Chapter 8 Kreed #2
And still…nothing. Every bastard claimed ignorance. Rusty had gone completely dark, and no one wanted to be the one to break the code of silence. Fear of their boss outweighed their fear of us.
For now.
There would be repercussions for what we were doing, but that was a problem for another day. Another lifetime. All I cared about was her. Every hour that ticked by without a lead was another hour she was locked up somewhere, waiting for me to find her.
By the time we hit the sixth name on the list, some punk called Spider who pissed himself when Maddox’s boot connected with his ribs, my phone buzzed against my thigh.
The vibration felt like an electric shock, cutting through the adrenaline fog that had been my constant companion for the past forty-eight hours.
My father.
His name on the screen made my jaw clench. The last fucking person I wanted to hear from, but maybe it was desperation, or perhaps the last shred of hope I had left that made me answer anyway.
“Come home,” he ordered when the line connected, forgoing any pleasantries. It had been days since we’d last spoken, and I had no idea what he knew or didn’t know.
I glanced over at Mad who had Spider pinned to the wall. “I’m busy.”
“Kreed.” He sighed, and I could picture him rubbing at his temples in exasperation. I seemed to always be a thorn in his side. “I wasn’t asking. Trust me, you don’t want to miss what I have to say.”
I highly fucking doubted it, but the line went dead before I could argue. “Fuck” breezed out of my lips as I glared at my phone. I didn’t have time for this shit or my father’s games.
“What’s going on?” Mad asked while keeping his attention on Spider.
“I need to go. Dad,” I explained, knowing nothing further was needed. “You got him?”
Maddox’s lips curled. “Do I ever. It’s about time you left some of the fun for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just don’t make a mess you can’t clean up alone. I’m taking the car. I’ll call Mason on my way home.”
“No rush. I have a feeling Spider and I are going to need a bit of time to get to know each other better. Isn’t that right, Spider?” He clasped the Viper on the shoulders as if this were a budding friendship.
Grudgingly, I left, showing up at my house thirty minutes later, looking like I’d crawled out of a back-alley fight.
Which, in a way, I had. Blood had dried in dark, rust-colored stains across my white tee, turning the fabric stiff and brittle.
My knuckles were split open in a dozen places, scabs forming and tearing again each time I made a fist. My jeans were stiff with two days’ worth of sweat and dirt, and I could smell myself, a mixture of violence and desperation clinging to my skin.
I hadn’t showered in forty-eight hours. Hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t slept for more than twenty minutes at a time. There hadn’t been time for any of it.
Not my finest moment, but Dad had seen me in far worse shape. This was light work and wouldn’t faze Donovan Corvo.
It had been several days since I last set foot inside the Willows, as our house was named due to the line of willow trees bordering the driveway, creating a lush canopy as I drove toward the house, which was nothing short of spectacular.
A house that would be any architect’s wet dream, but to my mom, it had been her pride and joy.
Taking in the two-story custom home with all its floor-to-ceiling glowing windows, I’d forgotten how much I loved this place, the land, the views, the cozy rooms. It had once been a place of sanctuary for me, a place I could escape all the evil lurking outside the grounds, but with just a zip of a stray bullet, my sanctuary became like a catacomb.
Dad met me at the front door, his light-green eyes taking in every detail of my appearance with his usual scrutiny reserved for his boys. His mouth twitched once, not quite a frown, not quite disappointment. Something worse. “You look like shit.”
I shouldered past him into the foyer, tracking mud across the pristine marble floors. “Thanks, Pops. Good to see you too.”
He stepped aside without argument, but I caught the way his nostrils flared slightly at the smell radiating off me. When he spoke again, his voice carried the tone he’d used when I was six and had come home with my first black eye. “Shower. Change. I’ll be waiting in my office.”
“I don’t have time,” I grumbled.
“Kreed,” he stated flatly. He looked older to me, as if these last weeks had taken a toll, more grey peppering the hair near his temples. A sigh slipped out of him, heavy and tired, making his shoulders sag just slightly.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen my father look so worn down. Not since Mom died. But even then, the grief hadn’t lasted long before the rage took over and turned him back into the monster everyone feared and often hated. He didn’t make it easy to care about him.
“Make the time,” he said gruffly. “I’m saying this as your father. If you have any chance at helping Kaylor, you need to take care of yourself, which starts with you in the shower. Because you’re going to want the gift I have for you.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides, fresh blood welling up where the scabs split. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“You do if you want to find her.”
“So you’re not telling me to stop.” I assumed that was exactly why he wanted to talk. I’d gone over the conversation a dozen times in my head on the drive here, and all the things I would say when he told me my search had to end.
But this…was a surprise, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about my father “helping.” Did I want his help?
No, but if he had anything, anything at all that might be useful in getting Kaylor back, then I’d sell my damn soul to the devil himself to make it happen, which was what I feared this might be or as close to a deal with the devil as I could get.
“I’ll make us a drink while you get cleaned up.”
I gave him one last glance before I headed upstairs to my room.
Ten minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom with damp hair dripping onto a fresh black T-shirt.
The hot water had stripped away the surface grime, but it couldn’t touch the exhaustion in my bones.
My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger, hollow-eyed and sharp-angled.
Dad was waiting in his office, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a crystal tumbler cradled in one hand, amber liquid catching the lamplight.
Another glass sat untouched on the mahogany desk between us, ice already beginning to melt around the edges.
Without a word, he slid a folded piece of paper across the polished surface.
“Burn it once you’ve memorized the address.
No one else sees it but you, and it doesn’t leave this room. ”
I picked up the paper with fingers that trembled slightly. “What is this?”
“What you’ve been searching for.”
I didn’t unfold it. Not yet. “Why?” The question tore out of my throat. “Why the fuck would you get involved?”
Dad leaned back in his leather chair as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the patterns it made against the crystal. When he finally looked up, his eyes were unreadable. “For starters, you’re bringing every Viper in Elmwood to my doorstep. Cleaning up after you is exhausting.”
My mouth tightened. “So what’s the catch?”
A smirk ghosted across his lips, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. “No catch. You’re my son. You’ll kill yourself chasing this girl down. And I won’t let that happen. I wish you’d come to me sooner.”
I angled my head. “Don’t pretend like you care what happens to me. Or to her.”
He lifted the tumbler to his lips, taking a slow sip while his eyes never left mine. “Believe what you want, son. Just don’t waste what I handed you.”
I looked down at the paper in my hands and unfolded it, my eyes scanning over an address. “Is this what I think it is?”
“The auction. Do what you want with the information, just don’t get yourself killed. Or your brothers. Take Evan with you and anyone else in the Crew who you think would be of service.”
“What’s the catch?” There was always a catch. My father never did anything for free, not even for his sons, but it was gladly a price I’d pay for her.
“Bring her home first, then we’ll talk.”
I nodded. “I don’t know what this cost you, but thank you.”
He passed me a drink. “Don’t thank me yet. You still have to do the work. And it won’t be fucking easy, Kreed. I know these people and the people they are protecting. Getting in will be your biggest challenge.”
I took the drink. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I bet you do.” He tossed back his two fingers of whiskey while I burned the address into my memory, every number, every letter, until it was branded as deeply as her scream had been.
When I looked up again, my father was watching me with something close to pride. Or regret. Maybe both. “Don’t make me bury another Corvo.”
My lips twitched. “Have a little faith, Pops. I learned everything I know from you.”
“That’s what scares me.”
I had all the pieces now. I just had to put them into play.