Iron Cross: The Dartmouth Cobras #6 (13 page)

“I was just thinking about that time I came home and mentioned a movie this
little kid was watching when I busted down a door to a meth lab. I wasn’t the one who got him out of there, but I stood there just staring at him and the TV. And I had that song stuck in my head…”

“
‘Part of your World.’ I remember that.” Tyler sucked on the straw he’d stuck into his iced cap. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “You kept humming it and then you just looked at me and asked what the movie was. You wanted to tell the social worker because you were worried about him.”

“And you told me. So I told her.” Laura took a bite of her chicken
panini. Swallowed, then sat back, picturing it all. “You were shocked that I’d never seen
The Little Mermaid
, so you got the DVD out of that bag you bring everywhere and you made me watch it.”

Tyler’s cheeks went red. “I didn’t ‘make you
.’”

“You did to
o.” She put her hand over his and her voice was soft. “I’m glad you did. He was adopted, did I tell you? He’s happy.”

“You told me. And that’s good. He was so little and you had nightmares about him ending up somewhere bad.”

The muscles tightening in her back, in her chest, made it hard to breathe. She often had nightmares, and Tyler was a light sleeper. If anything, she should consider him a friend because he’d come to her room when they’d slept apart—or moved over to her side of the bed when they slept together—to soothe her. But to wake up in the morning and face the fact that the horrors of her job came home with her…

She couldn’t do it. And Tyler rarely brought up the nightmares, so she was able to forget them. Made her feel pretty shitty to have been a bitch to someone who’d comforted her in her darkest hours though. She owed him more than she’d given. Only
…he was a boy. And she didn’t know how to relate to him. She’d never had a boyfriend as an adult. The problem with Tyler was she didn’t know what he was to her. He’d always been Chicklet’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Tyler stared down at his hands,
clasped around his cup, his body still as he waited for her answer.

Perfect distraction. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Sure.”

“Were you there when Chicklet…when she sucked Raif’s dick?”

Laura giggled. So not a cop thing to do, but this was funny. Tyler hadn’t known Chicklet when their
Mistress had made a hobby of bringing strong men to their knees. And how thrilling it was to feel the power flowing from a woman who had more alpha in her than most males.

“I was there. Raif has never submitted to anyone, but
I think he’d submit to her if she asked him to.” And that would be fucking
hot
. Few men seemed strong once Chicklet brought them down, but Laura could tell Raif would still be a force to behold at her Mistress’s feet. She put her hands over Tyler’s. “Picture a hurricane smashing into a volcano. That’s what they are when they’re together. I’m not sure they’ll ever play together, but it’s fascinating.”

“She wants me to
…” Tyler pressed his lips together so hard the color faded from them. He scowled at his cup. “She thinks I want him.”

“Do you?” She kept her tone neutral, but his admission had her thoughts all over the place. Chicklet had never shared Tyler
with anyone but Laura. After two years, every scene with him was still a novelty. He was submissive enough to keep Chicklet interested, but wild enough to make Laura wonder if he’d ever truly submit. She didn’t understand how his being tame for short spurts could be enough. He was like a dog who’d never come when you called unless you had a treat to offer.

“I’m not sure. I want to say no.” Tyler shook his head. “I’m not gay.”

“Didn’t Luke used to say that?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. He fell in love with Ramos
, and he’s never been into other guys. But Luke kissed me.”

“While you were both drunk?” She could see that happening. And Chicklet being okay with it.
Chicklet had given Tyler a different set of rules than Laura. And Laura tried very hard not to mind. She’d never kiss anyone without Chicklet’s permission, drunk or sober, but she wasn’t the one who needed a fucking leash and constant reminders of what submission actually meant.

Chicklet, I love you, but why do you put up with him?
She was happy her tone hadn’t betrayed her thoughts, but all the nice memories might as well have been erased. They didn’t mean a thing. Tyler was too random for her to ever understand him.

“Yeah
…but I was trying to prove a point. Like you did—or maybe it’s not the same. You told me you dated a boy once. To make your mom happy? But you were never attracted to him—never even let him kiss you.” Tyler’s cup clicked as he dented the plastic with his fingers. “I was drunk and I thought a kiss would make things clear. But now I’m even more confused. When Luke acted like a Dom—”

“It’s different then. Any strong Dom, male or female, can get a response from me.” She had t
o make that clear for him, no matter how conflicted she was. The first time a male Dom had turned her on had made her question the hell she’d gone through identifying as a lesbian. She’d wondered if people were right. Maybe a good fuck from a man would make her “‘normal.” Chicklet was bisexual, but she’d explained that yes, Laura was a lesbian. And responding to a man didn’t make her any less so. Sex was physical. A man wasn’t gay just because he found another man hot. He could be bisexual, or straight, and still be attracted. His physical and emotional response to the same sex helped draw the lines. If any lines had to be there in the first place. “As for Raif, I wasn’t around him enough to say, but he could be playing on your submission. You’re the only one who can tell if there’s more there.”

“I don’t know if there is. She wants me to find out.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know how. He’s a Dom. And he won’t go near me because I’m straight and
…well, I stole his car and basically told him to fuck off.”

Uh
…yeah. Not the best way to attract a Dom, even for a casual scene. A hardcore Dom like Raif wouldn’t accept a sub’s advance, and he wouldn’t approach a male sub who wasn’t sure of his own sexuality. She wanted to help Tyler as a fellow sub, because Chicklet wanted to see where this would go, and…well, her motives weren’t all pure. What if Tyler and Raif hit it off? What if Raif wanted Tyler for his own? If Tyler was happy, Chicklet would let him go. That had always been a possibility, Chicklet had trained both male and female subs before and set them loose. Tyler had been hers for a long time, but that changed nothing. Tyler had needed her. Maybe he wouldn’t anymore.

She sat back, considering Tyler
, his forehead all creased in thought, his bottom lip red from his habit of scraping it with his teeth. Whatever her motives, he needed another sub’s take on this. And the advice of a friend.

It’s the least I can do.
She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’re kinda a brat, you know.” She held up her hand when he looked ready to argue with her. “All the Doms see it, so you might as well use it to your advantage. You can’t come on to him straight out, but you can show him you’re interested. You kissed Luke, right? Could you do it again in front of Raif?”

“Hell no!” Tyler leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Seriously, the first time was weird enough. And I don’t think Raif would get all jealous and possessive.”

“You never know.” Laura shrugged, knowing very well she’d planted the idea in his head. All she had to do was give him a few other options to play with. “If he thinks you’re curious, that’s one obstacle out of the way. And then…I don’t know, let him see that cute butt of yours. You guys shower together?”

“Yeah, but we don’t hang around checking each other out.” He grinned suddenly. “You think I’ve got a cute butt?”

Her cheeks heated. Yes, she had admired his ass, tight, but just meaty enough to dig her fingers into—she could admire an ass like that on anyone. She waved her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter what I think. Hang around long enough for him to check it out. And make him laugh. You’re kinda easy to like when you’re being funny.”

“I have a hard time talking around him.
’Cept when I’m mad.”

“Don’t get mad. Every time he pisses you off, remind yourself you stole his car. And you want to fuck him.”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Oh
, admit it. Or should I have said you want him to fuck
you
?” She winked and took a sip of her coffee. “Either way, I don’t think it will be that hard to draw his interest. And if you lose your nerve, just remember Chicklet wants you to see where this will go. Hear her whispering in your ear…” Her own heart started beating faster as their Mistress’s voice echoed in the depths of her mind. The same voice that made things she’d grown to believe were sins into devious delicacies. Made her fears tantalizing acts of lust. She was breathless as she spoke. “‘You know you want to do it. Just once, for me. If it was easy, the submission you offer would be worth nothing.’”

Tyler was holding his breath. He swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yeah. I can hear her now.”

“She said that to me the first time you and I were together.”

“I remember.” He enfolded her hands in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “You were so beautiful, so untouchable. I already loved you because I saw how precious you were to her. I tried to be careful, but—”

“That wasn’t the game we were playing.”
And I couldn’t have taken you being gentle.
She made sure not to let it show on her face, but she winced internally. Him saying he loved her, which he often did in a casual way, always scared her a little. Made it harder to shut him out.

The comment about loving her
because
she was Chicklet’s put them closer to being on the same page though. Any tenderness she felt for him was for the same reason.

“Is this a new game, Laura?” Tyler stared at the table as though the answer might be written in the faint knife scars in the wood. “This whole thing with Raif? Is it like the parties you and Chicklet go to? Where she shows you off and lets others play with you?”

“I don’t know, Tyler.” There was a very real possibility that Chicklet would slowly introduce Tyler to that side of the lifestyle. If she thought he was ready… Well, it would bring him deeper into their world, wouldn’t it? Make him a more permanent fixture?

A voice on her walkie
-talkie saved her from having to say more. The call was close enough for her to take it. She stood with an apologetic smile on her lips.

“Thanks for having lunch with me, Laura. And for forgiving me. And talking to me and
…” He wrinkled his nose as he stood, looking so sexy and adorable she felt guilty for being so goddamned two-faced. She moved into him as he hugged her, squeezing him tight.

“I’m glad we worked things out. And
…” She held him just a little longer, her eyes pressed shut as she kissed his cheek. “No matter what happens, you can always come to me. I’m here and I’ll try to stop being such a bitch to you.”

He laughed, his hot breath stirring her hair as he slowly let her go. “You’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but you’re never a bitch.”

She said goodbye, her chest tight as she made her way to her car. She couldn’t turn the key for the longest time.

Oh yes
, I am, Tyler.
She finally got moving, but the guilt never faded. Probably because despite it, she wouldn’t waver from this path. One where she and Chicklet continued alone.
I really am.

R
unning and sweating and staring at the TV on the wall in front of the line of treadmills without really seeing what played out on screen—an afternoon at the gym with a couple teammates was the perfect way for Tyler to show Coach and his agent and everyone else he was serious about his career. That he was here without Scott and Luke proved he was gonna be real good. For a little while at least. Long as possible.

This fucking sucks.
He couldn’t help wonder how Tim would have reacted to his being told to stay away from his best friends. The man would have railed at the three of them worse than even Callahan, but he’d have expected them to work together to do better. Or maybe he would have been fed up and just let the acting GM and whoever else had a say take over like Callahan had. Seeing their current assistant coach silent after being so fucking pissed had been scary. Was almost like Callahan had no power.

Which he didn’t, but never seemed like that before. The
“real” head coach usually let Callahan run the show. But today, the assistant GM and the head coach had made all the decisions. They hadn’t straight out told Tyler he couldn’t chill with his buddies, but they’d told him to follow his agent and his manager’s instructions to the fucking letter or he’d be spending time in the minors.

They wouldn’t get rid of Tyler. Or Luke. But Scott
… Yeah, Scott’s future with the team wasn’t looking good. He didn’t have a long contract and he had to be careful. Tyler wasn’t gonna fuck things up for him.

Is he okay though? He didn’t say much—I should call him
…

Which would be a dick thing to do. Even if things were weird with Pearce, Scott had Becky. Hopefully she wasn’t too mad at Scott. Maybe Tyler should call
her
. Take all the blame. Or at least explain what had set Scott off. Scott might not have told her. Scott didn’t share much when he was hurting bad.

“Glad we got you to come to the gym with us, Vanek.” White stepped off the treadmill beside Tyler and drained his water bottle before saluting him with it. “Wouldn’t have known I’m so fucking boring otherwise.”

Pischlar turned his treadmill to the cool down setting and wiped his face with a towel, laughing. “I’ve been telling you that for a long time, pal.”

White gave Pischlar the finger. “Sit and spin, Easy.”

“Don’t tempt me, Bruiser.”

“You wish!”

“Yes. I do.”

Tyler looked from one man to the other and shook his head. They were best friends and weren’t fucking angels themselves, but besides Pischlar getting caught in bed with a man, neither got much attention from the press. He didn’t know how they managed. But he wanted to.

“Wish I was boring like you guys.” He smirked when White grunted at him. “Seriously, you get in fights and screw around and no one says anything.”

White spat out a bitter laugh. “Is that what you thi—”

“Lack of talent. A blessing and a curse.” Pischlar shook his head at White after cutting him off, then draped the towel over his shoulders. He rubbed his newest tattoo—three multicolored stars on his forearm—and shrugged. “They watch the first two lines more than the third and fourth. Kinda glad I don’t get your ice time now.”

“Fuck off, ‘lack of talent’?” Tyler rolled his eyes, not sure what White had been about to say, but needing to call Pischlar on this bullshit. “White’s one of the hardest hitters in the league
, and not many guys set up plays like you do, Easy.”

“True. But we ain’t first
-round picks. We don’t have the fans you do.” Pischlar stepped off the treadmill and put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Your number will hang in the rafters one day, kid. Which is cool, but that means people are always gonna be watching you. Behave yourself for a little while, and you’ll be fine.”

“Fuck that. Behave in public. Don’t get caught having fun.” White tossed his bottle into a trash
can halfway across the gym. “I’d tell management to go fuck themselves if they told me to stay away from Easy. Will totally support you if you do the same about this shit with Demyan and Carter. And so will all your teeny bopper fangirls.”

“So will most of the team.” Pischlar jerked his head toward the weight room. They followed him, ignoring the stares of the men and women crowding the gym during the rush hour. Pischlar added several black weight plates to the steel bar already set up on the rack above the long padded bench and prepared to spot White. “Give it a week though. Things are tense up top with Richter not being around much.”

“We fucking need him. The assistant GM… What’s his name again?” White frowned as he reclined on the bench. “Anyway, he’s a fucking stiff. He just does whatever the head coach says, and the head coach is a fucking douche.”

Pischlar nodded slowly, his lips thin. “He’s old school.”

“He’s a fucking bigot. I wanted to punch him when he told you to be ‘more discreet.’ He ain’t got no business saying that shit in the locker room.”

Oh fuck, really?
Tyler had missed that conversation. Maybe because he was suspended. He watched White lift the bar, then pulled out a stool to do some bicep curls with a thirty-five pound dumbbell. With all of the single guys—and some of the married ones—bringing girls to their hotel rooms on every road trip, Pischlar being asked to be discreet was weird. Or maybe not so much. Things had been quiet after Pearce came out—mostly because he gave the rags nothing to sensationalize. The blowout of a “gay” player hadn’t happened. Fans just accepted it.

Pischlar was different though. All tattooed and pierced
, he stood out without trying. People that were all conservative hated him. The head coach wasn’t his biggest fan, which probably explained why Pischlar’s ice time was going down. Didn’t seem to faze Pischlar though. He let it slide off and kept playing the game like it was all that mattered.

And it
was
all that mattered. Except, the other stuff kinda made things messy. Like, if Tyler did all the stuff Laura had said to send the message to Raif…what would people think? Tyler wasn’t Pearce. And he couldn’t be all chill about things like Pischlar.

“You’re thinkin’ real hard, kid.” Pischlar had his hands under the bar as White did his reps, but his focus was on Tyler. “Your women giving you grief?”

Tyler smiled and changed position to do a set with his left arm. Things were good with Chicklet and Laura. Nice to have something stable. “Nope. Smoothed that out.”

“And Zovko?”

“What about him?” Tyler knew he was blushing. Red and dripping sweat from his forehead onto the blue mat under his feet because he couldn’t meet Pischlar’s eyes. Pischlar was a Dom—a real relaxed one, but still all-knowing enough to be intimidating. Tyler wanted to act cool, but no way could he pull it off with this man. So he groaned and fessed up because Pischlar and White were his friends and he had to tell someone. “He ain’t interested. I gotta change that. And I’m thinkin’ this is a bad time.”

White grunted as he placed the weight bar on the catch, then chuckled as he sa
t up. “Zovko has playing the rags down to an art. He’s openly bi and everyone just thinks he’s a god. With him, you’re covered.”

“Umm, did you miss the
‘he ain’t interested’?”

“He’s not blind or stupid, Vanek.” Pischlar held out his hand to White. Frowned when White stood and moved past him as though he hadn’t noticed the gesture. Then he smiled tightly. “He’ll wait for a clear sign. Give one and you’ll be a very sore, but very happy boy.”

“And how do I do that?” Tyler put down the dumbbell and moved to take White’s place on the bench. Didn’t comment when White took a few weights off. He wasn’t gonna pretend to be all macho and tear some muscles. They were too close to the playoffs. He placed his hands on the bar, rubbing his thumbs over the grooves in the metal grip. “Not that I want—” he cut himself off when both men laughed. “Forget it.”

“Relax. We ain’t your besties, but we get it. We’ll help you stay outta trouble.” Pischlar took a backward step, then looked over at White. “I’m good for another hour. You?”

“Yep.” White kept his hands under the bar, looking bored. “Need fluid though. Shouldn’t have drank all that whiskey last night.”

“Told you so.” Pischlar chuckled. “No hangovers, but you’re always fucking thirsty. I got more
of that Glacier Freeze Gatorade you like in my locker. Should still be cold.”

“I love you, man.” White flashed a boyish smile, all charming and clueless. Tyler wasn’t real observant, but he could tell Pischlar wanted more than friendship with their tough
fourth-liner. He hefted the weights up, lowering them in a slow, practiced motion, wondering if pointing out the obvious would be a good idea.

Probably not.
It was one thing talking about shit Tyler had brought up himself, but neither Pischlar nor White had asked him to stick his nose in their business. Not that he could give any kind of relationship advice anyway. He kept lifting and lowering the weights, his muscles aching just enough to keep him from thinking too much. He glanced up at White once, but that just got White asking if he needed help. Which was embarrassing, so he shook his head and avoided looking up again.

White ain’t usually this quiet.
He replaced the weights, taking his time sitting up, wondering why Pischlar hadn’t come back yet. The other man was a bit easier to talk to seriously. White was more a guy you hung out with to joke around and hit on chicks. A good friend, good listener, but he wasn’t any better at giving advice than Tyler.

A ruckus at the far end of the room cut through the awkward silence. White frowned and moved to Tyler’s side. Someone shouted, “Fight!”

Tyler’s stomach dropped. He darted across the gym, right behind White who burst into the men’s locker room. White shoved through the crowd. The sound of something hitting the metal lockers hard cut through the yelling and jeering around them.

“Hit him again!”

“Get off him, you idiots! Do you know who he is?”

“Fucking fag!”

Tyler struggled to keep up with White. He spotted Pischlar, one eye swollen shut, blood dripping from his chin. The sight tightened Tyler’s throat even as he threw himself at one of the guys holding Pischlar.

A fist hit him in the mouth. He winced and ducked his head, hanging on to a thick arm and kicking out as someone tried to grab his waist. He heard White let out a feral sound. A
thunk
as a man dropped to the floor. The other men were backing up. Tyler could see White now, beating the shit out of a meathead with tree trunks for arms.

Two other guys were going after White. Tyler knew he couldn’t take them, but he wasn’t gonna stand back and leave White alone. Even as Pischlar broke free and speared one man in the gut with his shoulder, Tyler nailed the other with an elbow to the ribs.

“Cops!” Someone informed them, spurring a mad rush for the doors.

Already?
The fight hadn’t lasted that long. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he searched the few men left in the room for White and Pischlar. Uniformed men and women, at least ten of them, worked their way through the bloody, half-naked group. A huge cop had White up against a locker and was slapping cuffs on him. Two cops were standing at either side of Pischlar, talking to him—probably because he looked calmer than the rest even though his face was a bloody mess.

Blinking fast, Tyler tried to clear his head enough to decide what to do. He glanced over at White again. Bruiser was snarling at the cops, teeth bared and everything. Not good.
Help White.

“He was sticking up for Pischlar, you can’t fucking arrest him!” Tyler winced as his arm was wretched to
a painful angle. His eyes widened as he turned and met Laura’s narrowed eyes.

“Stay out of it, Tyler.” All the friendliness from lunch was gone. Laura sounded just as pissed at him as she’d been that morning as she released hi
s arm. “Sit down and wait until someone comes to question you.”

Well
, too fucking bad. He wasn’t gonna sit there and let them take White in for nothing. “Then get your buddy to take the cuffs off White and ask Pischlar what happened.”

“Sit down, Tyler.”

“Fuck that.” Tyler sidestepped Laura, jerking away from the hand she put on his arm. He headed toward the cops muscling White out of the locker room.

And stopped short when he saw a bunch of the Cobras in the gym. Callahan was trying to talk to one of the cops holding White. Becky was there speaking to the owner of the gym and Scott stood behind her, his hands fisted by his sides as he watched the cops drag White out. Raif and Pearce were at the other side of the room, nodding at whatever yet another cop was saying to them.

Raif glanced over, spotted Tyler, and walked right up. He took hold of Tyler’s chin and his jaw ticked as he stared at Tyler’s mouth. “Who did this?”

Irritated, not so much with Raif, but just
everything
, Tyler brushed Raif’s hand away and turned to go back in the locker room. “I don’t know, one of the guys beating the shit out of Pischlar.”

Laura blocked his path. “I asked you to stay inside, Tyler.”

“I’m going in now, ain’t I?”