She stared at Hamilton. “Tell me about Jez.” She needed to feed her anger, keep it strong because the emotions were coming back and whatever was underneath the anger would kill her. Knowing what happened to Jez would help.
“Fi…” Hamilton shook his head.
It probably wasn’t fair to use his feeling for her against him, but she needed to know. “Please?” She summoned a tear, a skill she’d acquired at an early age, one that had seen her through her teen years, earned her a Beemer, a bike of her own, the house she lived in, and Grier. “Ham, please.” She curled her fingers around his.
He closed his eyes and breathed out. “They took her from her house. We found her at the old compound. She was beaten and stabbed and already gone by the time we found her.”
“It was Sedotal.” Not exactly a newsflash.
“Yeah.” Hamilton nodded. He looked down, swallowed hard, and sniffed. “Did they... did they touch you?”
More than half beating her to death? Holding her down and branding her? Staring while she fed London. All things considered, it could’ve been worse. But she knew what he meant. “No.”
She pictured Jez. Tough. Like a mother to Fiona over the years. She’d been one of Max’s best friends. A member of the club since the beginning. And now she was gone. And the man responsible was walking around breathing and eating and living. That had to stop.
The key would be Foley. Her gut said so. If he didn’t know where Sedotal was, he would know someone who did. And when they found him... she would’ve smiled if it didn’t hurt so bad. Instead, she laid in the bed, plotting his death, the pictures in her head of what she planned to do to him providing a sense of peace that let her drift back to sleep, content and happy.
“Sign here.” Eliana stood next to Grier as the guard handed him a bag of his stuff—wallet, keys, seventy-eight cents in change. They were keeping the Glock. Dammit.
Jail hadn’t been so bad. Of course, it was no walk in the park, but he’d gathered some intel on Sedotal. The Omens had men posted along the entire east coast and their usual base of operations was in Florida. They’d come north when the Screaming Demons got out of the human trafficking business, when Max died and Fiona took over. The Omens, Tyler specifically, weren’t looking to take over the Demon drug trade or the illegal parts trade, they wanted Max’s contacts for the women, the “supplier”.
Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that Fiona was home, safe, recovering. But until Sedotal and his crew were off the streets, Fiona and London would be in danger, and no damned way was he going to let anything happen to them again.
“Is Kye happy in Belize?” He walked beside Eli to the desk out front.
She smiled. “I like to think so.” She shrugged. “He misses riding his bike, misses his friends, but you know... I try to keep him busy.”
When they’d run off to Belize, Grier had enjoyed surfing. He had enjoyed the sun and sand and lazy days with no one threatening to shoot him or the people he loved. Back then, he hadn’t realized how important that would be.
Eli shook her head. “She’s never going to be happy there. This is her life. This is who she was born to be.”
When Grier closed his eyes, he saw the brand on her neck, the misshapen cheeks and the purple bruises. Right now, Fiona’s happiness wasn’t nearly as important as her safety.
“I can’t keep her safe here.” Truth told, he was tired of dealing with everything, of knowing everything he knew. He wanted out, and he wanted Fiona with him.
“Can you promise she won’t try to kill me in my sleep?”
Grier smiled as they waited for the guard to press the button that would open the door to the outside. “Probably… not, but maybe I can keep her busy enough she doesn’t think about it.”
It felt good to breathe air not tainted by BO and piss and Grier took an extra-long inhale and let it out slowly as the door swung open and he and Eli walked out into the sunlight. Maybe he should’ve gone straight to the streets to hunt down Sedotal, but all he wanted was to go home, wrap his arms around Fiona and hold her and the baby.
He blew through stoplights, took a couple of corners fast enough Eli hung onto the door handle with both hands, and finally pulled the car in front of their house.
“Grier, wait.” Eli grabbed his arm as he popped open the door. “She’s been through a lot.”
Yeah. A lot. Too much for Grier to think about and not put his fist through a wall. He nodded.
“What I’m saying is, go easy. Follow her lead, okay?”
“I will.” She opened her door and met him at the front of the car. “You coming in?”
Eli shook her head. “I’m going back to the hotel. I don’t think I’m exactly what’s going to make Fiona feel better right now.”
He nodded, not because he agreed but because he wanted to end this conversation and get inside. “Thanks for getting me out.”
“I’ll get everything arranged and we’ll talk this evening.”
He nodded and tried not to run up the walk. Technically, jogging wasn’t running.
He didn’t stop to say hi to any of the guys in the living room. Didn’t go to the fridge for food. Didn’t even worry about taking a leak. Instead, he raced to the bedroom.
Hamilton looked up and nodded at him as Grier stood in the doorway. The bruises on Fiona’s face were not so purple now but a sick shade of green and yellow and she had a bandage on the left side of her throat. But she’d never looked so good to him. His throat closed behind a lump and his eyes burned with tears threatening to leak down his face. He bypassed Hamilton and went to the bed, slipped beneath the blankets and wrapped his arms around Fiona. She flinched but turned toward him, laid her arm over his side and buried her face in the curve of his shoulder.
Her shoulders shook and he tightened his hold around her as Hamilton nodded and left them alone.
He stroked her hair, felt the line of stitches near the crown of her head and whispered as she cried. The words didn’t matter. Holding Fiona mattered.
When the tears subsided and her breathing leveled to normal, Grier pulled back to look at her and she tilted her chin down. “Hey.” He curled his finger and used it to urge her face back up.
“I don’t…” Her voice caught. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
He brushed a finger over her eyebrow. The bruises didn’t matter to him. The swelling would go down and the color would fade. Even if it didn’t, he wouldn’t care. “You’re beautiful, Fiona.” He kissed the spot on her cheek where her skin had been scraped off. Then her swollen jaw, then the corner of her lower lip where it had been busted open. “Nothing they did changed that.” He pushed her hair back. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you and that I didn’t find you in time.” His voice broke every time he talked or thought about what they’d done to her. What kind of husband let his wife go through that?
“I want to get out of here.”
“Okay.” He would have walked through fire for her, and if she wanted to go out, there were plenty of guys here that would be look-outs so they could enjoy the night. “Where should we go? There’s a new Italian place one of the guards told me about.”