Page 217 of Romeo

“This is going to take a minute.”

“You’ve got the time it takes me to reach Virginia.”

“Romeo, think about what you’re doing.”

“Already did; that’s why I’m on the fucking road.”

That was the problem. I disconnected before he could say anything else as the highway opened in front of me.

I rode as if Satan himself was behind me. Gas, coffee, piss—those were the only stops I made. Even those took too fucking long.

I didn’t waste energy pretending this trip was about checking on Fiona. She was safe at Granny’s. Frank and Georgie knew what had happened, and half the Sons of Hell would probably be watching her by morning whether she liked it or not.

I was going to Rosewood for the man who’d grabbed her.

Nav’s message came sometime after midnight.

I pulled into a rest area and opened the files.

The video showed the front of the gas station from an angle high beneath the awning. Fiona appeared at the edge of the frame, went inside, then returned a few minutes later with something in her hand.

The man moved while she was inside.

Brown hair. Beard. Exactly as she’d described.

He stopped near the car.

My jaw locked when his hand closed around her wrist.

Fiona pulled back, but the motherfucker didn’t let go. Instead, he stepped closer and crowded her against the side of the car while his mouth moved.

I already knew what he’d said.

I played the footage again, this time watching his face instead of Fiona’s.

Casual.

That was what pissed me off most.

He didn’t look like a man doing something reckless in the heat of the moment. He looked comfortable. Like putting his hands on a woman who’d told him no was familiar enough that he didn’t expect consequences.

Then Frank’s bike entered the edge of the frame.

The change was immediate.

I could practically feel the earth shake when the big bastard stomped toward the asshole who had the au-fucking-dacity to touch my girl. I couldn’t hear what Frank said; I didn’t need to. Fiona had told me what Frank said. Even without knowing, seeing the stranger’s hands go up as he took a step back told me all I needed to know about a pussy who went after someone weaker than himself.

The man retreated toward his truck while Frank stayed between him and Fiona.

My eyes were glued to the video until the pickup disappeared from the frame.

Then I watched the beginning once more so I remembered his face.

Nav’s second message contained the rest.

Marcus Webb.

Thirty-three.