hand and tickle the soles of her feet until she squealed and laughed—or at the very least smiled.

Before Luke had left for his morning run she'd managed a smile, but it hadn't reached her eyes. He knew the conversation with her father had not gone well, but she didn't give the impression of wanting to discuss it.

Perhaps she needs a distraction.
He curved his hand around the back of her neck, gently rubbing the tense muscles with his fingertips and thumb until she let out a soft sound very much like a kitten's purr. He smiled and spoke quietly. "Come with me, mi cielo, I have something to show you."

Casting a curious glance at the bowl of fruit in his hand, she followed him to a door across the hall from the kitchen. As soon as he opened the door she gasped and took a few quick steps into the room on tiptoes, eyes wide as she spun in a circle to take it all in.

"Sebastian, this is . . . wow." The sunlight spilling in from above and around lit up her face. She giggled and shook her head. "I have no words. Just 'Wow'."

The Georgian styled conservatory, with dark stained wood accents and huge windows, specially designed to keep the elements and the sun from affecting the temperature of the room, was his favorite place in the house—the reason he'd bought it actually. His vast collection of plants flourished in here. No sound came in from outside, which made it easier to focus on the sounds within.

An excited, ear piercing screech came from the side of the room and Sebastian laughed as Jami jumped backwards, slamming into him. "What the fuck!"

"Be calm, gatita." He steadied her with an arm around her shoulders and pointed out the large wooden cage behind a huge, potted palm tree. "Pit and Cherry are simply greeting us."

Jami's lips parted as she inched towards the cage and watched him open it. "You have
lovebirds
?"

"Yes. They were my mother's." Sebastian reached into the cage. Pit, the black-masked male, let out a happy peep and hopped onto his hand. "I brought them to the states with me after I came back from her funeral." He shook his head when Jami opened her mouth, sure she'd offer unnecessary condolences. "It has been four years. I'd planned to find them a good home with someone who knew more about birds, but I grew attached to them. Learned enough to care for, and train them."

"Like . . . they can do tricks?"

Sebastian nodded and brought Pit and the fruit to the small glass table in the center of the room. Pit chirped and stepped onto the table. He approached the bowl, but stopped when Sebastian made a clicking sound with his tongue and waited as he took a seat on one of the two wicker armchairs.

"Pit." Sebastian smiled when Jami knelt by the table, holding her breath as she watched the bird. He tapped his finger on the table until he had Pit's attention and made a circling gesture. "Roll over."

Pit rolled onto his back, wiggled slightly to shift his balance, then popped up to his feet.

"Good boy." Sebastian fed Pit a piece of melon. Then he whistled a three note tune. "Come, Cherry."

The peach-faced female bounced from her perch to the open door of the cage, chattering noisily. She cocked her head when he whistled again, sang back to him, and took flight. After landing on his shoulder, she began preening his hair, tugging lightly at the strands when he moved, making fussy little chirps.

"That's so cool!" Jami's eyes lit up. She reached out towards Cherry, then hesitated. "Can I touch her?"

"Not her—she's very possessive and she may bite." Sebastian picked
Pit
up and placed him in Jami's cupped palm. "He's friendlier and he enjoys showing off. Hold your hand flat."

Jami flattened her hand, looking nervous, as if she thought Pit would fall off.

Sebastian grinned and made a gun with his finger and thumb. "Bang."

Pit flopped onto his back on Jami's palm, lying still until Sebastian clicked his tongue.

"He's just like a dog!" Jami smiled at the bird and offered him a piece of apple. "This is . . . this is not what I pictured you doing with your free time. I totally expected there to be a piano behind that door."

"A piano?"

"Didn't you know?" Jami's tone became matter-of-fact. "All sexy, brooding, mysterious men play piano."

Gently lifting Cherry from his shoulder to the table so she could help herself to the fruit, Sebastian regarded Jami seriously. "No, I wasn't aware of that. Nor did I know I was brooding or mysterious."

"But you knew you were sexy?"

"I've been told often enough. I see no point in arguing with the masses." He smirked when she rolled her eyes. "I apologize, mi cielo. Should I claim to be a beast?"

Crawling towards him, her movements sensuous, cat-like, Jami slowly licked her lips and purred. "You were a beast last night."

He shook his head and pulled her between his parted thighs. "I was actually quite gentle last night, gatita. I thought it best to consider your lack of experience." Bending down to kiss her parted lips, he spoke softly. "I plan to teach you to take more."