“Knight’s done with Creed,” he announced.
We all moved to and through the door and up the stairs but it was probably only me who was hoping we didn’t open the door to a bloodbath.
We didn’t. Creed had his back to the wall, arms crossed on his chest, feet crossed at the ankles looking like he was waiting patiently for his woman to get done in a shop so he could take her ass to a bar and get a beer. Knight was leaning against his conference table with much the same look about him. My eyes did a scan of Creed first then Knight and they seemed hunky dory. In good spirits even, like they’d just got done talking about the Rockies chance at a pennant this year. This ticked me off so I stopped and crossed my arms on my own chest.
My eyes narrowed on Knight. “I know I have a vagina but that doesn’t negate the fact that I have a brain and a spine so I can make my own decisions about my life and deal with the consequences. I’m also not real big on dudes talking about my shit behind my back.”
He held my gaze steadily and replied, “Babe, cool it. You got a man who cares about you, namely me, this shit is gonna happen. Deal with it because it’s not not gonna happen because you throw a shit fit about it with a gun on your belt.”
I opened my mouth to speak but Creed cut in so I looked to him.
“Baby, it’s cool. I’m not gonna be pissed that after what you been through, for the last ten years you had a man who gives a shit about you at your back and doesn’t delay in layin’ it out that, because you got your man back, he’s still gonna have your back. He’s cool. I’m cool. Now you need to be cool. You get me?”
At the, “You get me?” I rolled my eyes at the same time my phone rang.
I pulled it out, ignoring Creed’s amused grin and looked at the display. I felt my brows draw together as I flipped it open and put it to my ear.
“Hey, babe,” I greeted.
“Sylvie.”
At the sound of her voice, my back went straight and my eyes sliced to Creed. “Talk to me.”
“I hurt.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I lifted a hand, my gaze going to Knight. I snapped but he was already straightened away from the table and staring at me, alert. “Serena, where are you?”
“He just left. At the hotel. I hurt, Sylvie.”
I heard the pain and tears in her voice.
Knight was already taking long strides to his desk and computer.
“You need Baldy?” I asked into the phone, looking down to my boots.
“Baldy?”
“Dr. Baldwin, Serena. You need him?”
“Yes.”
Shit. Fuck. Shit!
I looked at Knight, nodded and turned on my boot toward the door. “What hotel, babe? Room number. I’m on my way. So is Baldy.”
She gave me the hotel name and room number as I jogged down the steps, hearing boots behind me.
“Hang tight, Serena. We’ll be there, ten minutes,” I told her as I ran across the nightclub still hearing boots behind me.
“I don’t think I can get up to answer the door.” Her voice was weak.
Shit!
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “We’ll get it. Be there in ten.”
“Okay, Sylvie,” she whispered.
“Soon, baby,” I whispered back.
We were out the door, running down the sidewalk to Creed’s truck parked on the street. He beeped the locks, ran around the hood and we both angled in even as I flipped my phone closed and opened. I called Knight as I gave Creed the hotel name and preliminary directions. Creed pulled away from the curb not like a Grandpa and I put the phone to my ear as I yanked the seatbelt around me.
Knight answered with, “Already called Baldy. He’s on the way.”
“You know where she is?” I asked.
“New rules. Girls report where they’re goin’, phone when they get there, phone when they leave, phone when the door to their house is locked behind them.”
“Right. She’s in room number six twelve,” I told him.
“I’ll text that to Baldy,” he replied.
“Her client pay for an all-nighter?” I asked as Creed took a turn on red he wasn’t supposed to and it felt like the truck was going to go up on two wheels so we both leaned into it.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Gotta go. Report back.”
He disconnected and I flipped the phone shut.
Creed drove and I gave more directions.
Then he murmured, “Cab’s full of your fury, baby, check it.”
“Right,” I muttered and sucked in breath.
Creed drove.
He pulled up and screeched to a halt in front of the hotel. The valet made the approach but I was out of the truck, running into the hotel and didn’t look back.
Luckily, reception was clear except the clerk.
“Hi,” I said when I arrived at the desk. “I have a friend in room six twelve who’s diabetic and she forgot her insulin. She’s in bad shape and I need to get up there and give it to her. She says she can’t make it to the door. Can you give me a keycard to six twelve?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, against hotel policy. Not unless your name is registered to the room. Really sorry.”
Fuck! I didn’t bring my money roll with me.
I flipped open my phone but kept my eyes on him. “Can she call down, tell you it’s okay?”
“Uh… I’m not sure –” he started then his eyes flew down to the desk so mine did too and I saw a familiar, big, strong, veined, scarred hand sliding a fan of three one hundred dollar bills across the desk.
“Keycard. Room six twelve,” Creed rumbled, my head tipped back and I looked at his hard profile as he finished, “And advice, don’t say no to me.”
Okay, maybe I wasn’t going to have issues with my man being a badass. Especially when he was also my partner on a job and could get shit done by being scary.
The guy took Creed in for approximately a nanosecond then jumped to the stash of keycards, did whatever he had to do with the machine and handed it to Creed.
I turned and dashed through the lobby. Ignoring the elevators, I scanned for the sign, found it, darted that way and hit the stairs. My legs were short but I still took them two at a time, hearing Creed hurtling up behind me. I hit the door to the sixth floor, winded, heart pumping and shoved through. I didn’t slow down as I ran down the hall, scanning the signage to find the way to six twelve.
I stopped at one side of the door, Creed right behind me, he stopped at the other side.