Page 27 of Whenever You Call

I meant every word.

Chapter10

LOGAN

Creed kicked my ass the next morning.

After tossing and turning all night long, I’d woken up impatient and exhausted. I didn’t know what I’d needed, only that I couldn’t and wouldn’t find it waiting for me in an empty, lifeless condo.

One look at me after walking into the gym had given Creed all the information I’d hoped to hide. I needed whipping into shape, and I was damn fucking grateful for the radio silence that the workout he put me through offered up.

It had been an hour of torture that had quietened my soul.

After running a towel over my face and packing up my kit, I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed out of the gym, but not before Creed got one last gentle jab into my ribs by the exit.

“Good work today. I can see why Viper championed you. There’s a fire in that belly of yours.” He grinned.

“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. “You were brutal, though.”

“You handled it.” He planted his feet apart as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What have you got planned for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing much. Heading home. Maybe stare up at the ceiling for a bit before watching a movie.” I smirked.

“That’s it?” He looked appalled. “You’re telling me that a good-looking guy like you hasn’t got a little black book full of women he can call up for a good time? Because if that’s what you’re saying, I’m not buying it, Romeo.”

“I’m sensing there isn’t a right answer here.”

“Hell yes, there is. You said you have two weeks to get your life in shape, right?”

“Yeah…” I said wearily.

“Well, I happen to know a hell of a lot of people in this city. There’s never a night in LA without a party, and fuck it, I’m taking you to one. You can’t sit around all day doing sweet FA with so much fire in your belly, my man. Meet me back here at nine tonight. You don’t show, I’m canceling your membership with immediate effect.”

I opened my mouth to argue, only to be silenced by his pointed finger and stern glare.

“FYI: You don’t ever get to win against me, so don’t even try. May as well throw in the towel and admit defeat now.”

I waitedoutside the gym’s entrance later that night, just as Creed had instructed, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Fighters walked out of the warehouse at closing, each of them glancing up and down at my blue jeans, black T-shirt combo as if to tell me I looked too clean for their sweaty, dirty lifestyles. As though being clean somehow made me weaker than them. If only they knew I had enough anger and resentment in me to knock every fucker out if my heart desired.

Creed hadn’t been lying. A sleeping beast had been lying dormant inside me for over ten years. A black, worn out, tired creature that had the ability to rise slowly, erupt wildly, and destroy whatever stood in its way. I had no fear of getting hurt physically. That part never worried me because most things were fixable, and it allowed that beast to grow. I’d always been aware of its lingering presence on the very edge of my being. I’d just made a conscious effort to keep it at bay from the moment it was born.

Like I told Hannah, I helped people. I didn’t break them.

But sometimes, I wanted to tear the entire world to pieces with nothing but my bare hands.

The shutters started to roll down on the gym, snapping me from my thoughts. I pushed off the brick wall and turned to see Creed locking up, a different man to the one I’d been with only a couple of times before. In regular clothes, he looked bigger somehow. Like the material wrapped around his muscles was suffocating pressed against them.

“Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like—?”

“If you say Dwayne Johnson, I’ll come over there and kick your ass more than I already have,” Creed said, turning to me with a sly smirk.

“Sensitive to doppelgänger references. Noted.”

Creed tossed his keys in the air before catching them and shoving them in his pocket. “Nope. Just fucking sick of it.” He walked closer, landing a strong hand to my back as he scanned me from head to toe. “Looking sharp. You’ll fit right in.”

I thought about asking him where I’d fit in specifically, but I knew he had zero intention of telling me a damn thing no matter how hard I probed, so I didn’t bother. Whatever I’d signed up for, I couldn’t get out of it now.

Twenty minutes later, in West Hollywood, Creed’s black Dodge Ram pulled up outside a bar I’d visited a handful of times while on duty.

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