Unfinished Hero 03 Raid (11 page)

Whenever it got hot it eventually fizzled out
,
so he went home to his family.

Raid had met Creed’s wife once. She was a relatively new wife, a new mom
,
but like her husband, she was a seasoned private investigator and ass kicker.

She was the ballsiest bitch he’d ever met in his life.

He’d liked her immediately.

Sylvie Creed had a baby boy named Jesse who she didn’t like leaving
,
but she also didn’t like her husband leaving. Further, they strangely, considering
both of them were badass, consummate professionals and skilled, really hated being
apart in a way you could almost taste how much they hated it.

Therefore, the longer this operation went, the more trips Creed took north, the more
impatient Sylvie became.

And she was getting antsy down in Phoenix looking after a kid when she’d prefer to
be in Colorado cracking heads with her husband
,
and she wasn’t all fired up about the fact that Creed got to have all the fun.

“You gonna call this shit in to Knight or you want me to do it?” Raid asked.

“You do it,” Creed answered
,
then his lips twitched. “You gonna wait until tomorrow to lay into your new babe
for jacking up our action or are you headin’ there now?”

“She overheard me talkin’. We didn’t say much. She has no clue about the operation.”

Creed smiled. “So you gonna wait until tomorrow to lay your new babe or are you headin’
there now?”

Oh, he was heading there now.

It was fucking uncool she overheard him, came to the table, lied her ass off then
pulled that tease shit at her house
—
whatever the fuck that was about
—
and called the Sherriff.

He had no idea what was in her head.

He was fucking going to find out.

Then he was going to drag her ass to her bedroom, which he hoped to God was as appealing
as the porch and foyer of her house, and then “lay his new babe”.

Thoroughly.

She deserved a spanking for this shit.

But they were new. He had to break her into that.

Raid didn’t answer Creed’s question.

Instead, he asked, “You headin’ to DIA now?”

“Hotel, book a flight, then I’m out.”

“I’ll call it in to Knight
,
then I’m goin’ to Hanna’s. I’ll update you if we get a new lead and we need you or
Sylvie to come back up. Though, advice
.
I’d throw your wife a bone. Knight says
she’s threatening
,
we don’t find this asshole
,
then she’s gonna come up and do it on her own so she can stop livin’ the life of
a woman without her baby daddy.”

“Right,” Creed grunted, his lips curved up.

“Later,” Raid said.

“Later,” Creed replied.

Raid threw open the door and knifed out. He walked the three blocks to his Jeep, swung
in and headed to Hanna’s house.

He did this trying to control his temper
,
and insanely, he did that by thinking about Hanna.

And he did this because, for weeks, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

And this was because, over the last week and a half, he’d come to understand Hanna
Boudreaux was his reward.

He’d thought it the second he saw her in front of Bodhi’s bike shop, looking adorable
,
jumping around on those long, tanned legs, clapping and crying out excitedly wearing
short-shorts and a little white top.

He’d suspected it when she crawled around gathering cat food tins, that sweet ass
of hers in the air
,
making him fight his dick getting hard and giving him ideas for their future.

It came clearer when it just plain came clear that she was one of those women that
needed a man. Taking care of her grandmother on her own. Paying her mortgage by knitting
fucking afghans. Getting fucked over at a car dealership. Getting taken by her friends.

But he knew it the minute she timidly tossed her afghans over the back of her grandmother’s
porch chair and smoothed her hand down the soft wool, yards of nothing that, at her
hands, looked like everything. Home. Warmth. Comfort. Nurture. Love.

And if he didn’t know it then, it was cemented when she opened that mouth of hers
under his and let him take everything he wanted.

His reward for his sweat.

His blood.

Their
blood.

His goddamned nightmares.

Other than visits to his mother and sister, he had no idea that when
he came back to Willow
—
something he never intended to do
—
that he’d find it there.

Her there.

What he’d earned.

What was
his
.

What he knew was months ago they’d traced the shipments to Bodhi and his girlfriend
in Raid’s own damned town.

That was why Knight had called him in.

That was why Raid came home.

They never got a lock on the supplier
. H
e always sent his minions with the dope
,
but Bodhi and Heather used the bike shop as a front, shipping it with the bike business
as a cover.

Bodhi and Heather were relatively harmless
,
cogs in a wheel
,
low-level players they needed to watch and work and hope they led the team to the
puppetmaster.

By the time the team was done dicking around with those two and ready to close in
on them to try to squeeze them for information, strong arm or blackmail them into
a maneuver that might out the big man, Bodhi and Heather got smart with protecting
the bike shop and moved the business to Hanna’s shipments.

A local. A third generation Willowite.

Thus a complication.

At that time Raid had no clue who Hanna Boudreaux was. He knew Miss Mildred
. E
veryone did. He also knew Hanna’s older brother, Jeremy, who was a year behind him
in school. All he remembered of the guy was that he was a decent wide receiver and
he’d bragged overtly, and nauseatingly frequently, when he’d tapped Lori Kowslowski’s
ass.

But he didn’t know Hanna.

Once word got out Bodhi and Heather had moved their operation and involved a local
—
a local linked to the town’s most beloved citizen, a ninety-eight year old fixture
of their society
—
he’d had no choice but to ask around about Hanna.

He’d heard nothing but good things. She looked after her grandmother. She went to
church. She was a quiet girl. She read a lot. She liked to go to the movies. She was
sweet. Loyal. Funny. Loving.

An easy mark for those two assholes.

Even though Raid never saw her there, his sister Rachelle told him she came into café
all the time.

“But haven’t seen her for a while, bro. You see her, though, you’ll know. Fantastic
figure. Pretty smile. Great legs
,
but uber-mousy, you get what I’m saying? Has no clue
, if
she put in a teeny-weeny bit of effort she’d be
all that,
” Rache had said.

But sweet, shy, mousy, reads-a-lot Hanna
,
who everyone knew and everyone said was always around
,
had disappeared.

By the time spring hit Willow and Raid first laid eyes on Hanna Boudreaux, weeks before
he saw her at the bike shop and took his shot to follow her and “run into her” at
the pet store, he didn’t know what the fuck his sister was on about.

Hanna Boudreaux was not mousy.

She was standing with one of her hands on the handlebars of that ridiculous bike of
hers, talking to Paul Moyer.

No.

Laughing
with him. Her shining blonde head thrown back, her pretty face lit up
,
her body shaking, her other hand clutching Paul’s arm like she had to hold herself
up with the hilarity of it all.

Paul had been watching her tits while she laughed.

Raid had wanted to land a fist in his face.

He held back.

They needed to know if Hanna was clean
,
then they needed to be
certain
Hanna was clean
,
then they could extricate her from the scenario and carry on with the operation.

And after Raid had finally caught sight of her he had decided that he would personally
be extricating her because Hanna would be in his bed, under his protection and she’d
feel none of that shit.

Fortunately, it took about a nanosecond to figure out that Hanna was being taken.

Unfortunately, before he could get her in his bed, she’d overheard him and blown the
operation
,
so now they had nothing.

No one to lead them to the supplier who fucked with Raid and Creed’s buddy, Knight,
who lived in Denver, had a successful nightclub, a questionable side business and
a shitload of money with which he could use to throw at problems he wanted solved.

Something he didn’t hesitate doing.

So Knight contracted with Raid, Raid’s crew and Creed to solve it.

Now they had nothing.

Knight was going to be pissed.

Raid already was.

He turned onto the single lane road that led to three houses, the last one being Hanna’s,
and pulled over. He yanked out his phone and made his call to Knight.

He was right. Knight was pissed.

He ended the call, pulled back into the lane and headed to Hanna’s house.

The light, upstairs right, was on.

Her bedroom.

So was the light, downstairs left.

The living room.

This meant she was up.

Excellent.

He threw open his door and folded out. He prowled to the front door, put his hand
right to the knob and turned.

Fuck.

Now
she l
ocked
it.

He hit the bell.

Nothing.

He looked to his left.

The lights were on, curtains drawn. He could see no movement.

He hit the bell again then pounded.

He stopped.

Still nothing.

“What the fuck?” he clipped.

He turned
and prowled to his car. He opened his glove compartment, got his kit and prowled right
back. He squatted by the doorknob, pulled out his tools
,
and in about five seconds picked her shitty, going-to-be-replaced-tomorrow lock.

He shoved his tools in his back pocket, opened the door and saw her instantly, standing
in the foyer, staring at him, her big, pretty blue eyes huge.

He slammed the door behind him.

Hanna jumped.

She was very lucky that she’d changed into an adorable pair of very short drawstring
pajama shorts and a skintight ribbed tank, both that left little to the imagination,
both in colors that highlighted the golden tan that shimmered on every inch of her
skin. She was also lucky she had her hair up in another messy knot his fucking hand
fucking
itched
to yank out or he wouldn’t have had the patience to draw in the breath he needed
to calm down.

But he drew in the breath he needed to calm down.

In that time she whispered, “Oh my God. You picked my lock.”

“How’s your headache?” he asked.

Her eyes, which had moved to the doorknob, shot to his.

Then she started backing up.

“Smart,” he murmured as he advanced.

“Raiden
—
”

“You heard me on the phone.”

She visibly swallowed. Her shoulder hit the doorway to the back hall and she shifted
sideways.

Raid followed her. “You came to the table and lied through your teeth, right to my
face.”

“I
—
”

“You told me you had a goddamned headache, which worried me, then you pressed tight
to me, giving me your mouth and takin’ it away, a bullshit bitch tease move I didn’t
know you had it in you to execute.”

She stopped dead. “I wasn’t teasing you.”

“What was that shit then?”

She stared into his eyes and announced, “A good-bye kiss.”

It was at that Raid stopped dead. “What?”