Page 6 of Rough Road

A couple of inches to the left and she wouldn’t have to worry about the way he was leering at her. She stayed quiet because telling him she would’ve preferred to change his gender wouldn’t enhance her overall safety. Her ass ached from sitting so long on the floor listening to him babble about his plans for her club, and she would have sold her soul for a change of clothes and a piece of Jez’s homemade meatloaf. “I don’t suppose anybody thought to grab my suitcase from the plane.”

He leaned back on his hand and cocked his head. “I have it.” His gaze traveled the length of her body and she wanted to curl into herself, shield as much as she could, but she remained still until he smiled. “So, tell me. What’s in Belize for a motorcycle club princess?”

Well, for his information, she was a motorcycle club queen, but she shrugged. “A friend.”

“Not your friend, though. His friend.”

“Why such a hard-on for Grier?”

Tyler shook his head. “You were supposed to kill him when he came back, not let him make you his bitch.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You let me down, Fiona. I watched. I waited. I listened and yet that bastard got to walk into your house, put a kid in you, got your guys blown up. And still, you’re the loving, doting, sucking his dick wife.”

If he thought any of those things would do more than make her angry enough to add to the amount of time she took killing him, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She smiled because he wasn’t the only one with a poker face. “None of those things affected you.”

He chuckled. “Oh, but they did.” He paused and twisted his mouth into a scowl. “In ways you can’t even imagine.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed, bent his leg and let his hand dangle over it. “You know who my dad is?” When Fiona nodded, he continued. “And his mom.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He rubbed his free hand up and down his chin. “So dear old dad has never even met our boy, Grier. But he put out the word that Grier isn’t touchable. Then he busted me down after I blew up a truck that didn’t hurt more than your family business.”

Hmm. Interesting. “Why does he care about Grier?”

“Right?” Tyler shook his head. “He’s nuts. Thinks somehow he’s going to get that Demon whore back and you’ll all be some big happy family. He’ll have a grandkid, his woman, Grier will get a spot in the club. My spot.” His poker face faded into a smile, one as evil and malicious as Fiona imagined he could form. This time it worried her. She hadn’t climbed into scared yet, but she was closing in at warp speed. “She isn’t coming back.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means… nothing that makes a difference to you.” Even his laugh sounded evil. “Unless you liked the idea of a mother-in-law.”

Oh, God. Jez. Fiona swallowed hard. She couldn’t stop herself. Her stomach churned. And it could have been hunger, she would have been happy to call it that, but it was more about Jez.

“Let’s just say, I saved you a lot of awkward holidays.” His smile so smug, his voice so proud, and Fiona wanted to choke him until his eyes bulged and he slumped his way into hell.

If he hurt Jez, she would repay him in ways that drew out his death, in ways that assured suffering. Over a period of days. Maybe even weeks.

She wanted to clutch her stomach, will the pain away, but she sat straight, one arm absently rocking the baby chair, the other tapping a beat on her jeans. “This is all your fault, you know. You and that fucking father of yours. If you’d just left him where he was, none of this would have ever happened. We would’ve stayed under the radar, left you alone. You brought this on. Just you.”

That was rich and she wanted to roll her eyes. She shrugged instead. “I didn’t have all the information.”

He scooted closer and ran a finger over her forehead then down her cheek. She didn’t recoil, but it took every ounce of will she had. “All those losses… our men, your money, your fault and all you can say is you didn’t have the information.” He slapped her cheek. “I expected better. Did having the kid make you weak?” He turned from her to the car seat and twisted it to face him. He unsnapped the straps and lifted London, held her up, and stared at her. After a moment, he cuddled the baby to his chest. “Uncle Tyler.” His mouth twitched and Fiona thought he might smile. Instead, he scowled at her. “You think I’m such a bad guy, but I hate collateral damage. Like the whore. The kid. But don’t worry. Once I merge the clubs and we rule the whole city, I’ll give you another baby. You won’t miss this one.”

Oh, God. Fiona’s head spun. “Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want.” What choice did she have? Until she could figure out what to do… until she could get out of there…

“Yeah, but I can’t have his kid around.” He clicked his tongue and stroked the fine tuft of hair that laid over the soft spot where London’s skull hadn’t fused. Oh, God. She just wanted her baby back. “She’s cute. Looks like you.” He sighed and laid London in her chair more gently than Fiona expected and she almost thanked him. But he spoke first. “I’ve never hurt a kid before.”

She swallowed hard and moved close enough to lay her still tied hands on his chest. “You don’t have to now. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you everything I have. The club, the money… everything.”

He nodded but laid his arm over her shoulder and leaned his forehead against hers. “That was never your choice.”

She had to think. Fast. Save her baby. Save herself. “I know but do you know what would hurt Grier more than killing London? What would destroy him?” She blinked and pulled back so she could see more than his eyes and nose. “Knowing he lost us to you. Seeing it every day. Knowing I chose you over him.”

“Do you choose me, Fiona?” There was a challenge in his voice that meant she might not have gotten through, but she’d at least, made him think.

“If it saves my baby? You bet I do.” Of course, she would never stop trying to get away.

He nodded then turned to the asshat at the door and nodded. Asshat stood and went outside then returned with a long piece of steel rebar welded to another owl-shaped piece. A branding iron. Oh, fuck.