Page 3 of Creed

I redo my ponytail and freshen up my makeup. If I’m going out, I might as well give my full effort to look damn good.

Who knows what the night will bring?

As soon as I park, unease fills me. There’s a sea of motorcycles lined up in front of the entrance of what is normally an abandoned gymnasium that was part of the old high school before they built the new one closer to the freeway.Tonya and her love of men who ride will be the death of me. She grins big, staring at her phone.

“Wait until you see Ghoul’s friend.”

“Wait what? You didn’t mention anything about meeting his friend.”

“You can thank me later,” she practically squeals. “He’s fit as fuck. You’ll see.”

Reluctantly, I follow Tonya into the fray. She grabs my hand, rushing through the growing crowd. My belly does a dip. Heat flashes up the sides of my neck.

This is what I get for coming to the city with her.

Bikers and violence.

At least they are pretty to look at with their tattooed, slicked up bodies. Weaving our way through the energetic crowd, we end up at a makeshift bar selling overpriced plastic cups of tap beer. “Two please.” Tonya hands the man ten bucks.

“None for me,” I tell her as she tries thrusting one of the piss hot beers into my hands.

“Come on. One drink won’t kill you.”

“Maybe not, but I’m driving,” I remind her.

“Fair enough. I’ll give it to Ghoul. He said he’d be in the back by the locker rooms.”

“Great,” I mutter to myself. Ghoul isn’t one of my favorite people. The dude only uses Tonya as a booty call when he rolls into town every few months. His friend will be sorely disappointed when he realizes I’m not down for aone nighter. I don’t care how hot the guy is. The knowledge that he’s a buddy of Ghoul’s is all the confirmation I need that he probably sucks, too. I’ll probably bail the second Tonya links up with the jerk.

I’m not interested in becoming a notch on some stranger’s bedpost or inviting him back to my apartment.

Chapter Two

Feet pounding the pavement, each step echoes in the park’s quiet as sweat drips down my back. I’ve got a job to do. Antarctica by $uicideboy$ blares through the speakers of my earbuds. The weight of my responsibility and my duty to the club, Kings of Carnage, rests on my shoulders. I’m the Road Captain and take my position seriously. My patch is a badge of honor. One I wear with pride and have inked on my back.

My loyalty to the club comes before all else.

An incoming call vibrates from my pocket, but I ignore it. It’s not the club and I have to focus. The pay day on this particular job is one I can’t afford to pass up. I’m not worried, but that doesn’t mean I can afford any distractions. If I’m going to pay off the build on my cabin, I’ve gotta make this happen.

My cell goes off again, alerting me to a new voice mail. Probably Ember checking up on me. She was probably the last woman I was even close to being serious about until life reminded me we weren’t meant to be. I ran away fromher like the room was on fire when she told me she was pregnant with Smoke’s child. I knew the score between us. She was always going back to him, and I had a life to get back to.

We weren’t meant to last.

I filled a role for her, and she gave me something beautiful to cherish when I think about her. With her dark hair, blue eyes, and pouty lips that always felt familiar. It was her eyes that first drew me to her. Those haunting eyes filled with such beauty and sadness, burning with desire. She would never be mine. She had an ache, and I was her temporary remedy.

I did her a favor, and she rewarded me with her vulnerability.

My only regret is the way I dropped her like a bad habit, but things happen the way they are meant to. I had a new job. A new target to take out. Ember couldn’t come with me.

As soon as I got shot of her, I was back on the road. I left Anarchy, California, and booked it to a bar in the middle of nowhere called the Velvet Rooster to pick up my intel. Over a year later, I’m still doing the same shit.

Avoiding relationships.

Killing for money.

I’m a killer for hire.

A professional hitman.

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