Garrison's Creed (Titan) Read Online Free Page A

dum-dum-da-da and a poufy white dress.
    Pushing away from the Rover, he wanted to knock off the mirror or kick the hell out of the side panel. Anything to burn off the acid churning in his gut. Shit, too much time had passed. Young love. What bullshit.
    Cash eyed Roman. “You okay, man?”
    Roman cleared his throat. “No. I’m not okay. My dead sister’s alive and… working for Antilla Smooth?” He paused, as if looking into Cash’s soul. “That’s what happened earlier? You saw her? You thought I knew?”
    That logic seemed so flawed now, but at the time… at the time, it was the only thing he could comprehend. And working for Antilla Smooth? That’s not all she was to Smooth, but Cash would keep that tidbit to himself. It’d destroy his boy. Nicola in the arms of a decrepit arms dealer. It went against everything he and Roman lived for.
    The Nicola he knew wouldn’t touch a bastard like Smooth. But then again, he didn’t know Nicola. He knew a liar.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Nicola bunked down in the bedroom the farthest away from the guys. Who am I kidding? They were just the guys, like this was just another day. Roman and Cash. The two most important men in her life, even if it’d been an eternity since she’d felt their touch or heard their words.
    The day she’d walked away from her loved ones had been the worst day of her life—until today. She pinched her eyes closed, remembering their stunned faces. The pain and anguish. And the anger. Who could blame them? She certainly couldn’t. She blamed herself, though. She had no choice.
    Yes. Today was officially the worst day, and the former was a helluva bad day to knock out of contention.
    Her bedroom had a bathroom—well stocked with first aid supplies—like any good safe house. What the hell were Roman and Cash doing running around with guns and slipping into safe houses? Her mind raced. A million maybes skittered through her thoughts. Did they wonder the same about her?
    Both men had Popeyed out since she’d last seen them. They were massive. Different builds, but no question, given her run-in with Cash’s arms, they’d taken their passion for working out to a whole new level. Roman was stocky and square, broad top to bottom. Cash had some lank to him. Long legs, powerful chest. His chest had been sinful before, but now it was downright deadly.
    She shook away the thought of Cash. No need to hopscotch down memory lane. Her cuts needed tending, and daydreaming wouldn’t stave off infection. She cleaned them, dousing each raw mark in hydrogen peroxide. A smear of antibacterial ointment and she’d be okay.
    Her elbow was another story. She’d have to wrap and sling it. Immobilization was key to recovery, but showing a blatant sign of weakness to three men who saw her as theirs to protect wouldn’t work.
    Another beautiful dress ruined. The wardrobe was a serious perk of her job, but the dresses never made it home. She’d known this one was headed for the dumpster when she’d wedged herself out the window. But damned if she hadn’t hoped she was wrong, somehow. Nope. It was just a stupid dress anyway. But it felt like the only thing she could focus on without curling up into a crying ball.
    A soft knock on her door stole her breath. Having no idea what to say or how to explain, she didn’t move to answer it. The handle turned, and it slipped open. Cash stuck his beautiful head of blond hair—shower damp and face free of camouflage face paint—into the room. He looked older and harder. Tanner. Maybe a few lines around his eyes. The baby face was gone, replaced by something chiseled.
    He held out a phone like it was a pass code and he was requesting entry. She nodded. As he stepped in, he held up his other hand. Clothes as another offering.
    “Phone. T-shirt. Pants. Figured you needed to change.” He sounded as unsure as she felt.
    The air was heavy and the room much smaller than she’d realized. His eyes pierced straight to her soul, squeezing