Creed

Chapter Three Pretty Cat

Present day…

I opened my eyes and felt it.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

Someone was in the room with me and that someone was not Gun.

I rolled quickly over the bed, angling my hips so I didn’t roll right over Gun as my hand went to the weapon still holstered on my belt at the small of my back.

I fell over the side of the bed, getting my feet under me and coming up in a crouch immediately, hands up, arms resting on the bed, gun pointed across the room.

I saw him and froze solid.

No fucking way.

No fucking way.

Jesus, I was dreaming.

Fuck, I had to be dreaming.

His eyes on me, he was unarmed, his back to the wall, one knee bent, the sole of his boot also to the wall, arms crossed on his chest, he held my gaze steady, direct, intense and whispered, “Sylvie.”

At the sound of my name coming from his lips, raw washed through me, a feeling I last felt drunk on my couch in Charlene’s arms on my birthday last year.

A feeling I’d felt time and again before I learned how not to feel it anymore.

A feeling that threatened to shred me now.

A feeling that with lots of practice I buried.

“Tucker Creed?” I asked.

His arms came uncrossed only so he could lift his hands in the air which I was guessing was his confirmation that he was, indeed, Tucker Creed. My first love, my protector, my savior.

My betrayer.

He crossed his arms again and requested, “You wanna stop aiming your weapon at me?”

Actually, no. I didn’t. I wanted to keep aiming my gun at him and I might also want to pull the trigger.

I was not wrong last night. That was him in the Expedition.

And I knew it was him watching me at the hotel. It was also his eyes I felt for the last month.

I knew it.

I fucking knew it.

And I didn’t get it.

Even though I preferred to aim my gun at him, I still stood. As I did I reached behind me to re-holster my gun at the same time keeping my eyes on him and asking, “What the fuck?”

He looked to the bed then back to me before he shared, “Pretty cat.”

I looked to the bed to see Gun sitting on her ass, tail sweeping the covers, curious eyes on Tucker Creed. It was the first time since I got her that I lamented my choice of cat over Rottweiler.

I looked back to Creed and when I did it hit me that this fucking asshole had accepted all I had to give him, everything that was me, he took it then took off and left me to the wolves and pretty much the first thing he said to me was I had a pretty cat.

“Are you shitting me?” I asked.

His face changed and his mouth moved.

“We gotta talk.”

We had to talk?

Sixteen years, out-of-the-blue he’s in my bedroom and he tells me I have a pretty cat and we had to talk.

Oh yeah, he was totally fucking shitting me.

I studied him.

The last time I saw him he was twenty-three. Now, he was thirty-nine. One look and I saw either life had not been kind or it had been full of adventure of the dangerous variety.

He’d always been tall, even as a little kid. Back in the day, when he was mine, or I thought he was mine, I’d loved that. He grew to be six foot one. He towered over me. He had broad shoulders, a wide chest, narrow hips, thick thighs. I loved that too. The power of his body. Growing up with him, watching him hone it and learn how to use it.

He’d had a rough life, like I did, since he was born. So rough, we used to discuss in a way that was a joke but also wasn’t but it was a release which one of us had it rougher. We never came to a conclusion. He’d learned to take care of himself. I’d got him early so I learned he’d take care of me. Being big, learning fast, he was good at both, taking care of himself and me.

Or, I thought that too.

In the end, I’d been wrong.

Now, he was still tall but he was broader, wider, he’d bulked out and not a little bit. He wasn’t a behemoth but one look at him, simply his size would make some men ill-at-ease and most would leave a wide berth.

But there was more.

His skin was tanned, leathery, creases fanned from the sides of his eyes worn there not through smiling. There were more at the sides of his mouth, along his forehead.

He had a scar that scored through his upper lip, mid right side. He had another one that slashed over his cheekbone, up his temple and disappeared into his hair but you could see it didn’t end there. This was because his brown hair was white in a thin stripe along the side of his head leading from the scar at his temple and stopping where his skull curved to the back. It wasn’t gray with age. In fact, he had no gray in his hair even at his age. Someone had got him good with a knife, meant harm and got interrupted in their endeavor of attempting to kill him.

No, life had not been kind to Tucker Creed.

I didn’t know what to think of this. The only thought that came to mind was good.

He had on a plaid shirt in light blues, grays and greens mixed with white over a white t-shirt, faded jeans and light brown boots that had an almost yellowish tinge to the suede. His clothes were clean, they hung on him well but they were not new or fashionable. He bought them for the purposes of covering his body, comfort and nothing else.

His hair was a mess and I felt a sting looking at it because it always was a mess, even back in the day. He rarely got it cut, it hung well past his collar and was always flopping in his eyes. That was no different now, except it wasn’t flopping in his eyes. Though I knew, if he bent his neck forward even a fraction of an inch, it would.

Although he wore the years that passed from top to toe, his eyes had not changed. Sky blue, bright, the color so stark in his tan, rugged face that it seemed to glimmer.

Eyes I saw in my dreams, even now, if I admitted it to myself.

Eyes I saw in my head on the rare occasion I let my mind wander and it went there, to the glory days tarnished with betrayal.

Eyes that I remembered trusting as he looked down at me and moved inside me. The first man I took and when I did I was sure he’d be the last.

He was not.

Not by a long shot.

“Were they going for the eye?” I asked, dipping my head toward his, my eyes on the scar on his cheekbone and I noted his entire body gave a weird jolt.

Then he answered, “Brain but their path was through the eye.”

My gaze moved from his scar to his. “You jerked.”

“I like my brain as it is.”

“Good call,” I noted.

He began to push from the wall. “Sylvie –”

Oh no. I didn’t know why he was here. What I did know was that we were not going to do this.

The time to do this was sixteen years ago.

The time we would never fucking do this was now.

I began to move around the bed. “Got a cat to feed, a shower to take and shit to do. What I don’t got is time to talk.”

Especially not with you, I finished but only in my head.

“Sebring’s meeting is at two and before that, we gotta talk.”

Fuck.

Fuck!

I stopped dead and looked at him. “What?”

I asked the question even though I knew the answer.

Last night, Knight had told Rhash and me he’d heard rumblings of trouble. A takeover.

The work I did for Knight was rarely trouble. It was legwork, checks on clients and girls. Providing security, presence, escorting girls to and from appointments. Sometimes stuff went down in his club and he needed a team to take care of. Shit happened and did, if someone was stupid enough to try it or thought they could pay or bully the girls into keeping their mouths shut after they’d misused them. But usually work for Knight was a mundane payday.

The meeting that included the boys had mostly been Knight wanting to know how the shit with Serena got so fucked. Live had reported he’d done the routine and didn’t cut corners. Knight had interrogated the rest of the team about all new clients and their background checks.

After that, he’d dismissed everyone but Rhash and me and shared that he had a gut feeling Serena was the beginning. He’d had someone come to him on the hush-hush saying they were hearing something was brewing. An old nemesis was back in town, Knight had fucked him over years ago and he was setting up to fuck back. Knight’s brother was also back in town and although he seemed to be towing the family line, they’d had issues and Nick, Knight’s brother, used to work for Knight. He knew the operation and Knight wouldn’t put it past him to sell information.

Knight was also concerned about a mole.

That meant, he’d told us, he’d brought in outside talent. Someone objective. Someone not on the team.

Someone Knight wanted me to partner with to investigate Knight’s operation and assess the danger, inside and out, and neutralize it if we found something while Rhash kept an eye on business.

The outside talent Knight brought in was Tucker Creed.

“Talked with Sebring after your meeting earlier,” he stated, confirming what I knew. “He told me he told you. After that, I shared with him we had history and I was gonna have a word with you ‘cause if we’re gonna work together, we need to talk about that history.”

I stared at him, my brain moving fast.

I did what I did for Knight Sebring because I knew how it felt, to spread your legs for someone because you were forced to take him for whatever reason forcing you to do it. I had no Knight Sebring to protect me from his bullshit, his demands, his temper. I had no Rhash or Live or Tiny to swoop in and teach him a lesson on one of the numerous occasions he did something I did not like.

There was no denying Knight and his boys operated outside the bounds of law.

In my mind, there was also no denying what they did was providing a needed service.

Until I learned the hard way how to protect myself, I would have done anything for the kind of protection they provided the girls.

Now I provided that protection. I got paid for it. I broke the law to do it. I conspired to break the law, making it safe for them to do it. And I did not give one fuck.

This meant, if there was some asshole out there that wanted to take over Knight’s operation, I had to do what I had to do to stop it.

Even take a partner.

I was down with that.

Until now.

“We’re not working together,” I told him, moving out of the room and feeling him following me.

“He considered assigning this to you but you’re tight with his team, might not be able to be objective but more, Sebring doesn’t want you out there on your own,” Creed said to my back.

“He’s protective. He’ll get over it,” I said to the bathroom as I walked into it.

I went right to my toothbrush.

Creed stopped in the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb.

“Sebring strikes me as a man who likes things to go the way he wants ‘em to go,” Creed noted and he was not wrong.

“I’ll have a chat with him,” I muttered to the basin as I grabbed my toothbrush and turned on the faucet.

His voice changed, it was deep, there was roughness to it with an edge of smooth and that was also a change. It had been deep and smooth back in the day. Now that hint of rough said he smoked. It said he drank. It said he lived as jagged as his voice.

But when it came at me just then, there was a vein of soft that brought back the raw.

“Sylvie, we need to –”

I turned my head to him, toothpaste in hand and cut him off to declare, “I don’t do partners.”

“You did,” he returned immediately, his eyes watching me closely. “But he died.”

That sent raw through me again for two reasons.

One, because he was right. My partner died and he did it leaving a wife, a kid and one on the way. Stupid fuck enlisted. Enlisted when we were at fucking war. “Gonna do my bit,” he said. Fucking fucker got out of the Marines, set up a life where there was a possibility, not a probability, that people would shoot at him and then he went back to the probability, re-enlisting and got himself shot dead.

The other reason was because I knew Creed had checked me out and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like him knowing anything about me. I figured, Knight hired him, he was good at what he did.

So he knew.

Everything.

I turned back to the mirror and loaded up my toothbrush. “Yeah, I did. He died. Learned that lesson. Now I don’t do partners.”

“This shit is what Knight thinks it is, the ride’s gonna be bumpy. You need someone at your back,” he replied.

Maybe but it sure as hell would not be him.

Before shoving the toothbrush in my mouth, my eyes went to the mirror and I returned, “Need it, I got Knight or Rhash,” then I started brushing.

Creed appeared in the mirror behind me and my eyes went up to his in the mirror.

“He might have a mole. As far as his team’s concerned, it’s business as usual for both of them,” he told me something Knight explained last night. “Banks nor Sebring are available to you.”

I shrugged.

“Sylvie, I’ve already been workin’ this job a month. I know that team better than you do.”

That pissed me off enough to pull the brush out, spit out foam then catch his eyes in the mirror again. “No fucking way. You may think you do and they may have secrets they haven’t shared but no amount of digging you could do in a month tells you more than what I know working side by side with those guys for years. You’ve lived the life, Creed, it’s written all over you. You know that. You had something on one of them, Knight would already have that intel. So you don’t have shit.” After delivering that, I shoved the brush back in and kept at my teeth.

“You’re right,” he confirmed. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t something to get.”

I shrugged again.

“You know what hangs in the balance,” he stated and I held his eyes.

I knew but he told me anyway.

“Scenario one, Knight keeps business open and another girl gets it worse than Serena last night. He keeps it open, that shit escalates and girls get hurt. Scenario two, he shuts it down. Okay for him but if he can’t neutralize the threat in a timely manner that means, first, he’s gotta let boys go. He doesn’t need a team that big when there’s no girls to look after. Second, the girls are fucked. They got no jobs, they got no money then they look for alternate ways to get paid without a man or a five foot two powerhouse at their back. You know Sebring. He won’t put them in danger. He’ll shut down. That club turns over a mint, he’ll survive. Those girls won’t.”

I stopped brushing, spit, rinsed and looked back to his eyes in the mirror as I shoved my brush in the holder. “So I’ll find the mole, if there is one, and I’ll track down the trouble and put it out of commission. You’ve been looking into me, Creed. You know what I’m capable of. This assignment is not outside my skill level.”

“Two working together is safer and shuts this shit down faster than one,” he shot back.

Unfortunately, this was true.

“Then I know a couple guys who I can work with,” I returned. “They’re local. They can hit the ground running. I’ll talk with Knight about them.”

“Again, I’ve had the job a month. I don’t have to hit the ground running, Sylvie. Right now, it’s you who’s catching up.”

Fuck.

Fuck!

Exactly how was this happening?

Exactly how in the fuck was I standing in my bathroom, brushing my teeth, Tucker Fucking Creed at my back after I hadn’t seen him for sixteen fucking years, talking to me about partnering on a job with him and not groveling or writhing in pain after I kicked his ass?

I knew how.

Because that was then but that was over and this was now.

This was now.

That was over.

“Fine,” I agreed and watched a weird flare in his eyes but I ignored that, turned to face him and kept talking. “Got shit to do. We’ll meet with Knight, after, you’ll catch me up.”

“No, now we gotta get shit outta the way so, as we work, it doesn’t get in the way.”

“No shit to get out of the way,” I replied and moved out from in front of him and deeper into the bathroom.

This got me another eye flare which wasn’t weird. It was annoyed.

“Sylvie –”

I shook my head. “I don’t just work for Knight, you know. I got things I gotta get done. It’s late. I don’t have a lot of time. You wanna help out, you can feed Gun on your way out.”

“I ride along on your shit, we talk before the meeting which means after we can get down to it.”

This was, for anyone other than Tucker Creed, an excellent suggestion.

Since it was Tucker Creed, I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. I work alone.” He opened his mouth to speak so I finished quickly, “Except for this gig for Knight, I work alone.”

He didn’t move.

I did, to put my hands to the hem of my shirt and I did this as I asked, “You not moving, does that mean you aren’t gonna help out and feed my cat?”

“I know,” he whispered and for the first time in a long time I had to hold back a flinch.

But I managed it and kept the mask in place.

“No shit?” I asked.

“We need to talk, Sylvie.” He leaned forward an inch. “He told me –”

Oh no.

Fuck no.

I whipped my shirt off and tossed it aside. Creed stopped speaking abruptly and his eyes dropped to my torso as my hands moved to my belt.

“Learn this about me, partner, and I suggest you do it now,” I told him. “I do not go back. Eyes ahead. Feet moving forward. I don’t ever fucking go back. I don’t talk about it. I don’t think about it.” I undid the button on my jeans and pulled the zip down. “You were in my life a long time ago. I’ve lived two full lifetimes since then, each entirely different. I like the one I’m in now. I’m not going back to the ones before. I didn’t like them as much.”

His eyes shot back to mine and his lips whispered, “Sylvie –”

It was my turn to lean in an inch. “Deal breaker. You’re all fired up to discuss that shit, this is done. I’ll tell Knight to find you another partner. He’ll understand. We’re tight. He’ll give me that and not one thing will change between us. You keep your mouth shut about that shit, eyes forward, feet moving ahead, mind on the job, we’ll be fine.”

His gaze moved over my face and it took its time.

Then he said quietly, “You’re serious.”

“Serious as shit,” I replied immediately then pulled down my jeans.

I stepped out of them and straightened, hands to my panties.

“You gonna hang while I shower?” I asked on a tilt of my head.

His eyes were locked to mine. “I’m ride-along with you,” he declared.

“Man, I work alone.”

“Not anymore.”

I took my fingers out of the waistband of my panties and planted my hands on my hips. “Deal is, Knight’s job and only Knight’s job.”

“Deal is, we’re partners. We learn to work together so we don’t get dead workin’ together. That means we take every opportunity to work together. Sebring’s footin’ the bill and you got yourself extra hands, eyes and brains on your other jobs that have shit to do with him. Honest to God, you gonna turn your back on that?”

“Yes,” I returned instantly.

“Then that tells me that hard shell with sharp edges you grew isn’t about life but about protecting yourself,” he shot back. “Which means you won’t let me in because of the shit we share. That means it’s between us. And that means, we need to take each other’s back, with that shit between us, we’re fucked. And that… partner, means, if that shit’s between us, you aren’t lookin’ forward. That’s bullshit. You got your eyes trained way the fuck back.”

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

I held his gaze.

Then I told him, “Full can. Wet food. Cat bowls in the cupboard by the stove. She likes a clean one every day. And, by the way, I get out of the shower, before we hit the road, toast would be good. Don’t skimp on the butter and ignore the grape jelly. The kids eat that. I like orange marmalade and don’t skimp on that either.”

His head jerked to the side. “The kids?”

“Don’t fuck with me, partner, you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“Adam, Leslie and Theo. Neighbor’s kids,” he stated immediately. “Then there’s Josh and Dora, your dead partner’s kids.”

Oh yeah. He’d looked into me but he was still fishing.

I didn’t know what to make of that so I didn’t make anything of it.

“You get more visitors than the Pope,” he remarked.

Yeah, he’d looked into me.

My eyes went down to see Gun slink into the room, rubbing her fluffy side against Creed’s jeans-covered ankle.

Damn cat. Figured. She only liked me and Adam and now, apparently, Creed. She didn’t give the side-rub to anyone she didn’t like.

Shit.

I got rid of this asshole, me and my cat were having a chat.

I looked back up at Creed.

“Cat’s hungry,” I reminded him then I put my hands in my panties and yanked them down.

By the time I straightened, Creed was gone and I just caught Gun’s hind end rounding the door.

I didn’t bother closing the bathroom door to take my shower. He’d seen it before. It’d been years but he’d seen it. So had a number of other men.

Anyway, if he had a mind to my privacy, he’d keep well away and I needed that right about then.

Before I stepped in, I shouted, “Don’t forget the coffee! Strong!”

“Strong!” Tucker Fucking Creed shouted back.

Tucker Fucking Creed making coffee in my kitchen.

Jesus.

I got in the shower and kept it buried where it should be. No tequila. No bourbon. Nothing would work it out.

The job would get done then we would be done.

Then he would be gone and I would move on.

Again.

We stood in my front yard, me in a tight, ribbed, grass green tank, low rider jeans, wide brown belt, gun at the back and brown cowboy boots with a piece of toast in one hand, a travel mug of coffee in the other, Creed carrying another one of my mugs.

My mug in Creed’s long-fingered, veined hand with the stark, pale nicks of scars around his knuckles. Strong hands. Capable hands. Experienced hands.

Christ.

“Uh… no,” I told him. “I drive. You ride.”

“No offense, Sylvie, but you drive like a lunatic and the interior of your car was made for people like you, small who like to make a lot of noise. I’m not folding into that death trap. I drive. You ride.”

I stared at him. “That is not gonna happen.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Not me that’s got shit to do,” he reminded me.

Fuck!

“Seein’ as you’re part Grandpa, I’ll check my foot,” I allowed.

“And you’ll stop at stop signs.”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“That would be, come to a complete halt.”

Fuck!

“God granted me peripheral vision, Creed. I can see someone coming. I’ll slow and roll through like normal. You’ll be fine.”

“Jesus, Sylvie, the slow and roll doesn’t work. A stop sign is put up for a reason.”

I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “When did you get a stick planted up your ass?”

He cocked his head to the side and regarded me closely. “We talkin’ about our pasts now?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Okay, I’ll stop at stop signs,” I gave in.

“And you won’t turn on red if there’s a sign that says you can’t turn on red,” he kept pushing.

He so totally followed me.

Often.

Shit.

My stare turned to a glare, I bit off a huge chunk of buttery, marmalade coated toast and said sharply through it, “Fine.”

“Speed limit, as in, you’ll go the.”

I chewed, swallowed and asked through slitted eyes, “Jesus, are you a Grandpa?”

“Daughter’s twelve, son’s ten so no, not yet, thank fuck.”

I didn’t even blink. It cost me but I didn’t even blink.

Fuck, he had kids.

Fuck, that killed.

“Ten miles over,” I offered.

“Five miles,” he countered.

“Seven.”

He grinned and I didn’t blink again but that killed too. With me, he used to grin a lot, smile a lot, laugh a lot. Even so, each one was precious. He’d been beautiful. All of those transformed his features so he was magnificent.

Age and scars hadn’t changed that. Not even a little bit. He still had great, even, strong white teeth. Fantastic lips. Strong, expressive features.

Magnificent.

“Deal,” he grunted and moved to my girl.

I moved to her too and juggled my breakfast (even though it was past noon) in order to get in. With the coffee between my thighs and the toast between my teeth, I started her up and pulled out maybe a hair faster than was needed.

That said, that was how I usually pulled out.

“Jesus,” Creed muttered.

I bit back a smile, changed gears, shot forward on a screech of tires then took a bite out of my toast and drove one handed.

“Right, catch me up,” I ordered.

“You first,” he replied.

I glanced to the side.

Shit, Tucker Creed was sitting beside me in my car.

Shit!

I buried that and asked, “Me first, what?”

“You first. I’m ride-along, maybe it would be good to know what I’m ridin’ into.”

“Hit The Retreat. Check in at the office. If there’s time, check in on Serena. After that, Knight,” I told him.

“You still on The Retreat job?” he asked, exposing just how much he’d looked into me which meant just how often he’d followed me.

I’d never tagged a tail.

Damn.

“Man, I’m always on The Retreat job,” I informed him. “Every third asshole who cheats on his wife takes his bitch to The Retreat. My ass is in the parking lot there so often, management suggested they paint my name in a parking spot so it’ll be reserved.”

“Not good for business, a PI’s name in a parking spot,” Creed muttered.

“That’s why I declined. That’s me, looking out for the local adult resort.”

I heard his chuckle and it was different than I remembered too. Not just deep and smooth, the rough was in it. It made it sexier. A lot fucking sexier.

Shit.

“You ever been there?” he asked.

“Where?” I asked back.

“The Retreat,” he answered.

“Partner, were you talking in your sleep thirty seconds ago?”

“I meant as a client, not an investigator.”

Oh yeah, I had. Rubber mattresses. Fake silk sheets. Velvet comforters. Mirrors on the ceiling. Hot tubs in every room. “Environment chambers” where you could fuck in a gentle rain, breeze or both. Swings. Love machines. Steam rooms. Twelve channels of porn. Rooms available at matinee rates.

I’d so totally been there.

“So we are talking about our pasts?” I asked and he was silent. “Advice,” I went on. “You feel like an adventure, call the top in the environment chamber. Seems like it’d be awesome but that water hitting your face all the time is distracting.”

That got more silence, which worked for me because it meant he shut up.

It stopped working for me when it went on a long time. He had a month of a possible hostile takeover of Knight’s business to catch me up on and he couldn’t do it in sign language when my eyes were on the road. This was because I couldn’t see his hands and I didn’t know sign language.

I glanced his way again, mouth open to say something then I glanced straight ahead and shut my mouth.

I did this because his stubbled jaw was tight and his head was turned slightly to look out the side window.

Unhappy thoughts. Unhappy thoughts I did not give one shit about.

“Rule,” I said quietly into the car. “You don’t wanna know, don’t ask.”

“Deal,” he muttered immediately and that killed too.

I knew why. For some reason, it fucked him up that I’d had experience of The Retreat. Why this would be, I did not know. He disappeared on me and he’d done it nearly sixteen freaking years ago. He couldn’t think I’d been holding out, pining for him all that time. He’d looked into me, he knew I didn’t. At first, I didn’t have a choice. Then, I did and I sure as fuck took advantage of it.

I wasn’t going to think about that either.

“You wanna fill me in on what you’ve learned for the last month?” I asked as I kept moving us toward The Retreat.

“Yeah,” Creed answered. “You know Drake Nair?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“You know who he is to Knight?”

“Been in Denver awhile, Creed, and almost all that time, I’ve known Knight.”

“So you know Knight stole his stable and his club right out from under him.”

“Yup,” I repeated.

“And you know he’s back in town.”

“Didn’t until last night but yeah, Knight filled Rhash and me in. Rhash already knew. He flew under my radar. Nair’s half asshole, half moron and since most people can’t think very well with their ass, even though they try, he’s not much of a threat so can’t say I pay a lot of attention to him.”

“Asshole with money gets other people to think for him,” Creed replied as I took a turn onto Colfax.

“This is true,” I muttered before switching gears and shoving the last bite of toast in my mouth.

“Been watchin’, Nick hasn’t got near him. Nick doesn’t keep good company, though. He’s not doin’ blow all the time now but he doesn’t have great friends. Been too busy and, without a partner, only had so much time, couldn’t make a connection. That doesn’t mean the connection between Nick and Nair isn’t there.”

“Right,” I said through a full mouth then finished chewing and swallowing before I asked, “Now tell me what else has kept you busy.”

“Makin’ sure you and Rhashan Banks are clean.”

My head whipped to the side and I stared two full seconds before I looked back at the road feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

I thought he’d looked into me because that was what I’d do. I had a prospective partner pinned to me, I’d know him inside and out before I got anywhere near the job.

I didn’t think for one second Knight set him on me.

Or Rhash.

“Knight set you on Rhash and me?”

“Knight said it was a waste of time. I investigated you and Rhashan. Shit like this, no stone unturned. He’s blinded by history and loyalty. He hired me because I’m not.”

“Well, just to confirm,” my voice was barbed, “neither of us would fuck Knight. Ever.”

“Any way that could be?” he asked and I glanced at him again before looking at the road.

“Don’t wanna know, partner, don’t ask,” I said quietly and felt his eyes on me.

“This shit, I need to know. He’s deep with his woman. You two got history I haven’t learned, affects everything, including us working together. You two hook up?”

“No,” I replied.

“Ever?” he asked.

“No,” I repeated.

“Wanted it?” he pushed. “Either one of you.”

“Yeah, absolutely. We discussed it, found we weren’t compatible but that was years ago, one night we both had too much to drink. The other part of that incompatibility is that, you fuck up what we got with sex, it’ll never be the same and what we got is worth never fucking up. You with me?”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Then I’ll make sure you’re totally with me. I’m tight with Anya too. We’re solid. She has no reason to know Knight and I even discussed that shit, even one night when we were getting hammered and letting it all hang out. She doesn’t need that thought in her head. He’s not deep with her, Creed, she’s his life. Their daughter is his life. His family is the most precious thing to him, a man who’s got everything so he’s also got a lot to choose from and his two girls are his choice. Do not fuck that and do not put me in the position where I’m even a little responsible for fucking that.”

“She the jealous type?” he asked.

“Don’t know and seriously do not want to find out. There’s even the barest possibility of losing that, Knight will lose me. I got two people who mean something to me, Creed, and he’s one of them. You take half of my world away from me, for sixteen years, you were a memory for me and that’s what I’ll make you for your kids too, except you’ll never stroll back into their bedrooms while they’re sleeping. You still with me?”

He was silent a beat before, “Two people in your life who mean something to you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Banks?”

“He’s not the other one. We’re tight but not that tight.” He was silent again and this lasted more than a beat so I prompted, “Did you get me?”

“I got you, Sylvie,” he answered quietly.

I flipped the left turn signal on, slowed, stopped, waiting for my opening and pulled into the parking lot of The Retreat. I found my spot and reversed expertly in it. I switched off the ignition then I reached behind Creed’s seat to grab my camera. I rested it on my thigh, grabbed my coffee, threw back a slug, returned it then yanked out my cell, found the number and hit go.

It rang twice in my ear before I heard, “You’re killin’ me.”

I grinned into the phone as I stared at the building. “C’mon, buddy, what would you do without my incentives?”

“They find out I’m giving you info, they’ll find other places for their rendezvous.”

“There are no other places in Denver who rent for an afternoon and have rubber mattresses, Clyde,” I reminded him then continued. “Looking for a guy, five ten, salt and pepper, glasses, paunch, suit, drives a Chevy mini-van.”

“No mini-van,” Clyde stated.

“He been in before?”

“Fuck,” Clyde muttered.

He had.

“Wednesday’s his day, yeah?” I asked.

“Fuck,” Clyde muttered.

“Crisp bill, Clyde.”

“They usually get here around one.”

I looked at my watch. Five minutes.

“Right,” I said into the phone. “I’ll be in the office with your money after they check in and get to their room.”

“Fuck. You’re killin’ me.” Clyde was still muttering.

“They ever quit coming?” I asked.

He didn’t answer my question because they didn’t. They always kept coming in more ways than one.

Instead, he said, “See you in ten minutes.”

I grinned again and flipped my phone shut.

“Clyde the day clerk?” Creed asked as I shoved my phone back in my back pocket, grabbed my coffee and the camera. I took a sip of it as I switched the camera on.

“Yup,” I answered as I shoved the coffee back between my thighs then I looked to him. “So, the last month, Drake Nair on radar but nothing, Nick Sebring on radar but nothing and you ascertained that Rhash and I would never fuck Knight. You get anything else?”

“Lively did the full check on your girl’s client last night,” he replied. “I followed him through it even though he didn’t know it. When you hit that house last night, I was as surprised to see the for sale sign in the yard as you were.”

This was good to know.

“So Live isn’t falling down on the job,” I surmised.

“That’s still up for debate. I just know none of the team has deposited anything unusual in their accounts. They’ve also not purchased anything unusual, high ticket items or even medium range toys. Half-assed tails, they aren’t off the beaten path or normal routines. Phone records show nothin’ either. So if there’s a mole, he’s playin’ it smart and that means we dig deep.”

“There’s no mole,” I told him firmly.

“We still gotta look, Sylvie,” he returned, his eyes holding mine.

“Yeah, and that sucks for me because these are my boys. If they ever find out I did this shit, I’m a rat. They’ll get over it, the loyalty they have to Knight but it’ll take a while and I may never have their trust like I’ve got it now.”

“But you’ll do that for Knight.”

I nodded. “I’ll do it for Knight.”

He kept his eyes locked with mine as he said softly, “And the girls.”

I nodded again and didn’t speak softly when I agreed, “And the girls.”

He didn’t look away and he didn’t speak for long moments. I knew what he was thinking as he looked at me.

He knew why I’d risk a rap sheet for those girls.

Then he spoke.

“New deal.”

I rolled my eyes and when I stopped rolling them, I stated, “Jesus, partner, I can’t keep up.”

He didn’t reply to my comment.

Instead, he said, “I work the team. You work Nick and Nair.”

I didn’t suck in breath but I held it because that was cool. Way cool.

Creed kept talking. “We stay tight, meet often, talk often, debrief and you need me, I’m there. I need you, you come when I call. But I look into the boys. That way, you’re not a rat. If they find out you worked this, they’ll find out you didn’t work them. Even if I turn up nothin’, I’ll undoubtedly turn up somethin’. Everyone has secrets. I uncover them and they don’t pertain to this investigation, you’re none the wiser. They haven’t shared with you, when this is over, they’ll know you don’t know. They can trust you got nothin’ on them. They can trust you didn’t turn traitor. Keeps you solid with the team.”

Yeah, that was cool and that was huge because it stated firmly he was cool. He got it. He got the team. He got the importance of the team. And he got me.

“Deal,” I whispered.

His eyes moved over my face then over my shoulder and he muttered, “Mini-van.”

I looked over my shoulder and watched the mini-van drive into the lot and past my car. It parked two spots down. My target got out the driver’s side door as a Nissan sedan drove in and passed my ‘Vette to park just beyond the mini-van. My target waited for his piece and, thinking quickly, I moved my travel mug to the floor.

When they began walking toward reception, they’d have to walk in front of my car.

This meant they might see us and wonder why we were sitting in the car and not going at it on a rubber mattress covered in fake silk sheets, all this accessible only feet away.

Therefore, my hand shot out tagging Creed around the neck. I angled across the emergency brake, pulling him sharply to me and crushed my mouth to his.

One second elapsed before two strong arms curled around me, tightened and hauled me across the brake, twisting me so my back was to his hard thighs and Creed hunched over me, his mouth pressing hard against mine. One of my arms angled across his back, the fingers of my other hand drove into his hair and curled, fisting the thick softness in my hand.

Ten more seconds elapsed and my heart was thundering in my chest so hard I could feel it in my throat when his head came up.

I forced myself to recover quickly and quip, “Way to sell it, partner.”

He grinned down at me, my heart squeezed at seeing it so damned close and he replied on a murmur, “Gonna do it, go big.”

“We share that motto,” I informed him.

“Good to know,” he returned.

“I gotta position. Got photos to take,” I reminded him seeing as he wasn’t letting me go.

“New plan. You go in and pay off Clyde. I’ll take the camera, get in the room and get your client enough evidence to nail his balls to the wall. When I’m done, I’ll meet you at reception.”

“I’m all for nailing a lying, cheating asshole’s balls to the wall but usually shots of them entering the room work.”

“Shots of him entering something else would work better.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

But I could argue something else. “Man, you’re a mountain. No way you’re gonna get in one of those rooms and not be seen.”

“Trust me.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Absolutely, one hundred percent. He knew it and I knew it. We both knew the other knew it because both our bodies tensed so tight, I could feel with the slightest movement my tendons would snap and I sensed the same with him.

Still, I buried it. We had to work together. We had to partner up. Which meant I had to trust him.

This sucked but it was my experience that a lot of shit in life sucked. This was just the most recent.

So I forced myself to relax and said, “Right. Meet you in reception.”

He lifted up, taking me with him and twisting me in my seat. I retrieved the camera that fell to the floor at my feet as well as my travel mug. I handed him the camera and avoided his eyes trying not to look like I was avoiding his eyes.

He angled out his side.

I angled out mine.

He moved right.

I moved left toward reception.

Clyde rolled his eyes when I entered.

“Please, a hundred dollars for a two minute phone call?” I asked as I walked toward the reception desk. “I am not a pain in your ass.”

“No, you’re killin’ me,” he returned.

“No, I’m sending your kids to college,” I retorted, pulling out my money clip and handing him the bill.

He snatched it out of my hand and it disappeared in a blink.

Bullshit moaning weasel.

My eyes went to the TV sitting angled toward him at the end of the reception desk. I leaned into my forearms on the desk and checked it out.

“Classic porn,” I muttered. “Odd choice.”

“Seen all the others, like, a gazillion times,” Clyde muttered back and I grinned.

I had no doubt.

“We havin’ a party?” Clyde asked because I usually paid him off then took off and I looked from the porn to him.

He was balding and not liking it, thus growing a line of hair way too long in order to do the comb-over, a tactic that men should abandon. I didn’t know when they’d get that bald was beautiful all you had to do was have the balls to carry it off.

Clyde clearly didn’t have those kinds of balls. Then again, he was slender, narrow-shouldered, had an unfortunately shaped nose with a hook at the end and a bump on the ridge and squirrelly eyes. Thus, just physically, there were a myriad of reasons he lacked confidence. Not physically, he was a whiner, not a good trait in anyone, man or woman.

It was my experience anyone could work anything. A man or woman could be what convention said was ugly or overweight and if they held their shoulders straight, looked you in the eye and had a ready, genuine smile, that shit melted away. The light shone from within and if you had the balls to shine it, all anyone would see was beauty.

Alas, people did not get this and Clyde was one of those people.

“Waiting for my partner,” I answered and his brows shot up.

“You got a partner?” he asked.

“Yup,” I replied.

“Since when?”

“Since a couple of hours ago.”

“I give it a week,” he muttered, his eyes sliding back to the TV.

I hoped it would last a day. I worried it would last a month.

I moved to a chair, sat my ass in it, lifted my boots up to rest crossed at the ankles on the coffee table scattered with Retreat brochures and settled in. I killed time by calling Serena to make sure she was okay (she was, kind of). Calling Knight and leaving a message that I’d connected with Creed and we were on the job. And last, calling Live to check in to make certain he wasn’t beating himself up too much. The last call lasted a while because he was beating himself up too much and it took some time and an arsenal of my teasing to get him to feel better.

I’d barely flipped the phone shut on Live when I heard a tap on the window and I looked there to see Creed outside, crooking a finger at me.

“The summons,” I said to Clyde. “Gotta go.”

“Don’t come back now, ya hear?” Clyde returned and it was my turn to roll my eyes since he was full of it. Sure, if his bosses found out he was doing what he was doing, he was shit out of luck and a job. He was also a survivor so his bosses would never learn and he averaged a hundred extra dollars a week for doing nothing so he’d keep doing it. Unfortunately, he’d also keep bitching about it.

I didn’t bother with a wave or retort as I walked out and stopped on the sidewalk next to Creed.

“Well?” I asked.

His answer was to turn the camera’s back to me with an image on it.

I leaned in and checked it out.

“Whoa, soccer dad likes pony play,” I murmured. “Ride ‘em cowboy.” I heard Creed’s chuckle and looked up at him. “How’d you get in?” I asked.

“They had other things on their mind and the TV blaring loud. Got in through the bathroom window,” he answered and I felt my eyes get big.

“Shit, man, those are high and tight.”

“Upper body strength and determination go a long way,” he replied.

He was not wrong about that and visibly had the former while the latter was demonstrated on the camera.

“Right on,” I stated, lifting up my hand in an invitation for a high five.

He stared at my hand and didn’t move.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You gonna leave me hanging?”

His sky blue eyes came to mine and again I held my breath as his hand moved. He gave me a high five but when his big hand clapped against mine, it stayed there. His fingers shoved through, linking with mine, bringing our hands down. Then he shifted them so we were palm to palm, fingers curled around the sides. This he took straight into another shift where we had our fingers curled together from tips to knuckles in our palms. He then used my hand to pump our arms twice so hard, I was forced to take a step into him.

Then he let me go.

I forced air in my lungs.

Then I joked, “I’m learning good things about you, partner. Jive handshake master. I like it.”

He shook his head grinning, tossed the camera in the air, my hands shot out to catch it so it wouldn’t fall and, seeing as I was engaged in this endeavor, he had the chance to start sauntering toward my girl.

I took a moment to watch mostly because his shirt hung really good from his shoulders. It was untucked so it mostly covered his ass but his movement hinted at a fine one. And I was coming to the conclusion I seriously liked his boots.

Once I processed this information, I followed him.

I stood at the big one-way window in Knight’s office that faced down to Knight’s now empty nightclub and watched Creed stroll across the vast space toward the front door.

The meeting was done. Rhash met Creed. Creed gave his brief. We discussed our plans and now Rhash was gone, Creed was off to work the boys and I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon finding and surveilling Nick Sebring.

I felt Knight get close but I didn’t take my eyes from the window as I watched Creed walk out the front door.

“It’s him,” Knight murmured.

“It’s him,” I confirmed.

“Fuck, babe, you never shared his name. I had no fuckin’ clue. I did, that contract would not have been signed.”

I looked up at him. He was scary handsome in all the ways those two words could communicate. That was, he was incredibly good-looking, tall, dark-haired, striking blue eyes that were a deeper and more vivid blue than Creed’s but they were no less effective. His features were not beautiful, they were aggressively masculine. He was also scary because he just was aggressively masculine in a way that no woman or man could mistake. Just like with Creed, with one look at Knight, you knew you did not play with him, you did not mess with him. If you couldn’t deal with all that was him, you avoided him.

It was hot. Luckily, since we’d made our decision that drunken night years ago and he was in way deep with his woman, he was like a brother to me, so his hot didn’t affect me, our relationship or the job I did for him other than the inescapable fact I couldn’t mistake it.

“It’s cool,” I assured him. “We’re cool. We’ll get this done. No worries.”

His eyes moved over my face as his lips muttered, “Why don’t I believe that?”

“Knight, you know me. I’m about the job. No joke, we’ll get this done.”

Finally, his gaze locked with mine. “I want this job done, you know that. What I don’t want, in gettin’ that, is you shredded in the process.”

Seriously, I loved Knight Sebring.

“I’m good,” I said softly.

Knight studied me again before nodding and saying, “Word is he’s the best.”

I found this interesting.

“We got the best in Denver so I’m surprised you didn’t go to Nightingale Investigations,” I remarked.

“Who do you think told me they heard that shit on the street?” Knight asked and I felt my brows go up.

“Lee Nightingale?” I asked back.

“Yeah but he’s covered in work. He recommended Hawk Delgado but I had a sit down with him. Delgado isn’t about finesse like Nightingale can be so we decided it wouldn’t work. It was Delgado who recommended Creed.”

Liam “Lee” Nightingale of Nightingale Investigations was a badass private investigator-slash-bounty hunter-slash-anything goes man with a team of badasses to back him up. He’d contracted with me and I’d worked jobs with them when he needed a woman. I liked him, respected him and his team. They took pretty much any job that came along as long as the client could pay the hefty invoice which meant the lawfulness of their activities was a bit vague. That said, they had close ties with law enforcement so it was a helluva lot less vague than Knight’s.

Cabe “Hawk” Delgado, on the other hand, was a badass commando with a team of badasses to back him up. His jobs were usually more covert, intense and often out of town. I’d done one job with him and his team in town and that shit was extreme. It was kickass fun but it was extreme. Since most of his work was out of town, I didn’t have a lock on the looseness of his morals.

In movie terms, Lee Nightingale was James Bond except more kickass and super cool. He didn’t bother messing with gadgets when he could just shoot someone. He was also a Broncos fan and, I had a feeling, when he had the time, James Bond watched rugby.

Hawk Delgado was John Rambo without exceptions notwithstanding the headband.

What I knew about both of them was, regardless of what they thought about his business, they were smart enough not to make an enemy of Knight Sebring and he returned the favor. There was mutual respect but no discussion about Knight’s operations. I never asked how they felt but then again, even if I did, they’d never tell.

My brows stayed up. “Hawk Delgado knows Creed?”

Knight nodded.

“You know their connection?” I asked.

“Worked jobs together.”

“Those would be?” I pushed.

“They would be for you to ask Creed, Sylvie,” he stated. “You got it in you to put that shit behind you, you gotta get to know your partner. I’ll tell you this, it’s fucked how shit works but he’s you except male and maybe a little scarier. The shingle says PI. The word says his resume has a lot of blank spots and his skill set is varied. He doesn’t take the job if he doesn’t believe in the mission and like or respect who he’s workin’ for.” Knight grinned. “But he charges a fuckuva lot more than you do.”

My eyes went back to the window to take in the empty club and I muttered, “He’s got kids to support.”

Knight was silent.

I let this stretch then threw him a grin and started toward the door, saying, “Got shit to do.”

I had my hand on the handle when Knight called my name and I turned back.

“You need to bail, do it,” he stated. “You’re still mine, I’m still yours. Nothin’, woman, not this shit, not you needin’ to protect yourself from history in your face, not anything comes between you and me.”

That meant the world but he knew it so I didn’t have to say it.

I jerked up my chin but assured him again, “I’m looking forward. It’s cool, Knight, trust me.”

“You may be lookin’ forward, babe, but that direction right now means most of what you see is history. You can’t deal, you can’t. Understood and it’s all good.”

Seriously, I fucking loved this guy.

Still, I griped, “Jeez, man, it was sixteen years ago. I’m totally over it.”

“Anya left me or I lost her, I’d never get over it so don’t bullshit me,” he shot back. “There’s only one, we both know it, and Tucker Creed was your one. So you aren’t over it. That doesn’t mean you can’t cope. But you won’t cope if you deny that somewhere inside you can’t.”

It kinda sucked he was hot, rich, cool and smart.

“Heartfelt, badass lecture over?” I asked and his lips twitched.

“Yeah.”

“Terrific. Got shit to do,” I muttered and threw open the door.

“Sylvie,” he called and I whirled on a snapped, “What?”

“Bottom of my soul,” he whispered across the room, eyes locked to mine.

I sucked in breath through my nose before I whispered back, “Bottom of mine.”

Then, before he could really get to me, I took off.