Page 9 of Rough Return

Grier’s eyebrows did a zero to sixty toward his hairline. “Grand theft auto?”

“You a cop?” She pulled the fob into her fist. Of all the things she’d considered over the last few days, her father’s motives, her own, she hadn’t once thought of Grier’s. Hadn’t considered why he’d left the island with her, without the gun battle or even the argument she’d expected. He’d made it easy even.

And she would have had a better chance of figuring out the mystery if he hadn’t moved closer, guided her toward the car with his hand at the small of her back, smelling so good.

The bastard knew it too.

* * *

Sitting across from the most beautiful woman in the room, in any room, Grier could barely look away. So far, he’d committed every smile, the flirty, sexy grin, the over-confident smirk, and the she-knew-something-he-didn’t beam, to memory, but tonight, she could hide her sadness behind her collection of faux facial expressions. And he ached, deep in his gut to hold her and give her comfort, to help her the way he wished someone had helped him. He admired her bravado though.

She’d dressed like one of those Wall Street warriors (an old girlfriend provided that ditty and he’d never had a chance to use it until now) to sit in her father’s house and feed him broth while Grier watched from across the room. These were not the wedding negotiations he’d been promised.

Max spoke quietly when he spoke at all. “I want to talk to Grier.” But he stared at Fiona. “Alone.”

She shook her head. “Daddy, you should rest.” He had good days where he could stand and talk, even come to the clubhouse for a little while before he tired out and went home. Today wasn’t one of those.

“For a few minutes, Fi.” Max’s voice rasped as she grumbled and shot a glare, still sexy as hell, at Grier. But she stood, smoothed her skirt, and left.

The old man’s hands shook as he used the electronic controls to sit up further. Then he reached for the rail, and Grier moved to help. “Touch me, boy, and I’ll have Ham cut off your hands and feed them to you.” Grier held up both hands and backed off. Max coughed once but motioned for him to sit in the chair Fiona had vacated.

Grier waited. Probably for another threat.

“I want your word.”

How many times would he have to swear his loyalty? But on the other hand, ten years ago, he’d practically written his oath in blood then left to help Kye keep Eliana safe. So he really couldn’t blame Max for his repeated requests for reassurance now.

Max breathed in deep, lungs rattling as he exhaled. “I want your word you’ll always protect her and be here for her.”

What else could he do, but give Max the promise he wanted, the peace. Grier nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

“This is going to hit her hard.”

The right thing to do was to reassure the old man since the doctors had withdrawn all hope. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“She’ll need time. And support.’

Grier envied the devotion, the relationship. Not something he’d ever had. God, from the outside, it looked ideal. Of course, he’d been around during Fiona’s rebellious stage when her clothes had been black and her eye-makeup as thick as her frown. Back then, everyone thought Max might actually strangle her. But maybe those dark years had strengthened their bond. Of course, all he could do was guess. The closest thing he’d ever had to family was Kye.

He didn’t comment even as Max reached for his oxygen mask. “Don’t hurt her. Ham will kill you.”

Ah. The threat that kept on giving.

“She would have to care about me for me to hurt her.”

Maybe she had once, but she’d been young then, so hard to say for sure. She’d flirted, pranced around in clothes no seventeen-year-old or even twenty-year-old woman should have worn in public, and then there was the day at the mall. She’d been twenty. Hadn’t cared about the six years’ age difference or the fact Max would have him killed. But after he’d walked away, all the previous friendliness disappeared. Right up to the moment he left, she hadn’t even looked at him after that day.

“She’s angry now. But she has a good heart and you’ve always had your spot in it.” Grier cocked an eyebrow. “Of course, I knew.” And yet he’d still thrown them together, made Grier watch her, swear to protect her, maybe even fall for her just a little. And all the while telling Grier to keep his hands off or die. “I wanted her to be happy then. Having you around made her happy. Having you around now will do the same, eventually. She’s my baby. I know her better than she knows herself. It’s what’s keeping you alive.” Max motioned Grier closer. “Open the drawer.”

Grier looked at the table. Oh, God. What if Max had a gun in there and wanted Grier to end it for him? He swallowed hard. “Max…”

“Just open the damned drawer.” He spoke with such force he coughed at the end. “Come on. I’m dying here. I don’t have time for you to fuck around.”

Grier opened the drawer. Empty except an envelope marked for Fiona. He handed it to Max. “Here.”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s for you, dumb ass. Give it to her after I’m gone. The lawyer will take care of the money and the house. But she needs that envelope.”

Grier nodded. “Okay.”