Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
CREED
I drive without speaking. Without thinking.
The weight of the gun is still imprinted on my palm, the smell of blood and whiskey thick in my nostrils. Gordon Yates is dead. I killed him.
Mackenzie hasn’t said a word since we got on the road. She’s curled in the passenger seat, staring out the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself. I know better than to think she’s fragile—this girl isn’t built that way. But I also know what it feels like when the world tilts under your feet, when something you thought was unshakable—whether you loved it or hated it—gets ripped away.
I should take her home. Drop her off, let her deal with this the way she always has. But I don’t.
Because I don’t trust Amelia.
Not for one fucking second.
She gave me an out tonight, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s already planning her next move. Amelia Yates doesn’t handle things out of kindness—she does it for control. And now, I owe her. Again.
Which means she owns me.
At least, that’s what she thinks.
Mackenzie shifts beside me, stealing a glance in my direction. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
She scoffs. “Safe isn’t real, Creed. Not for people like me. ”
I tighten my grip on the wheel. “Safer than being anywhere near the Guild.”
She doesn’t respond, just looks out of the window. She doesn’t argue, which tells me she knows to some extent, I’m right.
I take the long way out of town, making sure we’re not being followed before pulling into a rundown motel on the outskirts. The neon sign flickers like it’s struggling to stay alive, and the parking lot is half-empty, which is exactly what I want.
I kill the engine and turn to her. “Stay here.”
She raises a brow. “You gonna get us the honeymoon suite?”
I don’t have it in me to smirk. I climb out of the car , and make my way to reception. After a few words exchanged, the night clerk hands me a key, and by the time I return, Mackenzie is already out of the car, arms wrapped around herself against the cold.
I open the door to the room and let her step inside first. It’s small, the kind of place you rent when you don’t want to be found. One double bed, shitty curtains, and a bathroom that probably hasn’t been deep cleaned in years.
Mackenzie walks to the edge of the bed and sits, exhaling slowly. She watches me lock the door behind us. “So, what now?”
Now? Now I figure out how to survive whatever the hell Amelia Yates has planned.
I glance at Mackenzie, my jaw tightening. And I figure out what the fuck I’m going to do when you find out I’ve been fucking your mother.
Because for all the fire and venom and damage between us, she’s the one thing Amelia doesn’t get to take from me. Even if it kills me.
I sit on the bed beside her and she leans into me. “Let’s shower.” I say, standing and taking her with me. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
We strip, not a word exchanged between us. When she presses her lips to mine, soft and warm, I am thinking only of Mackenzie. Screw it all. Amelia Yates could just fuck off, we were here now and we need this.
As the warm water pours over us, I chase away the memories of what just happened. Mackenzie lathers the cheap motel body soap over my chest.
“Don’t think about it,” she says as if she can read my mind. “Just be here with me.”
The steam is thick, curling around our naked bodies like a goddamn aphrodisiac. Water cascades down in hot, relentless streams, beads of it clinging to her perfect skin like tiny diamonds before pooling at the curve of her tits. Her nipples are pebbled and begging for attention. My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips as I press her against the cold tile. She gasps, arching into me, her nails raking down my chest eliciting a growl low in my throat.
“Fuck,” My cock already throbs, resting heavy against her thigh.
Her hand snakes between us, wrapping around my shaft with a grip that makes me grit my teeth. “Baby. Fuck!”
She pumps me slowly, her thumb swiping over the swollen head, smearing the pre-cum that’s already leaking from me. My hips jerk of their own accord, fucking into her fist like a goddamn animal.
“Christ,” My mouth crashes down on hers in a kiss that is all teeth and tongue and barely contained lust. She moans into my mouth, her free hand sliding down to my balls, rolling them in her small palm. I am so fucking hard it hurts, every vein on my cock strains as she works me with her hand. But I am not about to let her take control for long.
“That’s enough, little demon,” growl, spinning her around, pressing her chest against the wall, my hips grinding into her ass.
“This cock needs your pussy.” I nestle my length between her thighs, slick with water and her arousal. She shudders as I tease her, dragging my length against her soaking wet pussy. “You’re so goddamn wet,” I growl, “So fucking ready for me.”
She whimpers, pushing back against me, desperate for more. “Please,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Fuck me.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I grab her hips, lining myself up with her entrance, and slam into her in one brutal thrust. She cries out, her fingers sliding against the tile as I fill her to the hilt.
“Fuck,” she gasps, her nails digging into the wall as I pull back and slam into her again.
Each thrust drives her harder against the wall. The sound of our bodies slapping together is drowned out by the roar of the water and the ragged gasps tearing from our throats.
I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in rough, tight circles that have my girl trembling on the edge. “Come for me,” I demand. “Make that pretty little pussy squeeze my cock.”
She screams as the orgasm rips through her, her body clenching around me like a vise. I groan, my hips stuttering as I chase my own release. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” I warn, thrusting faster. “Take it all, baby. Take all of me.”
With a final, brutal thrust, I bottom out inside her and come with a roar, my cock pulsing inside her as I fill her up. She whimpers, her body still trembling from her own climax as I pull her back against me, my hands roaming over her slick skin. The water washes away the evidence of our lovemaking, but the heat between us still burns like a goddamn inferno.
When we're both clean, we towel off, dress and climb into bed. We need rest and I need to figure out what the fuck to do next.
As I stare at the stained ceiling above me, my mind races. Amelia wouldn't have let us go so easily. As I drift off, the image of Gordon Yates face is the last thing I see.
* * *
Something’s wrong.
I feel it before my eyes even open. A shift in the air, a presence that doesn't belong. My instincts kick in, adrenaline rushing to the surface like a breaking tide.
And then I hear it.
Slow, measured breathing.
I snap awake, reaching for the knife under my pillow—only to find a hand already resting on my wrist.
“Don’t.”
Amelia.
I go rigid. The room is lit only by a lamp in the corner. I don’t move, don’t speak, just let my eyes adjust, let the moment stretch until I can see her standing over me, her lips curved into something between amusement and triumph.
I don’t ask how she found us or how she got in. A woman like Amelia Yates gets what she wants.
Instead, I tilt my head just slightly. Mackenzie is still curled on the other side of the bed, deep in sleep, her breathing soft and even.
She doesn’t know her mother is here.
Good.
She tilts her head, studying me the way a predator studies its prey. “I think we should go outside and chat?”
I don’t respond, but climb out of bed and follow her outside.
She sighs, stepping back, her heels clicking softly against the ground. “We both know what happened tonight. Gordon’s dead, and you pulled the trigger. You killed a Guild member, Creed. That comes with consequences.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “He attacked me first.”
She smirks. “That doesn’t really matter, does it? What matters is what they believe.”
My fingers twitch. “So, what are you saying? You told me to go, that you’d handle it. I wanted to call the cops, explain everything.”
Amelia hums, slipping her hand into the pocket of her coat. A second later, she pulls out her phone, taps the screen, and holds it up.
I watch.
I watch as grainy black-and-white security footage plays, taken from the corner of Gordon’s study. I see myself and Gordon struggling, hear the gunshot—
I see him fall to the ground, the gun in my hand.
Fuck.
My blood turns to ice.
Amelia’s smile is all teeth. “You see, darling, we have cameras installed everywhere. And lucky for me, they caught everything.”
I tear my gaze from the screen and meet her eyes, deadly calm. “What do you want?”
She leans in, just enough for her perfume to coil around me like smoke. “You, Creed.” Her fingers skim my jaw, mockingly gentle. “You’re going to marry me.”
I exhale sharply through my nose. “Like hell I am.”
Amelia tuts, shaking her head. “You don’t really have a choice. If you refuse, I send this to the Guild. To the police. Anyone really, just to put you in the ground. Or I could tell them, I did it. That I shot him in self defense. I’ll tell them he found out about us—that he was drunk, angry, jealous, on the verge of attacking me.” Her voice drops to a whisper, taunting. “That I was going to leave him for you.”
Disgust claws up my throat.
“You’re crazy.”
She smiles sweetly. “I get what I want and that’s been you since we got into business.”
I force my expression blank, my breathing steady. I will not let her see an inch of weakness.
But she’s not done.
Her voice hardens, the amusement slipping away like a mask being removed. “Are you fucking my daughter?”
My jaw tightens. “No. Of course not.”
“Because if I even suspect you’re sniffing around her, I will ruin her and you. I will tell the Guild she helped cover up Gordon’s murder. I will tell the police that she pulled the trigger. And trust me, Creed, they will believe me.”
I say nothing.
She leans closer, her breath warm against my skin. “So I ask you again. Are you fucking my daughter?”
I hold her gaze. “No.”
A slow smirk curves her lips. “Good.”
She straightens, smoothing the front of her coat. “I expect you at the estate tomorrow. We’ll marry quietly and announce it in three months, just enough time for my mourning period to be considered acceptable.”
Then, as if she hadn’t just handed me a death sentence, she turns and walks to the car. She pauses with her hand on the handle, glancing back at me.
“Sweet dreams, husband.”
And then she’s gone.
I stand there, my fists clenched, the weight of her words pressing down like a noose tightening around my throat.
* * *
Back in the room, Mackenzie shifts in her sleep, oblivious.
I look at her, at the way the light from the window softens the sharp edges of her face.
And I swear to myself—
I will make Amelia pay.