Creed (Unfinished Hero #2)(3)

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 ass**le, 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.”