Creed

Chapter One Black Expedition

I drove fast because she sounded tweaked.

Tweaked in her business was not good.

Tweaked in my business was not good either.

It was worse. She wasn’t calling Knight. This meant bad things because it meant bad things were happening. Not bad, bad.

If Knight knew something bad was going down, he’d lose his mind which meant someone might lose the use of an appendage. She knew, if I hit the scene, I’d have a mind to carpet stains.

Shit.

I screeched to a halt on the road outside her house in my blue 1968 Corvette Stingray then reversed, parallel parking expertly between two cars. In a second, I was out, hand to the gun under my leather jacket shoved in the holster attached to my belt at the small of my back. I shoved my keys in my pocket and approached the front door of her tiny house, my eyes peeled and scanning.

No noises, no sound.

It was late, after three in the morning. Her neighborhood was quiet. It was a nice neighborhood, not flashy, not family. Just a neighborhood if a bit rundown.

I hadn’t run Serena’s check. Another of Knight’s team did it. I didn’t know much about her, though I’d taken her to a few of her early appointments and stuck around until they were over. This was a service Knight provided to his new girls. Strike that, it was a service Knight insisted his girls have.

I pulled up what I knew about her and remembered she was an art student, earning cash to go to some fancy school in France. Parents gone, a car crash. If she wanted it, she had to do it on her own.

Fucking whacked, that shit. Sure, you couldn’t pull together money to buy a plane ticket, pay tuition and living expenses in a different country by waiting tables unless you had a decade to do it.

But shit.

Each girl had their own story. Most of them were way worse than Serena’s.

Which meant Serena might not be all there upstairs.

Please God, I thought, do not let this bitch be seeing clients at her house.

I checked in the window first, seeing light coming around the blinds but they were closed. I couldn’t get a lock on what was happening inside.

I moved to the door, stood to its side, reached out a hand and knocked hard twice.

“Serena!” I called. “It’s Sylvie.”

I heard the locks open immediately.

Shit, she was waiting at the door.

It was thrown open and I saw her.

Fuck.

I heard the blood roaring in my ears and didn’t move except to speak.

“You need a doctor?” I asked.

She shook her head.

Then she whispered, “Sylvie –”

I cut her off, “You report this to Knight?”

“I… he’ll…” she shook her head again, “no.”

“You call someone other than me to help you out? Get you cleaned up?” I pressed on.

She nodded. “Cher. She’s on her way. She’ll be here soon.”

Good. Cher. That bitch was smart, had her shit tight. She’d see to Serena.

I nodded back then, “Who was he?”

“He was… he was new.”

I nodded again then, “Tell me you didn’t see him here.”

She shook her head. “Never.”

At least there was that.

“He do more than what I can see?” I asked.

She closed her eyes. I held my breath. She opened her eyes.

“No,” she whispered.

I studied her, not getting it.

She’d been worked over, eye swelling, lip fat and busted open but only a small tear. It didn’t look like she needed stitches. It looked like it hurt like hell but it wasn’t that bad. Unacceptable but not that bad.

Why didn’t she call Knight? For this, Knight would make a statement then cut the asshole off, he wouldn’t lose his mind.

She had to be lying.

“Serena, you gotta talk to me,” I pushed. “Why’d you call me direct? Why haven’t you reported this to Knight?”

“The girls say he gets angry,” she replied.

“He does and babe, he should. Your face is messed up. He does not offer protection so his girls can get messed up. He does not like that shit one bit. A statement needs to be made.”

“He’s scary when he’s angry,” she whispered.

That was the God’s honest truth.

“Uh… just sayin’, Serena, some asshole worked you over. He’s a new client. You wanna tell me why you’re protecting him from Knight?”

“I don’t want Knight to get in trouble.”

God. Serena was relatively new. This had never happened to her.

Right.

“That is not yours to worry about,” I educated her.

“But –”

I leaned into the door and dropped my voice. “Serena, babe, it’s not yours to worry about. It’s what he does. It’s who he is. That’s why you’re with him. If someone works you over, you report it to Knight. Immediately.”

She held my eyes for a beat then nodded.

I went on, “Now, you meet this guy at his place, a hotel, what?”

“Hotel,” she answered.

I nodded. “Where, when, how long you been home?”

She gave me the details.

I nodded again. “I’m paying him a visit, Serena, and I’m reporting this to Knight.”

She bit her fat lip on the side where it wasn’t as fat, then she stopped doing that and nodded back.

“How long before Cher gets here?” I asked.

“She said ten minutes and that was about ten minutes ago.”

I gave her another nod.

“Ice,” I whispered, dipping my head toward her face. “Take some painkillers. Lie down.”

She nodded again then whispered back, “Thanks, Sylvie.”

I caught her eyes and locked my gaze with hers. “Anytime. Know it, babe.”

She nodded yet again.

“Lock doors,” I ordered. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Okay, Sylvie.”

“Ice,” I repeated.

“Okay.”

I looked meaningfully at the door, she closed it and I didn’t move until I heard it lock.

Then I moved quickly to the car but I didn’t jog. I didn’t run. I kept it controlled.

When I got in my car, I called Rhash, Knight’s right hand man.

“Yo,” he answered.

“Yo right back at ‘cha,” I replied. “Got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Good,” Rhash replied, a tremor of humor in his voice.

“Right, I’m in an ass-kicking mood and I’m already in my car so there are no delays in going out to kick ass.”

“Fuck,” Rhash muttered, humor gone. He knew what this meant. “What’s the bad news?”

“Serena got worked over and she called me.”

“Fuck,” Rhash clipped.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“How bad? She need Baldy? What?” he asked.

“She says not bad. Just beat up. Cher is coming to look after her. I need an address on her client tonight.”

I waited for him to find it, he gave it to me and I programmed it into my GPS then he asked, “There a reason she didn’t call me or Knight?”

“Worried you’d lose your minds, get in trouble.”

“Stupid,” he muttered, sounding more than a little annoyed. “What’s she think we get that ten percent for?”

This was a good question and one I didn’t have an answer to. In my experience, ladies of the evening didn’t protect their protectors. If they were lucky, it was the other way around. They usually avoided them, if they could, or sought them out for not so good reasons, such as getting their fix.

Knight’s girls weren’t like that. I knew why, hell, I definitely knew why.

It still was stupid.

“Got an ass to kick, Rhash,” I reminded him.

“Need back up?” he asked.

“Feeling like kicking ass?”

“How bad was she?”

“Fat lip. Swollen eye,” I told him.

“Then… fuck yeah.”

I grinned.

That was why Knight inspired loyalty in his girls. Because he employed people like Rhashan and me who gave a shit.

“I’m starting at the hotel,” I shared. “Meet me there.”

“It’ll take me about ten, fifteen. Wait for me. I don’t want to miss anything.”

I grinned again. Rhashan and all the guys thought it was hilarious to watch me work. This was because I was five foot two and cheated the gods by drinking a lot and eating whatever I wanted and still, I was thin. I had tits and nicely rounded ass. Neither in overabundance so, no doubt about it, I was slender. I wasn’t girlie but I wore my honey blonde hair long and wild and I also had a not to be messed with, once a week schedule of getting a manicure and pedicure.

Still, I could take down a man over a foot taller than me, with over a hundred pounds on me and have him whining like a baby.

The guys thought this was hysterical, watching a man go down at the hands of a petite woman wearing nail polish. Sometimes, when I’d get the callout, two or three of them would show just to watch.

I never disappointed.

“See you there,” I said to Rhash.

“Yeah, later,” he replied.

I flipped my phone shut, started up my girl, she purred for me while I waited the thirty seconds before I saw Cher pull up and park. Then I gave her a chin lift through the windshield and waited while she walked to Serena’s house. After that, I waited until the door closed behind Cher.

Then my girl and I took off.

I had my back to the wall at the side of the door when I heard the elevator beep. I turned my head and watched Rhash walk out.

Rhashan was a huge, midnight skinned black man. Handsome. Fuck, they made few of them as good as Rhashan from head to toe. Smooth with a kick, like a good bourbon. You sucked it back then sucked in a breath to ease the warmth on its way down.

He’d recently married a woman I liked unreservedly, which was rare. It was known he liked to dominate which was why I didn’t dip my toe in midnight before he made the ultimate hook up with his new wife, Vivica.

No one controlled me. Not anymore.

That didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the view immensely as he walked his muscled bulk my way.

When he got close, I lifted up a keycard between two fingers.

“Boss owes me a hundred, fifty,” I noted.

Rhash’s full lips quirked. “You get a receipt?”

I shot him a grin and jerked up my chin.

His eyes went to the door. “He in there?”

“According to my boy downstairs who’s one hundred and fifty dollars richer for handing me a keycard, he’s not checked out,” I told him.

He looked me up and down before he remarked, “This hotel, I don’t get away without shelling out at least two fifty.”

“You don’t have tits,” I pointed out the obvious and his lips again quirked.

Then his face got serious. “You lead?”

“Uh… am I Sylvia Bissenette?” I asked.

“Last time I checked,” he answered.

That got him another grin.

He positioned and so did I, both of us unholstering our guns.

I slid in the keycard, got the green light, slid it out, carefully turned the handle and cautiously moved into the dark room with Rhash at my back.

Within a minute, we’d ascertained the space was clear.

Rhash turned on a light and we both scanned the wrecked room with our eyes.

When I was done with my scan, my gaze went to Rhash and I noted his strong, square jaw was hard.

“She put up a fight,” I remarked.

His eyes cut to me.

I was a loose part of the Knight Sebring team, not an official member. I was freelance. I had other jobs. But I was always on-call for Knight.

Being freelance didn’t mean much to Knight’s boys. For them, I took assignments, I took call, I was a member of the team. This meant we knew where each other lived. We drank together. We watched the Broncos together, usually at a bar. I was invited to Rhash’s wedding. If I needed help on another one of my jobs, all I had to do was make a call and they had my back.

The fact that, outside work, our time spent together usually included alcohol meant we’d all shared.

So I knew Rhashan Banks had grown up rough. His Mom had him when she was sixteen. He had two sisters and a brother by the time his Mom was twenty-one. Each Banks kid had a different father and none of the dads stuck around.

Rhash was in a gang by twelve, his best friend got whacked during a turf war and died in his arms when Rhash was fifteen. Still, it took three more years and getting his girl pregnant before Rhash started to pull his shit together. She put the baby up for adoption, wanting nothing to do with it or a Daddy who was destined for dead or incarcerated. She dumped his ass, had the baby, got rid of the baby then promptly went back on her grand schemes and got involved with another gang member, this one about seven huge steps down from Rhash. Her new guy didn’t mind sharing. In fact, he passed her around to all his buds.

To deal with a life that turned total shit, she eventually got hooked on meth. Now she worked Colfax and her life expectancy wasn’t very high considering her pimp was an asshole, her strip was dangerous and her mind was always on her next fix.

Rhash fought his way out of that shit, eventually found Knight and lived every day knowing the kid he created with his girl was somewhere better. Knowing it and hating it because that better did not include his real Mom or his real Dad.

Somehow, all this shit got twisted in his head. The gang mentality wasn’t gone. His loyalty was ingrained and extreme. It was just that now it was to Knight, Knight’s team and Knight’s mission.

Therefore, when he took in the evidence that one of Knight’s girls fought back before getting a busted lip and a swollen eye, it pissed him off.

Rhashan Banks pissed off was a little scary and I say that even though not much scared me.

When he made no reply and I was done with his dark eyes burning holes into mine, I asked, “You got any cash on you?”

“Your tits wear off?” he asked back and I fought back another grin.

“They’re b-cups, Rhash. They look good but they only go so far covered up,” I replied.

He twisted his torso and the light went out.

Then I heard him say, “Let’s move.”

We turned from the night clerk who was two hundred dollars richer and told us what we already knew from the empty, wrecked hotel room.

Serena’s client had paid in cash. The credit card he put on file for incidentals cleared at the time of check in which was eight o’clock. When the clerk ran it again, it had been reported stolen. Plus he had checked in under a different name and address than he’d given us.

The false name and paying in cash was not surprising. Clients did their best not to leave trails.

The address and stolen credit card, not good.

This meant he felt safe to leave the room in that state, knowing they couldn’t find him to charge him.

Knight had a stable of fifty-seven girls and shit happened. It was rare because Knight also had a reputation. Nevertheless, it happened sometimes. But no girl took a client without him being checked out. This was part of the work I did for Knight. He didn’t dig deep but he did dig. He never sent a girl out if the client was shady, had a record, cash flow problems or anything of concern turned up. We ran credit history, work history, financials, criminal records and we checked homes and places of work, all on the down low so as not to scare away clients.

In other words, this particular kind of shit did not happen.

Ever.

“His house,” Rhash growled. “Meet you there. I’ll text you details.”

“Right,” I muttered, walking beside him to the door. My head was tilted back, eyes up and aimed at his profile. I was assessing the level of his anger. I sensed it was not only increasing, but expanding to take in the guy who took his fist to Serena and whoever did the legwork on the client.

We were pushing out of the doors when I felt it.

Eyes on me.

I twisted my neck and shoved the door open with my gaze trained over my shoulder. I swept the reception area with not mild attention.

It was early morning, no one was there that I could see but the clerk.

Fuck.

I turned my attention to where I was going, heading for my girl in the lot.

This had been happening lately, too much. I long since learned how to sense it and read it. I might not be girlie but I’d have to be blind not to see that I wasn’t hard on the eyes. This meant I got a lot of looks.

This wasn’t that, some guy who liked what he saw and wanted in there.

This was a different kind of watching.

It had been going on now for about a month but every time I felt it, when I scanned or circled back to take a better look, I could find nothing.

I didn’t like it but there was nothing I could do if I couldn’t discover the source.

Now I had a job to do and I didn’t have the time to swing back into reception on the guise of asking the clerk more questions to see if someone was checking me out.

So I followed behind Rhash in his car with my eyes peeled, looking for a tail.

And finding nothing.

I stood in the empty living room trying to hold my shit.

“Who did the check?” I asked, my voice low with anger.

“Live,” Rhash grunted and I flipped open my phone, using my thumb on the keypad to scroll down my phonebook to Lively.

I heard Rhash hitting buttons on his own phone, I knew connecting with Knight.

We’d hit the client’s house and found a for sale sign in the front yard. When we’d gone in, there was nothing there. Not a stick of furniture. Totally cleared out.

This gave me a bad feeling. This was not your random asshole that got off on paying for sex and roughing up women.

Stolen credit cards. False addresses.

This was bad.

The phone rang four times in my ear before I connected.

“Pip, what the fuck? It’s after four in the morning,” Live muttered sleepily in my ear, using the shortened version of the nickname that the boys gave me. Pipsqueak.

The guys jacked around all the time. We were always fucking with each other, playing jokes, giving each other shit. It was just the way. Pipsqueak and Pip were not the nicknames for badass bitches like me who could kick ass but what did I care? It was ironic and it sure as fuck could be worse. I knew this because one of Knight’s men was nicknamed Tiny, this wasn’t ironic and it didn’t refer to his stature. He hated it but he put up with it because if he didn’t it would mean he not only had a small dick but also no balls, which would have been worse.

And anyway, he had a secret that I knew because one of his women shared. This was, his dick might be small but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what to do with his tongue and fingers. The way it was described, he made up for it in a big way.

I didn’t delay in sharing what the fuck to Live.

“Serena was worked over tonight. Client paid for the hotel in cash, gave a fake name and a stolen credit card. Right now I’m standing in his living room with Rhash and it’s empty. By empty I mean there’s no furniture and there’s a for sale sign in the yard.”

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Baby, it’s late. What the hell?” I heard in the background and knew this was Live’s woman, Amy. She sounded sleepy and snippy. I’d never heard her sounding sleepy. I frequently heard her sounding snippy.

Incidentally, she was not one of the guys’ women that I liked unreservedly or at all. She was a ball buster. I didn’t like women like her who happily accepted the dresses, shoes, jewelry and free cover to get into Knight’s club, Slade, from her man. Amy didn’t have any problems bitching about everything under the sun, including the fact Live had to work for the money it took to buy her dresses, shoes and jewelry.

“Yeah, fuck,” I agreed, ignoring Amy which was my usual tactic for dealing with her. “You do the full check?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah, I did. ‘Course I did,” Live told me, insulted. “There was furniture there when I checked him out, all through the house. There sure as fuck wasn’t a for sale sign in the yard.”

“Baby, what… the… hell?” Amy snapped sounding less sleepy but definitely more snippy.

“Give me a minute, darlin’,” Live replied to Amy then to me, “How bad’s Serena?”

“Fat lip, swollen eye, could be worse but that isn’t the point,” I answered.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

I heard Rhash’s phone snap closed so my eyes went to him through the dark.

“Knight says meeting. Now. Slade. Get his ass in there, Sylvie,” he rumbled then didn’t wait for me to respond. He stalked to the door.

I went back to the phone. “You hear that?”

“On my way,” Live muttered.

“What?” I heard Amy ask, her voice going shrill. “Now?”

“Later,” I said into the phone then snapped it shut quickly in a successful effort to avoid hearing Live get his balls busted. I hoped she excelled at giving head or tasted like pure honey to be worth that shit.

I followed Rhash out the backdoor. We’d picked the lock and I made certain it was secure again before I moved around the house. As I approached my car, I watched Rhash give me a finger flick through the window as he drove away in his black Nissan Z.

I hit the sidewalk and was moving around the hood of my Corvette when I noted the big Ford Expedition motoring down the street the opposite direction from Rhash. My eyes locked on it, taking in the Arizona plates then moving up to the cab.

At the front of the hood of my Corvette, I stopped dead and my chest depressed like a boulder had landed on it.

The Expedition drove past, the driver not even glancing my way and my head turned, following it.

No fucking way.

No fucking way.

I’d seen him, this was true. I’d seen him dozens of times in the last sixteen years. Or, I had convinced myself I had.

But I hadn’t.

He was gone.

There was no way after sixteen years he’d make his way from Kentucky to a street in Denver at after four o’clock in the morning at the same time I was on that street.

No way.

There was a time when I wanted it. I saw him everywhere, that was how much I wanted it. I wanted to see him again so he could take me away like he promised. Time passed and my life that had been swirling flushed down the toilet and I wanted to see him again so I could scream in his face, kick him, beat him, share exactly what his betrayal meant to my heart and my life. How, when he left, a shit life that was only ever good when I was breathing his air turned even more shit.

That time was not now. I was over it. I’d gotten out, moved on, lived my own life how I wanted to live it, not how someone forced me to live it. It wasn’t easy. It was fucking hard. It nearly ended me.

But I did it and I was here. I liked my life.

And I didn’t look back.

Not ever.

Not fucking ever.

So that wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. It was my mind playing tricks on me.

Not the first time and, the way he fucked me over, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

I’d learned to live with it.

I came unstuck, rounded my girl, got in, started her up and headed to Slade.

I screeched to a halt in my driveway, threw open the door, angled out, slammed the door and ran across my yard to my neighbor’s.

Shit, I was five minutes late. And five minutes for Charlene was five minutes too many.

I knocked loud twice on her front door then turned the knob and walked in.

“I’m here! I’m here!” I shouted over what sounded like pandemonium. “I had work. Sorry I’m late.”

He came around and slammed into my legs.

“Sylvie! Sylvie! Sylvie!” Adam cried. “Toads are slimy!”

Then he pounded a fist hard into my thigh and raced away.

I followed him, walking from the entry into the living room, rounding through the dining room before I hit the kitchen which was bedlam.

Charlene was in a robe looking harassed. Adam was bumping repeatedly into the side of the counter. Theo was in his high chair, slamming his fists into the tray. Leslie was sitting in her booster seat, slamming her feet into the chair.

I went to Adam and gently led him away from the cabinets to the kitchen table, my eyes on Charlene.

“Sorry, I should have called,” I said quietly. “Something went down. I got here as soon as I could. You go shower. I’ve got this.”

Her eyes were brimming with tears, none of which had flowed over yet. That would happen in the shower. She’d go to work with puffy, red eyes again and hope they didn’t notice she was strung out emotionally and physically.

“Thanks, Sylvie,” she whispered before she took off and thus began the morning ritual.

“Cocoa Puffs!” Leslie shouted, still banging her feet into the chair.

“Right, Cocoa Puffs,” I agreed. “And you’ll get them if you stop making so much noise. Adam, up,” I ordered, guiding him carefully into his chair then I got down to business.

I’d lived next to Charlene since I bought my house four years ago. Six weeks ago, her husband Dan took off on her. They went to bed and when she woke up, he was gone and so were most of his clothes, the flat screen TV they’d just bought, the string of pearls he’d given her two anniversaries before and, upon inspection, half their checking and savings accounts.

He hadn’t cleaned her out. He’d left everything else.

He’d also left her with Adam, who was six and had Down syndrome, Leslie, who was three and Theo who was one and a half. He also left her a mortgage, daycare and special schools bills she couldn’t afford on her salary. She had a job as a bank teller and family that all lived in New Mexico.

She was fucked financially, heartbroken and barely holding it together.

She said, over wine that faded into tequila and tears, that she had no idea Dan was over it. Money wasn’t great, they were always struggling but they had a good family and lots of love.

It was my opinion that many women lived in denial and Charlene was one of them. Her husband’s eyes followed my ass enough that she couldn’t miss it; she just chose to ignore it. Dan would often stare off into space as if he was imagining himself somewhere else, not there. And for the last year, the rare times I was home to notice it, he got home from work later and later.

She was pretty clueless, her being surprised by Dan’s defection was proof of this fact, but she was a fun drunk, loved her kids and her husband and she always took care of my cat when I went to Vegas or hit a beach. She made me a huge tin of Christmas cookies and brought it over with eggnog every year for Christmas. She also made me a massive birthday cake and brought it over with a premium bottle of bourbon or tequila.

Further, she was open and friendly. She told me she only ever wanted the simple life. A husband, a home, kids. She knew Adam was Down’s before he was born and she didn’t care. Didn’t give it a second thought. Before Dan left, she was happy as a clam. Adam’s special needs didn’t seem to touch their lives. He was high functioning but he still needed more care and attention. She never complained.

“Pure joy,” she told me on a smile. “Wake up to it, go to bed with it and it comes from Adam. How lucky can I get?”

She meant that shit. That was Charlene.

And that was probably why, last year on the fifteenth anniversary of it happening, when she brought over birthday cake and bourbon, I got sauced with her and laid it out.

All of it.

Everything about me.

Then I let it out, bawling like an idiot for the first time in years, clutching onto her like I could fuse onto her healthy, happy family cheerfulness.

I could count my friends on two hands.

But I could count those I was tight with on two fingers.

Knight and Charlene.

The only two people who knew everything about me.

So when Dan took off on Charlene, I stepped in. Every morning I came over and while Charlene got ready for work, I got the kids breakfast, got them dressed and helped Charlene get them in the car so she could get them to their different schools and daycare. If I was around in the evenings, I lent a hand then hung to give her some company. I’d also corralled Rhash’s woman Vivica and Knight’s woman Anya into helping her out a couple of times, looking after the kids so I could take Charlene out to get her hammered and forget her husband was a dickhead and that life could be fun.

Dan had not contacted her, not once in six weeks. My guess, he was wind. She’d never hear from him again. I’d offered to track his ass down so, at the very least, she could divorce it and hang a massive child support payment around his rat bastard neck but she refused.

She was certain he’d see the error of his ways and come back, tail between his legs.

I was certain he was banging as much tail as he could find in an effort to turn his thoughts from the fact he was a total fucking douchebag and he’d never come home to a lifetime of shit he was not man enough to deal with. Not to mention guilt over the fact that he’d given up and fucked over a decent, kind, good woman who loved him. Charlene wouldn’t serve up that guilt. But he’d feel it. And he’d do all in his power to avoid it.

Thus I’d already done a few searches and made a few calls. If he turned up, I’d be all over his ass whether Charlene said yes or not.

She showered and got ready for work. I fed the kids, cleaned them up and got them dressed. This was not an easy task but I was not a Mom who needed to be at work on time at the same time worrying about how I was going to pay bills so I had nothing on my mind but them and making it fun, which I did.

When Charlene was ready, we corralled them and got them out to her sedan.

“Work?” she asked me why I was late as she was strapping Theo in his car seat.

“Yeah,” I answered, strapping Adam into his.

Her eyes found mine over the roof of the car and I saw her brows go up. “Bad?”

“Not good,” I told her.

She pressed her lips together. She knew my history, she knew my work. She didn’t agree with it but she was a good friend, she kept her mouth shut. Or, at least, she didn’t lecture me too often, just enough for me to get her and for her not to be that annoying.

I leaned in and blew a raspberry on Adam’s neck.

He giggled and shoved at me, shouting, “Sylvie! Toads are slimy! Raspberries too!”

I grinned at him and looked into the backseat to check that Leslie was secure. Then I tossed a smile at Adam who smiled back so huge I was sure I could see all his teeth.

Yeah. Pure joy. The world would be a poorer place without Adam in it.

Or, at least, mine would.

I leaned in, touched my forehead to his, pulled back and slammed the door.

I rounded the hood of her car on my way home when Charlene said what she always said.

“Thanks, honey.”

My eyes caught hers as I passed her.

“You, me, them until the me in that equation isn’t needed anymore. Know it.”

I watched her pull in a breath to control the tears.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Such a girl,” and kept walking.

“You are too, you know!” she shouted at my back as I sauntered across her yard toward my house.

I lifted a hand and flicked out two fingers.

“And by the way, you keep walking through my yard, you’re gonna wear my grass down to dirt!” she kept shouting.

“Such a girl!” I shouted back, not bothering to turn. “Bitch, bitch, bitch.”

“Whatever,” she yelled and I grinned.

I hit my front door, pulled out my keys and watched as they drove away, both Leslie and Adam waving at me through their windows.

I waved back and let myself in, so focused on Charlene and her kids, so exhausted from zero sleep, mind so consumed by what Knight shared in the meeting that I missed something I normally would never miss.

The black Expedition parked right across the street from my house.

I locked the door behind me and walked directly to my bedroom. When I hit the door, Gun, who was curled in a ball pressed at the bottom edge of my pillow, looked up at me.

I was wrong earlier. I could count those I was tight with on three fingers.

Knight, Charlene and my cat, Gunsmoke.

She was white with a round head, kind of flat-ish ears and her fur was unbelievably thick. She looked like a big fat cat but she wasn’t. She just had a shit ton of short, thick fur. It also had a shimmer of gray at the very ends with vague gray rings on her tail. She was talkative. She was loving. She was superior. And she liked me and only me.

Not true, she adored Adam.

But she couldn’t bear Leslie and especially Theo. She might let them in when they weren’t so loud and manically active. Now it was just me and Adam, who was also full of exuberance and energy but not around Gun. He was quiet and gentle with Gun and she showed her appreciation.

She watched me walk in, sit my ass on the side of the bed and pull off my boots and socks. She then scooted away when I got up, turned toward the bed, fell forward and did a face plant in it.

And as I closed my eyes, sleep claiming me, I felt her curl up in the dent of my waist.

I knew she was probably hungry. It was time for breakfast.

But she was my Gun. She knew me. She had my back.

She’d wait.