Chapter Three

Creed could kick himself in the ass for letting Stone’s comments get to him, but just after tonight’s dinner, his cousin had left with a comment that maybe Kellum was waiting for him to make the first move.

The more Creed thought about it, the more it weighed on him. Creed didn’t want to miss his chance with Kellum because he hadn’t spoken up. He thought about cornering Kellum at work, but the man had recently taken leave.

So yeah…three fucking weeks of time off was long enough.

Creed rapped on the faded brown door with his knuckles and stood waiting. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his fucking prom date.

Glancing left and then right, he studied the filthy, stained carpet of the broken-down apartment building in a seedier part of Ventura. It sat on the border between a town and the city. While the neighborhood was trying to improve with recently paved roads, freshly planted center islands, and newly built homes, neglect still showed in some of the older apartment buildings.

“What?” The guy sounded like a prick with a snapping, pissed-off voice that came right out of a B movie.

Did he have the right apartment number? When Creed didn’t answer, the door was yanked open to reveal a tall, thin man with shaggy hair, unkempt facial hair, and glazed mud-brown eyes—barefoot, and in wrinkled clothes. Creed was sure there was an egg stuck in his long beard and he stunk like cigarette smoke—haze filled the room behind the guy.

“Yeah?” The man glared at him.

Yep, a thug.

“Is Kellum here?” Creed gazed past the man and into the dirty apartment, his chest squeezing at the thought of Kellum living in such a place.

The man’s face turned somewhere between suspicion and rage and Creed’s blood turned to ice. Please let this be the wrong address, he sent a silent hope to the universe.

A child’s cry came from within the apartment, sounding the age of a toddler. He had enough nephews and nieces at that age to know the difference.

“Shut him the fuck up or I will!” the man yelled over his shoulder.

Creed went deadly still and when the man turned back to him, the guy took a jerking step back and almost lost his hold on the door. Creed recognized the move for what it was—an instinctual act of survival.

That’s right, you son of a bitch, I’m not a kid nor your wife.

“Does Kellum live here?” This time it was a flat statement spoken through his clenched teeth.

“Daniel? Yeah.” The man sneered now that he was a safe distance away. “He’s at work.”

Creed’s mind shot in a thousand different directions, but none of that showed on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy said with increased bravado.

“A friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

None of your fucking businesswas on the tip of his tongue, but on the off chance this fucker was Kellum’s relative, he wasn’t going to burn bridges at the moment.

“I’m in from out of town,” he lied. “I’ll catch up with him next time.”

The little child inside started crying again.

“Yeah, whatever,” the guy snapped and slammed the door in his face.

Yelling came from the other side of the door and Creed contemplated kicking it in, but the child stopped crying. He thought he heard another young voice, but couldn’t be sure.

Every muscle in his body felt tight and he clenched his hands as he slowly walked back down the filthy carpeted hallway. Reaching the stairs, he stepped over a pile of trash.

Fuck this.

He jogged down the stairs holding his breath until he reached the outside before he took several deep, relieved breaths. When he reached the darkened sidewalk, he stalked to his truck and slid behind the wheel. He pulled out behind one lone passing car.

Coming to the end of the block, he flipped a U-turn and parked on the other side of the street behind a rusted sedan, and killed the lights.

Tucking his chin into the collar of his jacket, he stared without blinking at the apartment building’s entrance.

Kellum had a second job. That was an eye-opener. What the hell, did Pegasus not give him enough money? Creed would be talking to Ace about that when he next saw their boss. It might be hours, though. Kellum could be working an eight-hour shift at this other job.

Creed settled in; he didn’t care how long he had to wait.

An hour passed with several people going in and out of the building, but none of them were Kellum. Creed recognized drug traffic with its idling cars, drop-offs, and pick-ups. Thankfully, he’d picked up a coffee to go on the way over, and that worked out well for this impromptu stakeout.

Of course, he couldn’t be sure the people going in and out of the complex were ending up at Kellum’s door, but it wasn’t a far leap. The shaggy bearded man had several scabs on his cheeks and arms, a sure sign of drug abuse, probably methamphetamine.

He’d seen quite a bit of the ravage the drug could do and had lost a few friends as a result before he’d joined the Army. Joining the military—a few years after the war in Iraq began and becoming part of the Army Special Forces—had saved his life.

A familiar figure walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street caught his attention. He’d recognize that slim form and blond hair anywhere.

Since coming to work for Pegasus, Kellum had changed his hair from black to brown and then a few months ago, dyed it blond. Creed remembered stopping and staring so much, Kellum had blushed and hurried away.

Even in the dead of night like now, Kellum’s shiny hair shone like a beacon beneath the one street light that seemed to have been spared from vandals. Before Creed could get out of his SUV, Kellum darted up the steps of the apartment building and disappeared inside.

Well, shit. Was Kellum in for the night? Creed would have sent a text message, but Kellum had left his cell phone behind at work.

Three fucking weeks ago.

How did someone live without a cell phone for that long? It was crazy. He couldn’t go fifteen minutes without checking his phone.

“Yeah, that probably speaks of an addiction,” he muttered and took another sip from the cooling coffee. He would finish his cup and then he’d leave.

Itching to call his boss, he held back. Ace was home with his fiancé, Jacob, and it was—he glanced at his watch—just past eleven. This wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Come hell or high water, he was going to make sure whatever the fuck was going on in Kellum’s apartment wasn’t life threatening to Kellum, or that little one, or anyone else who may be living in that place.

He rolled his neck and rubbed at one tight shoulder and leaned his head against the headrest. His eyes fell to slits as he stared at the entrance.

Bang, bang.

The shots jerked him upright and the small remains of coffee in his cup upended on his jean-clad thigh. He snapped his eyes to the clock—he’d dozed off for eighteen minutes.

But he knew one thing, gunfire had woken him up.

Fuck!

Creed pulled his weapon from his glove compartment and exited the vehicle. Running quickly across the street, he let the shadows swallow his movements.

People started pouring out of the apartment building and he tucked his gun in his shoulder holster beneath his jacket before making his way inside. The elevator doors were open with people spilling out. Like before, Creed took the stairs and passed people on their way down. In the distance, the wailing of sirens sounded and he picked up the pace.

Reaching Kellum’s apartment door, it stood wide open.

No, please, fuck no.

The silent mantra went over and over in his head. He pushed open the door and it hit a body. Stepping over the legs, he caught sight of a stranger, and relief that it wasn’t Kellum sucked the air from his lungs and made thinking impossible for a few seconds.

He crouched and touched the man’s neck. No pulse. Advancing into the room, the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air along with the stench of old food.

Entering the kitchen by way of an open doorway, he found the man from before on the floor. No visible gunshot wounds, just a hit to the head, and this time when he stooped, he found a pulse.

The jackass would live. Pity.

Snapping upright, he raced through the living room and into one of two bedrooms. The room was filth-riddled and he checked under the bed and in the closet, then did the same to the other rooms.

No Kellum, no child, and nobody else was in the apartment.

The sirens stopped their piercing wail out front and Creed jogged across the apartment and out the door. He moved along the hallway in the opposite direction and ducked into a small alcove just as Ventura’s finest reached the hallway.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know the local PD and SWAT, because all of Pegasus did, but Creed couldn’t allow himself to be detained until he found Kellum.

He waited until the last of the officials entered the apartment and then stepped out of the alcove. He slipped past the apartment door and made it to the top of the stairs.

“Creed?” SWAT commander Chris Randal called out.

Shit. Just my luck.

“Yup.” Creed drawled when his escape was thwarted. He swung away from the top of the stairs and with a silent sigh, he walked back toward the open apartment door.

“I didn’t know you guys were working a case.”

“We aren’t.”

Randal frowned, then squinted and glanced at the dead body in the doorway. “Care to explain?”

“Not really.” Maybe he could get out of this without too much time passing.

“Try,” Randal’s voice turned hard.

Creed eyed the SWAT leader. He didn’t want to make an enemy of this guy, but he needed to find Kellum because he couldn’t be sure that Kellum hadn’t pulled the trigger and killed the guy at his feet.

Creed held up one finger and pulled out his cell phone.

It rang and a sleep-filled voice answered.

“Creed, what’s wrong?”

“I have a situation I need to resolve and I need you to get me out of being detained by SWAT Commander Randal,” Creed said, keeping his gaze locked with Randal and he saw the exact moment the commander realized he was on the losing end of this battle.

“You good?” Ace sounded wide awake.

“Yeah. I’ll explain when I can,” Creed promised.

“Put Randal on,” Ace growled without even asking Creed any further questions.

Randal sputtered into the phone for a few moments and then turned pale. He handed Creed back the phone and rather than gloat or any of that bullshit, Creed went back to the stairs and jogged quickly down them.

He hit the outside streets and snapped his gaze around, trying to locate Kellum and potentially another person or the child from that apartment.

But no matter how long Creed searched, Kellum was gone.