Silent Creed Read Online Free Page B

from things she didn’t have knowledge about.
    They had come a long way as business partners, as friends, as family, but Hannah always knew there were things that had happened to him in his life before she met him that she might never hear about.
    Nothing wrong with that.
    Most of the time a person’s past belonged right back there, stuffed away in the past. It certainly wasn’t hers to judge. She knew too well that there were some things—whether they be mistakes, regrets, or just plain ole memories—that deserved to be kept all to yourself. As soon as you shared them, they were no longer yours.
    But she also knew that Ryder Creed had a whole lot of hurt in his past. The dangerous kind that could drive a mind over the edge if left to fester. And although he was getting better about handling it, sometimes it seeped into his everyday life, and when it seeped into her life and that of her two little boys—then it became her business.
    Still, he had come a long way from that angry marine she’d met seven years ago. She’d been tending bar at Walter’s Canteen on Pensacola Beach. Closing time. She remembered being tired and her feet ached. She just wanted to clean up and get on home when the marine to whom she had served one too many drinks decided to pick a fight. Not just a fight but with three men, bruisers who would have certainly left plenty of damage if Hannah hadn’t thrown them out. She’d made the troublemaker stay and clean up the spilled beer and broken glass.
    She still remembered the look in his eyes—anger gone and replaced with a bit of alarm and a whole lot of dread. Years later he’d confessed that he’d never had someone get that mad at him in such a quiet, solemn manner. Okay, “quiet” and “solemn” were Hannah’s words. If she tried to remember, Rye’s words were probably closer to “sermonizing” and “pissed-off.” Said he’d never had a black woman put him in his place before with a scolding lecture that admonished and shamed him like some evangelical preacher.
    Now as she marched down the hallway of Segway House with both hands toting bags of groceries, that idea made her smile—that anyone would even think to compare her to a preacher. She smiled down at Grace as the dog pranced alongside her.
    “Hannah, let me help you with those.” A voice came from behind her.
    “Frankie Sadowski, what in heaven’s name are you doing here? I thought you’d be headed up to D.C.”
    She waited and let him take one of the bags with his crooked, arthritic fingers. When he grabbed for the other one, she knew better than to argue and surrendered it, too. Despite his gnarled hands and thick silver hair, Frankie Sadowski was tall and lean. If she didn’t already know that he was close to seventy years old she would have guessed he was fifteen years younger. Even his weathered face softened with laugh lines used often and blue eyes that seemed to spark with life.
    “I’m waiting for Susan to finish her shift. She’s going with me. Said she could use a change of scenery. She’s been working some long hours at the hospital.”
    Hannah knew Frankie’s daughter worked at Sacred Heart in the trauma center.
    Frankie pointed his chin down at Grace. “So who’s your friend?”
    “This is Grace.”
    “I hope you aren’t expecting her to find any dead bodies here.” He laughed, pleased with the joke, but Hannah just smiled.
    “I’m trying to start a program with therapy dogs. Grace is a good sport.”
    Hannah glanced at the dog and noticed Grace was sitting in front of Frankie’s feet, but she was staring directly into Hannah’s eyes. An intent stare was usually Grace’s alert that she had found what she was supposed to be looking for, but Hannah hadn’t directed the dog to find anything.
    “While I was over waiting on Susan, I spent some time with Gus Seaver,” Frankie said. “He asked me to stop in and check on his grandson, Jason.”
    She knew that Gus and Frankie had served