Justice (Creed Brothers Book 1) Read online

  Justice

  A Creed Brothers Novel

  K.C. LYNN

  Published by K.C. Lynn

  Justice Copyright © 2018 K.C. LYNN

  Kindle Edition

  First Edition: 2018

  Editing: Wild Rose Editing

  Formatting: BB ebooks

  Cover Art by: Jodi Maliszewski

  Cover Image by: Wander Aguiar

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  To my fellow book lovers who love a bad boy.

  Enjoy Justice Creed.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgements

  Author Bio

  PROLOGUE

  Justice

  Fourteen years old

  “Justice, man, wake up.”

  My eyes spring open at the frantic whisper and shake of my shoulder. I stare into my best friend’s face, his eyes wild with panic. They glow in the shadows of the room that we share in this hell we call home.

  “What is it?” I ask, my voice sounding as groggy as I feel.

  “Brax is gone.”

  Dread tightens my chest, restricting my breath. I shoot upright and look at the bed next to the door to find it empty. The scrap of material we get to use as a blanket lies on the floor.

  “Did you see anything?” I ask.

  Knox shakes his head. “I didn’t hear a thing either. I just woke up and saw his bed empty.” Guilt hangs thick in his voice, mirroring the one coiling in my stomach.

  Braxten is one year younger than us and we have taken it upon ourselves to watch over him. The three of us met in this group home months ago, each of us dumped here by the state within weeks of one another. We were taken from one nightmare and brought to another.

  “We need to find him, man,” Knox whispers, his tone urgent. “Hobbs was seriously pissed over the shit he pulled at dinner.”

  Brax is a prankster, even at the worst of times. It’s his way of coping with shit. Tonight’s prank against Hobbs though was to deflect the attention off one of the other kids who was about to get smacked around for spilling his milk and shattering his glass.

  Hobbs is one of the leaders and the biggest asshole of them all. He’s a sick son of a bitch who gets his kicks by hurting others. I remember the first time I fucked up and the subsequent beating I received. It tightens my gut further, thinking about Brax and what he could be enduring.

  Jumping from the bed, I pull on my jeans from the day before then my dingy shirt. Knox and I both move for the door but discover it’s locked.

  “Bastard!” Knox seethes. “He knew we would come for him.”

  He takes a step back, ready to kick it open, but I stop him, my hand landing on his rigid shoulder. “We can’t. Jones will hear us and then we’ll never get to Brax.”

  “Then what the hell do we do? Time’s wasting. Who knows what that asshole is doing to him right now.”

  My attention shifts to the bedroom window. We move quickly, our eyes scanning out over the five acres of land the house sits on.

  “There.” I point to the barn where the door has been left open a crack, light spilling out into the darkness.

  “Figures,” Knox grits, his jaw locked tight. “No one will hear him scream out there.”

  The thought fuels the fear gripping my chest. “We’ll go out this way and climb down the trellis,” I tell him.

  As far as the leaders think, all the windows are secured with an alarm system. Except for this one. We figured out how to disconnect ours and cut the wire weeks ago, knowing one day this time would come.

  I slide open the window and crawl out first, Knox following close behind. Some of the plastic trellis snaps beneath our feet but otherwise we make it down with minimal noise. My bare feet hit the hard gravel, biting into my skin. Ignoring the sting, I walk lightly until I hit grass. Then we bolt, our feet pounding the rough earth as we race for the barn.

  It isn’t long before we hear Braxten, his cries of pain assaulting our ears.

  “Shit!” The curse spews from Knox as he pushes himself harder, passing by me in a blur.

  I fight to catch up to him and manage to snag his arm at the last second. “Hold up. We need to see what we’re dealing with before charging in there.” My warning is nothing more than a breathless whisper, my heart pumping wildly in my chest.

  We slow our approach, cautious as we peek through the crack of the wooden door. What we find has bile rising in my throat and fury surging through my veins. Brax’s wrists are bound by leather reins as he hangs from a whipping post, a noose pulled taut around his neck. He’s stripped naked and faced away from us, his bare flesh raw from the riding crop that Hobbs holds.

  “How does it feel, boy? You’re not such a big shot now, are ya?” He cracks another lash against his bare ass. “I’m going to show you what happens to cocky little bastards like yourself.”

  Horror slams into my chest when Hobbs reaches to undo his belt. An enraged roar rips from Knox and he charges inside. I follow after him, knowing there’s no time for a plan.

  Knox swipes a shovel off the ground, his quick feet never faltering. “Motherfucker!”

  Hobbs spins around just as Knox winds back and punches the shovel forward, slamming it into his face.

  Blood sprays from his nose as he drops to the ground. “You bastard!” he bellows, rolling to his knees.

  My feet are quick as I run at him from the side, kicking him in the face. His head snaps back, another howl of pain tearing from his chest. Warm blood coats my bare foot but I don’t hold back and deliver another kick, a dark rage slipping over me from all the pain he’s inflicted on others.

  My foot cranks back relentlessly, showing no mercy. That’s until he manages to grab my ankle and pull my foot out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the breath shoving from my lungs.

  “You’re going to fucking pay for this,” he seethes, struggling to his feet.

&nb
sp; Knox brings the shovel down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold. Blood seeps out from beneath his face, the crimson color spreading into a large pool.

  Oh shit.

  Knox and I make eye contact, our thoughts reflecting the other’s. Brax’s groan breaks the connection and puts us in motion.

  Knox removes the noose from around his neck while I kneel in front of him, reaching for his pajama pants that he was stripped of.

  “Brax, man, we’re here. Everything’s gonna be okay,” I assure him.

  He lifts his head, revealing a black and blue face. His cheeks are stained with tears and dirt while one of his eyes is swollen shut. “He got me in my sleep, Justice,” he chokes out. “I never even heard him comin’.”

  I swallow past the burn in my throat and gently put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. We’re getting out of here.”

  Knox works on untying his wrists and I get him dressed. When the last restraint is removed, Brax falls to his knees, crying out in pain.

  Knox drops down next to him, helping me hold him up. “What is it? What hurts?” he asks.

  “It’s my whole body, man.” The words are delivered through a choked sob. “Everything hurts.”

  Before either of us can say more, an alarm pierces the air.

  Panic thrashes through my veins. “Shit. They know we’re gone. We gotta move, now!”

  Knox throws one of Brax’s arms around his shoulder while I throw the other one over mine. We move quickly, dragging Braxten with us as we run from the barn.

  Eventually we make it far enough away from the property, sinking into the tall grass to remain hidden out of sight. We lower Braxten to the ground, mindful of his beaten and bruised body. Knox stays with him while I run back a little ways to make sure no one followed.

  When there’s no sign of anyone, I head back to the others. Braxten hugs his knees to his chest, his face buried to hide his tears.

  Knox sits quietly next to him with his arm around his shoulders, his face grim. “Anyone?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but it’s only going to be a matter of time. We have to keep moving.”

  “And go where?” Brax asks, lifting his face.

  I shrug. “Anywhere is better than here.”

  “Come on, Justice. We have no money. We don’t even have clothes,” Brax sniffles. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  “We do whatever necessary to survive,” I say, looking into his weary eyes. “We can’t go back. Look what almost happened to you. Hobbs is most likely dead and they aren’t going to believe a couple of troubled kids. Who knows what we’ll face next. The system has fucked us long enough. Living on the streets is better than where we’ve all been.”

  They both remain silent but I see the look in their eyes, the same knowledge I have burning in my mind and heart.

  “I say we make a pact right here, right now. We do this on our own. No more beatings, no more pain. We watch out for one another, take care of each other.”

  “Like family,” Knox says.

  I nod. “Like family.” My eyes search theirs in the quiet dark. “Are you with me?” I ask, extending my hand in the middle.

  Knox doesn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”

  Both of our eyes shift to Braxten who still looks scared.

  “We got you, Brax,” I promise. “We’d never let anything happen to you.”

  He places his beat-up hand on ours. “Family. Forever.”

  That day we became more than friends.

  We became brothers.

  For the next year we lied, stole, and did whatever necessary to survive. Until our travels brought us to the Mississippi Delta. There we hid out on a farmer’s land, seeking shelter on a rainy night. The owner was a lone man named Thatcher Creed, the first adult to ever show us any kindness. Instead of calling the police when he found us, he took us in and raised us as his own.

  Thatcher Creed gave us something we’d never had but always longed for.

  A real family.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ryanne

  From the moment he walked in I became riveted, my attention anchored to his every move. The place is packed, everyone’s body heat crowds me but we may as well be the only two people in the bar. At least where my heart is concerned.

  Despite my feelings, I sit in the corner alone and watch as a flock of hungry women surround him and his brothers, vying for their attention.

  Typical.

  “Happy birthday, Ryanne,” Jessica Bennett yells to be heard above the loud music, clinking her glass with mine as she shimmies past my table.

  I nod my thanks, my lips lifting in a halfhearted smile.

  There aren’t many places in town where I could celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Denim and Pearls is the only bar where they accept people under the age of twenty-one. We aren’t allowed to drink but that isn’t a big deal to me.

  The place is rustic with a country flare. The tables are made of old barrels and there’s a rhinestone saddle hanging above the dance floor. Country music blares from the speakers, drawing a large crowd. I was having a good time, anywhere is better than my loveless house, but then they showed up—the three brothers who wreak havoc on every girl’s hormones.

  The Creed boys are foster brothers who are closer than those bound by blood. They came to town years ago, living off the streets until Thatcher Creed, who most around here call Old Man Creed, took them in and raised them as his own.

  Many didn’t approve when he did, but Thatcher has never cared what the people in this town thought about him. It’s something I’ve always admired. He raised the boys proudly and stood by their sides when they had no one.

  Justice, Knox, and Braxten have made quite the names for themselves and their reputations precede them. They can be dangerous if they think for even one second their family is being threatened. They’ve stolen the hearts of many. I know this because I am one of them. Though all three of them are ridiculously good looking, I only want one.

  Justice.

  His bad boy appeal caught my attention from the moment he rolled into town. I was only twelve but my young heart fell hard. Many people were leery and even frightened of the boys. They got into a lot of trouble when they first moved here. I often heard my parents discussing their disapproval of Thatcher taking them in. It’s typical of their pretentious selves. My parents have never been kind or compassionate, not even to their only child.

  I was warned to stay away from them. It wouldn’t look good for the family name, which is everything to my parents. My father is a descendant of one of the six founding families of Winchester, our small town located in the heart of The Mississippi Delta. Old money and bloodlines are everything here. I have a certain standard to uphold, one I fail miserably at according to my mother.

  Staying away from the brothers wasn’t a hard rule to follow because they are older than me. We went to the same school but I was a freshman and they were seniors. They barely knew I existed. Braxten should have graduated after them but he’s smart, really smart, and worked hard to finish school with his brothers.

  For two years I watched them from afar, mainly Justice, and swallowed up the rumors that surrounded them, especially one. A rumor that rocked the entire town and garnered every girl’s attention. It still does. Which is why every female in this place is hanging all over them at the moment.

  You’d think I’d be used to it by now but I’m not, and the only reprieve my tortured heart gets is when he’s out of town for work. Contracted by the government, all three brothers are sharpshooters, and not just any marksmen but the best in the country. Shooting is just one of the many things Thatcher taught them.

  As if feeling the weight of my stare, Justice’s eyes find mine over the crowd of women. My heart tumbles in my chest as I gaze back into his dark irises that are filled with so much intrigue and mystery.

  His lips kick up in that sexy smirk of his, turning my insides to mush. He wears his usual worn jeans that hang enticin
gly off his lean hips. His dark hair is wild and mussed, looking like he just ran his fingers through it. With a black T-shirt, biker boots, and a leather jacket, he’s the very definition of a bad boy.

  That familiar longing builds inside of me, the sight of him making my heart crave things I can’t have. Instead of returning his smile, I roll my eyes, hoping to hide the effect he has on me, and shift my gaze away.

  I’m certain I can hear his amused chuckle all the way over here. The one that rumbles deep within his chest and is as arrogant as his smirk. It’s irritating yet infectious all at once. Most of the time I long to hear it. Just like I long for the brief moments I’ve spent with him.

  It has become somewhat of a game between us. This push and pull. I pretend he annoys the hell out of me and he plays along, but deep down he knows my true feelings. He has to. I’ve always been terrible at hiding my emotions.

  My teenage crush for Justice turned into so much more after my first encounter with him. It wasn’t just one of our usual run ins where I would see him in public, and keep my head cast down in fear I would stare at him like a lovesick fool.

  This encounter was years later and just the two of us. I was fifteen at the time and had just gotten into a fight with my mother, which is not out of the ordinary but this one was bad. She was even more hateful than usual. I don’t remember what the fight was over but I’ll never forget it because she struck me across the face. It was the first time she ever hit me. The blow had hurt but not as much as her words: “I wish you had never been born!”

  I fled the house that night with tears streaming down my face. I wandered aimlessly around town, trying to walk off my hurting heart. My arms were crossed over my chest, shoulders slumped when I walked through a cloud of smoke.

  A gasp parted my lips and my head snapped up. That was when I came face-to-face with the guy I had been watching from afar. My tear-filled eyes met his dark ones and my heart stopped beating altogether.

  Justice was seated on his motorcycle, parked out front one of the bars on main street. His face was expressionless while his eyes were anything but. They were watchful and filled with knowledge. The intensity of them kept me rooted to my spot.