Page 66 of The Originals

I’m gonna fucking kill her.

Grain’s treacherous ride home from the motel two days ago had taken an extra few hours due to additional stops. He should’ve taken Mick’s advice and gotten at least a few hours’ rest. He wound up pulling over for coffee and a cigarette when he felt himself dozing on the road. By the time he pulled into Lawry, he was ready to sleep for days, but not before he paddled her ass.

Regina wasn’t at the apartment. The only saving grace was most of her stuffwasthere with the exception of her small suitcase, some clothes, and her toiletries. Obviously, she’d taken off for a few days. He just didn’t know where or when she’d be back. Grain was beyond livid. After taking a shower and relaxing with a few beers at the apartment, he’d stopped at Starr’s on his way out of the city. Ernie said she hadn’t shown up yet.

A million scenarios crossed his mind, and a few even scared the hell out of him. How could he protect her when he had no idea where she was? That thought plagued his mind relentlessly. Once he got back to Ghosttown, he’d considered the possibility she’d be there. Grain had a few choice words for her, but he’dwait until he knew she was safe. When he arrived, he scanned the lot, finding no sign of Regina’s car.

Fuck!

Now, he was at the clubhouse bar, his anger at a slow boil for the last two days. He hadn’t heard a word from her. He also had to contend with his president. Leaving the brothers a man short was never acceptable, but surprisingly Jack didn’t give him too much shit for it. Grain knew he probably had Mick to thank for having his back.

He was nursing his second beer when the conversation swiftly turned to his relationship. They’d had plenty of fights, some public for the club to enjoy, during their year together. But none that left them separated. Time had a warped way of adding to anger rather than providing a cooling off period. Grain knew he’d have to do more than usual to smooth things over with her this time.

“Maybe you should buy her something?”

“Like what? Flowers, Tull?” Grain sneered. “Yeah, the last time I took your fucking advice and got her flowers, she tried to beat the shit outta me with them thinking I fucked up.”

Tully’s lips twitched, and he held up his hand. “Alright, just trying to help. Maureen loves them, that’s why I suggested it.”

Mack scoffed. “Yeah ’cause Maureen’s a normal broad. Gee’s off the fucking rails. Certifiable, that one.”

Grain had no defense over Mack’s comments. His woman was a lunatic. It didn’t make him love her any less.

Grain eyed the two club whores behind the bar. Debbie and Colleen.

“Hey!” he snapped, and both women immediately turned. “What do broads like?”

Both women looked at each other, wild eyed and confused. This wasn’t that hard. They were women. They should know what they like.

“It’s not a hard fucking question,” Grain said, but neither of them could answer. He looked over at Colleen. Dunn hadn’t claimed her as his old lady, but he spent the majority of his time with her. And Grain hadn’t heard or seen her with any other member in a while.

Grain lifted his chin. “What’s the last thing Dunn gave you?”

Her lips parted, and her jaw dropped slightly.

“A shiner.” The muttered comment and snickering came from across the bar. Grain jerked his gaze to Dove and Mack. He couldn’t be sure which one said it, but they seemed amused by the comment. Grain was not. Nor were Tully, Mick, and especially Jack.

There weren’t many women Grain respected, and the club whores were probably the lowest on the ladder. But he’d never think of striking a woman.Ever.

The room was drowned in silence, and he looked over at Colleen. Her hair fell past her shoulders as she stared down at the floor. Grain couldn’t recall seeing any marks on her. But he also hadn’t been looking. Debbie bit her lip, peeking over at Colleen. It was rare for the clubhouse to be this quiet. Or tense.

“Jack” —the prospect walked to the edge of the bar— “the keg is low. Should I run out and get another before the store closes?”

Even the distraction didn’t seem to cut the tension. Mack cleared his throat and pointed to the register. Members drank free, but any friends of the club were always charged to drink and party. “Take three twenties. And bring back the fucking change. No tip, prospect.”

The prospect walked over to the register and took the cash out. When he turned to leave, Jack tapped the bar. “Gunner.”

The prospect looked back, and Jack pointed across the bar. “Dove’s gonna get the keg.”

Grain didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but it did. He looked over at Jack, who was smoking a cigarette with his sharp gaze pinned on Dove.

“That’s the prospect’s job,” Dove countered.

“Tonight it’s your fucking job.” Jack’s biting tone left no room for argument. Jack glanced over at Gunner and lifted his chin, gesturing to Dove.

It was never good to piss off any of the brothers. The only thing worse was disobeying a direct order from the president. Gunner was a smart prospect and didn’t hesitate. He walked across the bar and tossed the cash on the counter in front of Dove.

“Jack.” Dove spread out his arms, as if pleading.