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CHAPTER SEVEN

Jigsaw

I make it back early the next morning, riding down Rooster’s long driveway past the house. Through the kitchen window, Rooster’s big head bobs into view like a buoy in choppy water.

Since he’s up, I might as well spread some cheer. I park near the back door and don’t even bother going downstairs to my place.

“Look who’s actually here for once.” Rooster opens the back door before I even have a chance to knock. “Where ya been, cock-knocker?”

I yawn and scrub my hand over my face. “It’s too early to be so chipper.” I lift my chin, scenting the air. “But I smell coffee.”

“Help yourself.”

I fix a cup and join him at the kitchen table. The rest of the house seems still and too quiet. “Where’s our little songbird at?”

“She’s down in the city.”

“What? Why? By herself?”

He slowly sets his mug on the table and lets out a long sigh. “No,” he says with barely hidden restraint. “She’s with Angelina and Mallory.”

“You let your ol’ lady go into another club’s territory with the wife of another MC’s president and his daughter? Are you nuts?”

He cocks his head and glares at me. “They’re doing a ‘girls’ weekend’ as civilians. No one’s going to bother them.”

“Surprised Chaser let them go.”

“Let them.” He rolls his eyes. “They have a driver taking them everywhere. It’s not like they’re riding the subway alone or hanging out in dark alleys.”

It sounds like he’s trying harder to convince himself everything’s fine than convince me, so I ease up on the questioning. “You okay?”

He stares at me as if he’s having an internal battle. While he’s working out whatever he wants to say, I sip my coffee. It’s nice to worry about someone else’s problems instead of my own for a few minutes.

“If I tell you this, can you please promise to keep it to yourself?” Rooster asks. “Shelby will kill me for telling anyone.”

Normally, a statement like that would make me hound him for the info but since I’m keeping a pretty hefty secret of Margot’s, I shrug. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t, then.”

He presses his lips together and frowns.

A new worry hits me. “She’s okay, right?”

“She’s fine. She just…”

“Wait. You two are okay, right?”

“Fuck. Yes, of course.” He runs his hand over the back of his neck. “She…there’s a therapist in Manhattan who works with celebrities. Very discreet. Understands creatives supposedly.”

“Wait, therapist ?”

He sighs. “All the attention she’s getting lately, the album blowing up, the award she just won…the amount of people constantly picking her appearance apart’s only gotten worse. More intense. It’s getting to her.”

“What? How? She’s gorgeous and talented. Who cares what a bunch of losers think?”

He taps his phone, setting on the table between us. “You’ve helped me comb through her socials. The shit people are comfortable saying behind the safety of their screens is?—”

“Brutal. I know, but she doesn’t actually believe any of it. Besides, there are more comments praising everything about her than there are nasty ones.”

He lifts his shoulders. “I know that. And you know that…”

“Obviously she’s hot. For fuck’s sake, you never take your hands off of her.”

“Yeah,” he says in a slow, sarcastic tone. “I don’t think having me explain how hard my dick gets every time I catch her scent is the cure for what she’s going through.”

I curl my upper lip in fake disgust. “I didn’t need that image in my head.”

“Then stop being dense.”

“I’m not trying to be dense.” I pause and try to consider my words for once. “I hate that something like that is bothering her so much. That’s all.”

“So do I, brother. Which is why I’m glad Mallory found this therapist?—”

“Wait, so Mallory knows?”

He shrugs. “Shelby and Angelina are tight. I think Angelina asked her mom for some advice since she went through something similar in the nineties.”

“Forgot she was on that old show.” I tap his phone. “It’s way worse now, though. Mallory didn’t have the constant stream of vitriol from social media to deal with.”

“Exactly.” He drills me with a hard stare. “Now, forget I told you any of this.”

“Already forgotten, brother.” I tilt my head and study my best friend. “You doing all right? After everything you two have been through together, it must be killing you not to track down some of these assholes and beat some manners into them.”

He squeezes his hands into fists then releases.

“Big things are happening for her. I’m damn proud of everything she’s accomplished, so yeah, I hate that some fuckwad losers get in her head.

But she’s taking the right steps to deal with it.

I’m trying to support her the best way I can.

” His expression relaxes. “You’re right, though.

I’m not thrilled she’s down in the city without me, but I talked to her last night and she sounded happy. ”

“Good. When you’re ready to track down some of these assholes and fuck them up, let me know.”

“Who says I haven’t?” He flashes a savage grin. “I can do a lot of damage without even being in the same state as these little trolls.”

“There’s the ruthless Rooster I know.” I slap his arm.

“So, where’ve you been?” Rooster arches a brow. “I sent you a couple texts last night.”

Guilt presses tight against my chest. I turned my phone off yesterday and haven’t even bothered to check it yet today. Something about cutting myself off from the world seemed very freeing.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table. “I think it’s dead. Can I borrow your charger?”

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the counter where he keeps a charging station. It’s probably not dead but it felt like a good excuse to avoid explaining my absence. I plug it in and turn it on.

The screen lights up with several notifications. A bunch from Rooster, which I ignore since I’m standing right here in his kitchen talking to him.

Princess PITA: Look!

A picture of Jezzie throwing a wobbly-looking disk of dough in the air follows. Sent yesterday. I type a quick reply.

Me: Good job.

How the hell am I going to tell her about Cain? Maybe I should wait until she’s finished with this semester.

Z: All good?

I shoot off a quick yes. The rest is noise—group chats I can barely keep up with even when I’m home. I skim, don’t respond.

Margot hasn’t sent me anything else since my last short, cold response.

Can’t blame her.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I don’t even know what to say.

“Why’s Shelby asking me where you are?” Rooster sets his phone on the table with a noisy clunk.

I return to my seat and flash an obnoxious grin. “Probably because our little songbird was vibrating with the universe and knew we were together talking about her?”

He glares. “No. Margot texted her. Asked if I knew where you were.”

My insides seize. “She did?”

“So, if you weren’t at Margot’s…” He narrows his eyes. “Where have you been?”

Great, he thinks I was out cheating on Margot. “Not where you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

I blow out a breath and rub my hands over my face. “I went for a ride up to Maine.”

Rooster’s brow creases. “Maine? Why?” He leans over and lightly punches my arm. “Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?”

I shrug and lean back in my chair. “Needed to clear my head.”

His expression morphs into something more sympathetic. “You and Margot have a fight or something?”

“No. Fuck no.”

He waits, knowing there’s more. He’ll find out eventually. And I’ll have to tell Margot and the club. So I might as well get used to saying it. “Z called me the other night.” I sit up and clear my throat. “My half-brother, Cain, remember him?”

He holds out his hand about three feet above the floor. “The little freckle-faced kid I met when?—”

“Yeah,” I answer quickly, not wanting to get swallowed up by those memories again. “Only he’s not a little kid anymore. He showed up at Crystal Ball looking for me.”

Rooster sits back and blinks. Huh. Look at that. He’s too stunned to speak.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he finally grumbles. “You let me ramble about Shelby’s trip to the city instead of telling me that your half-brother showed up out of nowhere?”

“Uh, I don’t consider that rambling. Believe it or not, I actually give a shit about what’s going on with you two.”

His jaw tightens. “Same, brother.”

I’m out of excuses, so I shrug. “Maybe I wanted you to take my mind off of it.”

“What? The ride to Maine didn’t clear your head?”

“Not really.”

“Well, continue.” He exhales, ready to listen. “What’s Cain want?”

“Not sure.” I shake my head. “Family? His mom just passed away and she wanted him to find me.”

“Shit. Poor kid.”

I shoot him a sharp look, hating that he’s got more compassion for Cain than I seem to have. “Yeaaah,” I answer slow. “I’m not sure if I trust him, though.”

“Don’t blame you.” There’s no judgment to his tone at least. “How’d he even find you?”

I roll my eyes and grab my coffee mug, taking a quick sip before I solve that mystery for him.

“You’ll love this. Ruth—his mom—was apparently a big Shelby Morgan fan.

She saw a pic of you and Shelby tongue-fucking each other backstage in some magazine.

Unfortunately, my ugly mug was in the background staring right at the camera. She recognized me.”

Since his shitty ex-girlfriend tracked him down in similar way and tried to fuck up his relationship with Shelby, he gets it.

“Sorry about that. Shit, when I told Priest the publicity might not be good for the organization, I never thought about estranged family coming out of the shadows to find us .”

“Or unhinged ex-girlfriends.”

He flicks an irritated look my way. “Don’t try to deflect because you’re feeling vulnerable.”

“Ooo, such big words, motherclucker.”

“Don’t get defensive, either.”

This is the problem with lifelong friends. They know all your quirks and how to disarm them.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

I shrug.

“Where is he now?”

“At a hotel in Empire.” At the judgmental expression that crosses his face, I raise my hands in surrender. “He was staying there before he found me.”

“Shit.” He shakes his head. “I’m surprised Z didn’t mention it. I’m supposed to be his VP.”

I glare at him. “It’s not club business. I asked him to keep it quiet until I figure shit out.” I’m actually kind of surprised Z didn’t immediately tell Rooster, though. “Cain wants to see Jezzie.”

“I can understand that,” he says gently. “They grew up together until…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, what’s holding you up? You think he’s here for retribution or something?”

He’s got Killgore blood running through his veins. “Maybe.”

“Why didn’t you tell Margot?” He pauses. “Does she know about your dad?”

I throw my thumb over my shoulder, gesturing toward the scars crisscrossing my back. “Just the highlights. And that I scattered his bones from coast to coast.”

A grim smile curls his mouth. “Not a dealbreaker, huh?”

“Nope.” Normally, I’d crack a joke, but I don’t have it in me today.

“Damn, she’s so perfect for you. Don’t fuck this up. Talk to her.”

“Why, you worried you’re gonna be saddled with me forever if I don’t have an ol’ lady?”

“No, dickface.” His face screws into something smirky and annoying. “We’re already brothers for life. I just want you to be happy.” He shrugs. “And I like Margot. I think you’re good for her too.”

“You barely know her.”

“Well, I like that she seems pretty protective of you and that she’s not judgmental about the club. That shit with the bunnies at the clubhouse could’ve been a dealbreaker for her, but she took it in stride.”

“She took out a knife .” I grin like an idiot.

He dips his chin in a show of respect. “And she held her own with Rav. Pranking him was genius. But she was still somehow…respectful about it?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just like her.”

“I like her too. A lot.” I glance down at my coffee cup and swirl the last bits of it around. “I love her.”

“Then talk to her. She’s smart. And it’s pretty fucking obvious she loves you too. She’ll understand.”

What’s to understand? I kicked a young mom and her son out of their home, gave them some money, and basically told them to fuck off into the unknown. I don’t know how Margot’s gonna hear that and think, “yeah, that’s someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

I don’t bother saying any of that to Rooster, though. He’ll justify my actions because he’s my best friend.

My phone vibrates on the counter and I stand, taking my coffee cup with me.

Wrath: Get your ass here for church at 2:00 p.m.

A standard order from Upstate’s enforcer.

I leave my cup by the sink, then show my phone to Rooster. “Wrath wants us at the clubhouse.”

He chuckles and turns his phone over, checking the screen. “Got the same one.”

“Thank fuck.” I drop into my chair again. “I’m not special.”

“Oh, you’re special, lil’ buddy.” He stretches toward me and rubs his hand over the top of my head.

“Har. Har. Cut that out.” I swat his hand away. “You realize we’re basically answering to two SAAs now, right?”

He snort-laughs. “Yeah, I know. Two presidents too.”

“At least Rock pretends he’s not ordering us to do shit. Wrath gives zero fucks.”

“That’s why he’s SAA and not prez.”

Both of our phones ding again.

Grinder: Church. 2 o’clock. Upstate.

Rooster thumbs out a reply. “Told him we’re both headed up there now.”

“Thanks.” I pull my shirt away from my chest and give it a sniff. “Actually, I’m going to run downstairs, shower and change.”

He glances down at his plaid pajama pants. “Yeah, no shit. I wasn’t planning to go like this.” He cocks his head. “You gonna call Margot?”

“Not now. I want to actually have a conversation with her.” I tap my phone. “And obviously, I don’t have the time.”

He shakes his head and stands. “At least let her know you’re all right.”

I nod once. It’s literally the least I can fucking do. Then, like the dick I love to be, I pick up my phone with exaggerated movements and make a dramatic show of tapping on the screen.

“Whatever.” Rooster waves me off and heads upstairs.

Once I’m alone, I send Margot an actual text. It’s as inadequate as it is true.

I miss you.