Unfinished Hero 02 Creed (7 page)

I couldn’t argue with that.

But I could argue something else. “Man, you’re a mountain. No way you’re gonna get in one of those rooms and not be seen.”

“Trust me.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Absolutely, one hundred percent. He knew it and I knew it. We both knew the other knew it because both our bodies tensed so tight, I could feel with the slightest movement my tendons would snap and I sensed the same with him.

Still, I buried it. We had to work together. We had to partner up. Which meant I had to trust him.

This sucked but it was my experience that a lot of shit in life sucked. This was just the most recent.

So I forced myself to relax and said, “Right. Meet you in reception.”

He lifted up, taking me with him and twisting me in my seat. I retrieved the camera that fell to the floor at my feet as well as my travel mug. I handed him the camera and avoided his eyes trying not to look like I was avoiding his eyes.

He angled out his side.

I angled out mine.

He moved right.

I moved left toward reception.

Clyde rolled his eyes when I entered.

“Please, a hundred dollars for a two minute phone call?” I asked as I walked toward the reception desk. “I am not a pain in your ass.”

“No, you’re killin’ me,” he returned.

“No, I’m sending your kids to college,” I retorted, pulling out my money clip and handing him the bill.

He snatched it out of my hand and it disappeared in a blink.

Bullshit moaning weasel.

My eyes went to the TV sitting angled toward him at the end of the reception desk. I leaned into my forearms on the desk and checked it out.

“Classic porn,” I muttered. “Odd choice.”

“Seen all the others, like, a gazillion times,” Clyde muttered back and I grinned.

I had no doubt.

“We havin’ a party?” Clyde asked because I usually paid him off then took off and I looked from the porn to him.

He was balding and not liking it, thus growing a line of hair way too long in order to do the comb-over, a tactic that men should abandon. I didn’t know when they’d get that bald was beautiful all you had to do was have the balls to carry it off.

Clyde clearly didn’t have those kinds of balls. Then again, he was slender, narrow-shouldered, had an unfortunately shaped nose with a hook at the end
and
a bump on the ridge and squirrelly eyes. Thus, just physically, there were a myriad of reasons he lacked confidence. Not physically, he was a whiner, not a good trait in anyone, man or woman.

It was my experience anyone could work anything. A man or woman could be what convention said was ugly or overweight and if they held their shoulders straight, looked you in the eye and had a ready, genuine smile, that shit melted away. The light shone from within and if you had the balls to shine it, all anyone would see was beauty.

Alas, people did not get this and Clyde was one of those people.

“Waiting for my partner,” I answered and his brows shot up.

“You got a partner?” he asked.

“Yup,” I replied.

“Since when?”

“Since a couple of hours ago.”

“I give it a week,” he muttered, his eyes sliding back to the TV.

I hoped it would last a day. I worried it would last a month.

I moved to a chair, sat my ass in it, lifted my boots up to rest crossed at the ankles on the coffee table scattered with Retreat brochures and settled in. I killed time by calling Serena to make sure she was okay (she was, kind of). Calling Knight and leaving a message that I’d connected with Creed and we were on the job. And last, calling Live to check in to make certain he wasn’t beating himself up too much. The last call lasted a while because he was beating himself up too much and it took some time and an arsenal of my teasing to get him to feel better.

I’d barely flipped the phone shut on Live when I heard a tap on the window and I looked there to see Creed outside, crooking a finger at me.

“The summons,” I said to Clyde. “Gotta go.”

“Don’t come back now, ya hear?” Clyde returned and it was my turn to roll my eyes since he was full of it. Sure, if his bosses found out he was doing what he was doing, he was shit out of luck
and
a job. He was also a survivor so his bosses would never learn and he averaged a hundred extra dollars a week for doing nothing so he’d keep doing it. Unfortunately, he’d also keep bitching about it.

I didn’t bother with a wave or retort as I walked out and stopped on the sidewalk next to Creed.

“Well?” I asked.

His answer was to turn the camera’s back to me with an image on it.

I leaned in and checked it out.

“Whoa, soccer dad likes pony play,” I murmured. “Ride ‘em cowboy.” I heard Creed’s chuckle and looked up at him. “How’d you get in?” I asked.

“They had other things on their mind and the TV blaring loud. Got in through the bathroom window,” he answered and I felt my eyes get big.

“Shit, man, those are high
and
tight.”

“Upper body strength and determination go a long way,” he replied.

He was not wrong about that and visibly had the former while the latter was demonstrated on the camera.

“Right on,” I stated, lifting up my hand in an invitation for a high five.

He stared at my hand and didn’t move.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You gonna leave me hanging?”

His sky blue eyes came to mine and again I held my breath as his hand moved. He gave me a high five but when his big hand clapped against mine, it stayed there. His fingers shoved through, linking with mine, bringing our hands down. Then he shifted them so we were palm to palm, fingers curled around the sides. This he took straight into another shift where we had our fingers curled together from tips to knuckles in our palms. He then used my hand to pump our arms twice so hard, I was forced to take a step into him.

Then he let me go.

I forced air in my lungs.

Then I joked, “I’m learning good things about you, partner. Jive handshake master. I like it.”

He shook his head grinning, tossed the camera in the air, my hands shot out to catch it so it wouldn’t fall and, seeing as I was engaged in this endeavor, he had the chance to start sauntering toward my girl.

I took a moment to watch mostly because his shirt hung really good from his shoulders. It was untucked so it mostly covered his ass but his movement hinted at a fine one. And I was coming to the conclusion I seriously liked his boots.

Once I processed this information, I followed him.

* * * * *

I stood at the big one-way window in Knight’s office that faced down to Knight’s now empty nightclub and watched Creed stroll across the vast space toward the front door.

The meeting was done. Rhash met Creed. Creed gave his brief. We discussed our plans and now Rhash was gone, Creed was off to work the boys and I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon finding and surveilling Nick Sebring.

I felt Knight get close but I didn’t take my eyes from the window as I watched Creed walk out the front door.

“It’s him,” Knight murmured.

“It’s him,” I confirmed.

“Fuck, babe, you never shared his name. I had no fuckin’ clue. I did, that contract would not have been signed.”

I looked up at him. He was scary handsome in all the ways those two words could communicate. That was, he was incredibly good-looking, tall, dark-haired, striking blue eyes that were a deeper and more vivid blue than Creed’s but they were no less effective. His features were not beautiful, they were aggressively masculine. He was also scary because he just
was
aggressively masculine in a way that no woman or man could mistake. Just like with Creed, with one look at Knight, you knew you did not play with him, you did not mess with him. If you couldn’t deal with all that was him, you avoided him.

It was hot. Luckily, since we’d made our decision that drunken night years ago and he was in way deep with his woman, he was like a brother to me, so his hot didn’t affect me, our relationship or the job I did for him other than the inescapable fact I couldn’t mistake it.

“It’s cool,” I assured him. “We’re cool. We’ll get this done. No worries.”

His eyes moved over my face as his lips muttered, “Why don’t I believe that?”

“Knight, you know me. I’m about the job. No joke, we’ll get this done.”

Finally, his gaze locked with mine. “I want this job done, you know that. What I don’t want, in gettin’ that, is you shredded in the process.”

Seriously, I loved Knight Sebring.

“I’m good,” I said softly.

Knight studied me again before nodding and saying, “Word is he’s the best.”

I found this interesting.

“We got the best in Denver so I’m surprised you didn’t go to Nightingale Investigations,” I remarked.

“Who do you think told me they heard that shit on the street?” Knight asked and I felt my brows go up.

“Lee Nightingale?” I asked back.

“Yeah but he’s covered in work. He recommended Hawk Delgado but I had a sit down with him. Delgado isn’t about finesse like Nightingale can be so we decided it wouldn’t work. It was Delgado who recommended Creed.”

Liam “Lee” Nightingale of Nightingale Investigations was a badass private investigator-slash-bounty hunter-slash-anything goes man with a team of badasses to back him up. He’d contracted with me and I’d worked jobs with them when he needed a woman. I liked him, respected him and his team. They took pretty much any job that came along as long as the client could pay the hefty invoice which meant the lawfulness of their activities was a bit vague. That said, they had close ties with law enforcement so it was a helluva lot less vague than Knight’s.

Cabe “Hawk” Delgado, on the other hand, was a badass commando with a team of badasses to back him up. His jobs were usually more covert, intense and often out of town. I’d done one job with him and his team in town and that shit was extreme. It was kickass fun but it was extreme. Since most of his work was out of town, I didn’t have a lock on the looseness of his morals.

In movie terms, Lee Nightingale was James Bond except more kickass and super cool. He didn’t bother messing with gadgets when he could just shoot someone. He was also a Broncos fan and, I had a feeling, when he had the time, James Bond watched rugby.

Hawk Delgado was John Rambo without exceptions notwithstanding the headband.

What I knew about both of them was, regardless of what they thought about his business, they were smart enough not to make an enemy of Knight Sebring and he returned the favor. There was mutual respect but no discussion about Knight’s operations. I never asked how they felt but then again, even if I did, they’d never tell.

My brows stayed up. “Hawk Delgado knows Creed?”

Knight nodded.

“You know their connection?” I asked.

“Worked jobs together.”

“Those would be?” I pushed.

“They would be for you to ask Creed, Sylvie,” he stated. “You got it in you to put that shit behind you, you gotta get to know your partner. I’ll tell you this, it’s fucked how shit works but he’s you except male and maybe a little scarier. The shingle says PI. The word says his resume has a lot of blank spots and his skill set is varied. He doesn’t take the job if he doesn’t believe in the mission and like or respect who he’s workin’ for.” Knight grinned. “But he charges a fuckuva lot more than you do.”

My eyes went back to the window to take in the empty club and I muttered, “He’s got kids to support.”

Knight was silent.

I let this stretch then threw him a grin and started toward the door, saying, “Got shit to do.”

I had my hand on the handle when Knight called my name and I turned back.

“You need to bail, do it,” he stated. “You’re still mine, I’m still yours. Nothin’, woman, not this shit, not you needin’ to protect yourself from history in your face, not anything comes between you and me.”

That meant the world but he knew it so I didn’t have to say it.

I jerked up my chin but assured him again, “I’m looking forward. It’s cool, Knight, trust me.”

“You may be lookin’ forward, babe, but that direction right now means most of what you see is history. You can’t deal, you can’t. Understood and it’s all good.”

Seriously, I fucking loved this guy.

Still, I griped, “Jeez, man, it was sixteen years ago. I’m totally over it.”

“Anya left me or I lost her, I’d never get over it so don’t bullshit me,” he shot back. “There’s only one, we both know it, and Tucker Creed was your one. So you aren’t over it. That doesn’t mean you can’t cope. But you
won’t
cope if you deny that somewhere inside you can’t.”

It kinda sucked he was hot, rich, cool
and
smart.

“Heartfelt, badass lecture over?” I asked and his lips twitched.

“Yeah.”

“Terrific. Got shit to do,” I muttered and threw open the door.

“Sylvie,” he called and I whirled on a snapped, “
What?
”

“Bottom of my soul,” he whispered across the room, eyes locked to mine.

I sucked in breath through my nose before I whispered back, “Bottom of mine.”

Then, before he could
really
get to me, I took off.

Orange Sherbet Push-Ups

A cold, dark night in the hills of Kentucky, twenty-eight years earlier, Sylvie is six, Creed is eleven…

I stared up in Tucker Creed’s pretty blue eyes that I could see were a pretty blue even in the dark.

Everyone in town knew Tucker Creed, his Momma and his dead Daddy. I’d even heard about them, all of them.

When his Daddy died, my Daddy told me the whole town went to his funeral. This was because he was a hero. He had the medals to prove it and
everything.

My Daddy didn’t talk about Tucker’s Momma straight to me but I heard him talking about her.

What I heard was him saying, “Winona Creed is a slut, a total fucking whore. If Brand Creed was alive today, he’d beat her bloody and the bitch would deserve it.”

I wasn’t certain sure what “slut” and “whore” meant but obviously they weren’t good. And I wasn’t certain sure Brand Creed, Tucker’s Daddy, would beat his wife bloody. That didn’t seem like what a hero would do at all.