Creed: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lonely Rider MC Book 3)

by Melissa Devenport

  “I didn’t try- to- ruin- anyone’s- lives. Just had… nowhere- else to go.”

  “You should have gone to a fucking ditch and stayed there!” As soon as the words popped out of her mouth, she realized how horrible they sounded. She and Jack and Tia all assumed that something shitty went down and a whole of shitty stuff before that. They’d all assumed that Creed was the bad guy.

  Creed stared at her through his horribly bloodshot eyes. They remained devoid of emotion, and then, suddenly, his lips turned up at the edges. The motion looked like it hurt, and the shadow of a smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate whispered. “That was- really horrible. I- I’m normally not mean at all. It’s just we’ve all been on edge and we’re all sleep deprived and honestly, it’s been terrifying having you here not knowing if you’re going to live or die, not knowing what or who is coming.”

  He gave a brief nod, probably all the movement he could make. “I- it’s- okay, but- I… still need to piss.”

  “Okay, okay.” She threw up her hands. “Right. Well, you’re not getting up. You can barely get your eyes open or force out words. No way you’re getting out of that bed. Which leaves one option. Me. And- uh- me getting you something to piss in.” She groaned. “This was really a whole lot easier when you were unconscious.”

  He had the nerve to smile at her, a smile that wrinkled up his eyes, before he let out a groan of his own.

  “Right. I won’t make you laugh anymore. I got the memo. Not that I was trying to. You took a real beating. Your ribs are bruised. Jack thinks so. Aside from being shot, it probably feels like you’ve been put through a meat grinder.”

  “I’ve had… worse.”

  “Don’t tell me about it. I seriously don’t want to know. Jack’s orders, not mine. The less me and Ti know about you, the better. So I’m going to get a damn cup or bag or something and you’re going to piss in it and just lay there, quietly, and heal up and stay conscious and when Jack gets home, he can figure out what to do.”

  Creed slowly nodded again. He kept his eyes trained on her as she moved, gathering up the gun that really was loaded and really was left on the nightstand beside her. No way was she leaving that behind for him. He was probably playing her. He was probably totally capable of making a lunge for it. She wasn’t going to take that chance.

  Kate had never held a loaded weapon before the shooting range. Now, oddly enough, it felt almost comfortable in her hands. She just hoped to hell she wouldn’t have to use it. On Creed or anyone else who might be coming after him. Lord, the thought was terrifying. It sent a chill skating up her spine and her stomach rolled. Something bitter and acrid clawed at her throat, but she swallowed hard and pushed her fear away. She had a bigger problem at present and there was no way she was going to let Creed piss her sister’s bed. Not on her watch.

  She finally found a clear sandwich bag and headed back to the room. She half expected for him to be out of bed, lying in wait for her, booby trap already prepared, but he was where she left him, just as pale, just as exhausted. His eyes looked tired, and not the kind of tired that comes from being near the grave. The kind of tired that a person learns from hard living.

  “Okay. I have this.” She held up the bag and learned what true mortification was. She knew she was probably the ripest shade of red. Tomato red. A tomato left on the vine for six months too long fucking red.

  He stared at her. Stared at her hard. And nodded once. She wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean. As in, go ahead, touch my cock, put it in the bag, let me piss, permission?

  Kate took a steadying breath. I can do this. I’ve touched a cock before. It’s just a dick. Just like anyone else’s. Don’t look. Don’t worry. It will be over fast. Just… do it. Get it done. Count to ten. Take a deep breath.

  She edged closer and just as she was about to lift the sheet, she wondered if she’d have to, like, shake it off or something. She didn’t know whether to cry or howl with laughter. It was kind of funny. In a really gross, embarrassing, horrible sort of way.

  Kate peeled back the sheet slowly. “There’s a reason I’m not a nurse,” she grumbled. “This makes me wish I had a job to go to.”

  Creed grunted, like that was supposed to mean something. She steeled herself, reached out, and grabbed his cock. She nearly shuddered at the feel of him. He wasn’t hard, but he kind of- got that way- at her touch. She wanted to reach up and slap him on the damn face, but she figured he didn’t have a whole lot of control over his body at the moment. She herself had felt straight shots of wild lust when she’d noticed his earlier hard on and that certainly was against her will.

  “Alright.” She brought the bag closer. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Go ahead… I guess.”

  She waited. Nothing happened. She waited a few more seconds. Still nothing. Finally, after a long while, she looked directly as his cock, which even half hard, was still probably about eight fucking inches long and so wide that it made all the wrong parts of her ache.

  “Are you going to piss or not?” She nearly screamed.

  “You- uh- know… I think- I don’t have to- after all.”

  She let out a cry of rage, ripped the bag away and threw back the sheet. She was lucky she forgot the gun in the damn kitchen. Because, she swore to god if she hadn’t, Creed or whatever the fuck his name was, would be minus his cock.

  And it would be a shame since his cock, she damn well hated to admit, was a real nice one.

  Chapter 4

  CREED

  After the whole pissing stunt, the woman who was supposed to be watching him fled the room. She didn’t come back. The daylight drifting in through the small window to his right eventually faded to dusk.

  He had nothing to do but stare at the few pieces of furniture in the room. A matching dresser and nightstand set. An original oil painting of flowers. Whoopty fucking do.

  Creed leaned further into the pillows, body in utter agony. He wished he hadn’t pissed off the woman. She would have been a better companion than hours of boredom. Not only was she beautiful, she was absolutely stunning when she was mad.

  He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Her sapphire eyes came alive when he pissed her off. She was fiery, all hot wit and insane spirit. She was a real handful, the kind of woman who liked to chew men up and spit them out just because she could.

  Not that it mattered to him. Man eater or no, she was fucking gorgeous. His blood stirred just thinking about her. Which he did, for hours. What else was there to do?

  Finally Creed heard the echo of a door opening somewhere else in the house. Muffled words were exchanged, probably about him. He was surprised there was no angry yelling or screaming about what a dirty pig he was.

  When the door opened, he wished to hell that sapphire eyed goddess was the one entering the room. Of course, it was Jack. The man he wanted to see. The man he needed to help him.

  And Jack dashed that hope within a second.

  “Look. I’m glad you’re awake.” He stood by the side of the bed, his features hard, his eyes like steel. “I’m glad you got away and survived whatever happened. I don’t want you to tell me. I don’t need you to tell me. I just need you to rest up and get better, because I need you to go. I have a family now. I’m not the guy I was before. I have a wife and she’s…” he cut that off with a shake of his head. “Never mind. I just need you to be able to sit on a bike or be well enough to drive yourself out of here. I can get you a vehicle or a bike if you need, but you need to leave. You have three more days and then you’re out of here, whether you can stand up or not.”

  Creed cracked a smile, even though it hurt. “Nice to see you too, Jack.” The truth was, he must be on the mend. He felt stronger with each passing hour that ticked by. The pain diminished to a dull ache. He doubted that he’d even need three days.

  Although he wanted to take them. Just to see that woman some more.

  “I don’t know how you found me.” Jack shook his he
ad, clearly not pleased. “But if you did, then they can and will as well.”

  He wore the clothes of someone who went to work in an office. Did the nine to five thing. He had an actual dress shirt on, black with black slacks. And a belt. A real belt with a silver square buckle. He looked fresh and clean. Not at all like the Jack he remembered, but he sure as hell didn’t have the wrong guy. Despite his white-collar look, the violence in his eyes was unmistakable.

  “They won’t,” Creed assured him. “I have ways of keeping tabs on people that no one else is able to do.”

  “You always were the best tracker and the best hacker.”

  “No one says hacker anymore,” he wheezed. “That’s old man shit.”

  One of Jack’s nice blonde brows arched up in the middle and a hard line appeared just above the bridge of his nose. “Yeah? You feel like a young man now, Creed? You’re playing a young man’s game. Fuck, do you have any idea what it means to even reach your age doing the shit you’re doing?”

  Right. The ripe old age of thirty-four. “I know that each day might be my last. I’m okay with that.”

  “Clearly you weren’t. Because if you were, you would have had the decency to leave me and my family alone. Instead, you came here, bleeding all over the place. You’ve scared the hell out of my wife and her sister.”

  “Her sister looks like she can handle her own.”

  Jack’s lips thinned out. “I’m not fucking playing here, Creed. That still your damn name?”

  “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

  “Funny. Since you never lived by anything or for anything.”

  “Funny as in haha or just funny?”

  “Fuck you,” Jack spat.

  “If anyone’s going to do that, I would hope it’s the blue-eyed goddess out there.”

  The fact that Jack didn’t murder him right there pretty much told Creed that he didn’t know about the whole pissing stunt. Or about the hard on he’d tented the damn sheets with. The woman hadn’t spilled. He liked that. She was tough. Tough and pretty. A lethal combination, but then again, he liked toying with death.

  “Just shut your fucking mouth and concentrate on getting the hell out of here. You need a bike? Car? Truck? I’ll get it for you. Fake ID? I’ll get that too. You just need to leave. As soon as possible.”

  “I’ll go,” Creed promised. “Tomorrow.”

  Jack actually looked hesitant. Some emotion flitted across his face, but it was gone. It vanished behind the concrete wall that Jack had always been real good at constructing around himself.

  “You know why I helped you. Because we were brothers once. I don’t have any family left. Closest I got is Percy and he’s miles and miles away. I- I couldn’t just let you die. You were banking on that when you found your way here. No matter what you did, you knew I wouldn’t turn you away.”

  “Does it matter that I didn’t do it?” Creed croaked. The longer he talked, the worse his voice sounded. His throat was dry and aching, nearly raw.

  Jack shook his head and something close to sadness lit up his eyes. “No, man. It doesn’t. They’re coming for you and they’re going to kill you all the same. So tell me. Truck. Car. Bike.”

  Creed ground his teeth together. He’d never been what you’d call a team player. He did what it took to survive and he made no apologizes for it. He didn’t choose that life for himself. He was born into it, learned it from an early age. It was in his blood and he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t go straight like some of the guys did after Slim Rick bit the dust and the whole club scattered like ashes on the wind.

  The sorry truth was, he needed a family. He wanted a place to call home. He realized that, as he was hauling his sorry ass up Jack’s neat and tidy front steps. The guy really was the closest thing to a family he had left.

  Creed realized something else as well. He was a pussy ass coward because he didn’t want to die alone. So he’d endangered them all, just like Jack said. He knew he had to leave. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Jack and his wife and that beautiful, angry, fiery woman out there were harmed because of him.

  “Car.” He decided. “They won’t think to look for that. Get something nice. Real nice. Won’t think to find me in that either. And a fake ID wouldn’t hurt. Passport and driver’s, social security. Whatever you can get.”

  “You thinking of getting out of town?”

  “I know by town, you mean country. So yeah. Yeah. Going to Canada. It’s not far.”

  “If they’ll let a sorry, shot up mother fucker like you in. It’s going to be real tough to get your ugly mug a believable fake ID. You know that?”

  “I’m sorry, Jack, that I’m such a burden to you.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. Creed didn’t miss the way the guy’s hands tightened at his sides. He wanted to lay a fist into his face and Creed damn well knew it. If he wasn’t so beat up already, he’d probably let Jack take a swing. One free shot. He deserved that.

  “You’re more than that, you pain in the ass. Just- just get better, alright? I’ll worry about the rest of the shit.”

  “Don’t make it too fake, Jack. No Ivy League stuff like you got. I ain’t got it in me to pull that off. I can’t do the nine of five, white collar, starched shirt, suburb living, two kids and a dog and a cat life.”

  Jack stepped closer and actually set a hand on Creed’s shoulder. It wasn’t warm. It was far more like ice. Or maybe he just felt it that way.

  He nodded once. Hard. His eyes burned into Creed, straight down to his soul. The same way his blue-eyed goddess looked at him.

  “Don’t worry. I know who you are. I haven’t forgotten. And I’m not impressed. You could have found me on a basic online search.”

  “How are you so sure I didn’t?”

  Jack couldn’t take it any longer. He removed his hand, shook his head, and snorted. The full-on grin that split his face was absolutely genuine. “Because I know you. Unfortunately. We might not wear the same colors anymore. We might not even be on the same damn planet, but you’re still my brother.”

  After, in the shocking seconds that passed, there was a current of something almost… touching.

  Creed didn’t know what to do with it and neither did Jack. They were just like every single other guy out there in that they were shit with expressing any kind of feelings. Emotion. Creed didn’t do that. It was messy and gross and just fucked everything straight to hell.

  So he let Jack turn around and leave the room and he pretended like he didn’t notice or feel whatever it was that hit him straight in the gut. He had to remind himself he had no family. He was alone, like he’d always been. Like he always had, he was going to make it. He was a survivor.

  Chapter 5

  KATE

  A few days ago, even though she wasn’t completely sure she altogether liked the guy, Kate would have said she trusted Jack. She would have said her sister’s marriage was a happy, normal one. She and Jack had jobs. Worked during the week with the weekends off. They had a nice house with a backyard and a two-car garage. They each drove. They had their little quirks, but hell… finding out that her sister’s husband had once been in some kind of gang or club or whatever, like, finding out for real, not just the little hints that she’d gathered over the years, was a lot to digest.

  Kate planned on springing on Jack the minute he walked into the kitchen after talking to Creed, but the look on his face forced her to swallow back the words she’d planned on hurling at him. No, not words. Accusations.

  He looked exhausted. Deeply tired. There was something in his gray blue eyes that she’d never seen before. Fear. Or was it worry? Were those one in the same?

  “Jack?” Kate leaned on the kitchen counter, assuming a more casual position. “Where’s Tia?”

  It clearly wasn’t the question he expected and his head inclined to the side, as though he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her. “She wasn’t feeling well. She went upstairs right after work.”

  “I know, I saw her.
I just- is she- I mean, is she worried about all of this? Is that what’s going on? She didn’t say two words to me.”

  “No.” He sighed and his face paled a little. It didn’t exactly inspire confidence and a shiver ripped up Kate’s spine. “No, it isn’t exactly the situation. Or maybe it is. Maybe it’s everything. I don’t know.” Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t have this conversation without a drink first.”

  “What conversation?”

  “I- just let me get a glass-”

  “No, Jack, what conversation?”

  Kate leaned further onto the counter. Jack’s mouth opened. And then the shower turned on. It was a distant hum in the background, a turning of noisy taps and a slight bang in the pipes, a dull hum in the background.

  The shower on the main floor was right next to the guest room. The bathroom was just down the hall. The other shower was in the master bedroom, which belonged to Jack and Tia. Kate could already tell the noise wasn’t coming from there.

  “Uh- what- who is using the shower?”

  “You already know. We’re here. It’s not Tia.”

  She gulped. “How the hell is that possible? The guy looked like he was on death’s door all day. He could barely even get words out. It was a struggle for him to turn his head.” It wasn’t exactly a struggle for him to pop a damn hard on or play a sick joke on me though.

  “He- I gave him a few days and told him he has to be gone. I’ll get him what he needs and he’ll be on his way. You know that every single day he stays here is one where we are put at risk. If it was just me, it would be different, but I have Tia now and you’re here.”

  “I’m alright.” She surprised them both with her words.

  Jack offered a smile that wasn’t really a smile at all. It was like the kind of smile an indulgent parent gave to their bratty kid. “Kate, no offense, but you have no idea what kind of men are coming after him. Honestly, neither do I. I have no idea what level of evil he’s got himself mixed up with. I wasn’t a part of that.”