Page 45 of Rough Return

“Fiona!”

He took the stairs and left Sage on the main floor. He searched every nook, cranny, closet, and cabinet. The entire house was empty except for a circular bloodstain about the size of an orange on the living room carpet and a few droplets leading outside. No other sign of Sedotal or Fiona. Grier couldn’t breathe. Literally. Couldn’t catch his breath, no matter how hard he gasped, trying. Not even when he bent over and braced his hands on his knees. His lungs didn’t work. Nor his heart. Or his brain.

Oh, God. Fiona!

“Grier, she’s out here!”

Sage stood at the French doors in her kitchen, yanked one open, and walked outside. Grier, paralyzed, couldn’t move, but watched Fiona stand, her white robe dotted with blood. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks tear-stained, but she made her way inside to him. Not shot. Not dead.

He hugged her, hard, tight, close. “Oh, God, Fi. Are you okay?”

“I shot him, Grier.” She held the gun up and waved it at the ceiling.

“I know, baby.” Her mouth twisted from one side to the other. She was one tear away from a breakdown. Giving an order was a lot different than doing the job herself. It was the one thing Max hadn’t managed to teach her. “It’s all right. He deserved it.” And if the bastard lived, he would get much worse when Grier got his hands around Sedotal’s neck. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t look at him “He was going to hurt me.”

Grier held her at arm’s length intent on checking her for injuries, but he could do that with her wrapped around him. “Babe, are you okay?”

Sage, from behind Fiona, slipped the gun out of her hand then stepped away, leaned his shoulder against the kitchen door frame. She pulled a small device, not much bigger than the tracker he’d shown her, from her robe pocket. “He’s been watching us. Together.”

Oh, God. This fucking guy was going to die. Maybe tonight if he could bear to leave Fiona. He looked over her head at Sage. “You know where to find him?”

“No idea.”

Fiona’s eyes cleared. “He said you told him to come.” She blinked.

“Fiona, I would never…”

She shook her head. “I want him dead.” Now that was a command if he’d ever heard one. Sage, who’d been on the phone, looked at Grier. Grier stared at Fiona for a second, memorizing her face, the fear in her eyes. It would make killing Sedotal easier.

“Ham said to meet him at the clubhouse. He’s tossing Sedotal’s room.” Sage pushed off the wall and made for the door.

“I want you to take her to the hospital and get her checked out. Then stay with her.” He tucked his gun in the back waistband of his pants and pulled his shirt over it as he walked to the door. “I’ll be back when I find him.” And God help the son of a bitch when he did.

Unreasonable. The only word Fiona could come up with for her anger. Grier hadn’t known Sedotal was insane. Hadn’t known he would try to… she couldn’t even think past the word. All she knew was that she couldn’t think of Grier without her blood curdling in her veins.

And she hadn’t seen him either. Not for more than a few minutes in days. That it didn’t bother her, bothered her. She needed to go home, clean up the mess she’d made fighting off Sedotal. A fight she should never have been in. And she needed to check for cameras. Sage had found six, but she wanted to check for herself. No telling where else the twisted son of a bitch had hidden them or what he’d seen. Shame brought a new bout of bile to her throat.

She didn’t dwell too hard on the fact she’d been the one to hire him. Or that she hadn’t checked him out quite thoroughly enough. Because when she’d had Sage do it, he’d found a dishonorable discharge, a couple of domestic dispute arrests, and an attempted rape. Not that the Screaming Demons were angels. By no means. They had their share of felons, but no rapists or woman beaters.

Grier had told her a hundred times he hated the bastard. Maybe more. And she’d ignored him. Thought he was questioning her judgment. But he should’ve tried harder to make her listen, pointed out the dangers, or if he’d been so worried, had Sage do the looking before Sedotal ever made it into her house.

And with all the missing shipments, the fire, Hamilton’s broken jaw, he should’ve never sent her home alone without sensing danger. And if something had happened to her baby—hers now, not theirs—Sedotal wouldn’t have been the only one needing an undertaker. Assuming Grier ever found him. Which didn’t look likely.

“Hey, Fiona.” Hamilton stood at the door to her office. For a second, she thought it absurd how little time it had taken her to stop thinking of it as Max’s office rather than hers.

“What’s up?” The only reason she didn’t send him away was because he’d been out with Grier looking for Sedotal and she needed news.

“Have you seen Grier?”

“No.” And thank God. She didn’t feel like explaining why she had bags four puffs deep under her eyes and why despite being pregnant, she’d lost a couple of pounds. “Why?”

“He looks almost as bad as you do. Thought maybe you could talk to him.” He stood and widened his eyes. “But I can see you’re probably the wrong person for the job.”

On so many levels. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”