“I’m going to kill you.” It wasn’t a joke. Fiona Strong-Owen meant it. She was going to kill him herself. Slowly. Kneecaps. Hands. Feet. Then if he was lucky, she’d put a bullet between his eyes. If luck wasn’t with him or if he dared speak, she’d cut out his tongue, then his dick, then she’d kill him. The plan made her happy even as he tightened the rope around her wrists.
“Keep talking, little mama.” He yanked the rope and Fiona fell forward onto the dirt floor. The whole place smelled like earth and dirt and old cigarettes. There was no furniture in what used to be a cabin and spider webs clung to every corner and the three windows.
London sat quietly in her carrier, oblivious to the grunge and danger. Thank God.
There were a hundred ways this could go and all of them ended up with her dead leaving London in God knew what hands. Grier was her only chance. London’s only hope. But she needed information. “What’s the plan, here, Einstein?” Holding her hostage and not killing her immediately meant they wanted something. “Ransom, right? Or did they not tell you the plan?”
She memorized his face, the scar from the corner of his eye along his cheek and curved down from jaw to chin. Must’ve been one hell of a fight. His hair, a dirty blond, was cut short and tipped with white and spiked on top. And his eyes were the same color as a pile of shit. As a bonus, he smelled like he hadn’t showered in the last year or so.
But none of that mattered right now. It would only matter if she got away and had to hunt this fucker down later. Right now, she needed to know what was in his head. His instructions. Maybe then she could figure their reason for holding her. Unless it was just the obvious—to cripple the Screaming Demons by asking for an unreasonable ransom or by… killing their leader. Of course, if that was the goal, why not just do it? Why bring her here?
The asshat didn’t answer. “Seriously. You don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “Great. How do I not rate someone in the upper ranks? Obviously, you’re just one of the hired hands who does the dirty work. It’s insulting, really.” He cast a glance over his shoulder as he tied the rope to a pipe in what Fiona assumed was at one time a kitchen. And he was as dumb as a rock. All she had to do was slip the rope over the pipe.
He turned and smiled, his face reminiscent of something out of the old Batman comic books. “While you sit here and think about it, I’ll just spend a little time— ” he picked up the baby carrier, “— getting to know the kid. What do you think?”
Fiona swallowed hard. “Wait!” He dropped the carrier with a thunk and another sickening grin. The jolt of the seat against the ground startled the baby awake, and she scrunched her face then let loose a wail that could’ve meant pain. Fiona swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet. Just don’t take her.”
He picked up the seat and walked closer to Fiona, but not close enough she could get to her daughter without crawling. “Shut her up or neither of you are going to last the night.” Instead of walking out, he sat on the floor against the wall near the door, staring at her.
Fiona needed a plan of her own, a way to get past this buffoon without getting herself or her baby killed. But first, she had to calm London, hopefully let her daughter know she would kill or die to protect her.
“I need to feed her.”
He shrugged. “So, feed her.”
Fiona held up her bound hands. “I can’t.”
His smile made her stomach turn and she swallowed back a mouthful of bile as he stood and crossed the room. More careful than she would have thought possible, he lifted London from her chair and handed her to Fiona who tried to maneuver the baby into position. London calmed and turned toward Fiona’s still shirted breast. Dammit. She should’ve figured this out before. The baby fussed, and Fiona shifted to rest the baby across her lap as she unfastened the buttons to her blouse. The asshat cocked an eyebrow and stared. She met his gaze and lifted the cup of her bra.
“Never seen a boob before?” She rolled her eyes and slipped the rope behind the baby’s back and lifted her so she could latch.
Asshat shook his head. “You’re lucky I have orders not to touch you unless you get out of line.” He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. “Did you want to get out of line?”
“Dream on.” She narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare.
“You’re high and mighty for somebody who’s life is about to change in ways she’s never imagined.”
Sounded too much like a threat for Fiona’s blood not to boil, but she tamped down the anger with a look at the baby. “Change how?”
He chuckled. “I think that’s for us to know and you to fear.”
“You don’t scare me.” Her voice was stronger than she felt. She had no weapon, no plan for a way out, and no idea what the next few hours or days or weeks held.
He pushed to his feet and stalked across the floor to snatch the baby away from her. “Are you scared now?” He held London out in front of him, his hands curled under her arms. “What if I do this?” He spun in a fast circle and let London go only to catch her a second later. “We know your weak spot.” He handed London back and Fiona’s breath whooshed out.
But he’d told her enough. They wouldn’t hurt the baby until they had what they wanted because Fiona was their bargaining chip, and the baby kept her in line. Now, she only had to figure out what they wanted.
Grier flopped over toward Fiona’s pillow and breathed deep. Her perfume scented the pillow. Jesus, he wanted to feel her next to him, to run his fingers through all that shiny red hair, to hear her voice. But the danger here was too great, especially with Jez missing now. Plus, when he’d had Sage put her on the plane to Belize, he’d made her go without her cell. Didn’t need Sedotal or Carr tracking her.
He sat up. Tracking her phone. The same way the Demons could track Jez’s phone. Damn! Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?
The answer was simple. Finding out Jez was his mother was too new. Too fresh for his brain to focus on much more than that. He reached back for his own phone, dialed, and waited. “Come on, Sage. Answer the fucking phone.”
It took another three or four rings before a groggy voice answered. “What?”
“Where are you? Can you get to a computer?” Urgency vibrated through him. Even though he hadn’t known her as his mother for the entirety of his life, he knew Jez as a friend, as someone who’d helped him grow into the man he’d become by introducing him to Fiona’s father, Max, the former leader of the Screaming Demons Motorcycle Club and Fiona’s father. And now the club was in his hands while Fiona was away. Finding Jez wasn’t just personal. It was club business.
“All right. I’m in front of the computer. What do you want?” Sage probably could have benefited from a couple of shots of coffee, but there wasn’t time.
“I need you to track Jez’s phone. If she has it with her, we’ll use it to find her.” She never went anywhere without her cell.
Seconds ticked off the clock while he waited. He shoved his arms through his shirt and pulled it over his head then smacked the phone back to his ear. The clicking of keys and the sound of Sage’s breath only made Grier want his answer now. “Anything?” He pulled on his boots and stood to pace the floor at his side of the bed.