Page 17 of Rough Patch

Fiona stood in front of him, arms crossed, gun gripped in her palm, barrel peeking out under her left elbow. “Who are you?”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

As calm as if she was serving him an iced tea, she turned the gun and shot a hole through his hand. He winced, flinched a little, but stared at her with as much hate in his eyes as Grier had ever seen. “No. Fuck you. I can do this all day. How long do you think you can?”

Grier waited at the fringe of the Demons, fascinated, watching his wife handle club business in a way that would have made her father proud. Hamilton stood on one side of Kale and Sage on the other, although Sage had taken a step back when Fiona fired her gun.

The gun at her side caught the light and reflected it back as she put it down at her side. “Now, I want to know who you are and what you’re doing in my clubhouse.” She leaned in. “Little tip. I’m not going for a hand next time.” She walked closer and pressed the gun into his dick. “Now, you have ten seconds to start talking.” As Kale struggled against the restraints at his hands and feet, twisting and pulling, Fiona began the countdown. “Nine.” Sage turned the screw over Kale’s left foot. “Eight.” Hamilton took a turn with the right screw. “Seven.” Sage again. Kale breathed deeper but didn’t cry out. The crowd around Grier grew restless, fidgeting, murmuring among themselves. They wanted blood, but more they wanted to know Fiona was causing this guy pain. And denying them heightened their need.

But Grier watched, fascinated by his wife. It was like a choreographed dance with Fiona keeping time. As the blood dripped from Kale's feet, he hung his head.

“Six.” This time Sage and Hamilton worked together. “Five.”

“Stop!” Kale lifted his head and stared at Fiona. “He’s going to come for you.” His voice was labored and his breaths huffed out between each word.

“Who? Tyler?”

“And Willy.”

“Willy Carr?”

Kale lifted his head to glare at Fiona. “No, Willy Wonka.”

She jabbed the butt of the gun into his crotch and he yelped. Wasn’t a big enough man in the world to withstand that pain without a reaction. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Willy sent me here when you shot Ty. He said to watch you and him.” He brought his eyes up to Grier. “They’re going to get you both.”

Fiona’s head jerked back and she brought the gun away from his dick to hold in front of her mouth. Before he thought to step forward, she’d raised the gun and shot Kale.

She breathed in deep then let it out in a whoosh. “Find them. And send him back in pieces.” She strolled to the door. “Now.”

Nate grabbed her arm as she passed through the circle of Demons. “What about him?” He nodded to Grier.

Thanks, Nate.

She looked at his hand until he dropped it. “He’s with me. And nobody touches him.” She took Grier roughly by the arm and tugged. “I’ll see everyone in the bar in an hour.”

They walked out together, and to her credit, she waited until the shop door swung closed behind them before she threw up on his shoes.

Fiona dropped the toothbrush into the sink. Killing a man, being the one to pull the trigger, wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be, as easy as Max had told her it was. She braced a hand on each side of the vanity top and looked at herself in the mirror. Good hair. Mascara a little smudged, but nothing she couldn’t fix. She looked the same as she had before she shot a man in cold blood. Before she’d order him chopped to bits and returned to Willy Carr and Tyler Sedotal.

Grier knocked on the door. She’d left him in the outer office while she cleaned herself up. He walked in and stood behind her, laid his hand on her back and drew her close when she turned into him.

She didn’t need to be cradled. Or coddled. Or babied. She needed not to see the life drain out of Kale’s eyes when she closed hers. She needed Grier and wrapped her arms around him, slipped one hand under his shirt and used the other to yank him down for a kiss. Not one of those sweet meetings of their mouths. Her need was raw, primal, desperate in ways she’d never been before. Tongues dueling. Breaths huffing. She wanted him to take control of the moment, to tell her to suck his cock then lift her onto the counter and fuck her until she screamed.

She angled her head. More. She needed more of him. Her hands attacked his button fly, and she groped for his dick, wanted to feel it throb in her palm. She jerked her head away. “Tell me to get on my knees, Grier.”

He yanked open her shirt, dragged down the cup of her support bra and took her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, God, Grier.”

She pumped his cock, stroked the shaft, and continued to moan until he lifted his head. “Go down on me.” He groaned as she took him into her mouth and swirled her tongue over the tip. “Can you see yourself in the mirror? How fucking hot you look with my dick in your mouth?”

She glanced at the full-length mirror on the back of the door as she bobbed her head and his dick slid in and out of her mouth. There was something so erotic about watching herself.

“Touch your pussy.” He pulled her to her feet and spun her so her back was against his chest and she could see herself. “Slide your pants down but leave your panties on.” He waited until she kicked off her leggings then laid his hand over hers to slide it down her belly into the waistband of her underwear. His dick settled against the small of her back, and he ground his hips as their hands worked together to tease her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he used his free hand to flick her nipple until it pebbled hard and he gave a gentle pinch and roll.