Creed: Chapter 22

My father is in the city.

With Manuel Morales, a benefactor whom my grandparents and many people in my community view as a saint.

Who is a business rival of Creed.

And I could be a target.

My mind runs a thousand miles an hour trying to process this all, trying to understand.

Morales is with my father. In San Deigo. Why?

Memories of my father rush at me from my only interaction with him. His eyes are brown like mine but are soulless and cruel. He looks like the villain my mom and grandparents always portrayed him as. When I reached out to him, he wanted nothing to do with me; however, that’s until something clicked in his mind. Then, he watched me with cold calculation. When he said he wanted to introduce me to one of the cartel lieutenants, I saw a flash of alarm, then pity in the eyes of the other sicario with my father. That was enough to tell me to run.

The remaining months I’d lived with my grandparents before I came here for school, I’d been afraid that he’d come for me. I suspected his calculating idea was to give me to the lieutenant to earn some favor or promotion in rank.

Moving to the States eased my stress because I knew my father couldn’t enter easily. I’m not an idiot to think he couldn’t come and go secretly, with the authorities being none the wiser, but I rested easier with the distance.

But he’s here now, and that can mean nothing good.

Creed is on his way. And Christ Almighty, he’s sending a biker to pick me up. Who the hell knows what this Bane is into? The laws he probably breaks daily.

But if I have to choose between being given to some cartel boss and possibly being used as a pawn to hurt Creed, versus sucking up my judgmental reservations and going with someone Creed is trusting to keep me safe until he can get here and do it himself? It’s a no-brainer.

I power down my laptop and leave it on my desk. Ollie won’t panic if I’m gone when she gets back to the room because she thinks I’m headed to the library. However, she will panic in the morning when I’m not here, so I text her.

Her reply comes in almost immediately.

“I’m ready,” I say to Andro on the phone, who’s been trying to keep me calm while Creed speaks with his father.

“Minnie,” he says, and I smile at his nickname for me. “You’re so calm; it’s amazing, girl. You keep channeling that inner queen. You got me?”

I don’t feel calm or strong; I feel like a raging ball of nerves and on the verge of tears. “I’m going to switch phones.”

“Creed will call you right back on the other. Okay?”

“Okay.” My voice doesn’t shake even though my body does. “Thanks, Andro.”

I power down my phone, open the drawer, and toss it in. The phone I bought for Sylvie rings immediately, with a number I don’t recognize, but I answer.

“Angel, it’s me. I’m using a burner.” Creed sounds like he’s running. “Andro and I are on our way to the airport. Bane should be there in five minutes.”

“I’m leaving now.” I bite my lip to stop it from quivering.

When I exit my room, the hallway buzzes with students returning from classes to either prepare to leave for spring break or to pre-game for the evening. I lock my door, scan the faces, and only see students I recognize. I push toward the staircase.

“It’s going to be okay.” Creed sounds so sure, and it settles my nerves a bit. “I’m coming for you.”

I want nothing more than that. First, we must overcome the hurdle of my father being here, possibly for me.

“Baby…” I don’t want to say his name out in public now, and he sucks in a breath when I call him that. “I need to tell you about my father when I see you.”

“Anything, Soph. Whatever and anything you’re ready to share with me.”

My heart pounds as I hurry down the stairs, knowing his statement has more than one meaning. I’ve been holding us at bay for months, but that hasn’t stopped the love from growing between us.

The handrail is cold under my touch as I swing around and go down the next flight. Running footsteps up the stairs makes my heart pound faster, but the following laughter eases some of my tension. I pass the three guys as I come down the next flight.

“Hey, Sophie.” Jaxon smiles at me, a sweaty, dirty mess like his buddies, carrying a basketball. “Are you coming to the rager tonight? We always miss you when you don’t show.”

Creed grunts in my ear, and I bite back a smile at his jealous sound.

“Umm, maybe,” I reply to Jaxon as I squeeze past them and hurry down the stairs.

Scanning outside and not seeing my father or someone he’d be with, I hurry across the grass, bypassing people lying in the sun as spring pushes its way forth. It isn’t as warm as back home but isn’t frigid, either. I tug my jacket’s hood up. Hurrying to the path that leads to the campus perimeter and city streets, I try to be vigilant of my surroundings without being obvious, which is way more challenging than it looks.

Creed isn’t chatty like Andro, but just having him on the line is reassuring.

He probably thinks I’m pathetic.

I jolt when he tells me I’m not pathetic, and I realize I said that thought out loud.

“This isn’t your world, Soph.” His voice sounds pained. “I’d never think you’re pathetic. You’re actually handling this like a rockstar.”

That makes me laugh a little. But the hairs stand on my neck, and my breathing quickens.

Creed is always so intune with me and my reactions, even over the phone. “What is it?”

I scan around, trying to look nonchalant and pick up my pace. “I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m being watched. It’s probably just nerves. It’s stupid—”

“Trust your gut, angel. How far are you from the meeting place?”

“Two minutes. A little less if I run.” I pick up my walking pace even more.

“Bane should be there soon. Ash just texted me and he’s tracking Bane’s location.”

“He has a tracker on him?” I’m slightly breathless as panic tries to press in.

“Ash said it’s something they use when they do runs.”

I don’t want to know what bikers do on runs or why they’d want to ensure they have trackers on them.

“Angel, I want you to start jogging and put the phone on speaker. Stay alert.”

I follow Creed’s command, glancing around while I do. My heart nearly stops in my chest.

Across the quad, on another path, I meet the eyes of the man walking along it. It’s the sicario who had been with my father when I met him.

It can’t be a coincidence. There can only be one reason he’s here.

Me.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “They’re here.”

“Run, angel. Now! Go, Sophie!” Creed orders without hesitation, and I bolt.

I hear two men yell curses in Spanish and know the sicario and another man are pursuing me, coming across the quad.

“Don’t look backward,” Creed urges. “That will slow you down. Pump your arms and run like the fucking wind. Fly like the angel you are.”

His encouragement gives me speed and endurance, further fueled by the curses behind me and boots thudding on the path. They’re so close—too close.

My breathing is harsh and shallow as panic almost overwhelms me. Over the phone, I can hear a motorcycle and Andro yelling to someone, ‘They’re there already!’

Through my haze of panic, I barely register the stunned looks of the students I pass, my hood slipping back as I run for my life.

“Bane is coming onto the campus to you. Keep running all out, Sophie.” Creed’s tone is urgent but not panicked, and I appreciate that because I don’t need anything to escalate me.

I want Creed so badly to be here with me. Not only because I know I’m safe with him, but because I know that, without a doubt, I’m his world.

This is my ‘come to Jesus moment.’

Suddenly faced with men chasing me, my father probably wanting to use me for his gain, and a businessman revered as a saint but with a dirty agenda… I feel like a fool to have denied Creed and myself the happiness and joy we so clearly bring to each other.

Creed was devastated when it turned out I wasn’t pregnant. Not because he wanted to control me or because I was merely a vessel to give him kids, but because he wanted his babies to be with me.

A sob catches in my throat.

“It’s going to be okay, angel. Just keep running.” I hear the plea in Creed’s voice.

Then I hear the roar of a motorcycle and people screaming as it bursts into view, and they dive out of the way as it flies toward me.

“He’s here,” I choke. But I know from the shouts behind me that the men are still chasing me.

Will they open fire? Will there be a shoot-out? Will innocent people die because of me?

A huge guy riding a large black motorcycle with subtle silver flames hurdles toward me, like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. I recognize Bane from the picture Creed had sent. Seeing his grim face, one might think he heralds death, but all I see is a lifeline.

Smoke billows, and the smell of rubber on asphalt assaults my nose as Bane brakes and swings the bike around to face the other way. He pushes a helmet at me and aims a gun at the racing men behind me. It’s a warning as he doesn’t shoot, and the two men slow and hold up their hands, their chests heaving.

“Get on, sugar,” Bane rumbles.

“Thank fuck,” Creed grits through the phone. “Go, Sophie. Go with Bane, angel.”

I shove my phone into my back pocket, not disconnecting the call with Creed, and slam the helmet on my head, working the strap as I swing my leg over the bike. It isn’t a two-seater bike, but I won’t be prissy about getting up close and personal with the man, a total stranger, who just saved me.

The sicario and other guy have completely backed off, but Bane doesn’t waste time and peels out as soon as I’m on.

“Hold on to me tight and lean whichever way I am,” he shouts over the noise of the bike’s straight pipes.

Squished against his broad back, I do as he instructs, my legs hugging his hips, and my arms wrapping around his taut waist. Never having been on a motorcycle, I’m terrified of falling off. I’m also terrified of being shot in the back and realize Bane is zigzagging as he drives and keeps a watch in the rearview mirror as much as ahead.

A tremor runs down my spine, and I yell over the sound of the bike and wind as he races us off campus, “They gave up easily if they were coming for me, don’t you think?”

He nods, and I see the grim set to his stumbled jaw in the rearview mirror. As we get closer to the street, my musing and fears are actualized when I see the face of my father. He raises a gun out the window of an SUV.

“Gun, at ten o’clock!” I yell, and Bane immediately swerves, dodging us between vehicles as we launch off the curb.

I hold on for dear life as he throttles the bike, so we shoot forward and weaves us through traffic. Horns blare as tires squeal, and I don’t have to look back to know the SUV is pursuing us.

“Nice work spotting that. Keep your eyes peeled, sugar,” Bane shouts.

How he can be so utterly calm, I have no freaking idea—especially since it feels like we’re cans sitting on the fencepost just waiting to get shot down. At least in a vehicle, you have some protection with the metal, fiberglass, glass, and seat stuffing, even if it isn’t bulletproof.

Bane drives like a maniac, barreling through traffic and gaining distance due to the bike’s agility that the bulky SUV lacks.

Vibrations reverberate and bounce off the buildings that encase the street. Bane takes a hard left, and I lean with him, clutching him tighter as the bike tilts toward the asphalt racing by.

The noise and vibrations escalate, and up ahead, I see something that makes me want to weep. A hoard of bikers takes up the complete street and increases speed as Bane approaches. They part like the Red Sea, and Bane threads between them. I twist to look behind me and watch the gap close. They surround us, protect us—protect me—amongst them.

My eyes meet a biker with a scarred face, crooked nose, and white streaks through his beard. He epitomizes a hardened, raw man who lives big and rides hard. There’s a gap between his front teeth; one tooth is angled and broken off, but his smile is big, and he winks. I can’t help smiling back at him.

I can’t reach my phone in my back pocket because I don’t trust myself to shift my weight or let go of Bane; however, I feel comfort knowing that Creed is still on the line. Or maybe he isn’t because my phone disconnected the call or because he had to turn it off when their plane took off.

But I feel safer now. Knowing Creed has my back to protect me, even when he isn’t physically here. Somehow, he knew the threat to me before disaster struck. He had pulled out the stops to keep me safe.

Criminals came to my rescue. Creed’s family used their resources and connections to protect me. Bane took a risk to rescue me. I’m a stranger to the Santoro family and Bane but there’s been no hesitation. In the past thirty minutes, I’ve seen what has been role modeled my whole life by my grandparents—you help others.

Bane turns his head to the side. “You’re not out of the woods yet, sugar, but we’ll keep you safe until your man arrives.”

My chest clenches at someone calling Creed ‘my man.’ God, I want that so badly.

“Why do you keep calling me sugar?” I ask Bane over the wind.

He turns his head again, flashing a smile that, if I wasn’t absolutely and helplessly in love with Creed, it might make me swoon a bit. “Would you rather sugar tits?”

I choke, then half-croak, half-laugh. “No.”

His thick back rumbles as he laughs, too. “When I got your picture from Ash, I could tell you were a woman who would hate being called sweetheart, even though you’re dead-ringer sweetheart material. My nana’s name was Sophie, and I can’t bring myself to call you that, because as much as I loved Nana, she was a horrid old hag.”

“Well, I guess sugar is better than sweetheart or sugar tits.” I laugh.

He focuses on the road. “We’re going to break off from the group because we’re too easy to track.”

There’s comfort in being like a guppy in the middle of a vast school of fish, protected from the sharks. But Bane has a point. He pulls ahead in the group, starting to work toward the side, and I notice other bikes with females on the back.

Diversions or out for the ride?

I say another pleaded prayer for no one to die today because of me.

Is my father here for his own purposes, or is this cartel sanctioned for some reason?

The sudden, unbidden thought makes me shudder.

“You okay?” Bane calls back to me.

I nod because I can’t get words out at the moment.

Groups around us break off, and our smaller group takes a right, leading to a dark street and an underpass under a bridge. There’s a truck with a trailer parked up ahead, and Bane aims for that while the others keep going straight, each throwing up an arm in salute as they drive away, and Bane slows down.

A long-legged man, whom I could only describe as utterly gorgeous, gets out of the truck. A long-sleeve shirt is under his leather vest, and instead of jeans, he wears black cuffed pants that are half shoved into combat boots. He strides with the stealth of a wild cat to the trailer and lowers the ramp.

Without hesitation, Bane pulls up the ramp and parks his bike beside another one already loaded in the trailer.

I pop off, undoing the helmet Bane loaned me. He puts the stand out, swinging his long, thick leg over the seat, leaves both helmets attached to the bike, and hurries me out of the trailer.

“Sophie, Army. Army, Sophie,” Bane introduces us quickly as he ushers me to the back of the truck. “Get in and stay out of sight.”

I climb in, lying flat on the seat, and wiggle to get the phone out of my back pocket. “Creed?”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

My eyes well with tears, but I fight them back, biting my lip. Now that the immediate threat has passed, I feel myself starting to unravel, but I resist, refusing to give in. I don’t want to show weakness to Creed or my rescuers. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as Bane and Army enter the truck.

“You okay?” Creed asks, concerned. “I know that’s a stupid question, but answer it, regardless.”

“Yeah. Thank you.” Then I realize I’m a thankless shit, and I half-sit up and touch Bane’s arm. When he turns to me, I say, “Thank you for…” My throat closes, preventing me from continuing, and he nods.

“Anytime, sugar.”

Hearing Creed’s growl of dislike at that nickname, I chuckle.

“Your man hates the name.” Bane guesses, and I nod. “Tough shit, Santoro,” he says loud enough for Creed to hear. “That’s my payment for rescuing your girl.”

“Let me talk to him,” Creed growls.

I pass Bane the phone. He’s quiet as he listens to whatever Creed is saying, nodding solemnly, and I don’t think Creed is giving the biker shit about my new nickname.

“You have my word,” Bane finally says, then reaches back to give me the phone so I can speak with Creed again.

“Angel, I need to hang up for now. However, Bane knows how to get a hold of my pilot, so if you need anything, they can reach me.”

“Okay.” I lay down fully on the seat and close my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Sophie…” Creed pauses. “When I arrive, I’m not letting you go. Never again.”

My heart feels like it’s stitching itself back together with his words.

He’s always called me angel, and I finally fully embrace my fall from grace.

I speak the most honest words of my life. “I don’t want you to.”

“Good girl,” he rumbles, making my heart soar and my core clench. “Always my good girl. My angel. Mine. I’ll see you soon.”