“Right.” Creed took her words like a punch from Bridger to the gut. He and Kiera used to be the perfect fit. Now Kiera didn’t seem to care about the love they once treasured. He wanted to savor holding her close like this, but it wasn’t real, and it wasn’t going to last. As soon as she slept off the alcohol that was in her system, she would give him her sassy attitude and pull away from him again. And he would let her because she wasn’t his Kiera anymore. Not after what she’d done.
A loud rap came at the door. Kiera startled in his arms and looked at him with wide eyes. “Hello!” She called out much too loudly.
“Kiera?” It was the duke’s voice, and Creed’s stomach tightened. At least he didn’t have to guess where Gunthry was. Kiera’s loose tongue worried him though. She was likely to say anything. Then again, maybe he’d get the chance to kill the man right now.
“Hi!” Kiera yelled. “Sorry I can’t get the door. I’m sleeping with—” Creed clamped his hand over her mouth and shook his head.
Kiera’s eyes got even wider.
“Say you’re going to bed. Don’t tell him I’m here,” Creed whispered, still holding her mouth tight.
“Kiera?” The duke called again. “Do I need to get some help?”
Kiera nodded slightly to Creed, looking like a little child who didn’t understand anything that was going on. He removed his fingers.
“I don’t feel well. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She practically screamed each sentence, and Creed thought if the duke hadn’t been involved in getting her drunk and had a shred of decency, he probably would think she needed help.
“I could come sit with you.”
“No.” Kiera called out. “Good night!”
Creed put his finger over his lips and then carefully lifted her off of his lap and onto the sofa. He crept to the door and watched through the peep hole. The duke stood there for a few seconds. Then he signaled someone with his head and strode away. Creed made out a few shadows following him. He waited until they were in the elevator, and the door slid closed. Then he dead-bolted Kiera’s door and brought a kitchen chair over to jam underneath it. Something wasn’t right about the duke bringing his men to Kiera’s door. If he wanted to sleep with her, wouldn’t he come alone?
Creed tried not to overanalyze the duke’s intentions. Losers like that probably did bring someone to watch over them at all times.
Kiera was sitting on the sofa with her head laid back against the cushions. He needed to hold her. He hoped he would be strong enough to resist her tonight. No. Creed would never. Under any circumstances. Never ever ever. There was no hope about it. It would be torture, but he wasn’t doing more than putting an arm around her when she was drunk.
He waited a few more minutes until his phone and watch buzzed and he saw the duke enter his suite. Nobody went in with him. Did his men have rooms nearby? Creed would need to be more diligent tomorrow and figure that out.
Tonight, he planned to stay close to Kiera, unless fate really hated him and the duke left his suite again. Creed walked to the couch and bent down, lifting her into his arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and she said all delighted, “Creed! You didn’t ditch me.”
Creed pushed out a breath. They really needed to talk, but that wasn’t happening tonight. He carried her into the master suite and settled her onto the mattress and pillows. Slipping her shoes off, he stared down at her. Her pale blue dress accentuated her beautiful brown skin and fit body. Her dark hair contrasted with the white pillow. How he wanted to simply run his fingers through it.
He turned to walk away, but Kiera’s hand brushed his arm. “Please, don’t leave me again.”
Creed stopped. His tight rein on his self-control was slipping. He glanced back at her. She was staring at him steadily, almost as if she weren’t out of her head. “Please, Creed.”
His throat was too dry and tight to respond. He finally nodded.
She smiled and closed her eyes again. Creed slipped his shoes off and climbed onto the king bed next to her. She snuggled back against him, and he slid one arm under where the pillow met her neck and his other arm around her waist.
“Thank you for not deserting me again,” she whispered. Then she sighed and seemed to drift off to sleep that quickly.
Deserting her? That hit low in the gut. He’d been captured and tortured, barely escaping with his life, and she called that desertion? She was delusional, rambling. He couldn’t hold her accountable for anything tonight.
Creed didn’t know if sleep would come. He cradled Kiera close and tried to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t shut out the electrifying feeling of having her in his arms. It stirred something deep within him. He could easily admit the truth to himself—he loved her. If only she hadn’t betrayed him and somehow thought he was the deserter. If only she truly loved him back.
Chapter Ten
Kiera woke with a pounding headache, rain slanting against the balcony windows, and scattered memories. She and William were sitting at the steakhouse, but they didn’t eat anything. Then she was dancing with a bunch of men, and then Creed came in like a superhero and knocked a bunch of heads together before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her away, as if he were her knight in shining armor or something. She laughed derisively, but that hurt her head more.
“Good morning.” Creed’s voice carried over from the open doorway.
Kiera clutched the covers around her, but quickly realized she was still in her blue dress from last night. “What are you doing? Oh.” She groaned, putting a hand to her head, talking hurt.
“Breakfast.” He grinned and set a tray on the table by her bed. The scent of bacon and coffee was too much. “But first …” He pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen, popped the cap, and poured four into his palm. “Take these, and you’ll start feeling better.”
She took the pills with a swallow of water. Her stomach was churning, and food sounded awful. “What happened?”
“Well my first guess is William”—he said the name with such derision—“got you drunk.”
“I don’t drink,” she said, laying her head back against the padded headboard and praying the ibuprofen kicked in soon.
“There are a lot of things I used to think you wouldn’t do, but you’ve proven me wrong on those, now haven’t you?”
Kiera straightened to cuss him out, but it hurt her head too much. She pressed her palm to her forehead, hoping to stay the pounding. “What are you talking about?”
Creed strode right up to the bed and placed a palm on each side of her hips. Kiera swallowed but couldn’t swallow down the desire that rushed over her. Creed’s hands had always been perfect, and she wanted him to hold her until all the pain went away.
“You let that loser get you drunk last night,” Creed said slowly, as if she were slow. “What did you think he was planning to do with you?”
His words doused any intimacy she’d felt. Kiera glared at him, too out of sorts to slap or slug him, like he deserved. “I. Do. Not. Drink!” she yelled the last word. It was stupid of her, but her head didn’t hurt nearly as badly as her heart did. Nothing could hurt as badly as having your heart gouged out by the man you loved. Why did Creed think so little of her? Thinking she’d allow herself to get drunk and then what? Did he really think she would sleep with that guy?
Creed gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “But you do other things, don’t you?” His eyes swept over her, but it wasn’t in an I’m attracted to you way. It was derisive and mean.
“You’d better stop acting like I’m some floozy!” She pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. Dang the man’s muscled body.
“Stop playing the innocent victim, Kiera.” He stood and paced away from the bed. “What in the world would possess you to meet that loser for dinner and then drink whatever he handed you?”
“I didn’t take anything from him,” she said as if Creed was the slow one. “Only directly from the waiter. I’ve heard the horror stories.”
Creed ducked h
is chin and returned the you’re-the-stupid-one stare.
“Wait. You think the waiter was in on drugging me?”
Creed shrugged, his eyes giving nothing away. She hated when he shut her out like some military guy. But that was what he was. Not her Creed anymore. A military hero who didn’t need her and thought she’d ditched all her values. She knew he’d been through horrible things in his imprisonment, but the man she’d loved would never be so suspicious and derogatory.
“I thought I tasted alcohol in my first drink,” she explained, though he didn’t deserve an explanation. “So I asked for another one. It didn’t taste like alcohol at all.”
“They slipped some Everclear or a roofie in it then,” he said. “Do you think that headache’s just from dancing too much?”
Kiera acknowledged that with a chin lift, but terror raced through her. If Creed hadn’t intervened last night, what horrors would she remember, or not remember, this morning?
Creed kept pacing then rounded on her again. “I’m glad to hear you didn’t willingly let him get you drunk, but I hate that you would’ve willingly stayed the night with him.”
Kiera sat up straight and gasped. “Oh! What would make you think that?”
“Why else would you go with that loser to dinner?”
“To tick you off!” she yelled.
His eyes widened, and then he grunted. “Well you’re doing a beautiful job of that.”
Kiera felt some satisfaction that he was as angry as she was, but her head was spinning instead of pounding now. Why did Creed think she was some hoochy mama who would sleep with a man she didn’t know or like? They’d both fought hard to stay pure for each other for years. Did he really think she’d give all of that up because she became famous, because of the lies Milo spread, or because he’d died and he thought she’d gone crazy? She couldn’t think of any other reasons why he would assume the worst of her. True, she’d had ample opportunities to turn her back on her values and maybe some smut magazine claimed she did, but she never had. His dying had devastated her, but she’d worked hard and focused on being the best dancer she could, being successful for him. Just like he’d asked her to in that letter. Now, she was regretting doing anything for this scuz-bucket.
“Did the fame get to you? Is that what it was? How did my Kiera become this?” He gestured at her.
“You need to leave,” she said in the strongest tone she could muster up, so fed up with him, but still too out of sorts to push out of bed and push him out of her room. As if she could push him around even when she was in top physical condition.
Creed ignored her request. “Why are you working a resort in Mexico when you’re one of the biggest stars in America? You could be on television, starring in your own show, on Broadway, in movies, anything you want.”
Kiera looked down at the white comforter clenched between her fingers, refusing to answer him. If the truth started spilling out, he’d know how desperately she’d loved him, how she still did. With as little as Creed seemed to think of her, her pride was all she had left, and she would cling to it with her French manicure for as long as she could.
Creed approached the bed, but she refused to look at him. He bent down close and tilted her chin up. “Kiera,” he whispered, his dark gaze full of pleading. “What happened? Who took away your purity and confidence? Who did this to you?” He studied her, but she didn’t answer. “Please tell me. I want to tear them apart for hurting you.”
Their gazes locked. Kiera tried to wait him out but he wasn’t backing down. As she looked into his eyes everything simplified. Though she loved him they could never be them again and he deserved to know how badly he’d devastated her.
She hurled at him. “You hurt me when you came back from the dead and never came for me. You’re the reason I gave up. You’re the one who ripped me apart.” The words were torn from Kiera’s lips but instead of making her feel better she felt empty and hollow.
Creed released her and straightened away from her. His gaze was full of angst and uncertainty. The muscles in his arms were all tight as he clenched his fists as if trying to control himself. “Oh, Kiera. Oh, love, no.”
Kiera shook her head. He had no right to call her love. He’d destroyed her, and now, he was back at it again. Claiming she would’ve slept with William. Saying she was some loose woman.
Creed leaned toward her again, but then he pulled his phone from his pocket and straightened. “Excuse me. I have to take this. If it was anyone else …”
“Take it. I don’t care.”
He backed away, but he was still focused on her. “This discussion isn’t through. We’re not through.”
There he was. The Creed Hawk. Always in control. Always getting his way. Well, he wasn’t going to get his way this time because she was done with the discussion and more than done with him. Somehow, she would ferret him out of her heart, and someday, she would be able to be happy again. If for no other reason than to prove she didn’t need him.
Kiera simply glared at him. He strode into the living area, and she could hear him say in a harsh voice, “When are you coming?”
Kiera forced herself out of bed and slammed the door to her bedroom, clicking the lock. Not that locks would keep Creed out. She took a few gulps of the coffee. It scalded her throat, but the pain felt better than dealing with all the emotions Creed was tugging out of her. Grabbing a clean floral sundress, she rushed into her bathroom. Maybe a shower would clear her mind. Maybe then she could handle Creed. Maybe in her fantasies a lightning bolt from the rainstorm outside would strike Creed in the head and make him nice again.
“When are you coming?” Creed hated being tugged from Kiera right when the truth was finally coming out between them. If it wasn’t Sutton on the phone, he would’ve simply ignored it. But Sutton would never call unless it was vital to the mission. Creed had to take it.
His mind was whirling though and far from Sutton or Gunthry. Could he forgive Kiera for giving herself to another man? She’d believed he was dead. He couldn’t imagine how hard that would’ve been on her. It still shredded him to think of her in another man’s arms, especially in another man’s bed, but he had told her in that stupid Dear Jane letter to live her life, to move on. He had just never imagined she would move on that quickly and completely.
Yet he loved her, and he would forgive her if she would let him into her heart again. He would have forgiven her when he came for her that fateful day in Las Vegas if she’d shown the least bit of interest in him. If she’d even glanced his way when he called out to her.
“We resolved the issue, and I’m loading onto the Gulfstream now. I’ve got Corbin, Logan, and Cannon with me.”
Creed felt the air rush out of him. River, Sutton, Corbin, Logan, and Cannon were coming. Plus, they would have Sutton’s security guys and the MI6 men. Together, they could easily best Gunthry and any paid thugs he had. Then Creed would finally be free to get to the bottom of whatever Kiera had been trying to tell him. He prayed the two of them could somehow resolve their issues. “Thank you, sir.”
“We might beat River and the MI6 guys there.”
“I’ll be happy to see any of you.”
“Okay. Is Kiera all right?”
Creed could hear the shower going. At least she was feeling up to that. “The duke slipped something in her drink last night, either Everclear or a roofie because she didn’t taste it.”
Sutton pulled a quick breath in.
“But he took a phone call and left for his room, so I was able to get her back to her room and watch over her. I don’t think he suspects anything, but maybe he does. He came to her room to check on her with several men in tow.”
“With Gunthry, there’s always something shady. Will she stay in her room today while you keep an eye on the duke?”
Disappointment shot through him. He wanted to talk with Kiera, not follow the idiot Gunthry around, but he recognized that he was on a job here, and if Gunthry snuck away while he was caught up in Kiera, that
would be on him. He would keep Kiera safe and keep Gunthry in his sights until Sutton or River got here.
“I doubt she’s going anywhere with the headache she has, and it’s raining outside.”
“Good. See you soon. Heart of a warrior.”
“Heart of a warrior.” Creed repeated their mantra.
The shower was still going. How long was she going to stay in there? Was she avoiding him? His phone and watch buzzed, and he clicked on his phone, watching as Gunthry strode out of his door, dressed in business casual. Dang it. He wasn’t just strolling to the pool or spa dressed like that. He’d hoped the man would stay indoors with the bad weather and allow Creed to focus on Kiera.
Creed grabbed a notepad and pen from a side table and scrawled out a quick note for Kiera. He had to follow Gunthry. Thankfully, it would all be over soon. Then he could focus exactly where he wanted to—on Kiera.
Chapter Eleven
Kiera took her time showering, letting the warm water ease her aching head. By the time she dressed, brushed out her hair, applied some hair serum, and put on minimal makeup, she was feeling quite a bit better. The ibuprofen had apparently kicked in. She was also getting hungry, and she remembered that she hadn’t had any dinner last night. Talking to Creed was more important than food, but she was scared. The way he seemed to perceive her—as some celebrity with loose morals who’d let stardom change her—made her fired up mad, but then she simply felt sad. Why would he think that of her? Could she convince him she wasn’t like that? Did he love her enough to let go of whatever misperceptions he had and give them another chance? Was she willing to give him a chance after the way he’d deserted her after he came back from the dead and the way he’d treated her the past two days?
She sauntered into her bedroom and inhaled the delicious scents of warm pancakes and crisp bacon. Opening her bedroom door, she scanned the main area. “Creed?”
All was quiet, and her stomach took a nosedive. Creed had left her? She looked into the extra bedroom and bathroom and saw he wasn’t in there. Maybe he’d gone to shower or exercise and he’d be right back. She glanced around, at a loss, then spotted the note on the table.
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