Page 32 of Rough Return

Sage cleared his throat. “He rode it in this morning. Said she wanted him to have it. Made it sound like… payment for services ren… dered…”

The murderous rage pumping through Grier and the look it likely inspired probably had something to do with the way Sage let his words fall off. Grier stood, threw some money on the table, and stalked out to his borrowed bike.

Sage followed him out of the diner, but Grier was already on the bike, racing toward the clubhouse.

* * *

Everything Grier saw as he drove was tinged in a homicidal red. He was going to paint the walls with Sedotal’s blood. First, for riding his bike, and second, for riding his wife. Or maybe the order was reversed. It didn’t matter. It was going to get messy.

He drove into the lot, pulled in front of the shop, and got off the bike. Sedotal had a wrench in his hand and bike parts strewn from the near bay where he’d disassembled Grier’s bike to the opposite end of the shop. Grier didn’t give a shit about the wrench or the crowd of Demons standing around in bunches. He only saw Sedotal and what was left of his ride. And red. A lot of red.

The first punch knocked Sedotal down. The second—the one that came with Grier on top of him—knocked out Sedotal’s tooth and split Grier’s knuckle open. Blood spurted as he hit Sedotal again and again until Sage, One-eye, and Hamilton yanked him off.

He fought to get around Hamilton. “You’re out of here, you stupid fuck.”

Sage had one arm trapped behind him, Nate the other, and Hamilton stood directly in front with a hand on Grier’s chest, blocking his path to finishing the job of killing Sedotal, who remained on the ground.

He couldn’t actually kick him out. Didn’t have the power for that. It would take a vote. If Sedotal had been a Demon. But he wasn’t. He was bought and paid for security. Who didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Grier tried not to think what else Fiona had been paying him for.

“I was just taking care of your business. A woman like Fiona needs a man to keep her warm at night. I was helping out. Not my fault she enjoyed it and wanted more.” He’d barely made it to standing—no one helping him made it take a couple of extra seconds—when Grier broke free and knocked him back onto his ass. Out cold.

Grier jerked away again when Hamilton—a mountain of a man with the strength of two—grabbed him in a bear hug and part lifted, part dragged him out of the shop. “Put me down.”

Hamilton dropped him outside in the parking lot. He still looked awful and had a wire around the lower half of his face, but fierce as ever, he pointed at Grier. “Stay.”

“Fuck you, Hamilton.” But he looked down at his bleeding hand. Every knuckle had been busted open, and he was pretty sure he’d broken at least one finger, but aside from Fiona, nothing in his life had been more satisfying as hearing the thwack of his fist against Sedotal’s face, of seeing blood fly, and feeling the son of a bitch’s nose break.

Hamilton provided a wall between him and the shop, and One-eye came with Sage to block Grier in. “She gave him the bike, Grier.”

He couldn’t think about Fiona now or he would explode. Blood dripped down his fingers, and his hand throbbed, but damned if he wanted to stay there with the whole club thinking Sedotal had been doing his woman. Their leader.

He climbed on the bike and rode. Past Salem, through Gloucester to Rockport and the beach where he’d watched Fiona clock a guy who got handsy with her when she’d convinced him to let her skip school her senior year in high school. Even then, in the black and red bikini with the silver trim—the inspiration for paint colors on his bike—she’d made his dick hard. And now, he had no bike, and she’d added Sedotal to her list of conquests. And there had to have been several. That woman knew exactly how to get him off. Not that he had any right to judge. Wasn’t like he’d come home a virgin, but dammit, to be screwing Sedotal now, while she was married to Grier… unforgivable.

The beach was deserted except for Grier and a few people walking, picking up shells, and mocking his life with their happiness. He’d stopped in Gloucester for a bottle of whiskey. He hadn’t opened it yet, but the picture of Sedotal on top of Fiona kept flashing through his mind, along with one of her handing him the keys to Grier’s bike, and a particularly hurtful one of her fucking that piece of shit on Grier’s bike. He twisted the cap and drank, long and deep, hoping to numb the pain, quiet the voices—I was taking care of your business—and dim the pictures.

By sunset, he was pleasantly drunk and not angry—not as angry—at Fiona for giving his bike away to that loser. He was still furious about her screwing the guy though. And no amount of whiskey was going to make that go away. She’d made him a fool. A laughingstock. For Tyler Sedotal, a guy who couldn’t take a punch, who should’ve hit Grier with the wrench before he ever got close enough to nail him with a fist. A guy who tore Grier’s bike apart.

He pulled out his cell and turned the power back on. He had about a thousand missed calls and texts to deal with, but nothing was more important than setting things straight with Fiona. Giving her a piece of his mind. His hand, swollen now to twice its original size and caked with blood and sand was all but useless in trying to work the phone. It took a couple of tries before he managed to dial her number.

“Grier. Where are you?”

“What? No hello for your husband?” Though still sitting on the beach, he swayed as he spoke. “Do you save all the sweet stuff for Sedotal?”

“Look, One-eye told me what happened with you and Ty.”

Oh, Ty was it? “You gave him my bike.”

“To wash it and tune it up. It’s been sitting for two years. I wanted to give it back to you.” He didn’t care how reasonable it sounded. He didn’t believe her.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true, and I don’t care what you think.” Even drunk, he could hear her defiance.

“Barbie wouldn’t talk to Ken that way. And if she did, he’d turn her over his knee.” What? Since when was he an expert on five-year-old girl toys? “Anyway, you need a spanking. A nice hard swat against that luscious ass.” He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. He went from angry to horny in one point five seconds flat.

She chuckled. “Where are you, Grier?”

“Out.” He pictured her as he left her, naked and smiling. “What are you wearing, Fifi?”