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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jigsaw

Now that Margot knows about the club’s porn empire, I might as well take her to a party downstate. Not exactly a dream date, but it’s been a relief not having to hide that detail from her any longer.

“So what are they celebrating tonight?” she asks, settling herself into the passenger side of my truck.

She carefully gathers the skirt of her dress—black with big, splashy blue flowers—and drapes it over her knees.

Shiny blue heels. Matching cardigan. The whole look is pure class, way too refined for the kind of party we’re headed to.

But the second I saw her, I lost the ability to say a damn word.

The dress hugs her in all the right places, especially that low neckline teasing the soft swells of her tits.

Made me want to bury my face in her cleavage and say fuck the party.

I should be taking her out somewhere nice. On an actual date. Not a party for…“Stella just passed five hundred thousand monthly subscribers to her site,” I explain.

She twists to face me as I pull out of her driveway, her red lips parted, forming an adorable, shocked O. “Five. Hundred. Thousand ?”

“Yup. She’s been close for a while now, so it’s a big deal.”

And since Stella’s still salty that we turned her down for her one-hundred-and-one-men-in-one-day fuckfest project, Z said to host a party in her honor to celebrate this milestone and stroke her ego.

Of course, he had zero intention of attending the party. So, as an officer, now I have to be there.

Rooster promised to bring Shelby and meet us at the party.

“Subscribers? Like, paid subscribers?” Margot asks.

Whatever fragrance she’s wearing fills the cabin. Sweet like expensive candy and flowers but warm like vanilla, and a little woodsy. The urge to pull over and lick her all over keeps me on edge. “Yup.”

“How much does she charge?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her press her hand to her lips. “Sorry, that’s rude, isn’t it?”

“Not like you can’t look up the information if you wanted to.” My tone’s flat as I flick the blinker on and take the turn for the ramp to the Thruway. “She has a couple of different tiers. From five-ninety-nine to twenty-five-ninety-nine.”

“Wow.” She fusses with her dress some more. “Boy did I go into the wrong line of work.”

Even though I think— hope —it’s just a throwaway comment, if I turn it over for too long, my head will explode. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Who says I’m joking?” She laughs softly. “And your club takes a percentage of that for maintaining the website and stuff?”

A large percentage. Between the investment money and my cut of the porn cash, I’ve been the beneficiary of several large bonuses recently. Still haven’t figured out what I want to do with all that cash yet.

“Sorry,” she says again. “That’s club business, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the club takes a percentage.” I squeeze the steering wheel harder than necessary. “And even though it’s club business, I want you to understand, when you catch me on my laptop fiddling with porn sites, I’m not jerking off. It’s work. ”

“ I guess so,” she mutters, clearly not thrilled but still curious. “And that’s only one of the sites that the club manages? You take a percentage from all of them?”

If only she asked me this much about riding, the laundromat, the racetrack, or almost anything else.

“Yup. Hers is the most…elaborate. And profitable. She produces a lot of different content and engages with her fanbase a lot.” Engage is one way to put it. I can’t believe I’m going to say this to my girlfriend. “As much as I don’t like her personally, she’s a smart woman. Very driven.”

“Guess you’d have to be to have half a million people pay to see you do…” She wiggles her hands in the air jazz style. “ Stuff every month.”

She rests her hand on my thigh and gives me a playful squeeze. “Think there’s a niche market for porn starring a cute mortician?”

What she’s suggesting makes my eye twitch.

“I’m sure there’s a market for everything.” I cut a sidelong glance her way. “But that’s absolutely the fuck not happening. Unless you’re asking for a friend.”

“I’m joking. I could never.” Her voice quiets, and she turns her attention to the windshield. “Will there be lots of… muffler bunnies attending this party tonight?”

“Probably.”

“Good thing I brought the knife you gave me.” She pats her side, where I assume the knife’s resting in a pocket. “How will they feel about all this attention being lavished on Stella?”

Not quite the question I expected from Margot.

“Most of them won’t go near her. She’s not hooked up with a brother and they know she brings money into the club—which enables them to attend the parties at all—so I think they’re too intimidated to pay much attention to her.

She’ll have her own entourage with her tonight anyway. ”

“Other porn stars?”

“Most likely.”

Margot hums, letting that settle.

Dying to change the subject, I nudge the volume on the radio up a few clicks, letting the haunting hum of Amy Lee’s hypnotic voice fill the cab. “You excited to finally have a weekend off?”

“Yes!” She lets out a girlish squeal that’s endearing as hell. “I’ll probably have next weekend too.” Her enthusiasm seems to fade. “Winter’s usually the busiest time for us.”

“Bad weather accidents?”

“That, and illness—flu and pneumonia.”

“If that’s slowing down, it’s worth celebrating.”

“Yes, spring brings something else. Prom season. Graduation. Young people getting drunk and thinking they’re invincible, and those are always depressing.”

“Even in such a small town?”

She nods, eyes still on the horizon. “You’d be surprised.”

After that, we move on to happier topics and before I realize it, I’m taking the exit for the road leading to Downstate’s clubhouse.

“Uh, I know Upstate set a high standard but readjust your expectations. Downstate’s a lot less pretty.”

She reaches over and pats my thigh. “I have no expectations. I’m just happy to finally see your home club. And spend time with your friends again.”

Damn, that does something to my insides. I’ll have to start being less of a prick to my brothers to thank them for making Margot feel welcome.

When I roll up to our gate, it’s standing wide open. A prospect standing guard.

I roll down my window. “What’s up, Fiddle?”

“Hey, Jigsaw. I didn’t realize that was you.” The kid slowly walks over to my window. His short, curly mop of hair flopping in his eyes. “Grinder says he wants the gate closed in an hour.”

“You and Stitch monitoring it after that?”

“Yes, sir.”

I reach over and rest my hand on Margot’s arm. “Fiddle, this is my ol’ lady, Margot.”

He leans in the window but doesn’t smile or look all that welcoming. “Evening, ma’am.”

Margot waves and murmurs hello.

“Eyes open, Fiddle,” I say.

“You know it.” He taps his fist over his heart and steps back.

“So, he’s a not a full member, right?” Margot asks, once I’ve rolled my window up again.

“Not yet. Normally we just refer to them as ‘prospect,’ but I wanted you to know his name, just in case.”

“Is he even allowed inside the clubhouse?” she teases.

“Not without a good reason.” I laugh. “Yeah, someone will relieve him of gate duty later, let him come in and enjoy the party for a minute.”

“Sounds like code for ‘give him enough time to receive a blow job.’”

Margot’s so adept at reading between the lines. “When you put it that way, it sounds so seedy.”

She chuckles but sits forward in her seat. “Oh, there’s Rooster! Shelby must already be here too, then, right?”

Warmth spreads through my chest, pleased they seem to like each other. “Yes.”

A group of guys from Upstate are standing in a loose circle in our parking lot in front of the clubhouse entrance. I back into a spot on the far side of the parking lot near Rooster’s truck and help Margot out of the 4Runner.

“I feel bad you didn’t get to ride with everyone,” she whispers to me, casting a nervous glance toward the guys.

“It’s not a big deal.” I jerk my chin toward Rooster’s truck. “Rooster didn’t ride either.” Farther out in the parking lot, I spot Rock’s big blacked-out Yukon. “Rock didn’t either.”

“Oh.” She blows out a relieved breath.

Rooster breaks away from the pack and jogs over to me. “Hey, was wondering when you’d get here.” He pulls me in for a quick hug, slapping my back like we haven’t seen each other in months instead of a week.

“Miss me, motherclucker?” I squeeze his face between my hands and tap my forehead to his.

He laughs and pulls away. “Not that much.” He glances down at Margot and smiles wider. “Welcome to Downstate.”

“Hi, Rooster.”

“Where’s your little songbird?” I ask Rooster.

“Inside with Hope, Serena, Trinity, and Emily.” He wags his hand in front of his face. “Doing makeup.”

As we cross the parking lot to join the group, several of the guys glance in our direction.

“Look who it is!” Ravage shouts. “Our favorite collector of fingers and his adorable collector of creepy objects.”

My lips curl into a snarl but Margot bursts into laughter and lifts her arm in an enthusiastic wave. Her heels click faster over the pavement, like she’s eager to join the circle.

Guess Rav gets to live another day.

I nod to or shake hands with each brother in the wide circle. “What’re you all doing hanging around outside?”

Grinder cocks his head toward the gate. “Keeping an eye on fuckwad over there.”

“Fiddle,” Suds corrects.

“I said what I said,” Grinder grumbles.

Margot suppresses a snort-laugh, her body quivering.

“Waiting for you,” Rooster answers, waving a hand at Rav, Dex, Butcher, Hustler, and the other guys. “Not sure what these other chucklefucks are up to.”

“Awww, you two are so adorable.” Hustler makes obnoxious kissy-face noises. “Margot, I hope you’re aware that Rooster is Jiggy’s number one love.”

She flicks an amused glance at Rooster, then Hustler. “I can understand why.” She presses her hand to her chest and lays on the drama in a breathless Marilyn Monroe voice. “I’ve learned to accept it.”