Read Online Reckless Creed by Alex Kava - Free Book Online Page B

know Tony Briggs well, but the few times he’d been around him, the young man had been volatile enough for Creed to now suspect that Tony’s death had not come peacefully. And from Jason’s hesitancy, he guessed he was right.
    â€œThey’re saying he jumped from his hotel room. Nineteen stories.”
    Creed winced. He was glad Jason’s eyes were now examining his bookshelves and missed it.
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œChicago.”
    â€œWhy was he in Chicago?”
    â€œHow the hell should I know?”
    There it was. Jason’s trademark anger. It was his refuge. He used it to protect himself. Creed was actually relieved to see it. Wasn’t right for the kid to pretend that he felt nothing. This was someone who meant a great deal to him. Anger seemed appropriate.
    â€œHe didn’t tell you he was going to Chicago?”
    â€œI’m not his goddamn keeper.” He wiped at his face out of frustration and in an effort to catch any rogue tears.
    â€œWhy don’t you just tell me what you do know instead of biting my head off?”
    Jason’s arm crossed his chest and his hand grasped the stub ofhis amputated arm. It was a nervous gesture Creed had noticed the young veteran made often. Jason rubbed at the stub like it still hurt, or maybe like he needed the reminder his lower arm was gone. Creed didn’t push him. He let the silence settle until Jason was ready. The news was still fresh, the shock still raw like a rip in the skin.
    â€œHe didn’t say anything about going to Chicago. At least not to me. His mom said it was some fancy hotel on Michigan Avenue. That doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t sound like Tony.”
    He stopped there. Noticed his hand and let it drop.
    â€œThey know it’s him for sure?” Creed asked when the silence lasted too long.
    â€œHad his wallet still on him.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean—”
    â€œFingerprints matched. It’s him.”
    Another long silence.
    Jason’s hand went back to rubbing while he fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked miserable, all the while trying hard not to telegraph it.
    Creed wished Hannah were here. She was much better at this. He wasn’t good with comforting people. Dogs he understood. People, not so much.
    â€œThe son of a bitch. I can’t believe he did this. The bastard.”
    â€œWhy are you judging him for something you’ve thought about doing yourself?”
    And that was when Jason’s eyes met Creed’s. The anger slipped for a second or two, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Maybe he’d forgotten that he had confessed to Creed, months ago, that he’d thought about suicide. That he’d seriously considered it whenhe first got back from Afghanistan. Hell, maybe he still thought about it.
    Creed also knew that Jason had lost friends. Tony wasn’t the first. But Tony would mean the most. They’d grown up together. Gone off to war together. Came back, both of them broken, although in different ways.
    Finally Jason said, “I’m not judging him.” His eyes were gone again, as if in search of answers in the horizon. The fidgeting became more pronounced.
    Creed went to his refrigerator, pulled out two bottles of beer. He twisted the caps off and handed one to Jason. The kid took a sip.
    Creed thought about calling Hannah. She was used to working with troubled veterans. She was a cofounder of Segway House and played an active role in helping residents find jobs in the community. That was where Jason had been staying. It was because of Hannah that he had come to work for them.
    Creed rescued dogs. Hannah rescued lost souls. Jason was one of those.
    â€œI didn’t think he’d do it that way,” Jason said, then took another sip of the beer. At least having the bottle in his hand kept him from rubbing the stump of his arm.
    Creed waited.
    â€œWe talked about it sometimes,” Jason