BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (29 page)

She gulped, bit the tip of her tongue, and shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'll pass."

"You will show me the cut. Once I tend to it, you will wait inside the truck for me."

"I'm sorry, Sebastian." She thrust her hand out, revealing a long, ragged cut on the side of her index finger, steadily dripping blood. "Look, it doesn't even hurt. I just don't like being fussed over. A couple of
Bandaids
and I'll be good as new. I can still help."

Sebastian shook his head. He could understand not wanting to be fussed over, but hiding
any
injury from him didn't bode well. He needed a moment away from her to decide how to handle this calmly. "There are
Bandaids
in the small first aid kit in the glove compartment. Now go take care of your finger while I finish up here."

"It'll just take a sec and I can—"

"No, Jami."

"But—"

"No."

For a long moment, Jami just stood there, staring at him. Then she nodded and lowered her eyes, blinking fast as she slipped by.

I believe you are truly sorry now, gatita.
He picked up all the cans and put them in a plastic cart one of the volunteers—an older man with a head full of grey hair, solid and strong though slightly overweight, brought him. The man's name was Earl and he spent most of his time working at the shelter. A good man—and a fan of the Cobras. Sebastian could tell he recognized Jami.

"Don't be too hard on the little girl, Mr. Ramos," Earl said as he folded the check Sebastian handed him and tucked it into his pocket. "She's only trying to impress you."

Sebastian arched a brow. "I've asked you to call me Sebastian."

"That you have, sir." Earl grinned. "But it don't seem right with everything you put in here. You're practically my boss."

The same old argument. Sebastian let it go. He was accustomed to people treating him as though he was someone important. Because he was a professional athlete. Because he was rich. None of them knew where he'd come from. He'd grown up no different than those who needed the services of the shelter. He slammed the back of the truck closed and leaned against it.

"I won't mention I saw you two together." Earl rested his elbow on the truck beside Sebastian and glanced at the cab. "Her daddy won't like it."

Sebastian gave him a grim smile. "He doesn't."

"But that don't matter a lick to you, does it?"

"No, sir." Sebastian straightened and shook Earl's hand. "You have my number if you need anything else. My housekeeper can provide anything you need while I'm gone."

"Don't even worry about it. You've done more than enough." Earl shook his head. "What I don't understand is why you're so secretive about it. Isn't this kind of thing good for publicity?"

"Yes, but there are parts of my life I'd rather not share with the public." Sebastian shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp, grey slacks. "The press knows who my grandfather is and believes I grew up wealthy. Let them."

Earl nodded, but didn't comment. He patted Sebastian's shoulder and waved to Jami before disappearing into the shelter.

After climbing into the driver's side of the pickup, Sebastian turned to Jami. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest and was squeezing her wounded finger so hard fresh blood seeped out from under the
Bandaids
.

"Stop that." He took hold of her wrist, holding it between his thighs as he opened the glove compartment to fetch fresh
Bandaids
and an alcohol wipe from the glove compartment. Once the wound was cleaned and redressed, he kissed it gently. "Jami, I cannot accept this behavior. We must trust one another. When you are hurt—"

Her face crumpled as she pushed up to her knees, climbed into his lap, and pressed into his chest. "I didn't mean to make you mad. Please . . . you can trust me. I swear I'll be upfront with you from now on. I just didn't think it was a big deal."

He smiled and kissed her hair. "All right, mi cielo. I think you've been punished enough."

"Punished? Oh hell no." She tipped her head back and her lips quivered as though she was trying not to smile. "What about a spanking? That should work."

 
"I try not to reward bad behavior."

"Spanking is a weird ass reward."

"For some, perhaps, but not for you. You enjoyed it when Luke spanked you."

She groaned and eased off his lap. "Must you remind me?"

"Does it bother you that you enjoyed it?"

"A little."

"It shouldn't." He took her hand, holding it carefully in his even though she clearly wasn’t in pain. "I'd rather you find pleasure in a spanking than in hurting yourself. Do you do this often? Have you ever done it intentionally?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, when I was a kid I punched things when I was mad and that helped me relax, but I never cut myself or anything."

"Good. But it is something you need on occasion, true? I expect you to tell me when you do."

"As in 'Please beat me, Sir?'" She made a face. "I can't see myself asking for it."

"Then I will try to pay attention when you are acting out. I would like it if you'd talk to me though."

"That goes both ways. You had something to tell me." She pressed her lips together and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. "Did I mess up too bad? I spent the whole time in here feeling crappy because I know I messed up. It was worse than being sent to my room when I was little and my dad is pretty good at giving you
that look
that lets you know he's disappointed."

Since her father was a Dom he could imagine how well he showed his displeasure. He'd never considered how a child raised in a household with parents involved in BDSM would behave as an adult. Were they more inclined to crave dominance or submission?

He couldn't say for sure, but Jami's need to please reached him on a basic level. And her honesty pleased him very much. He had to give her something in return.

Pulling out of the shelter parking, Sebastian stretched him arm out over the back of Jami's seat, gaze fixed forward as he spoke. "What would you like to know?"

"Whatever you're comfortable telling me. I already know coming here is more than you wanting to give back to the community."

The truck bumped over the curb. He pulled into midmorning traffic and nodded slowly. "It does. I know firsthand what happens when a person is too selfish to give what they can. My mother came from a wealthy family, but she married a man her father didn't approve of. She was only seventeen when she ran away with her high school sweetheart. My father was five years older than her—he worked in a factory and made enough money for my mother to continue her education. Until an accident crippled him and she found out she was pregnant."

"With you?"

"Yes. She considered having an abortion, but she was raised very religious. So she had me. She told me she stopped hating me when she held me for the first time. But the medical bills from my father's injury and my birth were too much for my parents to handle. She went to her father and begged him for help, but he refused." Sebastian ground his teeth and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "So she managed the best she could, but we never had enough to eat. I can still remember the pain of going days without food, retching up whatever food my mother was able to bring home from the restaurant where she worked. Rent and bills and debt left us with nothing. And that bastard didn't care. He didn't give her a cent until my father died when I was twelve."

Sebastian recalled the stench of death, lingering in the house for weeks since his father had died in his bed, refusing to put them in more debt by going to the hospital. And the way his mother had cried when her father had shown up to bring them to their new home. A big apartment with a fridge full of food—more than they needed. Bitter bile rose in his throat as he remembered how he'd screamed at his mother and told her he wouldn't eat a thing 'that man' provided. As if things hadn't been bad enough for her.

He'd made it worse.

"With my grandfather covering the rent and the bills, we finally had enough food. Money for nice clothes—for me to play hockey. I'd played in the streets, but until then I'd never put on a pair of skates."

"You started late. You must have learned fast to make it so far."

"I took to the game quickly. And suddenly my grandfather was interested in me. He came to all my games and my mother made sure I thanked him constantly for giving me the opportunity." He let out a harsh laugh. "I was sixteen when I introduced my grandfather to my boyfriend. He was disgusted, but he told my mother as long as I was 'discreet' he’d continue to provide me with all I needed. I refused at first, but it came to a point where my mother's tears were more than I could bear. My boyfriend had pressure from his family as well. We both got involved with girls our families approved of."

"But you weren't really interested in women."

Frowning, Sebastian glanced over at Jami as she toyed with the hem of her skirt. "I have always been interested in women. And men. Part of me instinctively rebels against having who I love being restricted to sex. But it made my mother happy to see me with a woman. Any woman. Her father was cruel to her when I did things that didn't please him, so I learned to keep that side of myself private."

"You're pretty good at it." Jami lifted her head and gave him a sheepish smile. "You're so mysterious. Which makes everyone want you."

The edge of his lip crept up. "Is that why
you
wanted me?"

"At first, maybe. But I want to hear the rest. What happened with your mother? Your grandfather?"

The air in the car filled his lungs like rancid oil. He shook his head and pulled over to the side of the road. His hands were shaking as he brought them up to rake his fingers through his hair. "After I was drafted and moved to the states, my mother refused to accept help from my grandfather. I didn't see it—he told me after . . . " He pressed his eyes shut. "I thought she was lonely. I wanted to stay with her, but she said . . . if I didn't become someone great, everything she'd done had been for nothing. So I bought her the lovebirds. She seemed happy. I came back to the states. A few months later my grandfather called me to tell me she'd passed away. She was hording food, but eating nothing. She starved to death."

Jami brought one hand to her mouth and put the other on his forearm. "Sebastian—"

He had to finish. Then he had to move past the depths the memories brought him to. He put his hand over hers and hauled in a ragged breath. "I went to her funeral, then cleaned out her house and cut ties with my family. It took years for me to accept calls from any of them. I speak to my aunts, uncles, and cousins now. I finally accepted that they had nothing to do with what happened to my mother. She lashed out at them because of her father. She pushed everyone away."

"So the cousin who came down to see you play . . . are you two close?"

"As close as I am to any in my family. But he read something about Luke and I sharing a room in a tabloid and decided he'd rather stay in a motel. The article made it seem like more happened than—"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sebastian. I've had sex with Luke—with your permission." Her nose wrinkled and she hugged herself. "I'd actually feel better if you two—I mean, then it's not like cheating."

Cheating?
His brow furrowed. "How is it cheating if I share you with a man?"

"I just want you to know—you and him can—"

"It's unlikely, mi cielo. Luke is not comfortable being with a man. Unless I'm wrong, just the idea of being with me is affecting his game. Which is unacceptable." He cupped her cheek and leaned close. "I may find another man. How would you feel about that?"

She bit her lip and cast her gaze downwards. "I don't know."

He nodded and kissed her. "Thank you for your honesty. I will discuss other lovers with you before anything happens. I expect you to do the same. Then it is not 'cheating'."

"So you're giving up on him?"

Sebastian sighed and pulled back onto the road. Once they reached his home he prepared Peanut, the lovebird he was giving Jami, for transportation. His bags were already packed, so it didn't take long before they were on the road again in his car. Jami stared at him when he handed her the keys and asked her to take care of it. She swore she would.

Then, after walking him to the bus that would bring the team to the airport, she pulled him in for a kiss right in front of all the men. As the cat calls and grumbles broke out around them, she whispered in his ear. "You never answered my question. Don't give up on him, Sebastian. He needs you as much as I do."

In the bus, seated alone in the back, Sebastian watched Luke, Jami's words still fresh in his mind. The way Luke joked with Demyan and teased Bower about taking on the 'daddy status' made it difficult to believe that he needed anything or anyone. He seemed content.

I'm sorry, mi cielo.
He plugged his ear with music from his iPod and lost himself to the classic music. Bach. His mother's favorite.
You're wrong. And I hope you don't feel for him. Because what he needs is beyond me. And you.

Chapter Fourteen

Tuesday night, less than an hour until puck drop. And Luke's body had turned into a solid chunk of wood. He sat on the bench by his stall in the locker room, watching Bower juggle four tennis balls and nodded to whatever the man was saying. He couldn't move more than his head. Not just yet.

Just nerves, Carter. Pull yourself together.

A retching sound from the other side of the room made his stomach flip. He hadn't eaten much for supper, but every mouthful lumped up in his gut, ready to come up any second.

Bower shot him a hard look as he stood and tossed the balls into his bag. "You're awfully pale, Carter. You
gonna
be okay?"

Luke nodded and gulped against the nausea. "Yeah, I'm dealing. You might want to check on Mischlue though. He doesn’t sound good."

And if he pukes again I'm
gonna
need a bucket of my own.