Page 47 of Rough Return

“Aren’t you still watching the shipments?” She’d specifically told Hamilton she wanted Grier on them.

“It’s taken care of.”

Again, no point in arguing. She nodded. “I guess we’ll see.” She could have been talking about the shipments or them.

He didn’t ask, and she didn’t elaborate. And for the first time since she’d known him, she didn’t watch him walk away, even though she appreciated the view more than most others she’d ever seen. She had enough memories of him walking away. Adding another to her reserve would have just been overkill.

She leaned back in her seat and spun toward the wall. It just wouldn’t do for anyone else to walk in and find her crying.

* * *

Fucking Sedotal. Every day that passed reinforced Grier’s hatred. Made him want to tear the son of a bitch apart. For what he’d done to Fiona and what he’d done to them as a couple. Fiona wouldn’t even look at him, and the few times she did, he could see the blame in her eyes.

Justifiable blame. He never should have sent her home alone. Whenever he thought about what could have happened, how she’d trembled when he’d gotten there, the manic eyes and waving gun, his anger went wild. Uncontrollable. And Sedotal had disappeared. Like he’d never even existed.

Grier and Sage had followed every lead, even talking to some of the guys he’d been in the military with. Somehow, the guy had gone ghost. And he couldn’t tell Fiona that he’d failed her again, so he continued to look. Every free minute of the day and night, he drove around searching up and down the east coast. He’d planned another search for tonight, but he wasn’t getting anywhere anyway and talking to Fiona held a place of equal prominence on the totem pole of his life.

He walked to the bar and sat heavily on the stool. The weight of the world curved his back. Sage slapped him on the shoulder. “Still not talking to you, huh?”

Jesus, did everybody know everything about their relationship? Grier shook his head and took a beer from Jez.

“Give her some time. She’ll come around.”

Grier didn’t point out the flaw in Jez’s words of wisdom. Fiona didn’t want to talk to him and no amount of time would change it. And she shouldn’t want to talk to her. He’d let her down, let Max down, let himself down.

He turned to Sage. “I’m going to hang around here tonight. Would you mind…?”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll take Frank. Maybe you can get some sleep.”

He doubted it, but maybe. If Fiona talked to him, they could figure this out. This being their situation and how to fix all the things wrong between them. He hadn’t had her long but the thought of losing her now stole his breath. And his courage. And his reason for getting up in the morning. He would tell her he loved her. He had to. If she walked away, and after he told her, he would offer her the opportunity, then at least she would know exactly who and what she was walking away from. But God, he hoped she stayed. Or let him stay.

Fatigue like he’d never known before made his eyes heavy, but he didn’t have much hope for sleep. Like every night as soon as he put head to pillow, his brain taunted him, teased him with all the ways he’d messed up and fantasy images of the family slipping through his fingers. Besides, he needed to take the tracking device to the supplier if he wasn’t going to be there.

He didn’t know how many of the guys knew he still used the app to track the shipments since they hadn’t been hit in a while and he’d stopped talking much to Sage—top-secret meant top-secret—but he didn’t want to take any chances. And since he wouldn’t be there tonight, he wanted to make damned sure he could find that truck if it somehow disappeared.

Leaving the almost full beer on top of the bar, he looked at Sage. “I need to go clear my head. I’ll be back.”

“Want some company?”

“Nah. I just need some time.”

Even when he was young and full of confidence and plenty of arrogance, riding had always been his go-to for deep thinking, though he didn’t know how he’d manage thinking at all with his mind so cluttered. If nothing else, at least he’d be away from all the stares and concern at the clubhouse. And maybe even as much as thinking it out, he needed to be away from them.

* * *

Since he’d come back later than he’d expected, sidetracked by something he couldn’t get out of, Grier checked all the spare rooms at the clubhouse for Fiona. When he didn’t find her, he went back to the bar. “Where’s Fiona?”

Lisa smiled. “She tore out of here this afternoon with Sage. Haven’t seen either one of them since.”

“All right.” But goddammit, it wasn’t all right. He needed to see her. Needed to hold her, apologize, do whatever it took to make this right. He couldn’t consider another outcome. Not now.

He went to the back and found the room she’d been staying in. A nap until she got back wouldn’t hurt. He laid down on the bed, turned his face into the pillow and inhaled the sweet, fresh scent of Fiona. For the first time in days or weeks or maybe years, sleep came easily.

Fiona stared at the photo. Grainy at best. Could have been photoshopped. She couldn’t tell. Distance and shadows played games with her eyes. But Ralph would know. Ralph was the master of photo manipulation, and her father had used him more than once to sway certain political and authoritative figures to the side which most benefited Demon business.

He held the picture in his hand and studied the finer points of the image, turning it, holding it up to the light. He even walked out of the office with it to stand on the sidewalk and let the sun reveal whatever mysteries it held. He walked back inside and around to his desk then pulled out a magnifying glass to further his study.

She didn’t really care what he had to do. She needed to know—and in her heart she did—whether or not this damned thing was real.