Chapter Seven

Creed lifted the gun when a creak on the stairs signaled someone coming.

When Stone came out of the stairway door, he was carrying the car seat and a to-go cup. When his cousin got close enough, he placed the seat down and held out the cup.

Creed took the cup and sipped at its contents. The coffee was just what he needed, and he drank deeply of the hot, creamy brew.

Stone crouched in the hallway, leaning back against the wall not too far from where Creed sat against the door.

“What’s going on?”

“Kellum is behind this door with a young boy and a toddler that looks to be about two, maybe three, and I needed that.” Creed pointed to the seat, took another sip, and pulled out his truck keys with his free hand. He held them out to Stone.

“Did your proposal send him running?” Stone snagged the keys with a smirk.

“No, I haven’t asked him.”

Taking a deep breath, Creed quickly filled Stone in on everything that had transpired since their last meeting.

“After the shooting, Kellum ended up here with the boys.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Briefly. He doesn’t trust anyone right now.”

“That’s understandable,” Stone said, holding his gaze. “If he’s got trouble coming, I’ll be in town for the next few months.”

“Santa Barbara?” Creed asked, because he knew that was where the former SecDef had a home and while Stone protested about staying away from Dave, Creed knew for a fact that his cousin had been there several times since the first of the year.

“Maybe, but that’s only about thirty minutes from here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll text if I need backup,” Creed agreed. “Owen offered to help too.”

“He’s a good man to have at your back.”

“One of the best.”

Stone stood and lifted the car seat. “I have no fucking clue of how to safely belt this in your truck.”

Creed smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it. Laura taught me that several years ago.”

Stone smirked, gave him an up-nod, and then strode down the hallway.

When his cousin disappeared, Creed continued with his coffee. When the morning came, he would order food delivered for the boys inside and anything else they wanted.

And maybe, just maybe, Kellum would talk to him again.

Kellum finally got Dylan down on the bottom bunk and sank to the twin mattress on the other side of the small room. He stretched out fully clothed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d left the small lamp on so the boys wouldn’t be scared if they woke up. Plus, it helped him sleep.

He hated the dark.

That wasn’t necessarily true, he just hated the things that people did in the dark. Angrily, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. The scum of the earth hung around in the unlit world just waiting for unsuspecting victims to cross their paths.

Kellum bit his pillow and swallowed, but nothing could hold back the hot tears. All he could do was roll and muffle them and hope like hell his gut-wrenching sounds didn’t wake his brothers.

The thought of Creed knowing where he was gave him a small measure of comfort and he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

It was dark. Always fucking dark, and when the hands reached for him, he screamed behind the hand clamped over his mouth. The smell of sweat, cigarettes, and booze wafted over him and filled his nostrils until he couldn’t draw in air. He couldn’t breathe with his nose clogged from snot and the hand over his mouth. The room grew dim, and faces turned to monsters.

“Ahhhhh!” Kellum bolted upright in bed and the nightmare faded. He clamped his hands over his mouth and shot a look at the bunkbeds—both Aaron and Dylan were still asleep.

Thank fuck.

Panting, with his heart pounding, he rolled out of bed and carried his pillow and a blanket to the living room. He dropped to the smelly couch and clenched his teeth. Of all the fucking nights for the nightmares to come back, it had to be tonight?

It was bad enough that he lived with the abuse, but did he have to dream about it? Was there no escape?

He tossed a glance at the door…was Creed still out there?

He couldn’t stand it any longer and leaped from the couch. He raced to the door and with shaking hands, he opened each deadbolt before yanking it open.

Creed was standing there, a silent sentinel. A protector to his core, a fierce badass—beat your ass down kind of man, who Kellum knew would die before letting anyone inside.

“What’s wrong?” Creed rasped, set his cup on the floor, and stepped closer to cup his face.

Kellum gave a choked sob and launched into Creed’s chest. The next thing he knew, they were sitting on the ground in the hallway with Creed’s arms around him. Kellum had climbed right into the man’s lap of all things.

Creed’s big hand ran slowly down his back offering comfort and he soaked it in. Kellum stayed like that for a long time, maybe half an hour before he spoke.

“I’m an expert marksman,” Kellum whispered.

“I know. I read your file.”

Creed had removed his leather jacket and placed it around Kellum’s body to keep him warm. Kellum smiled into Creed’s shirt. Creed positioned them so they were blocking his partially opened door. The man was always thinking several steps ahead.

“What else did you read?”

“That you used to work for a general.”

“I did. I was a civilian contractor for six months.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did, and I would still be there if he hadn’t retired.”

“But then you would have never met me.”

Kellum lifted his head and smiled ruefully. “True.”

“So, what had you flying out that door at—” Creed checked his iWatch. “Four in the morning?”

“Nothing you can fix.” Kellum shook his head and pulled away.

“Try me,” Creed murmured and tightened his arms.

Kellum panicked and jerked back, and Creed immediately released him.

Falling to his ass on the floor, he jumped to his feet and scrambled back inside the apartment.

He was broken and nobody could fix that.

Not even Creed.