Page 63 of Fury
Greyson pauses in pulling on his cut, his expression carefully neutral. "Club business. Nothing for you to worry about."
But I recognize that look, the cold focus and that controlled anger simmering beneath the surface. "This wouldn't happen to be about those assholes from last night, would it?"
His silence is answer enough.
"Greyson," I sigh, sitting up fully now. "It's handled. We took care of it."
"And now we're going to make sure it stays handled." He buckles his belt, checking his phone as it buzzes with incoming messages. "Zach's already at the clubhouse with Trenton. Kyle, Torch, Techy, and Butcher are on their way."
My stomach drops. "Tell me you're not planning to hurt them."
He crosses to the bed, cupping my bruised face with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the steel in his eyes. "No one puts their hands on what's mine, Livie. No one disrespects our family."
"So, what's the plan? Beat them up in broad daylight?"
"The plan," he says evenly, "is to have a conversation. Make sure they understand the new rules."
"Which are?"
"They stay the hell away from you and the other women. They keep their mouths shut about what happened. And they remember exactly who runs this town." His thumb traces the edge of my swollen eye. "If they can manage that, they get to keep all their teeth."
I should protest, should tell him this isn't necessary, but the truth is, there's something deeply comforting about knowing these men are willing to go to war over a bruise on my face.
"Just be careful," I say instead. "Don't do anything that'll bring the cops down on the clubs."
His smile is sharp-edged. "We're just going to talk, baby. Nothing illegal about that."
"Right." I snort. "Just a friendly chat between six patched members and some country club boys."
"Exactly." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Rest. I'll be back before you know it."
As he heads for the door, I call after him. "Greyson? Try not to enjoy it too much."
He pauses, glancing back with a wolfish grin that sends shivers down my spine. "No promises."
After he leaves, I lie back down, but sleep eludes me. My phone buzzes with texts from the girls, everyone checking in after last night's adventures. Meadow sends a picture of my brother looking thunderous as he examines her bruised knuckles. Tiana reports that her father is on the warpath. Even Cassandra, whose father, Kyle, is usually the most levelheaded of the bunch, admits he nearly put his fist through a wall when he saw her split lip.
An hour later, my phone rings. Tiana.
"They're at Bethany's husband's office," she says without preamble. "All six of them. Dad made Zach wear a tie to look 'respectable' while they terrify the shit out of those guys."
"How do you know this?" I ask, though I'm not really surprised. Tiana has always had an uncanny ability to know everything going on around her.
"Please," she scoffs. "Like I wouldn't have a prospect following them to report back.”
We speculate about what's happening at the insurance office, painting increasingly outlandish scenarios until we're both laughing so hard it hurts my bruised ribs.
"Seriously, though," Tiana says when we calm down, "those guys are never going to look at their wives the same way again.”
"Good," I say with surprising vehemence. "They deserve to be scared."
"Look at you, all fierce and protective. Greyson's rubbing off on you." There's approval in her voice. "Speaking of which, girls' brunch tomorrow?”
"Wouldn't miss it," I promise.
After we hang up, I finally drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. I'm just finishing getting dressed when I hear motorcycles in the driveway.
From the window, I watch as Greyson dismounts, followed by Zach, Trenton, Kyle, Torch, and Techy. There's something in their bearing—a satisfied swagger, the look of men who have successfully defended what's theirs. Despite my earlier concerns, I feel a surge of pride.
