CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt
He’d lost his temper.
He had to get out of the room before he let his unfiltered way of talking take over and prove to her that he was, indeed, an asshole. He didn’t care what most people thought of him, but somehow seeing how Grace had labeled him on her phone pissed him off. Could he blame her? He’d been nothing but a jerk to her because he was trying not to fall for her. That much he’d admit to himself. Matt had been attracted to her ever since they’d teamed up for the Blood Bull mission to capture the kingpin of the Carillo Cartel. Hector Vargas was sitting in a U.S. prison, but it had cost Matt three days of torture at the hands of the cartel. All because of Elliot Holden.
He fixated the blame on Grace. Even when he found out the truth, he continued to be a dick to her. Almost losing her two days ago forced him to face the truth.
He cared for her deeply.
Whether it was something more, he wasn’t sure.
“How’s our patient?” Millie asked while setting bags of pancakes and bacon on the counter.
When Matt went to get them breakfast, he left word with Axe to keep an eye on Grace. He realized a disturbing pattern after he’d rushed down the stairs from his loft to the garage. He always turned his back on Grace when he couldn’t deal with his emotions for her. It happened at the motel. He had freaked out when she suggested they spend the weekend together. Then he did it again at Millie’s office. And now?
“She’s pissed at me.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you think?”
Millie huffed in irritation. “You know when everyone tells you to put your best foot forward when you’re trying to win the girl?”
“I’m not trying to win her.”
“Then why are you going through all this trouble for her? Why not just turn her over to her boss?”
“Fucking hell, Millie. You know I hate Holden.”
“Are you using Grace to get to Holden?”
“What? No way. I care about her.”
Millie raised a brow.
“As a friend.”
Her brow went up higher.
“Just ring up my order so I can get out of here,” Matt growled. He didn’t need Millie butting into his love life.
Love life?
Where did that come from?
He stalked out of the diner, his thoughts and emotions on a rampage, he almost didn’t register the roar of Harley pipes until they were upon him. He stiffened when he saw Troy’s SUV flanked by two motorcycles stopping in front of his garage. The biker boss stepped down from his vehicle, his gaze zeroing in on the bag of food Matt was holding.
“Foster.”
“deLamar.”
“I see you’re taking care of Grace.”
Matt didn’t say anything.
“I should have come earlier,” Troy continued. “You didn’t have to bother with feeding her breakfast. We’re preparing a feast for her back at the compound. Thank you for—”
“You’re not taking her,” Matt cut off the other man.
“Excuse me?” the biker’s voice lowered.
“I said, you’re not taking her,” he repeated. “Until I know who’s after her, she’s not leaving my loft.”
“She agreed to this?”
Matt’s jaw tightened and he lifted his chin slightly.
“She didn’t, did she?” The biker smirked. “Are you holding a woman against her will, Foster? I’m pretty sure she told you to get lost the last time.”
“That’s neither here nor there. Someone wants to hurt her. I told you this. Could be blowback from your enemies.”
“Could be,” Troy shrugged. “I’ll make it up to her.”
Matt wanted to throat punch deLamar. The idea of the biker “making it up” to Grace was a burn down his throat.
He went on the offensive instead. “What the hell did you drag her into, Troy?”
“That’s between me and Grace.”
“Not anymore.”
“Dammit, Foster, you forget that you owe me.” Clearly Matt has gotten under the biker’s calm demeanor. Good. Because Matt was a ball of fire and fury. He had a good idea that Troy was responsible for what happened to Grace whether directly or indirectly.
“That marker I owe you doesn’t factor into Grace’s safety. So, you can quit throwing that in my face.”
“Matt?”
He closed his eyes briefly in frustration before turning to see Grace standing in front of the garage. He had wanted to keep her out of Troy’s sight until he had gained her trust completely. Looked like that wasn’t going to be the case. He took comfort in seeing her tiny frame wrapped up in his jacket with his smell encompassing her.
His gaze transferred to Axe who was standing guiltily beside her.
“I can’t stop her without hurting her,” his mechanic defended before Matt could light into him.
Axe was the least of his worries at the moment.
“Grace, darlin’,” Troy took a step toward her, but Matt body-checked him at the same time he passed the bag of food to Axe. Couldn’t act intimidating with the smell of pancakes and bacon between them. Both men were of equal height, but Troy’s chest and arms were massive. However, Matt was no slouch in the physique department either, and the other man was well aware of this.
The rest of Matt’s mechanics filed into a line behind him in a show of force. Two were ex-Army Rangers who had worked as operatives for the CIA. His third guy, Roger Peña, was a former Lieutenant with the Mexico Federal Police. He’d been their ally in their takedown of Vargas.
“Tread carefully, Foster,” Troy warned dangerously
“And you should think twice before threatening me on my turf,” Matt responded tersely. “She stays with me. Get that through your damned head.”
“You know you have to come back with me, right, Grace?” Troy said cryptically.
“I … I …” Grace stammered. “Matt?”
“Are you sure she’s all right?” Troy directed an accusing gaze at him.
Matt stepped back and put his arms around Grace, ignoring the stiffening of her shoulders. She was still pissed at him.
“You know you’re safe with me, right?” the biker cajoled.
“Is she?” Matt questioned derisively. “When you’ve been doing business with the people who want to hurt her?”
“We don’t know that,” the biker bit out. “Come on, Grace. Let’s go.” Troy held out his hand.
Grace cowered into Matt’s body. It was so out of character for her that the biker frowned.
“What’s wrong with you, darlin’?”
“I don’t know you,” Grace whispered.
Well hell, cat’s out of the bag.
“What?” Troy answered, confused. He looked at Matt accusingly. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Retrograde amnesia,” Matt said shortly. “The explosion at the airport gave her a bad concussion. She doesn’t remember anything. Not her name. Not her job, and certainly not the information you want.”
“Fuck you,” Troy growled, turning away from them to start pacing. “Don’t you think you could have mentioned this to me from day one?”
“For all I know you set her up,” Matt stated calmly.
Troy glared at him; his agitation was obvious. He needed something from Grace, and her amnesia put a kink in his plans.
“You know that’s not true,” the biker protested.
“But did you put her in harm’s way?”
“I’m sorry, Foster, but that’s none of your business.”
“Axe,” Matt called. “Please take Grace to my loft.”
All the while he saying this, Matt didn’t take his eyes off Troy and his men. “Babe, please don’t argue and do as I say. Wait for me inside.”
“Look at you,” Troy sneered. “Taking advantage of her condition, manipulating her because you know you had fucked up, and she’d always choose me.”
“What does he mean?” Grace queried suspiciously.
“Nothing.” Matt pushed her toward his mechanic. “Just go with Axe.”
She resisted. The old Grace flashed in her eyes.
Stubborn.
Willful.
Goddammit.
Axe looked at him doubtfully when she didn’t budge.
“I mean, we’re together,” Troy declared. “You’re my woman.”
“You can’t prove it, so stop fucking with her head,” Matt snarled, going toe-to-toe with the biker. “This conversation is over. Until Grace regains her memory or you confess your role in this mess, you do not contact her, and you never talk to her without me around. Do I make myself clear, deLamar?”
“And she has no say?” Troy quirked a brow at the woman in question.
Matt turned his glare on Grace. There was defiance in her eyes and yet a hint of uncertainty. He was working with the latter and refused to feel guilty about it. Not leaving with Axe when he told her to infuriated him and awakened his ruthless streak.
“Leave, Troy,” he faced the biker once more. “When you’re ready to talk and explain this whole damned mess, you know where to find us.” Matt clasped Grace’s bicep. “Come on, babe. Let’s get some food in you.”
Matt nodded meaningfully at Roger as he walked away with a now complacent Grace. His friend lifted his chin, acknowledging that he understood his role to keep the bikers out if they pushed the issue.
Tension crackled in the air.
“This is not over, Foster!” Troy called when he and Grace entered the garage. Despite his differences with the biker boss at the moment, they both recognized that now was not the time to cause more turmoil for Grace’s already troubled mind.
This was definitely far from over.
Matt was sure this was only the beginning.