Page 47 of Creed: Submission
“You’re tracking us,” I bit out. "We figured the bikes were being watched."
“I’d be a fool not to. You were all very expensive,” he said. He glanced down at his phone again. “And there they go.” He angled the screen for me. The dots that belonged to Thorne, Kane, and Rafe stirred again, heading back toward the city. “All of Creed out of its cage and in the streets. How long you think before Halden activates those devices of yours?” he asked, his eyes landing on my neck where the poison had been embedded. “I’m a betting man, and I think Halden spent a little too much time breaking you all in to poison his own efforts. Something tells me he’ll do whatever it takes to get Creed back under his thumb.”
“That’s why you put us in that penthouse and gave us the bikes?” I asked. “You were just waiting for us to take the chance to run and break our contract.” And we'd played directly into his fucking hand.
He made a small, pleased sound. “You’re quick. That’s useful.”
“What do you want?” I asked. "Why single me out? You bought all four of us."
“I want your specialty.” He nodded toward my lighter, once again flicking the flame on and off. “I knew to get what I want that you would need be…satisfied. In exchange for your services, I’ll provide all of Creed with more money than you can imagine. Your boys could go anywhere in the world, but you—you'll stay with me.”
I eyed him. He was younger than Halden and Viktor. He didn’t have the same sinister aura they both did, but sometimes, the men who raped me didn’t either. It was impossible to tell if a hell with this Buyer was more merciful than Halden’s compound.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my shoulders heaving with indecision. “You’ll let them go if I agree to help you,” I demanded, nodding to the rest of Creed on his map. "I don't want you tracking them anymore."
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’ll have less bargaining power with Halden if I can't dangle all of Creed over his head. Purely strategic. Don't worry. I'll keep my word and leave them alone. Besides, I’d thinkyou’d want them far away from that compound.” He leaned his elbows onto the tabletop and set his drink down, his gaze turning serious. “I will ensure they are unbothered,” he said. “I’ve already created accounts for all of you. Say yes, and I’ll wire money through. Shortly after, I'll deploy my team to have their devices removed, hand them their new IDs, debit cards, and sufficient travel packages to leave the city.”
I pressed, knowing better. “This feels like a trap.”
“If you say yes,” he said, the hair lifting on the back of my neck. “I’ll do as you ask. Anything you want—besides freedom from your contract—is yours. But,” he continued, setting my lighter on the table beside his phone, “we’re going to need to upgrade this little lighter of yours. Maybe something with a bit moreboom.”
My jaw flexed. “Explosives?”
He nodded once, taking a longer drink, the green of his eyes brightening within the amber. It made him impossibly magnetic, and suddenly, the wealth surrounding us didn't surprise me in the slightest. This man, I knew, had spent his life talking his way to thispoint. He was too smooth and cautious to be from old money. He was a salesman,a conman.
I swallowed. “Who’s the target?”
He tapped his ring against the side of his cup, running his other hand through the stubble along his jaw. “You’re well-acquainted, actually,” he said, his tone tinted with the kind of pride a man only shows when he knows he has the winning cards. “Halden, first, of course. Can’t have him interfering with future missions. Plus, he has something of mine I’d like back.” The slightest hint of rage flickered across his expression, but he smoothed it with ease. “Then, I was thinking Viktor Shaw could be paid a visit.”
I straightened. “You want to kill Halden and Viktor?”
He leveled his gaze with mine and nodded once, clipped, knowing he had me.
Suddenly I didn’t care if that hell was worse. “Fine. When the rest of Creed is free, I’m yours.”
He smiled brightly and gestured to the woman who'd quietly stepped into the room with a bottle of brandy. She looked out of breath, her short, black hair scraping against her chin as she brought the bottle to her lips. I recognized what she was wearing—my outfit—andit clicked. She was the one who'd impersonated me, meaning the guys were back in the city.
“Monty,” the Buyer said. "Sharingiscaring. Make us a drink, won't you? We're celebrating." Then he plucked something out of his suit pocket, sliding it across the table and letting it glimmer under the flickering firelight.
A ring. Adiamondring.
“My girl said yes,” he announced, and the woman, Monty, grinned slightly, pouring brandy into two crystal glasses from a bar cart in the corner.
"Brilliant," she said, her British accent thick. She dropped the glasses onto the table and wrenched a knife from a holster on her thigh, cocking a brow. "Hold still," she muttered before slicing through the knot of my restraints and setting the ropes loose. She stood, grabbing the brandy bottle by the neck and lifting it in a silent cheers before disappearing down the hall.
I shook off the rope and blinked down at the ring before carefully plucking it from the table, my stomach clenching. “Arden,” I gritted out. “Notyour girl. Arden. And why the fuck am I holding anengagement ring?”
He sighed and took out his wallet, opening it and sliding it across the table. "Maybe this will earn me a little faith?"
My eyes read over the name again and again, my head jerking up when he raised his glass with a wide smile.
Alexander Bishop Creed.The license said his name was fuckingAlexander Bishop Creed.
“Cheers, Mrs. Creed,” he said. Then he laid his forearm down on the table and tugged his sleeve up, revealing bold, black lettering that made my heart drop. “To the great escape,wife.”
To Be Continued…
