Wallstreet God (The House Of Creed Book 1)

by D. M. Burns

  “Thanks. My best friend, Tamera, helped me put it up. She was with me last night. How did cha know where my apartment was?” I walk to the cabinet and pull us both out a plate and place it down on the counter.

  I prop my elbows on the counter and rest my face in my palms. Channing removes his coat and tosses it over the extra stool. In his tight black tee and normal streetwear blue jeans he looks insanely handsome. His muscles are testing the fabric out with every move he makes. He’s huge.

  “That’s right, I remember seeing her but she’s not what captured my attention.” He shoots me a wink and makes himself comfortable in the empty stool. “And Mr. M told me.”

  Channing’s eyes are striking with the thickness of glam black eyelashes and a twinkle of silver all around his orbs with dense but manicured brows. His features are more profound in sculpting, hardened. It’s like a carving God went wild on with the sharp outline and harsh sketching.

  “Uhm, you’d have better luck going after her, Channing.” I arch my eyebrow at him in an I don’t think so kind of way. “You know what? This is a bad idea.” I rub my forehead and let out a sign. Why am I so flustered and fuzzy headed?

  “Listen, I’m just messing around with you, sunshine. Eat.” He pushes Mr. Maggio’s food on the counter in front of me and points at it. “There’s nothing wrong with being friends, yeah?” I eyeball him with a fair amount of suspicion.

  “Sure. Whatcha want to drink?” I ask as I turn and open the frig. That cheap wine screams out at me.

  “Surprise me.” He says. I take the bottle out and wave it at him. He quirks his brow at me and shrugs. He seems easy going and not turned off by my cheap offering and choice in wine.

  “I’ll try anything once. Hit me with it.” He unwraps his food and digs in, not bothering with the plate I set out, while I pour us both a glass. His appetite and quick consumption techniques are impressive. “At least I know what I’m getting you for Christmas now.” He mumbles.

  “You don’t have to get me anything but it’s a sweet thought.” I set his glass in front of him and he picks it up for a taste test. “Shit, that’s pretty damn good but I’ve got some wine that you’d love.” He winks.

  “Well, just know that it doesn’t have to be Christmas for me to accept good wine. Especially if it’s fruity.” I smile.

  “Noted.” He points his plastic fork at me. “Now, eat.”

  “You sure are bossy tonight. I’m full though. I ate hotdogs earlier, but I’ll save it for later, dad.” I place my calzone in the frig and turn back to him. “I thought I saw you earlier at Rockefeller. Were you there?” I ask.

  “Nope. I was at the house working but I’ve been wanting to go. Is that an invitation to take me because if so, I’d love to?” He smirks.

  “You know I’m seeing your brother, you weirdo.” I smack him with a nearby dishtowel, and he chuckles at me.

  “How’s that going for ya?” He asks while wiping his mouth on a napkin. I’m not going to discuss my love life with him or sadly, lack thereof.

  “Channing, why are you here? I know you don’t care to hear about my relationship status. So, I’m curious.” I shake my head and turn up my wine.

  “No, you’re right. I don’t give a shit about Brogan, but you’re a different story altogether.” His silver slits zone in on me and it leaves me feeling uncomfortable. He rolls up his empty tinfoil wrapper then shoots it across the kitchen landing it perfectly into the trash can.

  “The only curb appeal you might have for me is because I’m dating Brogan. Which is downright disturbing and none the less confusing to say the least. You should be ashamed of yourself.” I say.

  “Hell, I’m not ashamed in the least. I don’t even know him. This is not personal at all. And you thinking my attraction to you has anything to do with him is an insult. Not to mention, way off.” He says. “If you guys are an item, tell me, why are you here and not with him?”

  “He had something come up at work.” I feel the embarrassment of how things ended tonight coating my chest and cheek's red.

  “Right. That guy loves his work.” His tone has a bitter bite to it.

  Moving out from behind the counter, I trudge forward toward the couch, but he catches my wrist pulling me in his direction. My body locks up and I jerk back on my arm which he releases without argument. Holding his hands up in surrender, he looks at me with confusion, and if I’m not mistaken a little bit of hurt.

  “Easy, okay? That edgy hostile vibe is not needed at all. I’d never hurt you, ever, yeah?” I wrap my hand around my neck nervously taking a step back and nod. This entire visit is unnerving or maybe it has to do with the events that transpired earlier. “I’m not sure what you think of me, but I assure you, I’m not the bad guy here. I’ve lived a lifetime reading people, Brea. You’re good people. Those are facts. And my fascination with you is real. I won’t deny that, but it has not one god damn thing to do with my baby brother, period.”

  “What is it then?” I ask. I wish I could take the curious question back as soon as it’s airborne. I shouldn’t want to know but strangely enough, I do. He smirks and shakes his head slowly no.

  “I’ll tell you that when the timing is right. For now, I just want to be your friend. Do you have room for a friend, Brea?” He asks.

  I study him with a skeptical set of eyes. My country raising won’t allow me to be mean to him. There really is no reason for him to lie if you think about it. Heck, I’m probably just a phase for Brogan anyway. Brogan’s reputation tells a story all its own.

  After tonight I’d be surprised to hear from him ever again. Except at work in passing which will be highly uncomfortable. This is exactly why I have a strict dislike for work interactions on a romantic level. But I feel strongly connected to Brogan. It’s unexplainable. Jesus.

  “We can be friends but I’m warning you now, that’s all Channing. Brogan will be ticked when he finds out you dropped by here and I won’t keep it from him either. I’m an honest person and that’s not changing, ever.” I point my trigger finger and middle finger at my eyes then back at him. It’s my silent way of saying I’ve got my eyes on you.

  “I’m fucking thrilled about the friend part and the honesty thing is an admirable trait. But the brother bullshit, I could care less about, and you shouldn’t either. If he were a smart man, he’d have you wrapped up in his arms but instead, he’s at work. I’ll be sure to send him a thank you card for freeing up your time for me though.” He smiles wide and I tilt my head studying him.

  “Don’t push it Channing Creed,” I say.

  “I’m just kidding, maybe.” He chuckles while shaking his head no.

  For the first time, I notice he has a set of dimples matched with a perfect set of gleaming teeth. He stands from the stool casting a large shadow over me. Channing is a massive man. He grabs his glass downing the rest of his wine then says, “What are we going to watch?” He nods his head toward the mounted TV.

  “Your trouble,” I whisper as I pace over to the couch and plop down.

  “You’ll love me for it one day.” He replies without hesitation then shrugs.

  He drops down beside me and plucks the controller up off my coffee table then channel surfs until he finds National Lampoons Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. My eyes move over to him slowly. Is this guy for real right now?

  He tosses the controller down then leans back spreading his bulky arms across the back making himself comfy on my couch. His mammoth frame is taking up eighty percent of the available space. He must feel me staring at him with utter disbelief because he looks over to me and raises an eyebrow.

  “What? It’s a classic.” He points to the screen. I giggle because he’s right, it is.

  chapter 24

  brogan

  “Wakey-wakey, motherfucker.” I snarl in his ear while snatching my bastard brother up from Brea’s couch with a one-handed crushing throat hold.

  My grip on him won’t allow any backtalk, sucks for him. And let’s be hone
st here, I’m by far the stronger ALPHA brother, fuck his elder age status. That shits just a number. This pussy doesn’t stand a chance. The pure rage pumping throughout my body has me shaking uncontrollably. His eyes are wide open now, and I can tell that he’s trying to assess the fucked for life situation literally baring down on his windpipe. He knew this was going to happen before he stepped through her front door. So, far be it from me not to grant him this little well-deserved death wish.

  Switching my ice whites over to Brea’s sleeping form curled up into a fetal position on the far end of the couch, I scowl out a low evil sound. Thank fuck she’s a heavy sleeper. I snap my high beams back to Channing then slowly bring my index finger up to my mouth and shush him. It’s a warning that I hope he ignores because there’s nothing that would please me more than to beat him unmercifully. The smile that tips my lips up is barbaric in nature. I can feel it. Brea doesn’t need to witness what’s about to take place.

  With little effort, I move for the door with this asshole in hand, literally. His feet are off the ground and he’s clutching my forearm like a frightened little bitch caught up in a brothel.

  I’m unsure of this motherfucker’s abilities so I left the door ajar for easy removal. From what I’ve observed this prick is nothing like me, period. If my hunch is right, the only way he’d move through solid matter is if I brutally propel his wicked ass through it. Which is appealing to my satanic side right about now, but I don’t want to destroy Brea’s home nor the building.

  As I march at a fast pace into the alleyway, I unlatch my hand from around this piece of shit by slinging him down the darkened snow-covered pathway. He soars into the air like a weightless rag doll coming to an abrupt stop when his back hits bricks against the other structure at the far end. It’s a deafening sound as busted up pieces of cement and mortar fall to the ground from impact. He collapses forward as my footfalls sound out in my pursuit for my dear ole brother. At this moment, I’m focused on penance, his punishment.

  “Shit… You’ve got to learn respect for your elders, little brother.” He chuckles as he slowly moves to a standing position.

  Bending at the waist, I pick up what looks to be a broken discarded 2x4 in passing. I flip it up in the air catching the good end in my hand. When I step in close, I swing back and follow through landing a wooden slap across his face that I’m sure is heard throughout Manhattan. His body does a one-eighty, flipping over, and landing in a large puddle of stagnated water.

  “That’s the extent of my respect for you, motherfucker.” I stand before him with my chest pumping at a velocity that would be deemed unhealthy for a normal man. Side note, my newfound love for wooden weapons is growing at an exponential rate. “What have you done to her?” My voice is ice cold and calm. If this asshole has any common sense at all, he’ll catch onto the deadly vibe behind it all.

  Channing rolls over and spits a mouth full of blood out all over a patch of unthawed snow on the pavement. That sight has my demons dancing around a bonfire with exaggerated glee.

  “Other than feeding her and watching Chevy Chase, I’m not sure what the fuck you’re so pissed off about.” He manages to stand before me, and his shoulders expand with labored breathing. It would seem I’ve managed to piss him off, good. He swipes the blood from the corner of his mouth using his sleeve and chuckles low.

  “You get out of her fucking head or I’m going to climb up your ass and filter my way through your system like a fatal fucking cancer.” I grate out from behind clenched teeth while pointing my lethal block of wood at him. He tilts his head at me in confusion.

  “So, that’s one of your abilities, huh?” His silver linings bore into me. “You can read people. You, lucky little son-of-a-bitch. Now I am jealous for real.” He rolls his shoulders back. “Unfortunately, I don’t have that power but even if I could wade in, I wouldn’t do that to her.” His jaw hardens and he looks to the side spitting out another mouthful of red tented saliva.

  This motherfucker has feelings for her. That’s enough to set off a gnawing sensation directly on the sensitive flesh between my balls and asshole. It feels a lot like a school of piranhas feasting away. But my instincts are telling me that he’s speaking the truth and that only pisses me off more. My grip on the stick tightens. I feel that angry rage deep inside of me starting to boil over. Epic shit is about to take place here.

  “Yeah, hearing people’s thoughts is one thing but getting a slaughterhouse sight with a front-row visual of the nightmares that plague them is a different fucking occurrence all together especially when it’s Brea.” I grind out.

  “What have you seen?” He rasps out while stepping up to me like I’m the one in the wrong here. “I need to fucking know, Brogan.” His jaw twitches and both of his hands coil into tight fists.

  “God damn it, she was dead and some little boy I’ve never seen before had the same fate. Whatever you know you better spill that knowledge now.” I growl.

  “Fuck…” His voice is gutted.

  Channing runs his hands through his hair and paces away from me looking physically pained. Something that I thought he should’ve felt from the 2x4 brotherly love I inflicted on him, but no. Nothing I’ve done seems to have any influence on him until now. My words have turned him out.

  “Have you slept with her?” He whips around glaring at me then throws his hands out looking like a father figure reprimanding his disobedient son that’s just been caught jerking his dick.

  “The fuck has that got to do with anything. Fuck you, you satanic little bastard. That’s none of your god damn business.” Spittle flies out of my mouth. “None of this shit started until you showed up. Get out of her head, Channing.” My voice is dripping with acid and my grip around the board tightens.

  “This is not about you, you selfish little fucker.” His face is pure evil and every vein in his throat is protruding. “It’s about her. And don’t pin this on me, asshole. I told you the day I stepped foot in your god damn BOSS boardroom that shit would turn bad, Brogan… I warned you. You were too god damn busy whipping your boardroom dick about, pissing on a dead man’s grave, and avenging a father that only wanted you to live happy to listen to reason. Grant never wanted you to live like this.” I stare at him in bewilderment and for some unknown reason, my heart accelerates uncontrollably. “You’ll stay the fuck away from her or I swear to Christ, I’ll kill you. These games are over, done.” He says.

  Channing goes to walk around me, and I palm punch him back into the building's wall with enough force to cave the fucking thing in. Slowly, I shake my head from side to side. I try to control my breathing through my nose so I can get a handle on my temper. His word doesn’t mean shit to me, fuck that. That’s not going to be good enough for me, no.

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind, BROTHER,” I add emphasis on that last word. “She’s mine and there’s no way I’ll walk away from her. Especially not because you deem it so.” I laugh out loud. The sound echoes out between us bouncing off the building’s walls that shelter us in like a dark blanket hiding our Lone Walker war from the outside world.

  “I’m afraid that if you touch me again, shits going to turn bad. Believe me, the show will attract attention, notably to your burning dead corpse. Put the fucking stick down and keep your hands to yourself. It’s taking great restraint not to burn you from the inside out. Don’t poke the coals, asshole.” His eyes explode with fire.

  I smirk but I’m fully aware of the temperature around us rising along with his bitch fit of a temper tantrum, flaming fucker. All the snow surrounding us turns to puddles melting away fast. He has no clue what I can do. He likes to act like my damn father but unlike my dad, there’s no love lost, quite the opposite.

  “Take it from me,” I growl hoping like to hell he’ll try.

  The stick I’m holding ignites into flames, but I swing it one last time breaking it in half using his body as the target. His arms grab hold of me slinging me around and slamming me into the wall. The structure shakes upo
n impact. This bastard has strength just like me, lying little bitch that he is. Channing gets two inches from my face.

  “I’m stronger than you, asshole. So, listen up and we can cut this short, yeah?” He winks at me then continues, “I know this is going to be hard for you to comprehend, but she’s not yours-never was. As a matter of fact, I’ve known for a long time how this would play out, sucks for you. That woman is my future. My soon to be wife. Walk away.” He smirks at me and I lose it.

  In all of two seconds, I head-butt him sending him flying back with a soul sanctifying jolt. I advance grabbing onto the back of his neck, drilling my knee firmly into his skull with zero restraint in my follow-through. If I’m not mistaken, I hear a crack from impact then he hits the ground again. This is becoming a familiar trend for him whenever we get together, ass to pavement. This is more pleasing than a boardroom victory with optimum return.

  My eyes beam out like two spotlights, but I contain the urge to focus down on him because I know how this ends, combustible corporate chaos. As much as I hate him; I don’t want to kill him. Not yet anyway. That shit is sure to change. He rights himself and bounces back up.

  “Oh, little brother… It would’ve been fun growing up with you. You do know this is useless; us fighting, right?” He laughs. “No one wins.”

  “You would say that seeing how you’re the one getting your ass handed to you. Anyway, it makes me feel a fuck of a lot better and you’d be wrong about there being a winner.” I smirk while holding up my hand making a L with my thumb and index finger for the loser that he truly is.

  “Do you remember what I said to you when I made a house call the other night at your place?” He tilts his head and winks at me. “Let me repeat it for you. I told you that you’d have a lot of lessons in life coming your way. And that they’d hit you hard.” He turns his head spitting more blood out then looks back at me again. I stare at this bastard, immobile. I can feel the impending doom sweeping in from all sides. “I told you flat out that you’d have to let go of the things you want and not necessarily because you’d want or have to, no… But because you’ll love them far more than you’ll love yourself.” He chuckles then continues, “Well, here the fuck we are. You’ve seen it for yourself.” He holds up his hand and repays the “loser” sign language back at me.