Seduced by the Game (51 page)

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

BLIND PASS takes place four years before GAME MISCONDUCT (The
Dartmouth Cobras #1). Many players were not with the team at the time and I’m
sorry if you’re not getting your favorites, but so many love Tim Rowe that I
had to tell his story. I hope it brings a smile to your lips to see him meet
the love of his life and become the strong man the Cobras all leaned on for so
long. Happy reading!

Chapter One

Late January

Thirty-thousand feet,
nothing but an endless stretch of blue below, no escape in sight on the long
flight from Dartmouth, Nova Scotia to Florida. Tim rubbed his temples with the
index and middle fingers of both hands and wondered how likely their chances of
making the play-offs would be if he gave a few of his boys a crash course in
free-falling. There had to be parachutes on the plane. They’d be fine as long
as they landed in one piece.

However, with tempers
flaring between the men, they might not survive this flight.

“Give the baby his fucking
pillow, Kral.” The Dartmouth Cobras’ captain, Sloan Callahan, stared out the
window, not even bothering to turn as the two men struggling in the aisle
bumped into the empty seat next to him. “He don’t kick your ass for being a
pain, I will.”

“The baby” was the team’s
rookie left winger, Ian White. When he’d joined the team at the beginning of
the season, he’d been a couple inches shorter than the defenseman, Peter Kral,
and a few pounds lighter. White had gained about twenty pounds since and now
matched Kral in height. Tim wasn’t sure if it was boredom from the long delay
before their flight or what, but the players were taking turns getting on each
other’s nerves. Kral picking on the rookie for the black pillowcase with a
white Transformer’s logo on the pillow the kid carried around to every away game
made things so much worse. The team had started calling White “Bruiser” after
his first week on the ice. Started because he managed two black eyes, a nasty
bruise on his jaw, and a lump on his forehead during that same week.

Now it was because he was
recognized as a gritty fighter who would throw down his gloves to defend his
teammates. And he turned into a damn caveman when he got riled up.

Kral had gotten White nice
and pissed off. Tim undid his seatbelt and apologized to the young assistant
trainer sitting next to him as he slid past to separate his players. He banged
his head on the underside of the luggage bin as he straightened. The dull pain
slowed him down for just a second.

Long enough for things to
deteriorate. Shoving and snarling, both White and Kral ended up on the floor.
Their biggest defenseman, Dominik Mason, the only black player on the team,
hauled White up to his knees by the back of his neck. Tim couldn’t tell what
Mason was saying, but he caught a few growled curses from all three.

Better and better.

Near the back of the
plane, the team’s head coach, Paul Stanton, glanced up from the newspaper he
was reading, looking at Tim expectantly.

Right. Apparently
controlling the team is the assistant coach’s job. Get to it, Rowe.

“That’s enough, boys.” Tim
pried Mason’s hand from White’s neck. Mason’s jaw ticked, but he stepped back.
Now all Tim had to do was separate the idiots on the floor. “White, Kral, get
up. You’re representing the team and—”

“I’m gonna kill him! Then
I’m gonna throw him off the damn plane!” White’s teeth snapped together at the
sound of ripping fabric. The stupid pillow was between him and Kral. The
pillowcase had ripped. White released it and drew back his fist. “You son of
a—”

“What’s going on here?
Excuse me, sir.” A curvy flight attendant carefully sidled by Tim and caught
White by the wrist. “Young man, on your feet.”

“He ripped it! That’s
mine, you asshole!” White stood and lunged for Kral, who’d scrambled back a few
feet. “I’m gonna kill him!”

Thankfully, White didn’t
try to get past the flight attendant. But he was shaking with rage and Tim knew
he was going to completely lose it if someone didn’t rein him in. The way
White’s eyes glistened had Tim wondering if he didn’t need fucking restraints.

The flight attendant spoke
quietly to White. Then turned to Kral and held out her hand.

Kral rolled his eyes and
passed her the pillow. “Was just fucking with you, kid. You don’t gotta cry
about it.”

Several players were
standing in the aisle now. They moved as the most levelheaded of them all, Max
Perron, made his way up to Kral’s side. His voice was low, thick with his Texas
accent, but carried clearly as he put a heavy hand on Kral’s shoulder. “Was the
last thing his dad gave him before he got killed in the mines. Ratty old thing,
but means a lot. He’s had it since he was eight. You’re smarter than this,
man.”

“Shit, I didn’t know.”
Kral hunched his shoulders and stared down at his hands. “Why didn’t you say
something, Bruiser?”

“Don’t fucking pity me,
just stay away from my shit.” White rubbed his eyes with a fist and turned to
the flight attendant. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll go sit over there.” He pointed to
the empty seats near the front of the plane. “Won’t cause no more trouble.”

“I’d appreciate that.” The
flight attendant smiled and followed White to his new seat. She handed him the
pillow. “It’s a tiny tear. Do you have someone who can fix it for you?”

White shook his head.
“Grandma’s got arthritis bad.”

“Well, I’m with you boys
when you head home from Miami. Would you let me take care of it?”

Tim grinned when White
nodded with a hesitant smile. All the players were sitting and behaving, so he
could keep his attention on the kid. And the sweet lady taking care of his boy.

Her dark brown hair was
pulled back into a bun, but wavy tendrils framed her face, softening the neat
updo. Everything about her seemed soft, from her rounded cheeks and sweet,
plump lips, to the thick black eyelashes around her big brown eyes. She wore a
crisp, dark blue uniform, all proper with the skirt hitting just above her
knees, but her full, curvy figure had a luscious appeal that made him wonder
how she’d feel in his arms. She laughed at something White said and the sound
drew Tim closer to her.

The plane jolted, making
the floor beneath his feet became unsteady as he reached her side. He wet his
lips with his tongue when she looked over at him, not sure what the hell he was
going to say to her, but needing to say something. He wanted to make her laugh
again, wanted to use the time on the long flight to get to know more than her
name.

Her name… He glanced down
at the badge on her chest.
Madeline.

“Sir, are you quite all
right?”

She grabbed his arm as the
plane shuddered, and he put his hand on her waist to steady her. A melodic
ding
sounded as the seat-belt light flicked on.

White cleared his throat.
“Coach?”

Quiet, boy!
Tim rarely lost his
patience with his players, but in this moment, he needed to be left alone. With
Madeline. “One minute, White.”

“You might want to sit
down, brother. And let the lady do her job.”

Tim frowned, turning
slightly as Dean Richter, the team’s general manager, spoke up behind him. His
half brother usually either slept through flights or used the time to catch up
on paperwork. Since Dean hadn’t interceded during White and Kral’s little
scuffle, Tim had figured he’d been sleeping.

Madeline’s big brown eyes
opened wide. She stared at Dean, her pale cheeks going pink when Dean’s gaze
shifted to her. Dean studied her face, the edge of his lips tipping up as he
reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I appreciate how well
you handled the children.”

“Hey!” White folded his
pillow against the window, scowling as he propped his head on it. “I ain’t a
damn child.”

Both Dean and Madeline
ignored the rookie. And Tim.

Not all that
surprising—women tended to forget him fairly quickly when Dean showed up. His
brother had an aura of power and authority that couldn’t be ignored. It didn’t
usually bother Tim since the type of women ready to kneel at his brother’s feet
didn’t interest him at all. And with the way Madeline’s lips moved as though
Dean’s presence made speaking difficult, she was clearly one of those.

He gave them both a stiff
nod and slid into the seat beside White.

White shifted around like
he was trying to get comfortable. He sat up straight when Dean and Madeline
moved farther back in the plane, watched them for a bit, then shook his head.
“Damn, you gonna let your brother cockblock you like that, Rowe? Call her back
over and ask her for some peanuts or something.”

“Peanuts?” Tim arched a
brow at the rookie, rolling his eyes as the kid shrugged and looked over the
back of his seat. “You’re gonna lose your tough guy card if you start trying to
play cupid.”

“Maybe, but she’s nice.
And the GM ain’t been nice since his wife walked out on him.”

This was true. The divorce
had been finalized only two months earlier, yet the marriage had been over for
years. Dean hadn’t had many lovers since, and all were submissives who wouldn’t
dare ask him for more than a single night of pleasure. And most seemed to find
that more than enough. His brother was an intense Dom, but he had nothing of
himself left to give.

No, he did give of himself
to his family. His fourteen-year-old daughter, Jami, was his whole world and
there was nothing Dean wouldn’t do for her. And Tim knew very well Dean would
back off the woman if he showed any interest in her.

Maybe peanuts are a good
idea after all.

But the captain’s voice
came out over the speakers, asking for the flight attendant to take her seat
and buckle up. Tim kept his eyes on Madeline as she waited for Dean to settle
in and then headed to the front of the plane. She met his gaze while strapping
herself into the jump seat and flashed them a bracing smile as the plane began
to shudder.

Turbulence didn’t bother
Tim; he’d been on enough flights to have experienced worse than this, but by
his side, White was gripping the armrest and cursing under his breath with each
jolt. Tim patted White’s arm, grinning at Madeline as he spoke in a mock
whisper. “You face O’Reilly without a second thought, but you’re scared of a
little turbulence?”

“O’Reilly ain’t shaking me
around a million miles over the ocean.” White ground his teeth and pressed his
eyes shut tight. “Shitshitshit.”

“You fought with your
friend for your pillow just a few minutes ago, Ian.” Madeline used White’s
first name in a soft voice that carried, and for the first time, Tim noticed
she had a sweet southern accent. Maybe Georgia? Either way, he found it
soothing and noticed the tight muscles in White’s jaw loosened a bit with her
every quiet word. “You’re in no more danger now than you were before. Less,
actually, because you both could’ve been injured while out of your seats.”

White’s brow furrowed. He
opened his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“The plane ain’t gonna
flip over or nothin’? You told us how to use the air masks, but they aren’t
out.”

It was very, very hard not
to laugh at how ridiculous White was being. And yet Madeline shook her head,
her expression serious. “The plane won’t flip. And the masks will come out if
they’re needed, but that isn’t likely.” She leaned forward in her seat, her
tone so quiet there was no way anyone beside Tim and White could hear her. “Are
you always afraid when you fly, Ian?”

Scowling, White shook his
head. “I’m not scared. Just don’t wanna die.”

Damn, the kid was tough,
but Madeline was right. His skin was cold to the touch, and he was shaking
harder than the plane. How had Tim not noticed this before? With how often the
team flew, one of the players being this messed up every time they were up in
the air shouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Not that there was any way to avoid
putting White on a plane, but if Tim had known, he would have made sure to
either sit with the kid or put him next to one of the players he could trust to
keep White calm.

Like Madeline was doing
right now. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, darlin’. I used to be scared to
death of flying.”

Tim’s lips quirked at the
rookie’s amazed, “Really?” The way White’s mouth hung open made him look so
young.
Poor kid’s like twelve.
Not literally, obviously, but at his age,
Mom had still called Tim her baby.

“Really. I was a dancer,
did competitions all over the place so I traveled a lot in my teens. Never made
it through a single flight without praying that the plane wouldn’t go down. But
after I retired from dancing, I realized I missed being able to see the world.
So I became a flight attendant.”

“And you weren’t scared no
more?”

“Oh, I was terrified. I
didn’t want anyone to know, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hide it. During
training they went through every horrible scenario you can think of and taught
us how to handle all the things that could go wrong.” At a beep, Madeline undid
her belt and stood. She continued even as she went to fetch the beverage cart.
“By the time I was hired and went up the first time, I was prepared for just
about anything.”

“Just about? The plane
didn’t go down, did it?” White clamped his mouth shut, lips twisted like he
knew he’d said something stupid. He took a deep breath. “I mean, people live,
right?”