Montana Creeds: Tyler by Linda Lael Miller

different.”
    â€œYou don’t understand,” Doreen whispered, in a teary rush of words and breath. “Davie’s a handful. He has problems, Tyler. And Roy—well, you don’t know what Roy’s like. He’ll lay for you. He’ll never forget the run-in you and him had tonight. If he has to wait the rest of his life, he’ll find a way to pay you back, and when he does, it won’t be pretty.”
    â€œI can handle Roy,” Tyler said. “Seems to me, the more immediate concern is what he might do to you, or to Davie. Let me drive you someplace, Doreen. Right now, tonight. There are shelters, or you could stay at Cassie’s place—”
    Doreen’s face turned to stone. “I know what those ‘shelters’ are like. My mother and I were in and out of them when I was a little girl. Church women, looking down their noses at us. Secondhand clothes. It was like being in prison, and all it did was make my dad even meaner, once he caught up with us. And he always caught up with us.”
    â€œThat was then, Doreen, and this is now.”
    â€œTake Davie home with you,” Doreen said, stiff now, and flushed with shame and fury and frustration and God only knew what else. “You’ll want to give him back soon enough.”
    â€œMaybe,” Tyler agreed. But he was remembering all those times when Cassie had stood toe-to-toe with Jake Creed and refused to let him drag his youngest son home by the hair. What would have happened to him if it hadn’t been for Cassie and, to a lesser degree, for Logan and Dylan?
    Payback time.
    There was a kid in trouble, and he couldn’t ignore that.
    Doreen looked at her watch. A little of her favorite tattoo showed on her upper arm—a phoenix, rising majestically from the ashes. “Do what you want,” she said. “Play hero. You’ll be sorry, Tyler. You will be sorry. And that’s the last warning you’re going to get from me.”
    Tyler reached for a napkin, gestured for Doreen to hand over the pen she used for taking down food and drink orders. Scrawled his cell number on it.
    â€œCall if you need help,” he said.
    Doreen eyed the number with contempt, but she took it in the end. Stuffed it into her apron pocket in a wad.
    Tyler watched her go. Settled up for the coffee. Made his way through the casino to the employees’ lounge. He’d gone to high school with the security guard posted in the hallway, and hung out with Jim Huntinghorse when he was still managing the place, so nobody got in his way.
    Davie sat hunkered down in a chair in the corner, alone in the room, clutching the library book in both hands.
    â€œTime to ride,” Tyler said.
    â€œWhat if he’s out there?” Davie asked. “What if Roy’s out there?”
    â€œI couldn’t get that lucky,” Tyler told him, with a grin.
    But Roy wasn’t waiting in the parking lot. Davie was surprised; Tyler wasn’t. Roy would strike back, but not when there was a chance of getting his ass kicked in a public parking lot. He was the come-from-behind type. He’d use a tire iron, or maybe even a gun.
    Serious business. But Tyler had had a lot of practice at watching his back. A lifetime of it, in fact.
    And being a Creed, he didn’t have sense enough to be scared.
    So he and Davie made a quick stop at Wal-Mart, for a sleeping bag and a cot, the usual personal grooming necessities and a change of clothes for Davie.
    â€œYou don’t actually expect me to wear these, do you?” Davie protested, once they were back in Kristy’s Blazer, headed for Cassie’s place to pick up the dog. He was holding up the pair of jeans Tyler had chosen for him. “They are definitely not cool.”
    â€œBeing cool is the least of your problems,” Tyler pointed out. “You’ll wear them.”
    Kit Carson greeted them at the door when they got to Cassie’s, probably