Creed (Unfinished Hero #2)(32)

He pulled his mouth from mine, looked directly in my eyes and muttered, “Later.”

Then he let me go and took off.

I took in a deep breath.

Then I headed to the shower to get ready to start my day.

Gun was sitting on the top of my couch, tail sweeping the back.

“Meow,” she said.

“Not you too,” I replied.

“Meow,” she repeated.

“Whatever,” I muttered, not needing a lecture from my cat and pulling off my clothes as I moved. I was na**d by the time I hit the bathroom, which meant no delay in the shower so I turned on the water, waited for it to get warm and stepped right in.

It wasn’t until I was in my uniform, tank, jeans, belt, cowboy boots, long hair drying wild, a swipe of mascara and line of eyeliner and I was standing in my driveway staring at the lone Expedition when it hit me I didn’t have a car.

So I turned on my boot and headed to Charlene’s to ask Creed to take me to my car.

* * * * *

I was sitting in my ‘Vette parked on the street, nursing a chocolate malt and staring at the house out my side window when I sensed movement. My eyes went to my rearview mirror and I saw a huge, shiny, black Ford Expedition pull in behind me.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my phone, flipped it open, went to the top of my recent calls list and hit go before putting it to my ear.

“Sylvie,” Creed answered after one ring.

“Partner, I checked in before I rolled out to get here. No reason to physically check up on me. Reminder, I’ve been doing this awhile.”

His response was, “Come back and get in my truck.”

“No. You got something to say you can’t say over the phone, come and get in my car.”

“Truck, Sylvie.”

“’Vette, Creed.”

Silence.

I dug in. Creed did too.

Patience was one of the many virtues I did not have.

“Fine,” I bit out. “Truck.”

I flipped the phone shut, threw open my door and me, my phone and my malt angled out. We jogged to his truck, I threw open the door and climbed in.

I turned to him to see him grinning a crowing because he won (again) grin.

I checked the eye roll and asked, “I’m here. What?”

“You know a woman named Amy?”

I forgot to be in a snit at Creed and his superiority. I felt my eyes get round as my mouth breathed, “Fuck me.”

His gaze moved over my face before it locked with mine and he muttered, “You know her.”

“No shit?” I asked.

“Pillow talk, baby,” he answered softly.

Blood roared in my ears as I sat back in the seat, faced forward and sucked up malt so fast, I had to close my eyes against the ice cream headache. Then I pulled the straw from my mouth and clipped, “That stupid bitch.”

“She’s in with Nair,” he told me and I turned my head to look at him. “I’m here because I got her phone wired. She just called him and she’s heading over.”

“That stupid bitch,” I repeated.

“Far as I could tell, Lively is a loyal soldier. But Nair was getting info from somewhere. It’s her.”

“Money?” I asked.

“Don’t know. When I wasn’t concentrating on you, Banks, Nick and Nair, I honed in on Lively. Had my eye on him, which means I’ve had occasion to have my eye on him when he’s with her. The little I saw of Knight’s men with their women, they don’t chose nagging, greedy bitches. Gut told me he had a weak spot, seein’ as he’d have that in his bed. I paid more attention, wasn’t wrong. His weak spot is her and his inability to get shot of her even though she’s a serious pain in his ass. Heard them have a fight in a restaurant a coupla nights ago. She doesn’t like his hours. She likes that he’s well paid but she’s not real fond of him workin’ for his money. Could be, she’s gettin’ money from Nair for info. Could be, she’s workin’ with him to close Sebring down so Lively will have more time to devote to her. Could be both.”

“She’s greedy, she’s a bitch and she’s a nag, Creed, but she’s not stupid. Yeah, it’s known she pitches a fit when Live has to work when she doesn’t want him to but she’s not so dumb to think they’ll live large if he doesn’t have a f**king job. She’s in it for the money.”

He nodded, his eyes went over my shoulder and he jerked up his chin.

I turned my head to see a red Mazda roll into Drake Nair’s driveway, a brunette I knew at the wheel.

Amy, the stupid bitch.

I heard the noises a camera made when pictures were being taken and looked back at Creed. He had an expensive digital to his eye. I turned back to Nair’s house to see Amy get out of the Mazda and approach the front door. The camera noises kept going as she did and continued up until she disappeared inside. Then they stopped.

“You good to be my eyes while I get close?” he asked.

“Fuck yeah,” I answered.

“Let’s move,” he muttered and threw open his door.

I stored my shit, threw open mine and jumped out.

“I approach from the north,” he said to me as we crossed the street. “His study is that side. I’ll start there and move on if he doesn’t meet her there. Catch up.”