It wasn’t destiny. It was a knife fight or a gun battle that killed Dhal. A cancer that killed her father. A thousand little accidents and on-purposes that took out one member after another of her father’s inner circle and left the club for the next generation. But Carr could have his last moments of delusions. And he could take them straight to hell with him. The thought gave her enough comfort that she almost smiled.
“Would’ve been Grier’s too, had your father and Jez not gone behind my back and hidden him away from me.” He shook his head. “She betrayed me with your father.”
Fiona tensed. This wasn’t a road she could let him walk down. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah. Water under the bridge.” He nodded and looked out the back window. “Could’ve been a different world if we hadn’t all fallen apart. Your dad and I were unstoppable.”
Tales of their glory days had been Fiona’s bedtime stories—minus the details about Carr with Jez and Grier. Max had hidden things, flat out lied about other things. And still, Max wasn’t the worst person in the room. Oh, what she would’ve done to have Max with her now. He would’ve known what to do.
“He was the brains. Could negotiate with the best of them.” He chuckled. “One time…” She let him go on and pretended to listen but instead surveyed this room. A window. Cabinets that held any number of things she could use as a weapon. She couldn’t very well Bruce Lee herself out of here, but she might be able to fend off an attack or two until Grier arrived. On the other hand, the drawers could very well be empty which meant she was in the same position as she’d been earlier. No worse off but with furniture to sit on.
If only her head would stop aching, she might be able to come up with a plan better than rooting through drawers and trying to climb out of a window with her baby in her arms.
“Do you understand how important this is, what’s about to happen?” He crouched in front of her. “One of my sons is going to run these clubs and you’re going to help one way or the other.” Fiona didn’t miss the threat, and she nodded although she’d kill Tyler Sedotal herself before she let him run one damned thing. Not that she didn’t think Grier could take him. He could. He would. And now all she had to do was wait for him to come.
Grier crouched beside the side of the building. Sage beside him. “You fixed the cameras?”
Sage nodded. “Taken care of.” Even if he explained the procedure he’d used, what he’d done, Grier wouldn’t get it. He’d happily leave the computer shit to Sage. And he’d trust him to have his back. The fact Sage had kept Mia’s association with the Omens from him didn’t matter now.
The plan was simple. They were storming the place. No real finesse, just breaking down doors, shooting anyone who wasn’t Fiona or London. Demons had been called in from every chapter up and down the coast, and the building was surrounded, men waiting for the go-sign from Grier.
“You ready?” Sage nudged Grier, and he nodded, gave the sign and waited for it to travel around the building. It was time and one way or another, this would end tonight.
Glass broke and the first shots echoed through the quiet of the night. Grier waited for the back door to fly open. When it crashed and splintered into shards of wood, Grier burst inside. His men were everywhere. In doorways, the hall, pushing open doors, gathering up the Omens and their women.
He pushed past Hamilton, shoving doors open, checking rooms already checked. “Where is she?” He couldn’t stem the panic. His gut ached and his eyes blurred. She had to be there somewhere. The last door he opened had only a set of steps that led down. He didn’t wait for back-up. He couldn’t. Fiona was there somewhere, and he could feel it. The steps creaked and moaned, seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness, but he moved quickly as if he wasn’t shaking from adrenaline and fear.
No sound. No light. Just a hallway. More doors. He tried one, shined the light from his phone inside. Empty but for a few stacks of chairs. The next room and the one after that were more of the same. He tried another.
“Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
Fiona, recognizable by only her hair and what he could see of her eyes, stood in front of an old man who had a knife to her throat. London sat on the floor off to the side by a refrigerator.
Grier raised his gun and aimed at his father’s forehead. One inch off the mark and Fiona would die but Grier didn’t waver. Someone was going to die today, and it wouldn’t be his wife or daughter, that much he knew for sure.
Grier could see three moves ahead. Sedotal would come in behind him. Carr would play his card with Fiona as the ante, but he couldn’t kill her, which meant they would go after London. He put his body between Carr and the baby. There would only be time for one shot. Grier moved away from the door, further into the room and a calm settled over him. He pulled a second gun from his waistband at his back and aimed it at Sedotal who’d walked in behind him and pushed the door shut.
“And here we all are.” With his arms straight out, Grier shook his head. “All these years. You could’ve called.”
“And miss all this fun.” Sedotal aimed at Fiona. “I’d put that down if I was you. If you shoot me, I shoot her, and dear old dad shoots you. Poor baby is an orphan and we both know what happens to orphans, don’t we, Grier?”
Sedotal knew shit. Or maybe he did, but Grier couldn’t see, didn’t care about anything but Fiona, the bruises on her face, the knife at her throat, the hate in her eyes.
He looked at Sedotal. Carr didn’t have a gun and Grier didn’t bother pointing out the flaw in his logic. With or without the threat of a stray bullet from Carr, the variables weren’t in Grier’s favor. But no way could he lower either gun.
Carr looked at Sedotal then Grier, smirk twisted, eyes bloodshot. “How’s your mother?”
Grier shrugged. “Dead.”
The smirk fell. Fiona gasped. Sedotal tensed. And still, Grier’s calm remained.
“How?” Carr’s voice faltered until it was almost a groan.
All along, Grier had thought Carr killed Jez. But it must’ve been Sedotal. That Carr didn’t know it could work to his favor, at least until Carr pushed the knife hard enough into Fiona’s throat that a bloom of red appeared, and a small line of blood trailed down to her collarbone.
“I thought maybe you could tell me, but I guess I’ve been blaming the wrong guy.” He shrugged again. “Must’ve been him.” He jerked the gun toward Sedotal. Goddammit. He should’ve known it was Sedotal. A death like the one Jez endured had Sedotal’s prints all over it.
Carr stared at Sedotal. “You?”
Sedotal stared at his father. “She… I had to.” Carr pushed Fiona aside so that she landed on the floor. Then he lunged at Sedotal, knife poised to strike. Sedotal fired at the same moment Carr thrust the knife into his son’s neck. Fiona crawled toward the baby and Grier caught Carr as Sedotal shoved him away. Sedotal made for the door as Grier laid his father on the ground. Torn between staying with Fiona and catching that bastard, he looked down at his father and blocked all emotion. This was the same man who’d beaten his mother badly enough she’d had no choice but to hide him away in a foster care system where he was beaten and abused. In this moment, he couldn’t let anything in. Fiona needed him strong. Decisive. Ready to kill for her.