Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) (34 page)

The bakery was small, with the glass display taking up more of the space than the few tables scattered along the floor-to-ceiling windows, but Dominik found himself and Sahara a seat in the corner that had just been vacated. While she went to the counter to talk to the elderly couple that ran the place, he quickly tossed out the napkins left on the table and picked up the empty coffee mugs.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, sir.” The tiny Italian woman hurried over, fussing at him, a rag clenched in her small, age-spotted hands. “I’ll give it a quick wipe. Give me those and sit!”

“Gina, don’t yell at the customers!” her husband called out, laughing.

Gina took the mugs in one hand, scrubbing the table with the other. “He’s not a customer; this is Sahara’s young man.” She looked him over, then gave a sharp nod. “I approve. You’re a good-looking boy and you have kind eyes.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Dominik caught Sahara whispering “Sorry” and shook his head. From what she’d told him, these people cared about her very much. He might not have impressed her mother, but maybe he’d get an actual chance to make a good impression here. “Sahara’s told me all about your bakery. Everything looks and smells delicious.”

The old woman preened. “Doesn’t it? I make the pastries, but my husband bakes the bread, the cookies, and the muffins Sahara loves so much. What are you in the mood for, Mr. Mason?”

“Please, call me Dominik.” The aroma of freshly baked bread made his mouth water, but he was too old to start indulging in empty calories. “With the game tonight, I need protein. The breakfast sandwich Sahara brought me the other day was amazing.” He grinned at Sahara as she joined them.

“From the looks of you, one is not enough. I’ll fix you two. With my special home fries.” She patted his shoulder as he pulled out Sahara’s chair. “Would you like some coffee? I know Sahara enjoys hers, but I haven’t fed many hockey players. My son used to play rugby, and he would only drink orange juice or those disgusting blue drinks. Sometimes raw eggs, but I refuse to serve that here.”

“Coffee is fine. I’ll take mine black.” He turned to Sahara once Gina headed back behind the counter. She was watching him, her brow furrowed slightly. “What is it?”

“You usually take two creams in your coffee.”

She’d been paying attention. He grinned. “Yes, but not typically on a game day. I try to avoid any kind of dairy. A little cheese in the sandwich will be fine, but for some reason, my stomach does not appreciate certain foods if I’m going to be pushing my body to the limit.”

“That’s good to know. I won’t forget.” She inhaled slowly and lowered her voice. “I’m a little surprised Gina brought up her son. He died a few years back—he was part of a recovery unit in the Marines.”

Dominik swallowed hard, thinking about Josh. His brother had just finished his fourth tour and he’d likely be heading back any day now. Hoping Josh might take a break or retire was pointless. After the third tour, even their mother had stopped begging him to give it up and just let her pride take over. Josh had avoided any serious relationships because his focus was entirely on the next mission, and he’d felt guilty enough leaving home when Cam was still young. If Josh ever had kids…?

Cam had once told Dominik their older brother had mentioned getting a vasectomy when he’d been drunk. Which wasn’t all that surprising.

Their mother would be crushed if she found out, but so long as their sisters never found out, it would be Josh’s secret.

Sahara touched the back of Dominik’s hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. You’re worried about Josh, aren’t you?”

He shook his head and turned his hand to hold hers. “No, actually, I was thinking about kids.”

“Is you biological clock ticking?” She grinned when he arched a brow at her. “We already have three—wait, I take that back. Two. Heath isn’t a kid.”

“He is, but we’ll do just fine with them. I’m relieved that my mother has enough grandchildren to keep her happy.”

He almost wanted to take the words back, considering too late that Sahara might think he never wanted children of his own. Whether or not it was early in the relationship for family planning, some women may consider that a deal-breaker.

Instead, Sahara cocked her head, nodding slowly. “She’s proud of all her kids. I can see her wanting more little ones to cuddle, but seeing all her children living good lives seems to be the most important thing.”

“Did she say anything about Cam?”

“Just that she thinks he’s doing well working for the team. She didn’t seem worried, but you could tell she had been.”

“I still am.” Dominik chuckled when Sahara frowned at the table like she was racking her brain for some way to make him feel better. “Hey, it’s fine. Josh and I always worry about Cam. It’s our job.”

Conversation halted as breakfast was served, then continued on to more pleasant topics. Sahara told him about the Ice Girls’ routine for the next game and how she and Akira had been working with the choreographer on a new song. He discussed his concerns about his manager and his thoughts on finding a replacement over the summer.

They were halfway through their meal before Sahara’s phone went off. She blushed as she pulled it out. “Sorry, I didn’t bother turning it off because not many people have my new number. Do you mind if I check if it’s important?”

“Not at all.” Dominik took out his own phone, which he hadn’t turned off either. Despite their jokes about leaving their phones at home, it wasn’t really practical. Neither of them was the type to have their phones constantly in their faces, so the issue was more about being understanding when a call or text did come in.

But by the expression on Sahara’s face as she read the text, he was going to wish he’d told her to wait.

“It’s Pischlar. He said it’s important, and he wants to know if he can come meet us.”

The “
us
” told Dominik this could be serious
.
Pischlar and Sahara were still friends; the man had a good reputation of keeping boundaries with his past lovers, but he had a carefree attitude that sometimes rubbed their teammates the wrong way. If given the choice, Pischlar would likely give Sahara some space to avoid causing friction between her and Dominik.

Dominik needed to hear what Pischlar had to say. He nodded at Sahara. “Tell him to come here. If he hasn’t eaten yet, we’ll make sure he does.”

She let out a breath of relief and texted a reply.

No more than five minutes later, Pischlar came into the bakery. He glanced around, then came right to their table.

“I won’t stay long.” He reached into the stylish jean jacket he was wearing. Over nothing but jeans. He pulled out a thick envelope. “I’m so fucking sorry for—”

“Please sit.” Gina dragged over a chair and smiled at Pischlar. “Oh, those holes in your ears must have hurt. Are you hungry? If you’re Sahara’s friend, I’ll feed you well.” She tilted her head to one side as Pischlar blinked at her. “You’re one of those hockey players, aren’t you? I’ll feed you like I did Sahara’s man.”

Pischlar’s cheeks reddened. He looked at Dominik. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. Sit. I’ll feel better if I see you eat. You’re a wreck lately, man.” Dominik leaned back in his chair as Pischlar sat and laid the envelope on the table. “How are things going? Have you apologized to Richter?”

“Yeah.” Pischlar rubbed a fresh bruise on his cheek with a wry smile. “Bower was there and he flipped out. I think that helped with negotiations. Richter said being punched more than once means there’s no need to put me on the market. If the shit I pulled gets out, they won’t get a fucking cent for me. My agent is happy. He about lost his mind when I said I might need to explore my options. Coming out the way I did hasn’t made me very popular.”

“I’ll bet.” Damn it, Pisch was a mess. And Dominik wasn’t sure how to help him. Sahara had been one of many women the man had played with at the club, but there was only one person who could make Pischlar straighten up his act. But unless White returned Pischlar’s feelings, there was no point in hoping he’d be of any use.

Sahara leaned across the table, hesitating to touch his hands until Dominik nodded to let her know it was okay. “What happened? Is White okay?”

“I wouldn’t have bothered you about White.” Pischlar stared down at his hands, then turned one to hold Sahara’s. “The envelope will tell you everything. I think you should let Dominik look at it first.”

Sahara drew away from Pischlar and hugged herself.

Dominik frowned. “Just tell us, Pisch.”

Fisting his hands on the table, Pischlar sighed. “The woman who posted those death threats to Sahara on Facebook? Well, she was let out on bail the other day. And she sent me this.” He put his hand over the envelope on the table. “It’s a love letter. And a piece of Sahara’s window seat. The woman confessed to breaking in to Sahara’s house and chopping it up with an ax. She writes fan fiction about me and Demyan and got a little obsessed.”

“A little?” Sahara rubbed her hand over her mouth as she went pale. “She was the one who commented on your picture, wasn’t she? She used a different name for the threats, but unless there’s more than one fan going nuts for you…”

“Hey, I’m not claiming the really crazy ones. Those are all Higgins’s.”

“They’re not breaking in to Sahara’s house,” Dominik said dryly. “Where is this woman now?”

Pischlar’s brow furrowed as he stared at the envelope. “She’s been admitted for psychiatric care. Her father called my manager, who called me. The man said his daughter’s always had issues, but they’ve been contained until now. Jail time won’t help her. So I hired a lawyer to speak on her behalf. He’s going to ask that she be committed. My manager found a great facility where she’ll get the help she needs.”

“That’s nice of you, but why do all this for a woman who could have hurt Sahara?” Dominik reached out and took Sahara’s hand. “There are other charitable causes you could focus on if you’re feeling giving.”

“Her father’s a huge fan of the team, and he’s been looking after her ever since she lost her husband and her baby in a car crash.” Pischlar scowled at Dominik. “You’re right, she deserved to rot in jail.”

Nice going, Mason
. Dominik shook his head. “Shit, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pischlar sat back as his breakfast was served. “She’s not the problem anyway. Higgins’s lawyers got wind of this and they’re pushing for his case to be thrown out, claiming that Sahara lied about him breaking in and now they have proof. It’s all over the news, but I hoped you’d hear it from me first.”

“Thank you, Pisch.” Rising from his chair, Dominik held out his hand for Sahara. “We should get you back to the hotel where you’ll be safe.”

Sahara stood but hesitated. “Am I allowed to argue with you, Sir?”

Interesting question. If she’d been joking, he’d have said no, but she sounded very serious. “You’re allowed to disagree with me. Why?”

With a bit of mischief in her eyes, she took his hands and pulled him back to his chair. “How did Gina put it?” She gave his hands a little tug. “Sit!”

“Sahara—”

“The danger hasn’t changed and you need to eat. A sub’s job is to take care of her Dom.” She speared a potato with his fork and brought it up to his mouth. “I’m also aware I’ve probably earned a spanking.”

Pischlar chuckled. “If you’re lucky.”

She stuck out her tongue. “You eat too.”

“Careful, pet.” Dominik grabbed her by the hips and sat her on his knee. “But you’re right.”

“So we can stay?” She fed him another potato before he could speak and giggled when he frowned at her. “Sorry.”

“You’re being a brat, but I appreciate the concern. And I suppose this news doesn’t affect us right now.” He hated how stressful things would be when they got back to Dartmouth. Sahara would have to speak to the police again. And the lawyers. She’d have to make sure they had enough evidence to try Higgins on domestic battery and assault. Relive the worst parts of her past again and again.

But there was no point in dwelling on what they’d face together when they got home.

So he wrapped his arms around Sahara’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You’re very lucky though.”

She glanced back at him, confused.

He grinned, clearing things right up. “You’re definitely getting spanked.”

The Cobras’ win over the Islanders had been brutal but, most importantly, the game was coming back to home ice. Hopefully to eliminate New York and carry on to the second round.

In the three-day break from the last game, Sahara had enjoyed helping Dominik settle Heath and his siblings into their new home. New furniture had been delivered for Kimber, and several of the Cobras had spent the day painting the office Dominik had given up for her bedroom. Sahara could tell Dominik wasn’t a fan of the dark red shade Kimber had chosen, but he was damn good at assuring the teen felt comfortable making the room into her own little sanctuary.

For the moment, Heath was sharing a room with his little brother, but when Dominik wasn’t training or spending time with the kids, he was busy house shopping. Both nights since they’d gotten back to Dartmouth, he’d tucked the little ones in with Sahara, then sat up with her in his bed, asking her opinion of houses he’d found online.

He’d made his intentions very clear.

“I’m thinking we’ll move in August. That gives the kids time to settle in before school starts. And you and I won’t seem like we’re rushing into living together.”

“But you want me to help choose the house, so you’re assuming we
will
be living together?” She couldn’t help but tease him a little. He’d been very serious lately and she needed to see him smile. “Have my cleaning skills met your standards then, Sir?”

Dominik snorted, closing his laptop and setting it aside before pulling her on top of him. “Not yet, but you’re getting there. Thankfully, your other talents make up for the odd sock I find under our bed.”

“Our bed?”

“Yes. I’ve decided you belong here.” Dominik ran his hands up her bare thighs as she straddled him. “Do you object?”

“No, Sir.” Her eyes drifted shut as he lifted her nightgown up over her head. “I feel like I belong here too.”

Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn close considering everything else going on. The first day back, Sahara had spent hours with the district attorney, going over her statement and giving even more details about her past abuse. Grant’s lawyers were pushing for a deal, and the DA had explained to Sahara exactly what that would mean.

If Grant pled guilty, he would be deported and serve six months in jail in New York. He’d have to go through anger management courses for thirty-six months after and wouldn’t be eligible to request permission to return to Canada for five years.

His career would be over.

Sahara couldn’t help feeling responsible, even though most people would think she was being stupid for taking any blame.

Thankfully, talking to Dominik helped her put everything in perspective.

“He fucked up his career, sunshine. You let him get away with what he did to you once—gave him two more years to play the game and get fucking therapy.” Dominik cupped her cheek in his hand and forced her to meet his steady gaze. “I’m grateful that you don’t have the guilt of his other victims on your head. If he’s let off the hook again, you will.”

In Dominik’s bedroom, ironing her Ice Girls uniform for the game tonight, Sahara squared her shoulders, finding strength in the confidence Dominik gave her. This wouldn’t be easy, but she wouldn’t back down.

Hearing Kimber’s bright laughter coming through the partially closed door, Sahara smiled. If Dominik’s encouragement hadn’t been enough, seeing Kimber’s trusting gaze every day certainly was. The girl looked up to Sahara, which was scary and empowering all at once. Scary because she wasn’t sure she could be the hero Kimber seemed to expect her to be. Empowering because there was no fucking way she’d let that sweet child down.

The noisy play from the other room quieted. Sahara put down the iron as she heard Bran’s quiet sobs.

“Hey, buddy, don’t cry.” Dominik’s tone was soft and soothing. “We were having so much fun with the cars, you didn’t realize how badly you needed to go. We’ll get you cleaned up and keep playing, okay?” Silence. Bran had likely nodded, because Dominik continued. “Can you get him a change of clothes, Ladd? I’ll go run him a bath.”

No worries. My man’s got this covered.
Sahara grinned as she continued ironing out every crease in her skirt. She used to send her uniform to the dry cleaners, but Dominik had decided to add laundry to her list of chores. He’d also told her, in no uncertain terms, that using the dry cleaners for anything that she could throw in the washing machine was cheating.

She didn’t mind. Even though this was taking forever, she found the mindless task relaxing. And his warm approval when she completed each task was worth the extra effort.

The water stopped running. She could hear Bran giggling and splashing. That would please Dominik—he was always trying to make the boy smile. He’d also gotten the kid an excessive amount of toys, so Bran was probably in the water, up to his ears in bubbles, soaking Dominik and having a blast.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“I’ll get it!” Kimber called out.

The doorbell. Sahara stopped ironing, trying to think of who would be visiting right before they headed to the Forum for tonight’s game. She heard the door open hard. Kimber let out a muffled scream.

“Where the fuck is she? Don’t fucking move, Mason. I don’t want to hurt the kid.”

Grant.
Sahara set down the iron and slipped quietly toward the door. She could see Dominik halfway across the room, facing Grant with his hands up. A few feet behind him, Heath stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking back and forth between his little brother, who hadn’t seemed to notice the shouting, and Kimber.

“You don’t want to do this, Higgins.” Dominik spoke calmly, but Sahara could see the rage in his eyes. If Kimber weren’t in danger, Dominik would kill the other man.

“I want to talk to that fucking cunt.”

Sahara pushed the door open all the way and cleared her throat. “I’m right here, Grant.”

“You ruined me! I loved you, and you fucking ruined me!” Grant shoved Kimber toward Dominik and came at Sahara too fast for her to react. He spun her around with his hand on her throat, keeping her between himself and Dominik. “Move, and I’ll snap her goddamn neck. I have nothing to lose, man.”

The stench of alcohol came to Sahara with Grant’s every heavy breath. He’d probably met with his lawyers, gotten plastered, and come straight here. She wasn’t sure how he’d found Dominik’s place, but she had to get him out.

“Grant, you’re scaring the kids.” She struggled to inhale past the pressure on her windpipe. “Please let me go. We can talk about this.”

Grant let out a cold laugh. “Talk? What’s the point? You’re not going to drop the charges, and even if you did, my reputation is shit.”

All right, getting him out wasn’t going to be good enough. He’d beaten her unconscious when he was still at the beginning of a promising career. If he got her alone now, there was no telling what he’d do.

He loosened his grip on her throat a little though, so she took a deep breath, struggling to keep herself calm. “What do you want, Grant?”

The muscles of his chest tensed as he pulled her tight against him. He panted into her hair. “Just you. I lost everything because of you, and I’m not letting you go again.”

Don’t fucking bet on it, asshole.
Sahara met Dominik’s eyes. His jaw ticked.

She slammed her head back as hard as she could. Grant cursed and she dropped her weight to free herself, then drove forward into his knees.

He hit the wall hard, latching on to her hair before she could duck out of reach. She tried to knee him in the balls, but he blocked her, dragging her close as Dominik reached them.

Her eyes teared as she struggled to twist free. Her scalp stung with each sharp tug.

Self-defense had taught her to preserve her energy, but she couldn’t help panicking with Grant’s hands on her. Dominik couldn’t reach her with Grant using her to shield himself. Maybe easily snapping necks was only in the movies, but if Grant kept jerking her head back, he’d do some serious damage.

He’d almost let her go when she’d struck him with the back of her head. Maybe she’d broken his nose. One more hit and he might let her go.

Squirming, she shoved her hand up into his face. Slick, warm blood covered her fingers as the heel of her palm reached his nose. Which had probably been broken so many times on the ice he wasn’t feeling it as much as he should.

So she pressed up farther, jabbing her fingers into his eyes.

Wrenching back, Grant released her and brought his hands to his face. She crab-crawled out of reach.

Dominik pinned Grant to the floor. “Motherfucker, I should end you for this.”

Before his fist came down, Heath grabbed his arm. “Just hold him there, man. The cops are on the way.”

If Heath is here…
Sahara pushed to her feet, wiping her bloody hands on her jeans. Was Bran alone in the bath? Where was Kimber? Had she seen—

“Sahara, they’re fine,” Heath said softly. “I got her into the bathroom with Bran as soon as the bastard was focused on you and Mason. Kimber took my phone and called 911.”

Swallowing hard as her stomach twisted with nausea, Sahara stumbled into the kitchen. She still needed to see if the kids were all right. But not covered in blood. Shit, there was so much blood.

On her clothes too. She had to get changed. Her eyes teared.

Big hands settled on her shoulders. She jumped.

“It’s me, my sunny girl.” Dominik turned her in his arms and tipped her chin up. “Grant’s been taken in. The nice detective has a few questions. Here, let me.” He grabbed a paper towel and wet the edge under the running water. Then he gently wiped her cheek. “What did I say? My girl is tough.”

“I don’t feel tough.” A shaky laugh bubbled up, but the sound was weak. She was breathing too fast and her heart was pounding out of her chest. “I feel like I want to curl up in a little ball and hide.”

Dominik nodded slowly. “Yes, but when it counted, you didn’t freeze up. You didn’t hide. You were strong.” He tossed the bloodstained paper towel in the sink and gathered her close. “Next time his face haunts you, remember that.”

Resting her head on Dominik’s chest, Sahara took a deep breath and nodded. She hadn’t seen Grant’s face, but she’d never forget the moment she’d managed to fight back.

And break free.

* * * *

Dominik packed his sports bag, dropping his gloves three times before he forced himself to stop and calm the fuck down. The cops had taken off over an hour ago, but he hadn’t let himself lose it in front of Sahara or the kids.

Sahara was in the bedroom, getting ready for her performance on the ice. She had bruises on her neck, but the paramedic who had come along with the police had checked her out and said she was fine. So Sahara had simply showered—with him hovering close—then gone through the routine that seemed all too familiar. She had a palette of makeup she’d expertly applied until the marks almost disappeared.

He couldn’t watch anymore. He longed for the fucking day she could throw all that extra makeup in the trash. For when the only bruises she’d have would be from knocking her shin on the coffee table or maybe landing hard on the ice after a spin.

He was so damn proud of Sahara, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the image of her struggling in Higgins’s hold while Dominik stood there, completely helpless, out of his head. If Ladd hadn’t stopped him, he would have beaten Higgins to a bloody pulp minutes before the cops walked in.

If he had a fucking key to the man’s cell, he’d go take him out now. He’d never craved another man’s death this badly. The extent of his own rage kinda freaked him out.

Heavy footsteps came up behind him. Stopped by his side. “Was I wrong?”

Dominik scowled up at Ladd. “You’re going to have to learn to use complete sentences, kid. Wrong about what?”

“Wrong to stop you. Kimber’s got a swollen lip. She’s being all brave, but she’s still shaky.” Ladd bent down and handed Dominik his glove. “I’m her brother. I’m supposed to keep her safe, but I’ve done a shitty job.”

“You’re still a kid yourself, Ladd. I’m surprised you still want to stay with me.” Dominik rubbed a hand over his face. “I just fucking stood there.”

Ladd inclined his head. “Yes. I saw. You stood there and didn’t risk my sister’s life.”

“She shouldn’t have been in danger! How the fuck did he even find my house?”

Staring at the floor, Ladd clenched his jaw. “Everyone knows I live with you. The press takes photos of me every time I bloody leave.”

“Shit.” All right, they were moving much sooner than August. And getting a fucking security system. And having a chat with the little ones about not answering the door.
Ever
.

With a
Whoop!
Bran came running out of the bedroom he shared with his brother. He threw himself at Dominik, then perched on his thigh, smacking his chest. “Cobras!”

“Yep.” Dominik smiled, looking the little boy over. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen or heard anything to traumatize him. He’d seemed impressed by the police, but not really sure what was going on. Dominik wrapped an arm around Bran as the little boy rubbed the team logo. “Are you excited for the game?”