Page 43 of The Vigilant

“No,” I broke in. “Said a juvie record would take him some time.” And it was a good thing. As much as I wanted to know, I wanted to hear the truth from her more. It felt cheap—a betrayal—to learn it any other way, but if it was the only option to keep her safe…

“You okay?”

I stilled. “What about me?”

His head tipped. “You seem on edge.”

Yeah, well, he would be too if he hadn’t slept for a week and had been living in a state of perpetual arousal, attracted to a woman he definitely couldn’t have.

Instead, I went with, “I’m having to babysit a woman with vengeance on her mind and the skills to get herself in serious trouble.”

He waited a beat before answering, “If you say so.”

“The last person she questioned about Mara’s disappearance ended up with his hand nailed to the wall and the word ‘PIG’ engraved into his chest,” I said tightly—anything to stop him from thinking the way he was.The way that scratched at the truth.

“Damn.” His eyebrows rose. “A pretty woman who knows how to kill and isn’t afraid of it is a dangerous thing…” As he trailed off, his eyes swung to the security feed on the wall, specifically the image of Rob’s car.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and then standing when I saw movement on one of the screens. “Looks like Creed’s here. I’ll let you know when I have any updates.”

Stepping out of the garage, I came face-to-face with Creed Stone, the man every inch of the six foot five, dark, unruly-haired soldier I remembered.

“Creed.” I extended my hand, and he gave it a brief shake.

“Sorry for showing up?—”

“Not a problem. Let’s go inside.”

He nodded and then hesitated. “Would it be okay if I camped out here?”

“We have a guest house on the property. You’re welcome to it,” I offered, wondering if he always camped outside wherever his bounties took him.

Creed considered the offer, looking over his shoulder at his bike and then to the woods stretching along the side of the drive. “All right,” he agreed. “Thanks.”

I led the way through the garage.

“You’ve got some nice bikes in here.”

“It’s good work,” I told him. “Something to keep the hands busy.”

“And the mind?” he probed.

I opened the back hallway. “This way.”

Another few steps and we were back in my office, his silent eyes scanning the room.

“Callum would appreciate your setup.”

“Yeah?” I arched a brow, struggling to remember which of his siblings that was.

Creed grunted. “He’s into the tech stuff when he’s not chasing storms. He handles intake and research for all of our cases.”

“Except when an old friend calls you directly,” I muttered. “You want something to drink?”

He shrugged out of his leather jacket. “Beer. If you have it.”

“Yeah. One sec.” I went down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed a cold one from the fridge. When I returned, Creed stood with his arms barreled over his chest and was staring at the information on the screen—information I’d left up about fake IDs.

“Another case I’m working on,” I offered and handed him the bottle, reaching for my keychain that had an opener on it.Pointlessly, it turned out as Creed fisted the cap and popped it off with his bare hand.

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