Page 31 of Rough Patch

Fiona watched Grier sleep on the sofa with the baby on his chest. Oh, God. If he turned over, the baby would either topple to the floor or be trapped between him and the back of the couch. But they looked so peaceful and comfortable… her adorable family. In the three weeks since they’d brought the baby home, he’d woken with her every night for feedings, changed more than his fair share of diapers, and taken over all the household and club related chores.

And now he’d fallen asleep holding their baby. Fiona’s heart fluttered.

“Hey.” Grier opened his eyes and smiled. “Every time I wake up, I keep hoping this isn’t all a dream.”

“And every time I wake up, I know it has to be.” Oh, God. Where had all this sappiness come from? She was Fiona Strong. Strong. Not some big bawling baby who looked at her husband and their child and wept. Fiona Strong didn’t weep. Except she did. More often than even Grier knew. She cried in the morning when she woke next to him. Cried when she looked at how perfect her baby had turned out. Cried when she changed a diaper, or fed the baby, or when Grier made her plate at dinner or ran her bathwater, or any of the thousand things he did for her. Every single one reduced her to a crying slop of woman.

And it had to stop.

She forced the tears back with a quick graze of her fingers over her eyes, a deep swallow and a calm, centering breath. “Are you just sitting here watching me sleep?” He grinned. “If it wasn’t so damned sexy it would be a little creepy.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I was thinking about cooking some supper.”

“Really?”

No. She’d been staring. “Yes. Well, ordering supper anyway. I might dial it myself tonight.”

He unfolded his body, sat up and in one swift motion, situated the baby on his right arm. “I could take you out. Jez is dying for some one-on-one time with London.”

Leave her baby? Even with Jez, Fiona just wasn’t ready. Besides, the best memories she had were of the last weeks, at home, alone, with Grier and the baby. “Let’s stay in.”

“We could go to the club. Guys haven’t seen you in a while. Then the baby can go.”

She hadn’t been there since the day she went into labor. Neither did she have any desire to go. “No. I just want to have a quiet night. Just the three of us.” For that matter, the baby could go anywhere they went. That was the purpose of the car seat and diaper bag and stroller, the baby paraphernalia currently collecting dust in the nursery.

“Okay.” But he frowned. “Are you afraid to take her out anywhere?”

Of course she was. There were germs and people and what if someone bumped into the baby and elbowed her or… and this one scared her most… what if she let someone hold the baby and they dropped her? No. Home was better. Fiona could protect London inside these four walls.

“Of course not. I just don’t feel like going tonight.”

Grier nodded. “Okay. You order dinner. I’ll change the baby and we’ll meet back here in five minutes.” His soft smile made her feel like a phony, like a fraud, but since he didn’t mention her lie, she didn’t either. And that, as of late, summed up their relationship.

* * *

Grier sat in Fiona’s frilly office and missed all of Max’s hardwood accents, the copper and gold accents, the beer tap he’d kept in the corner where the bar had been. And since he’d sent Kye back to Belize, he missed having someone to talk to. He was in charge until Fiona got back to work and he couldn’t risk looking weak in front of any of the guys.

Hamilton sat across from him. They’d already taken care of all the business. Why Hamilton hadn’t left yet must have meant something. Fiona had probably told him, but he didn’t remember and Hamilton was a man of few words, so asking probably wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Was there something else?” Well, he couldn’t just sit there and let Hamilton stare.

“We have a pretty reliable lead on Sedotal and Carr.”

They’d been in this room for more than an hour and this should have been the lead story of the day. “Yeah?” But no point looking over-anxious.

“Funeral home.” He pulled out the picture of Max with Hamilton, One-eye and Carr. He pointed to the fifth man in the picture, a guy Grier now knew as O’Shea—nothing else, just O’Shea. “Killed last week. Rammed his bike into the back end of a minivan.”

“And?”

“Word on the street is Carr was still tight with O’Shea. Smart money says he’ll be there.”

Grier nodded. “Then so will we.” He wanted these fuckers bad. Bad enough he’d stake the place out himself. Give up time with Fiona and London to be the one watching the place. “So we wait until they leave, then we follow. And we keep a man on them.”

“Probably won’t be that easy.”

Of course it wouldn’t. It would take all of them working together. A solid plan. Something foolproof. This was his chance to make up for his every failing to Fiona. One chance to get this right.

* * *