Creed could think of only one place to go. He’d kept tabs over the years on his old mates. His original brothers. There was only one close. Jack Stevens. A hell of a made-up name, but the guy was still the same guy who had once been the closest thing to family Creed ever knew.
He’d ditched his bike as far away as he thought he could. Holding one hand over the leaking wound, he’d dragged his sorry ass up to the front door.
And it figured that just as he was about to ring the damn bell like a nice guy who had been invited over for a game of basement poker or a sweet Sunday dinner, he’d passed the fuck out on their doorstep. He clearly remembered hitting the concrete steps. With his face. He didn’t remember much after that.
Creed tried once again to unglue eyes that had never felt so heavy in his life. It felt like someone had taken a damn baseball bat to his head then continued on with the rest of him for good measure. He’d handed out as good as he gave. Even blew out Wrench’s knee and put a bullet in Shady’s foot. Fucking assholes. Butch was just lucky that he’d been knocked out with a single punch or he might have eaten a bullet too.
Creed had never killed anyone before, but he should have made an exception for Jim. Instead of shooting the good ol’ prez in the thigh, he should have aimed a little higher. Gut. Heart. Head. Any one of those would have been acceptable.
They’d be coming. Guys that were little more than thugs, guys that would carry out any of Jim’s crazy fucking orders for another hit of whatever shit they were strung out on. Guys that wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Creed knew he had to get the hell out of there. If he could just open his uncooperative son of a bitch eyes.
Women’s voices floated around him and he knew he’d endangered whoever they were just by being there. He tried to get his body to cooperate, to function, to just do one fucking thing, but it wouldn’t. He was betrayed by his own fucking pussy ass self.
He needed to get out of there. Get to his bike and get away…
On a sharp inhale, Creed summoned what little strength he had left. Finally one lid cracked. An inch. He gazed through an unfocused haze, likely brought on by blood and swelling, at a white wall in front of him. He wished he could turn his head. He tried. It was no use. The barbed wire in his head stabbed into his brain in all directions and if he could have, he would have screamed.
Suddenly he realized that his mouth was bone dry. So dry. Like he’d sucked on sand for a year straight. Like he hadn’t had a sip of water in his entire cursed life. He tried to get his tongue between his blistered lips to moisten them, but he couldn’t. They cracked an inch and a pathetic whimper, like that of a wounded animal or a damn baby, came out of him.
There was a rustle to his right and then, blissfully, something cool and wet against his lips. A trickle of water hit his tongue, which felt ten sizes too big for his mouth, and he nearly wept at the feel of it.
He tried again, to open his eyes and as if by magic, both lids popped open. He stared through the blurry haze at the white wall in front of him. He gathered that he was in a bed, probably in Jack’s spare room. It took all his energy to turn his head to the side. Sharp, white hot pain assaulted him in every possible nerve ending, with the movement.
Jesus, it hurts to be shot. It hurt worse to be on the receiving end of a bloody beat down by goons who fucking meant business. He’d been shot before. That horrible tearing of flesh and muscle of bone, if he was unlucky, the liquid fire that spread out from there, the rush of blood, the horrible weakness that followed and the endless pain. He wouldn’t forget any of that anytime soon.
Something leaned into view. He blinked a few times, slowly, shocked that he was able to even do that. That something was someone.
Blue eyes. Eyes like sapphires, like the bluest, cloudless sky, eyes the color of a tropical sea, swam before him. The rest of a face that looked like it belonged to some kind of unearthly being, swept into view. Dark hair. A cascade of it. Flawless porcelain skin. Dainty features, sharp cheekbones, immaculate brows, thick eyelashes, a tiny straight nose, lush red lips, a dainty angular jawline- her beauty was so astounding, so ethereal, it took away what little breath he could force in his lungs.
“Jesus,” he rasped. His voice sounded sandpaper rasping over a rusted metal pipe.
“Oh! Oh my god, you’re actually awake.” The woman’s lush red lips opened in surprise. Her sweet pink tongue darted out to moisten them and what do you know, Creed wasn’t dead after all.
His dick jumped to life under the covers. It stood up so straight and hard that he realized he was naked under the sheets. Why? Why the fuck would that respond when the rest of me won’t follow any commands? I can barely open my eyes, but my dick gets hard just looking at her lips? Come. Fucking. On.
“Are you-” he ground out. He licked his lips and tried again. “An- you- I know this- ain’t…” he gasped for air and when he inhaled sharply, it fucking hurt. It hurt to expand and contract his lungs. It hurt just about everywhere, but his chest was a mess of molten, fiery pain. “Heaven, but…”
The woman laughed and her sound was like water trickling from one of those fountains that people thought sounded relaxing. The kind placed in waiting rooms and in spas and shit like that. He’d always wanted one as a kid. Obviously he’d never had one. His junkie excuse for a mother couldn’t even provide essentials like food or a roof over their heads. Fountains- hell, fountains were for normal kids with normal lives. Kids who ate regular meals and didn’t find their mom passed out with a needle in her arm. Normal kids didn’t see the parent who was supposed to love and protect them, whore herself out for another hit. Always one more fucking hit.
“I’m no angel. And this isn’t heaven.” Something soft and warm swept across his brow.
Creed groaned when he realized that it was her hand. The woman, she’d touched him. She’d touched him and lord, that brief contact made his body ache in a way that hunger, hangovers, fists, boots, and bullets couldn’t.
“Jack…” he hated that he was so weak, that it hurt to even produce a word, that his tongue felt like it was tied in knots.
The woman nodded. “It’s okay. He and my sister both work during the day. He called in sick for the first four days, but after that, he needed to go. I’m just here on vacation. Well, what was supposed to be vacation. I haven’t got away in a looooonnnngggg time. And let me tell you, this is definitely more exciting than Mexico, which was where I was going to go. You know, do the whole beach vacay thing. But I live in Florida, so I didn’t really see the point of going somewhere warm, when it’s always warm and I missed Ti, so I came here. Oh my goodness. Okay. I’m rambling on and you have no idea who I am or what’s going on. Right. Okay. Sorry.” She sucked in a deep breath and two bright pink spots appeared on her cheeks.
Creed wished he had the energy to force a smile. His lips, which he realized were swollen and puffy, likely wouldn’t take kindly to the movement. He wished he could, just for her. Not because he smiled. Ever. Not because he’d ever really paid attention to women. Not because- well- not because of anything. He just wanted to fucking smile. For her.
For the angel in front of him who was drop dead gorgeous. He realized that she must belong to someone. Jack? The thought tore him up inside. The rage he felt was instant, so violent that his whole body heated with it.
What the hell is going on here? Must have taken a few too many blows to the motherfucking head. Never in his life, which wasn’t that brief since he’d somehow managed to live to see the ripe old age of thirty-five, had he ever felt anything close to what he’d just experienced.
He didn’t even know this woman, but her beauty was a real head fuck in itself. And he’d just set eyes on her face. Blurry eyes. Eyes that could barely focus or see. Definitely too many punches. Probably have brain damage.
The woman smiled at him, softly, prettily, and he nearly groaned again. It was lucky that the sound trapped somewhere in his burning lungs and aching body and didn’t escape his battered mou
th.
“Okay. So- here’s the thing. I get that you’re probably not a good guy. You’re obviously involved in something shady. Which is why I actually have a loaded gun beside me. Jack has instructed me only to use it if necessary. He says you’re old friends, but he hasn’t seen hair nor hide- no that doesn’t make sense. Okay, so I’m no good with words. I- I’ve gone over this a few times in my head actually, since this morning when I- little old me who was supposed to be on vacation, got stuck watching your sorry shot up, beaten down ass. Jack doesn’t know shit about you. Doesn’t know why you’re here or if you’re dangerous. He knows you need to get the fuck better so you can get the hell out and leave us alone.
“While you’re here, you’re a danger to us all. So don’t try anything stupid. Don’t lay a finger on me or even make a move. I won’t kill you, but I will shoot your dick off. Believe me. Jack took turns taking me and Tia to the range, making sure we knew how to shoot the gun. So don’t try it. Because in those few hours, I got real good and at point blank range, I won’t miss. So unless you want to walk around as a eunuch for the rest of your life, don’t try anything. I don’t like that you’re here, endangering the lives of my sister and her husband. I don’t live here, but if trouble comes along before I leave, you’re a dead man. Jack will kill you himself. Or you’ll bleed the fuck out from your missing dick.”
Even though it hurt, Creed cracked a smile. He paid for it when pain radiated out from his mouth and the metallic taste of blood trickled in as he bust up all the cracks that were probably half healed. A horrible, garbled, sound that half passed for a laugh came out of him.
The woman’s gorgeous blue eyes narrowed.
He wasn’t much for vows. Didn’t even like taking them when he was sworn into Jim’s club, but hell… he’d take a vow for her.
He realized that she wasn’t Jack’s. She said she was visiting, mentioned someone else, a sister. It finally clicked into his battered, bruised brain.
Fuck the danger. Fuck the fact he’d been beat half to death and shot for good measure. Right then, with her eyes blazing and her lips parted ad the filthy threats about his cock spilling from her mouth, he knew he’d do anything to make that woman his.
Chapter 3
KATE
It was damn well unnerving how the no-good piece of shit laying in her sister’s spare bed was looking at her. His eyes, dark, though the pupils were ringed with red and the white were frighteningly bloodshot, stared at her like he could see right through her. He had the nerve to laugh at her! Laugh! Like she was a goddamn joke.
“Don’t. Don’t do that,” she hissed. “I’m serious.”
“I- know you’re serious.” The guy’s voice seemed to be getting stronger. His words picked up steam with every passing moment. He still looked frail enough, and she hoped like hell that didn’t change until Jack got home. After that, the damn convict or whatever he was, could get better real fast and hurry up and get the hell out of the house and stop putting all their lives at risk.
“I know you’re trouble.” She didn’t bother keeping the bitterness or anger out of her voice. “Jack knows it. He says you’re going to have a whole army out looking for you. Likely. Unless you killed them all. And if you did, then you’re even worse.”
“Creed,” he sputtered. “I have a name.”
“Yeah, Jack told us that’s what you used to call yourself. A stupid, club name that wasn’t his real name at all.” She waited for a response, but none was forthcoming.
Creed blinked hard at her, as though he was trying to focus. “Four days?” he eventually croaked. His eyes locked on her face in an unnerving sort of way.
Now that some of the swelling was gone, Kate realized that the guy was handsome. If the whole danger factor was thrown out the window. Or maybe, she was ashamed to admit, maybe half his attraction came because of it. The other half was real. He had beautiful eyes and what was probably beautiful skin. A gorgeous face that a guy who did bad shit for a living didn’t deserve. As the bruises faded and the swelling went down, a strong bone structure was revealed. He had model like good looks combined with the type of underlying hardness that most women were mental about. Kate summed it up as the classic bad boy look.
Or classic bad guy looks. Strong brow, deep set eyes, straight nose, though that had been busted to shit and now had a permanent bump near the base, right between his eyes, full lips that weren’t just full because they were swollen, a hard jawline with a fresh growth of black stubble, killer cheekbones… he basically had it all. Totally. Fucking. Wasted. Because he was bad. And not in a good way.
“Yeah, four days.” She swallowed hard when she recalled that he’d asked her a question.
“I- I’ve… been out- that… long?”
“Yeah. Lots of time for whoever is coming after you to find where you are and kill us all!” She yelled the last few words, annoyed with him for showing up. For being so handsome. For putting them all in the situation there were in. She barely resisted the urge to lean forward and drill her thumb in to the horrible line of stitches she’d put in him herself, just to drill home her point.
“I’m…”
“No. No, don’t say you’re sorry. That means shit all to me and my sister. Probably to Jack too. I don’t know why he didn’t just call an ambulance the minute we heard that thump outside. Did you know that you interrupted a nice dinner? One my sister and I spent all day preparing?”
“I’m-” he choked out again, but she cut him off.
Her eyes strayed, embarrassingly enough, to his chest, where the sheets were folded away down nearly to his waist. Kate was woman enough to admit she’d been around the block a few times. She’d had more than her fair share of experience with men. Not bad. Just… well- she liked guys. She always had. Lately though…
She finally felt like she just- grew up. It got old. The whole dating thing. The dinners and the movies and the walks and the drives. All of it. It was all just so stupid and pretentious and fake. God, even the whole sex thing wasn’t very good. She knew when she reached that point, that she either was batting for the wrong team or she needed to take a break.
She’d opted for a break since she’d never once in her life found ladies attractive. Pretty, yes. Beautiful certainly. Sexually attractive, no. Not that it wasn’t okay with her, because she didn’t care at all what people chose for themselves. It just wasn’t for her. She knew she was worn out. Exhausted. Sick and tired of it all.
She’d just hit thirty-one and she was already as jaded as a mean old lady. One who lured children in and put them in her oven. Oh wait, that was more like a witch. She didn’t think she’d reached hag status. Yet.
She gave herself a shake. Her whole angry tirade started when she’d noticed the damn guy, who looked like he was still minutes away from latching on to the grim reaper’s hand, popped a damn hard on under those sheets. She’d seen it. She’d have to be blind not to notice.
And her entire body noticed.
As in, she had to clamp her thighs together to keep the heat from swelling higher. It escaped her tight pressure and ached there anyway. As in, her nipples chaffed against the lace of her bra. As in, her heart missed a meat. Or two. Or several. As in, her blood fired up in the most womanly, feminine way possible. She was very familiar with the feeling of being turned on.
But not like she was at the moment. Worse, the feeling didn’t fade. It got worse. She literally could feel that her panties were moist and slick.
It was the most inappropriate response on the planet. So she did what she did best when she felt threatened or when she was annoyed with herself. She got mad. She let him have it. And he laughed at her.
“I’m…”
“Oh for god sakes,” she exclaimed, exasperated. “Just spit it the fuck out.”
“I’m sorry-”
“Oh, I know you’re sorry. I know you’re reeeaaal fucking sorry about all of this.”
The guy tried to shake his head and winced, since it must have hurt. A s
hiver crawled up her spine at the thought of reaching out and sweeping her fingers over his warm brow again. She was checking to see if he was still fevered. If maybe that shoulder injury would carry him off and dispose of him for them. No such luck. His fever broke the day before and hadn’t come back.
“No.” He squeezed the word out like it hurt. “I’m- sorry- but I- need to- piss.”
Oh my god. Oh my god, no. Not much could render Kate Reid speechless. No guy had been capable of that since she was fifteen and learned that boobs and a butt and a pair of pouty lips were all she needed to get her way just about every single time. She’d run circles around boys, then men, for half her life.
That’s what it is. She realized the real reason she was so pissed off at the moment. Because her easy charm and her good looks weren’t working. The guy, other than popping a hard on, showed no reaction. He said she was pretty like he said it all the time. He popped a hard on like he’d be good at fucking, but no one would ever be capable of breaking his heart. His black heart. Because this guy wasn’t a normal guy. He wasn’t a good guy. He probably wasn’t even sane.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s just great, isn’t it?” She looked him over, let her gaze sweep shamelessly up his naked, heavily muscled chest. He had a nice lean waist and crazy broad shoulders. He was solid, hard, striated muscle under velvet skin. Even if the fading bruises marred the landscape, it was still a damn beautiful landscape.
Fuck me! Why am I even noticing? Oh right. Because I can’t not notice. He’s insanely gorgeous. Any woman would think he’s sexy. I’m not a traitor because I noticed. I’m not a traitor for feeling. It. I’m not. I’m not…
“Uhhh… a little- help- over here.”
She stood, planting her hands on her hips. “You know, we’ve all sat up, guarding you. Taking turns watching you. Making sure you didn’t expire. You’ve been a lot of trouble. I should let you piss all over yourself. It would serve you right for coming here and trying to ruin Jack and Tia’s lives.”
Creed: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lonely Rider MC Book 3) Page 2