Page 11 of Rough Patch

“I’m in it now,” Fiona stepped around Grier. No way did she need him to protect her from some suits with badges. “And somebody needs to start explaining before this place starts filling up with Screaming Demons.” One day she’d forgotten her watch when it would have looked so dramatic to have checked it right then. Dammit.

None of the agents spoke, and she turned her head toward Grier. He didn’t look away, but half-smiled. “Well, funny enough, the FBI needs me.” And likely whatever he’d put into his pocket was a part of it.

Their voices echoed off the high ceilings in the warehouse, empty except for a couple of trucks. The concrete floor made her legs ache, but she remained ramrod straight as she waited. After this was resolved, she would find out why the hell a warehouse that should have been full to the ceiling sat empty, but first she had to deal with FBI agents and double-dealing husbands.

“Needs you how?”

He pulled a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Fiona. She stared at the black-and-white image wishing for a little more light. “You recognize anybody in that picture?”

Of course she did. Her father. One-eye Jim. Hamilton. And a couple of guys she didn’t know. They seemed to be friendly, laughing and smoking outside the clubhouse. But what she noticed more than anything else, was the scar under the open cut of one of the guys she didn’t know. A brand. Just like the one Sedotal had had.

Her stomach twisted and the world tilted. Her legs went weak. She didn’t have any damned idea what this picture meant. She only knew she couldn’t catch her breath.

Grier watched her and she worked to keep it together. One deep, as deep as she could get anyway, breath followed by another. “I don’t… what is this?”

“Your dad and this guy,” Grier pointed to the guy with the scar, “Do you know him?”

Fiona stared at the picture. “I don’t think so.” But a part of her brain wouldn’t let go of… something. A familiarity. “Maybe. Who is he?”

Dave’s “wife” took a step forward then, at Fiona’s glare, moved back to her original spot. “His name is Willy Carr.” She sighed as if having to explain was beneath her. “Former founding member of the Screaming Demons. His son’s name is Tyler Sedotal.”

It was a lot to digest. Too much. Fiona looked from one agent to the other, took in the suits and ties, the guns holstered just under their arms, the woman in the pantsuit with the tight white shirt with buttons open enough to show her ample chest.

“Where did you get this?” She waved the picture like a flag then jerked it away when one of the men in black tried to take it from her. Her look, one she’d practiced for years, a warning and he stepped to his original spot.

“Special Agent Kern… um, Dave, took it from your dad’s house. When Mr. Owen called and asked for this meeting,” Fiona’s head jerked toward Grier as the FBI woman continued talking, “he specifically asked about Tyler Sedotal.” She nodded to the photo. “We’ve been looking for all these men for a while.”

“Why?”

“Obviously we knew where to find your father, Jim Caprici, and Damian Hamilton, but Willy Carr has been in the wind for a while. Then his son surfaced at the Demon clubhouse.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Carr is dangerous. Runs guns, drugs, women. But he’s gone off-grid.” She shot Grier a look. “Obviously, we want to find him.”

Fiona scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” So they expected Grier to help? Or the club? No fucking way. The Screaming Demons would never get into bed with the FBI. No matter what.

The woman cleared her throat and ran a hand along the top of her head where her hair had been pulled back into a severe bun. Fiona didn’t want Sedotal found. She wanted him dead. But she also had her own group of men to accomplish this task. She didn’t need government assistance.

Grier inched closer. “Fiona, I can handle this. You shouldn’t…”

He went to the FBI. Not only was it dangerous, but if the guys found out… “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” She hissed the words from between clenched teeth.

“No. I want to find Sedotal.” His voice, reasonable and soft, further inflamed her sense of club loyalty.

It didn’t matter if he’d called the FBI to report a murder of someone in the club by a Yeti. Again, Grier had betrayed the club with his little tryst with the FBI, and the reason didn’t matter. The FBI in its entirety was neither friend nor ally. And he knew, probably as well as anyone else, calling them would get him killed.

Fiona had heard enough. She didn’t need information provided by a bunch of feds. And she didn’t need a husband who would go behind her back and ask those sons of bitches for help, either. She tamped down the ache in her heart with a burst of anger. If she could hang onto her fury, it would get her through the heartache.

“I’m going home.” She glared at her husband. “You should probably stay out and look for Sedotal. Wouldn’t want him getting away. And if you play your cards right, maybe your new friends will get you one of those shiny badges all of your own.” Fiona wanted to crumple the picture into a ball and throw it in his face, but instead, she folded it in half and shoved it into her open collar. She wanted to look at it, investigate it for herself. And show it to Hamilton.

* * *

Grier watched Fiona walk out. The slam of the heavy metal door didn’t just say she was angry, it screamed it with a screech of steel on concrete. “Fuck.”

“Is she going to be a problem?” Agent Demuer, former military with the build and haircut to prove it, put both hands on his hips and stared at Grier.

Of course she was going to be a problem. An angry, semi-violent when she had to be leader of a badass motorcycle club wasn’t going to sit back and tolerate one of her men, husband or not, going to the FBI for help. Hell to pay was a generous description of what he could expect when he returned home. If he even had a home. Currently, he couldn’t say.

“No. She’ll think it over and…” He shrugged. Probably she’d think it over and call in the firing squad herself. An image of himself standing against a wall with Hamilton and One-eye holding machine guns locked and loaded flashed through his mind.

“Tyler Sedotal is missing right now.” Demuer stared Grier down, but if he thought he was one bit intimidating he was wrong. “And we know you’ve been looking for him. If you find him, can we expect a phone call?”