He wandered along the softly-lit pathways through the multiple pool areas. He heard Latin music and immediately thought of Kiera. He cursed himself. Her memory assaulted him at the worst possible times. Though she had excelled at ballet, salsa had been one of her favorite styles of dance. Creed could easily recall the feel of her in his arms as she taught him how to dance. Then he had taught her how to kiss. His stomach heated up, and he forced the memory away, walking toward the north end of the property where the music filtered out of an open door.
This wasn’t one of the areas he had seen today. It was a large theater for visiting comedians, magicians, and local entertainment as well. The front desk staff had boasted that even the Blue Man Group had performed here. When he’d toured the facility earlier, they’d been getting the theater ready for tonight’s performance. Maybe the duke was inside enjoying the show. Might be one of the last things he enjoyed before returning to prison. Creed smiled as he eased in the back door. He just had to get a visual then Sutton would be en route. He couldn’t wait to see Sutton slam the duke to the ground before shipping him back to an English prison.
Creed scooted along the back wall, noting that the crowd was large and very involved in the show. He didn’t spot the duke on his first perusal and he focused on the stage and the performer. His smile disappeared, and his heart started racing. Creed’s body chilled and exploded with heat at the same time. He couldn’t move, and catching a breath was difficult. How was it possible?
Dancing on the stage, beaming for the packed theater was Kiera. She moved around the stage effortlessly, beautifully, the Latin music pulsing through the room, and Creed’s pulse slammed against his throat. He felt like he was going to either choke or pass out. He wanted to sprint up there, leap onto the stage, and pull Kiera into his arms. How could she be here? Why? When he’d last seen her in Vegas, she was at the top of the performing world. She was dancing on the biggest stages with the biggest stars. He’d even heard that she was hosting a dancing show on television. And here she danced, in a silky floral dress that was too low cut on the chest and too high cut on the thigh for his blood pressure. He cast an angry glance around the room and could see the crowd was mostly men, gawking and leering at his Kiera. Yet she wasn’t his Kiera, not anymore.
He searched for the blond guy she’d been with in Vegas and didn’t see him, but he did finally spot another blond man. The duke. Right in the front row, lapping up Kiera’s every move.
“I need a partner.” Kiera called out. Men rushed at the stage, and she laughed seductively. Creed was going to thump every one of them. He started forward but froze as Kiera pointed right at the duke. No!
The duke strutted onto the stage. Creed supposed women would think Gunthry was fit and handsome if they didn’t know what a snake he was. The duke wrapped his arms around Kiera’s bare back, and they started dancing. Creed was going to vomit, right after he ripped the Duke’s arms off. He wound his way through the crowd, hardly able to stand watching Gunthry touching Kiera. She was all smiles, and Gunthry was all sultry looks. The man deserved to die, and Creed was going to happily fulfill the job. Then he’d kiss that smile right off Kiera’s beautiful face. He’d probably get arrested and thrown in a Mexican prison, but Sutton would come and get him out, thank him for killing Gunthry, and give him a new assignment so he could somehow forget Kiera. He prayed for strength for the upcoming encounter. He’d kill Gunthry bare handed so he didn’t risk hurting Kiera or anyone else. He doubted his prayers were doing any good. He was pretty sure the good Lord must hate him to play such a cruel trick on him—Kiera in Gunthry’s arms.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket when he was still twenty feet from the stage. Yanking it out, he glanced at the screen. Sutton. He glanced up at Kiera and Gunthry. Sutton might not approve of him tearing the duke apart when he was only supposed to find him and then back off and wait for Sutton and the guys from MI6.
Rage filled him. Luckily, the music was loud enough to cover the growl that escaped. The couple closest to him looked at him strangely. Creed held up his phone as an excuse and stalked back the way he’d come. He would take the call outside, and maybe he’d cool off enough to listen to Sutton’s advice on how to proceed. Maybe.
“Yes?” he muttered into the phone.
“Everything all right?” Sutton asked.
“I found Gunthry.”
“Good.” Sutton paused. “Why do you sound like somebody scalped your cat?”
“He’s dancing with Kiera right now.” Creed snarled, grasping the phone so tightly he wondered that it didn’t crumple in his grasp.
“Kiera Richins?” Sutton’s voice was surprised. Sutton was never surprised. He had more intel and knew more than anyone on planet earth, or so it seemed.
“Yes.” Anger rolled through him but so did a longing for all that had been good in his life. Before he and his team had been captured. Before he’d lost Kiera. Three months of torture and imprisonment seemed to pale in comparison to this.
“I thought she was in Africa.”
Creed didn’t have time to demand why Kiera was in Africa. “Well, she’s dancing with Gunthry right now.”
“And you didn’t cut in?” Sutton asked drily.
“You called, or I would’ve killed him.” He admitted.
“I’ve been there,” Sutton muttered.
Creed felt closer to Sutton at the moment than his own father. “Sir, what do you want me to do?”
“The humility of that statement is singularly impressive, son.”
“I’m so ready to rip him apart, throw her over my shoulder, and lock her away for the rest of her life.”
Sutton chuckled. “Been there too.”
Creed drew in a breath and leaned against the exterior wall of the theater. The music was still thrumming inside, and he didn’t want to think about what was happening. Was Gunthry still touching Kiera? Guaranteed, she was still moving her beautiful body for all to see. He used to love to see her dance, but tonight, it had ticked him off to no end.
“I don’t really trust myself to make sane decisions at the moment,” Creed muttered.
“I understand. Can you keep an eye on Gunthry until I can fly to London and get the MI6 guys and the proper paperwork for extraction and then fly to you?”
“Keep an eye on him alive or his corpse?”
Sutton laughed. “We actually need him alive. Can I trust you to stay in control, Creed?”
Creed paused for probably too long, but if the Navy had taught him anything, it was self-control. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t underestimate him, soldier. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost me Liz.”
Creed’s eyes widened, surprised Sutton would be so honest with him. “I won’t underestimate him.”
“You think he’s alone. He’s not. You think he’s older and could easily be subdued. You’re wrong. Gunthry’s a spineless prat, but he’s also brilliant and devious, and I guarantee he has bodyguards and henchmen close by.”
Creed blew out a breath. “So me beating him for touching Kiera might not be the best plan of action?”
“I know your fighting abilities, Creed, but if you attack Gunthry without backup, I’m betting on armed and well-trained men coming out of the shadows.”
Sutton had warned him before he started the mission that Gunthry was most likely Hitler reincarnated and to be very careful. Creed had let his guard slip in the relaxed beach atmosphere, and seeing Kiera had thrown him completely off his game. His eyes darted around the shadows, but he didn’t sense anyone nearby.
“Can you keep your hands off of Kiera?” Sutton asked.
“Probably not.”
“I appreciate the honesty. I understand if you need to talk things out with her. Just remember, son, things aren’t always as they seem.”
Creed grunted in response. Talk? He wasn’t going to talk to Kiera. He was going to kiss her, tell her off, and ship her home to her mama.
“You haven’t been keen to hear anythin
g about her”—Sutton’s voice cut through his planning—“but I tried to tell you. She isn’t with Milo anymore.”
Creed didn’t know how to explain that his broken heart and Kiera’s broken promises transcended a mere man. “It’s not about that, sir.”
“Be kind, Creed.”
Kind? “I would never hurt a woman, sir.”
“I know that, but there are ways to hurt someone that aren’t physical.”
Creed nodded, though Sutton couldn’t see him.
“Heart of a warrior,” Sutton said.
“Heart of a warrior,” Creed repeated automatically. He pushed end on his phone and let it settle in his pocket. Though he didn’t know if he was strong enough, he crept around the corner and glanced in the open door. There were multiple couples on the stage now, and Kiera was walking around, instructing and smiling. The breath whooshed out of him. How he’d missed her. He would give up everything he owned and every experience he’d had simply to have all the crap between them washed away and to be able to hold her close without questions and regrets.
He folded his arms across his chest and eased into the room to stand watch. He quickly realized he needed to be incognito and forced himself to work his way into an empty chair from which he glowered at the stage. He would keep tabs on Gunthry and trail him to his room so he could bug it. Once Gunthry was secure, Creed and Kiera were going to talk.
Chapter Six
After finishing her exhausting performance, all Kiera wanted to do was take a shower and order room service. She exited the stage area and headed toward her building. A hand on her arm stopped her. Whirling around, she came face to face with the blond man she’d danced with tonight.
“Hello, beautiful.” He had an English accent and a smooth tongue.
Kiera gave him a forced smile. “Excuse me,” she murmured. She’d told enough yahoos “not interested” to understand you had to keep it short and sweet and move away quick.
“Wait.” He tightened his hold on her arm. It wasn’t painful, but it was clear he wanted to be in charge. “Fancy a bit of late supper?”
Kiera shook her head. “Sorry.” He looked too old for her, probably late thirties or early forties, definitely some plastic surgery. The man was handsome, and she liked his accent, but she wasn’t partial to blond men. Dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin with short facial hair. There she went picturing Creed, as usual. He’d made it more than obvious he didn’t want her when he’d returned from the dead. Months had passed, and the cretin still hadn’t so much as called her. She knew Creed could track a shark through the ocean. If he wanted to, he would’ve found her on her travels through Thailand, the Philippines, Africa, and now the Caribbean.
The beautiful, innocent children on her service trips had helped her push her pain to the back of her mind. Yet her heart would never heal. If only she could tell her heart to forget about Creed. Sadly, hearts didn’t work like that.
“Maybe tomorrow?” The man persisted.
“Maybe.” She nodded to him and walked past. She didn’t think he followed, but as she walked along the dimly-lit pathways back to her suite, she could sense someone was following her. She thought about calling security, but for some reason, she wasn’t afraid. She could simply sense a presence.
Maybe someone from the show was enamored with her. She’d been a big name once. Now, she was a washed-up has been. Lately, she’d focused on charity performances, and though she hadn’t been able to forget Creed, she’d thoroughly enjoyed seeing new lands and meeting the people, especially the children. She’d also worked at several gorgeous resorts like this. The pay was fine at the resorts, nothing close to what she’d made when she’d starred in Vegas, L.A., London, and New York, but she didn’t really care much about the pay. She was happy to be far from America and the painful memories of Creed.
She took the elevator to her twelfth-floor penthouse suite. The resort treated her like she was still something special and had told her she could stay as long as she wanted. She only had to do the performance every few nights. They had a lot of other entertainment coming in.
Finally entering her room, she slid out of her heels, slipped her dress over her head and took a long shower before sliding into a floral, silk robe and blow drying her hair quickly and tying it back in a ponytail. She grabbed the room service menu. Supposedly, the Japanese restaurant was to die for. She could really go for a dragon roll and a crazy boy with no siracha right now. Ooh, and a shrimp tempura appetizer. She dialed room service and placed an order for way too much food, knowing she would never eat it all. She’d lost too much weight when Creed died and still struggled to eat a full meal.
Kiera stretched out on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom and sighed. It was comfy. Maybe she would take a short nap before dinner. Then she would stay up reading or watching a movie or something. What did she have to do tomorrow besides exercise and lay on the beach, being gracious to tourists who recognized her? She used to practice twelve to fourteen hours a day, but maintaining her fitness level was enough for the type of dancing she was doing currently.
There was a sharp rap at the door. That was quick. Kiera pushed off the bed and tightened the robe. She hurried to the door and opened it a crack. Glancing out, she expected to see dinner containers and a smiling attendant. Instead, she saw a glowering man with dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, and the perfect length of facial hair.
“Creed?” The world started spinning around her, and then everything went black.
She crumpled to the floor but could hear a voice floating above her. A voice she’d dreamed of hearing so often she knew it couldn’t be reality. The voice came from far above, just like Creed was far away and would never be here for her again.
“Kiera? Kiera?” Creed’s voice finally registered. It had to be him. She knew that voice like she knew her dance routines.
Kiera shook her head. She’d really lost it now. She’d dreamed Creed was at her door, and now, she was hearing his voice.
The door pushed softly against her, and she stirred, scrambling away from it.
“Kiera?” Creed truly stood above her in the doorway.
No. Creed coming for her was a dream she’d burned months ago, okay maybe weeks, but she had finally burned it and locked her heart away from the pain. Hadn’t she?
He pushed the door open a little farther and slipped inside. The door closed behind him, and Kiera couldn’t budge from off the floor. She stared up at his perfect face. She’d forgotten how huge he was—almost six four. He had so much muscle it made her mouth go dry. The white shirt showed off his tanned skin, and a few undone buttons revealed his muscular chest.
She shook her head. She must be in shock. Creed couldn’t be here. Creed had ditched her and didn’t love her. Why would he follow her to Cancun? He had much more important jobs to do other than tracking her down.
Creed bent down, wrapped his hands around her waist and easily plucked her to her feet. She’d been lifted so many times in her career, sometimes even pretending to be vulnerable or wounded for her part, but she’d assisted her partner with every lift. Creed had just lifted her as a dead weight. He was impossibly strong, and she was like a limp noodle. She leaned heavily against him.
“Kiera.” His voice went all soft and husky, and the way he was studying her made her feel warm and prickly from head to toe. Oh, how she’d loved him.
He wrapped his arms around her back and gently pulled her close. Kiera had no clue how to respond to this very real-feeling hallucination. “C-creed,” she whispered, not returning his hug, but loving the feel of his muscled chest pressing against her.
“Now come on, love. You can do better than that.”
“What?” She was so confused. She stared up into his dark eyes, and they were twinkling at her like they always used to do. All the angst, pain, and confusion of losing him disappeared and there was just her and Creed. No matter what had come between them before they were together now. It was so simple and beautiful.
“This is not a hug. A hug involves two bodies, four arms, and lots and lots of contact.” He winked. “Shall we give it another go?”
Tears sprang from her eyes as she stared at his handsome face and charming smile. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. Creed had said a similar line to her the very first time he hugged her. She’d been young and had never even held hands with a boy. She’d felt extremely awkward when the cutest boy at school had given her attention then hugged her at a party after a home football game.
“Ah, that’s better.” Creed groaned, and the warmth and desire in that groan filled her stomach with heat.
Kiera thought it was more than better. It was absolute perfection. Her head fit in the crook of his neck like they were built to come together. Creed! Her heart seemed to be cheering. Creed was truly here and holding her like she’d dreamed of so many times. It had taken him too long to find her, but he’d finally come for her and that was all that mattered.
He ran his hands along her back, and it felt like heaven with the silk sliding against her skin and Creed’s warm hands doing a number on her nervous system. He brought one hand up and loosened her ponytail then trailed his fingers through her hair. “Kiera.”
Kiera stared up at him as he bowed his head closer to hers. His mint-tinged breath and his warm, sensuous cologne made her stomach flutter. It was the cologne she’d bought him for Christmas one year—Burberry. It had a great mix of cinnamon, amber, and tarragon and made her want to melt every time she smelled it on him.
Creed was here. He was alive, and he was holding her. His breath brushed her lips, and Kiera sighed with longing. How she’d missed him, missed his touch. She arched up to kiss him as he whispered, “Oh man, I’m going to regret this in the morning.”
Hawk Brothers Romance Collection Page 17