This fucking psycho had some crazy fantasy about playing house with her and London. And she’d let him have it right up until the minute she put a bullet in his head. Having him hold London though made her stomach twist into a knot, but she swallowed back the animosity and pictured Grier. The only thing that kept her going through that entire drive back to Pine Hill from the plantation was imagining Grier riding in and swooping her and London back to safety. Not exactly a fairytale, but as close as a girl like Fiona would ever get.
Sedotal carried the baby seat in one hand and guided her into the back of a small block building. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since he’d returned, and she was dying to know what happened when Hamilton went to the monument. If he was okay. If any of her guys had been hurt. She sucked in a few breaths through her nose and willed the pain away as she opened her lips to speak. “Did you get the ledger?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No. But I think you knew I wouldn’t. I think you knew your boys and those Maniacs—” another club Hamilton or Grier must’ve called in, “—would be waiting.” He laughed. “It’s okay. I expected nothing less. I actually expected more. But it kept your boys busy enough for me to get into your clubhouse and get what I needed.”
It was all a set-up. She should’ve seen that coming. And now she felt stupid on top of the pain in her face. She could only nod expecting another backhand or something equally painful, but he walked beside her as peacefully as if he was leading his family home. When he drew his hand away to shove it into his pocket and pulled out her zip drive, her heart sank.
“I took your computer before I knew you had this. Pretty genius hiding place. If I hadn’t decided to let you sleep and change the baby myself, I would’ve never known. But even I knew diaper wipe boxes don’t rattle. Too bad, though. If you would’ve told me, I wouldn’t have had to shred your office.” He shrugged. “I always liked your chair though.” He popped the door open and guided her inside what looked like an old dance studio.
In front of her, a wall of mirrors projected her reflection and she almost vomited at the sight of herself. Or rather, at the sight of someone she assumed was her but was horribly misshapen and every shade of purple on the color wheel.
The floor was a high-polished light wood and a ballet bar was screwed into the wall opposite the mirrors. In the middle, he’d put her white leather desk chair and the furry rug she’d had in her office at the Demon clubhouse.
She stared at herself, even turning her head to see the still angry red welt on her neck, the brand he’d put there. As he moved further into the room, she closed her eyes, imagining shooting him in the heart and making him watch himself die in front of the mirrors. The thought gave her enough determination to walk further into the room.
“Sit.” He nodded to the chair then squatted to unlatch the baby from her chair and carry her to Fiona. “I took care of her for you. I had to give her formula, but she took it fine.”
He’d fed her baby? Formula? What the hell? She cocked her eyebrow, and he smoothed a hand over London’s head. “You couldn’t feed her, babe. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Fiona swallowed back a batch of angry tears and nodded. “Thank you.”
Every word hurt her face, but the pain kept her focused on her objective, made her remember the names on her list. Asshat. BO Boy, but he was already dead. Sewer Breath. Tyler Sedotal. “I’m going to get some ice for your face. Then, we need to talk.”
She nodded and he disappeared down a hallway. She could’ve tried to run, but there was no way she would make it out past him and however many guys he had outside guarding the building. She didn’t know for sure anyone was out there, but it was what she would’ve done, so she had to wait, bide her time, make a good plan.
Oh, who was she kidding? At this rate, she’d have to wait for a rescue, for Grier. Her eyes misted and this time, she couldn’t hold the tears back. One dripped off her chin and landed on the baby’s nose. Fiona wiped it away and cuddled London closer to her. “Daddy’ll be here soon. We just have to hang on.”
And for all her faith in Grier, she picked the wrong time to say it. Sedotal walked in, his eyes dark, dangerous, and angry. “Daddy, huh?” He threw the ice bag at her and she hunched to protect London. The ice hit her in the ear and the jaw. She cried out and he advanced. “I’m going to take everything you have, and I’m going to make you watch me kill him.”
Fiona closed her eyes, the pain bigger than she could manage, but she held onto London, wouldn’t let go again.
Baseball players had their traditions. Letting the beard grow. Not washing the jersey. Keeping the cleats from winning year to winning year. But when things went bad, there were haircuts and hot shaves, new jerseys, new equipment, something that made them believe this would be the change that worked. Grier needed one of those. Something to break his string of bad luck.
He’d managed to catch a few hours’ sleep and now he needed to work on the things that kept the club going, the shipments and the payments and the assignments. But all he wanted to do was find Fiona and London, bring them home and spend every day making this up to his wife and daughter.
He’d put Carl and Jim on the street to rattle cages, shakedown whoever they could find. Hamilton stood beside him at the bar, Autumn wiping the counter on her side. Hamilton nodded to her as she served Sage a beer. “Not the same without Jez back there.”
Grier nodded. “I know. Couldn’t save her either, could I?” His blood burned with anger and he clenched his fist on the bar.
“I’m not saying that.”
“True though, right?” He narrowed his eyes into a glare. “Everybody’s thinking it. You’re thinking it.”
Sage gripped his shoulder. “Nobody believes Jez dying is your fault.”
He shook off Sage’s hand and turned. Probably not smart to pick a fight in a room full of guys who’d hated him for a while, only liked him because he’d married up, and probably now hated him again. But he needed this, to clear his head the only way he knew how. He needed to throw a punch, take a punch, get the bad out to make room for the good. And no time like the present. He pushed back his stool and shoved Sage.
Sage put up his hands and backed away. Then Hamilton stood and walked out. “Goddammit. Get back here.”
This time, the hand on his shoulder whirled him around, and he swung his fist in a wide arc that caught Kye on the chin. A man who understood. Kye swung back his fist landed against Grier’s jaw, and Grier jerked backward. They exchanged swing for swing, pushing each other further into the room then back toward the door until they exploded through and ended up on the concrete outside.
Kye leveled his shoulder into Grier’s midsection and shoved him into the wall. “You need more?” He moved back, his breaths in short puffs that matched Grier’s.
“I messed this all up.” Grier wiped a stream of blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“And now, you’ll fix it.” He opened his mouth and stretched his skin. “Had to aim for my face.” He walked back toward the clubhouse. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and figure out what to do next.”