Page 32 of Rough Patch

Sage nodded to the door. “There he is.”

Carr. But Grier wanted Sedotal. He wanted to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. One fucking limb at a time for what Sedotal had done to Fiona. Hamilton waited until Carr drove a block down before he pulled the rental car onto the road. He would follow Carr while the rest of the club waited for Sedotal to come out. They had all the exits covered. No way would he get out without being seen.

Men and women exited the funeral home. The sun faded. The last car left the lot and still, no sign of Sedotal. Had he somehow slipped past them? A gnawing in Grier’s gut said no, but when the funeral director came out and locked the deadbolt, there was no denying it. Sedotal had escaped. They’d damned sure seen him go in.

He smacked the butt of his hand on the top curve of the steering wheel in Max’s Mercedes, the only car of her father’s Fiona hadn’t sold. She’d be pissed if she knew he’d taken his frustration out on the car, but damn it, they’d lost the one man he’d been counting on ending tonight. At least he had Hamilton on Carr. Maybe the father would lead them to the son. Grier had to hope so.

He glanced at Sage whose eyes remained pointed at the door of the funeral home. This was supposed to be easy. They’d planned everything. And now he was sitting in a car, holding his dick, yet again, and Sedotal was out there somewhere, waiting and laughing.

“Where the hell did he go?”

Sage glanced at him. “I don’t know.”

“Check with Jim. Maybe he went out the back.” Grier waited while Sage talked with Jim. And from Sage’s voice, the news wasn’t good. When Sage hung up, Grier stared at him. “What?”

“If he came out, he didn’t come out the back.”

Fuck. Grier started the car. The place was empty, dark, and quiet. No point in sitting here anymore.

He needed to get back to the club, find out where they’d gone wrong, and pray like hell Hamilton didn’t lose Carr. So long as they had Carr, they could at least track him and maybe use him to their benefit.

He drove back to the clubhouse and Hamilton called Sage to give them an address. “Tell him to sit on it and watch for Sedotal. I’ll send back-up.”

God. This had to work. Now, he wasn’t just letting Fiona down, but his daughter. And that had to stop.

Fiona hadn’t had a shower in two days. Her hair hung in scraggly mats against her head and her shirt would forever be stained by the amount of spit on her shoulder. She’d been doing this alone for the last three days. Grier had been out watching a house. Talking to other adults. Breathing air that wasn’t tainted by the smell of diapers and dirty laundry. But every time Fiona made a move to do anything that resembled cleaning herself or the house, London cried as if she’d stubbed her toe, which Fiona did, her own anyway, twice.

As she walked the floor, bouncing the baby in one arm, the door opened and closed. Grier walked in. His hair hadn’t fared much better than hers, which wasn’t much consolation. “Hey.”

On one hand, she hadn’t seen anyone she’d missed more. Max could have walked in and she wouldn’t have been so happy to see him. On the other hand, Grier had left her alone for what had come to feel like months rather than days. She glared at him when all she really wanted to do was to rush into his arms and let him hold her.

“What?” He hung his head. “Fiona, I’m tired. I don’t feel like doing this with you right now.”

“What about her? Feel like explaining to her where you’ve been? You haven’t even looked at your daughter.” And if she was fair, which she didn’t feel at all like being, she would have given him more than a three-second chance.

He walked past her to the kitchen. He poured a glass of water, spilled a few drops on the floor, and turned as Fiona threw a dishtowel at him then stalked across the floor to grab it before he could and clean up the tiny mess. “Let me get that for you.” The acid in her voice should have melted him into a puddle, but Grier stiffened.

When he turned, she was close enough to see every red streak—and there were hundreds—in the whites of his eyes, every line of fatigue on his face. The smile when he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in with the baby between them. “You’re beautiful. And I’ve missed you.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

The kiss on her forehead was a bonus. “Let’s put this little lady in bed and run a bath. I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”

Oh, that all sounded so heavenly. And tiring. “Side offer?” He grinned. “Baby to bed, shower, and snuggles in bed?” A bath would just eat up so much time.

“You bet.” He gave her a squeeze, took the baby and smiled down at her. Fiona wanted to capture this moment forever, hang onto it, because something inside of her, deep in her guts, told her things were changing and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

* * *

An hour later, she cuddled next to him, her head on his chest, her leg thrown over his. Something about this man had always made her feel… everything. When she was a teenager, he’d made her heart flutter. When she’d come home from college for visits, he’d made her entire body flutter. And now…

She pressed a kiss over his heart. “Do you ever want to just… get out of here? Go somewhere just… away? The three of us.”

He sat up. “Sometimes, but this is your inheritance, Fiona. Could you really walk away from it?” Something in his eyes told her he wanted her to say yes.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But sometimes, I just want us to be… not involved in this whole world. Guns and drugs and car parts…”

“Where would you want to go?”