Page 41 of Creed

I can’t do anything about Collins right now, but I reach across the console and give Riley’s forearm a reassuring squeeze that helps him to ease his tense muscles a little before turning my attention back to the highway.

I promised him answers.

I promised her safety.

They’ll get both…as soon as I get home.

Chapter 18

Riley

What in the actual fuck is happening right now?

I’m confused as shit as Creed pulls into the garage with a very angry exotic dancer yelling at him from the backseat. The whole ride, I sat in confused silence, staring a hole into the side of Creed’s head, unsure of what the fuck was going through his head or why he kidnapped a club dancer.

Meanwhile, the tiny but mighty firecracker in the back was verbally tearing him limb from limb the whole way home. I mean, I would, too, if I were her. I was honestly too scared to look back at her for fear of putting myself in the line of fire just by simply existing next to Creed.

I mean, I could’ve made him take her back to the club or even threatened to call the cops just to get him to let her go, but I stayed silent.

Why? Because of something that happened before Bear and I took T from the room after shit hit the fan. Both she and Creed had looks on their faces like they’d seen ghosts when the lights came back on. After I helped stuff Tony’s unconscious ass into Bear’s backseat, he’d muttered a quiet “I can’t fucking believe this shit,” and drove off, leaving me thoroughly lost and stuck waiting for Creed to leave the building.

I knew something was up when I got his text asking me to pick him up from the back exit, but I didn’t expect him to come practically running out the door with this girl slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

We’re back home now and after what felt like an endless car ride where Creed’s emotions reached a silent boiling point, he’s already stomped off into the house like he had a fire lit under his ass without so much as an explanation. Living with him for a few years now, I’ve learned that when he gets in his head and starts to overthink, he hyperfixates,obsesses, and never relents unless he has an outlet.

He’d only ever had one bad manic episode the entire time I knew him, and that was right around two years ago. He’s still Creed, but he’s different. A little unhinged and the leash on his emotions is much looser than it used to be.

I wish he felt comfortable enough to come to me when he’s struggling like he clearly is tonight. I think he does it to protect me, but he can’t protect everyone all the time. Creed’s always been a very private person when it comes to his past and doesn’t talk about it, other than occasionally mentioning a friend named Asher who he helped get clean and sober, who’s now apparently working for some new club in northern California. But now I can’t help but wonder if his current little manic episode has something to do with the girl now fuming in the back seat. The heat from her anger is so fucking palpable it’s a wonder the car hasn’t caught fire.

Ready to be done with the bullshit of the night, I rub my hands over my tired eyes before I exit the car and lean the seat forward, offering my hand to the girl in the back. I can’t see her from where I’m standing but I hear a soft huff, clearly over all the bullshit as well for tonight, before she hesitantly puts her hand in mine. The flame red hair of her wig greets me when she leans forward, followed by the smooth, creamy skin of her thigh as she steps out of the car.

The very same thighs that were straddled over my lap hours ago. She mumbles a half-assed “thanks” before her eyes meet mine. The moment our gazes clash, it’s like the air has been sucked from my lungs. She’s got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. A light, piercing green, surrounded by a dark emerald outer ring. Even with her smudged makeup and face painting, she’s absolutely stunning. I knew this even watching her dance from a distance while she was on stage earlier tonight. The room where she danced just for me was too dark to take her in fully, but now, seeing her up close, she’s breathtaking.

“Hi,” The word tumbles out of my mouth like a total dumbass, my hand still gripping hers lightly even though she’s been out of the car long enough for me to let go. “Uh, I’m… Riley.”

The side of her mouth quirks up at my lame-ass and poorly timed introduction, but she drops my hand and crosses her arms. I have to force my eyes to remain on her face as the motion causes her robe to gape open, revealing the crests of her breasts. “Nice to meet you, Riley.” She quips, “Wanna tell me why the fuck I’m here and not back at my place?”

I feel the blood drain from my face and sweat form on the back of my neck, feeling anxious as hell. “Oh my god. I—I am so fucking sorry. Creed really is a good guy, I swear. He’s never done anything like this and he didn’t explain to me why he did this, unfortunately.” She narrows her eyes at me questioningly, but I’m quick to add, “B-but I can call you an Uber or I can even grab my keys and get you where you actually want to go. I swear it.” The word vomit never ends and I want to slap myself for being such a passive fuckhead in this situation. As much as I support Creed in our friendship, I’m pretty sure kidnapping exotic dancers is so far on the other line of immoral things I’d never do in my lifetime that it’s nonexistent.

I need to make this right. Fuck, what the hell was Creed thinking?

Stupid fucker.

Her gaze actually softens a fraction when she senses me starting to panic at our predicament. “Hey, no need to panic, alright? It’s okay.” She runs a hand through her bright red hair. “I mean, it’s not okay what he did, but Creed and I…we actually go way back.”

“Way back,” I parrot slowly, confused if she’s referring to a previous bit of fun she had with Creed, or if she’s maybe even talking about his childhood.

She nods, as if that’s answer enough. “Should we go find Creed? Figure out what the actual hell is going through that thick skull of his? I’ll explain better once we find him and make sure he’s okay.”

Shouldn’t I be the one doing the placating? Or I don’t fucking know… Creed, maybe? At the mention of Creed’s mental state, her entire demeanor shifts from pissed off and fuming, to one of calm. Maybe she really does know Creed more intimately. But still, why the hell would he drag her out of that club and bring her back here like he did?

“This way.” I nod towards the door that leads into the house and usher her in. This girl… I don’t even know her name. We enter the kitchen and I gesture to the stool behind the bar-height countertop at the island. “I’m guessing your real name isn’t Stardust or Star Girl…” she chuckles at my statement as she hoists her short frame up onto the seat.

“No, it’s not. It’s a name I gave myself to keep anonymity at the club.” She says. Her voice is so raspy, like she just spent days screaming at the top of her lungs and lost her voice as a result. But it’s cute. It works for her.

Everything about her works.

I grab three water bottles from the fridge and slide one over to her. “So, are you gonna make me guess what your real name is?” I joke, a smile ghosting my lips at the way her green eyes light up with mischief at the thought.

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