Chapter 31 One Long Night
One Long Night
Havoc
The sun is barely over the horizon as I pull into my driveway the next morning. The plan for today is to make Creed breakfast and take a nap.
Bishop’s bike is in my driveway as I pull into the garage.
The knowledge that I can step away at any time, knowing my son is covered, brings me so much comfort.
There are lights on in Greer’s house. Is she up drinking her morning coffee and making food for my son? I need to fix this situation.
Where do I even start?
How do you get someone to listen when you’ve been beyond rude to them?
That’s a problem for later.
When I’ve had more sleep. I yawn.
Bishop is on the couch, his eyes open as I walk in.
“You know I have a guest room, brother.”
He sits up. “I couldn’t settle. How did it go?”
“It was incredibly boring. Everything went according to plan. I want to poach that kid away from Max.”
“That good?”
“We now have a way to monitor all three of them as long as they have their phones on.” Being able to hear them breathe and know they aren’t dead somewhere is a huge relief.
“It’s untraceable?”
“The kid said even a tech guy working for the phone company wouldn’t be able to see his hack. They’d have to pull the system down and go through every line of code to find it.”
“Does he ride?”
Boys and bikes…even when we get older, we still love them. “Not yet. I offered him lessons. I’m also hoping to give Creed a friend who’s smarter than him.”
“Ahh.”
“Since your son left, he hasn’t had someone to nerd out with, somewhat close to his own age.”
Bishop leans back against the couch.
“How is everything going with his therapy?”
Bishop sighs. “I hate that he has to go through it. I wish I could take the pain for him. But he’s strong. He’s going to fight through this.”
“Is there anything I can do? The club can do?”
Bishop shakes his head. “He asked that we don’t even visit. He doesn’t want to be distracted.”
“That boy is so you.”
Bishop grins and pushes himself up. “I’m going to head home. Holler if anything changes.”
“Will do.” I walk back to the kitchen after he leaves.
There’s plenty of time to cook before Creed wakes up. Maybe I’ll make a frittata or something that involves vegetables…
That woman just won’t get out of my head…
***
“Morning, Dad.” Creed walks out in zombie mode, with his hair standing on end and his eyes mostly closed. “When did you get home?”
“About an hour ago.” I grab a bowl of fruit from the fridge that I chopped up.
“And you spent the whole time cooking?”
Basically. “Everything go okay yesterday?”
“Yeah. Bishop made this amazing beef stroganoff with mushrooms and sliced ribeye. It was so good. I might be spoiled now when you make yours with ground beef.” Creed fills his cup up to the rim.
As he moves, it teeters on dumping out, but he makes it to the stool without issue. “Did the club thing go okay?”
We didn’t share the details, but everyone in the club knew something went down last night. “Just fine. It was boring. About that. I met this kid on Willow Street. I offered to teach him to ride a bike, but I thought you two might be friends.”
Creed’s cup stops midway, and we both watch, waiting for it to spill.
“Why?”
My boy doesn’t blindly trust anyone, even me. “The kid is smart.”
“Smart?”
“Yeah, he’s like you: above average, and he knows it.”
Creed grins. “Cool.”
The timer goes off, and I pull out the frittata. The perfectly golden pie filled with veggies and cheese makes my mouth water.
Even Greer would be impressed. “I noticed you didn’t want to share anything about what happened yesterday at Greer’s house.”
Creed nods.
“Why?” The reason you went in was to find out all the dirt.
“It didn’t seem right to talk about their private conversation.”
That boy impresses me more and more with his maturity every day. “I can respect that.”
“Dad, those women were…amazing. It’s like they’re a little sisterhood.
You know, like Chaos. They seem to be their own little group.
But you should watch out for Winnie. She’s the scary one…
or maybe that’s Ottilie. She seems quiet and reserved, and then all of a sudden, she’ll say or do something to completely throw you off balance. ”
Between what Maddox and Creed have said, it’s impossible not to believe that Greer is loyal and trustworthy. Someone you can rely on. “You’re going to grow up having friends like that.”
Creed nods. “That’s the best part about you being in Children of Chaos and knowing I will be, eventually.”
“I’ve got to find a way to apologize to Greer,” the words just pop out of my mouth.
“Yeah, you do.” He grabs a knife and cuts off a slice of the frittata.
“How do you think I should do it? Do you think she’d like flowers or jewelry?”
Creed—my oh so humble son—snorts. “Yesterday at the party, one of her friends brought champagne.”
What does this have to do with the conversation?
“There was a whole stack of bottles. The label looked pretty fancy, and I didn’t recognize it from the club bar.”
We keep that bar well stocked with a good selection of alcohol in various price ranges, but we do like to drink the good stuff. Creed has helped me do inventory a time or two.
“So, I looked it up. Each of those bottles was over ten thousand dollars. And they were drinking them on a random weekday without blinking. I don’t think jewelry is what she’s looking for. Greer seemed really hurt.”
Now I feel like a louse.
“You just need to apologize. But not one of those I’m sort of sorry things. A real one. The way you taught me.”
“How did you get so smart?”
“Bishop taught me.” Creed grins.
***
The dishes are done, Creed is at school, and there hasn’t been one fire at the clubhouse that needs my attention, I can finally get that nap.
As I climb into bed, my security alarm chimes.
What now? I flip it onto the television.
The company isn’t for me. Greer has another car standing in front of her house.
This one isn’t as expensive as the others.
It looks more like a hired limo than a private car.
The driver steps out in a funny hat and suit.
Definitely someone who’s trying to pretend to be rich compared to the women yesterday.
The man who steps out is well dressed with an air about him that I just don’t trust. He’s carrying a fancy leather folder while the driver gives him a larger briefcase.
Who could this be?
Greer greets him at the door and ushers him in with a smile.
Odd.
Very odd.
***
What is with today? I push myself up and turn on the security feeds. There’s another car in front of Greer’s house. This time it’s two women carrying several vases of flowers and leather-bound folders.
How long are these two going to be here? If I end up staring at the screen for another hour, I’m going to lose my mind
***
Not again. Seriously, I’m going to develop alarm fatigue. Who is it now?
Two men in suits.
Their car is also likely rented.
What is she doing over there?
Curiosity is killing me.
Is there an angle where one of the security cameras might be able to see inside her house?
And I’ve officially lost it.
***
I should have just given up trying to sleep after the last person visited Greer.
Who is it this time? Four jugglers? A Parisian model?
Another limo.
Except this one is different.
It’s not hired. This person is actually rich.
The man who steps out wants the world to know how much money he has, starting with the diamond-crusted watch he’s wearing, and the matching cufflinks.
Those had to set him back a pretty penny.
Why do I even care?
Except there’s something different about him.
I sit up and zoom in.
That guy is angry. The deep-down kind of angry that drives a man to do stupid things.
Rage.
Disgust.
Yet, there are flowers in his hand. Lovely but showy flowers…they’re another statement piece. Like look at me, see how rich I am.
Greer wears her wealth, but it’s more like it’s just a part of who she is versus a public statement.
I don’t like this guy.
Not at all.
He calmly walks to Greer’s door and knocks, but his foot starts tapping as he waits for it to open.
Unlike every other time where she opened the door immediately, this guy is still waiting.
Was she expecting him? I throw the blankets off and step closer to the television.
The door opens.
Greer’s mouth drops open. She stands there staring at him.
Is he talking? He must be. I need a better angle, but there isn’t one. The only way I could see his face is if a camera was mounted near her doorframe.
She starts yelling at him.
This guy definitely wasn’t invited.
He steps forward, encroaching on her space, and that’s when I move.