Page 47

Uh, turn down Serena of Tranquil Sparkle and her offer to line my eyes? Never. “Sure, why not?”

She works fast and carefully, and when I blink into the mirror, I have to admit—I love it.

“Thanks,” I murmur, unable to stop smiling.

“Yay!” Serena claps her hands. “Selfies.”

Shelby shrugs off her leather vest with the Property of Rooster patch on the back and lays it on the bed.

I squint against the blast of all the ring lights as Serena clips her phone into a mount, sets a timer, and pulls us into a huddle.

As the tallest, Serena stands in the middle. We pose and smile for several pictures before she’s satisfied.

“Let’s all wave!” She holds her phone up high and takes a short video. Shelby hams it up, blowing a kiss, while I awkwardly squint at the camera. God, I hope Serena can edit me out of that.

Before we separate, I pull out my own phone and snap one last shot of us. It buzzes in my hand a second later.

Please don’t be a work emergency.

Jigsaw: Everything okay?

“Awww,” Shelby sighs, leaning over to peek at the screen. “Jiggy checking up on you already, huh?”

A flush creeps up my chest. “Yes.”

I send the selfie of the three of us as my response.

Outside the room, Serena checks that the door’s locked, then points to a room across the hall labeled Road Captain , and the one next to it marked Vice President . “We’re all neighbors.”

“And we’ve made a solemn pact to never mention any noises we hear coming from each other’s rooms,” Shelby says in a sacred tone, lifting her hand toward the ceiling like she’s swearing an oath in church.

“No—” I gasp, laughing despite myself. Then the thought hits.

Wait.

Did they have that pact with Jigsaw, too?

Before me?

My gentle slide into their chaotic, affectionate world screeches to a halt.

Don’t do this.

You’re making a big deal out of nothing.

It doesn’t matter what he did—or who he did it with—before we were together.

Even if my brain knows that, my stomach continues flipping as we make the long trek back to the main room.

The three of us link arms, taking up the width of the hallway. Since I’m not wearing one of the property patches, they squeeze me in between them.

“Who’s your friend, Shelby?” A biker leers at us as we pass.

“This is Jigsaw’s ol’ lady, Vegas,” she warns without slowing her steps. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Noted.” He laughs.

Grinder, Rooster, and Jigsaw are waiting at the entrance to the main room. Grinder notices us first. The harsh lines of his face soften into a warm smile as his eyes land on Serena.

“You went with the blue one, buttercup.” He nods with approval and holds out his hands to her.

Rooster slips an arm around Shelby’s waist and Jigsaw practically knocks Grinder down to get to me.

“Easy, Jiggy.” Shelby laughs. “We were in Grinder and Serena’s room the whole time.”

“I know.” He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leans over and whispers in my ear, “I missed you.”

“Same.” I rest my hand over his arm and lean back against him.

“I like the blue stuff on your eyes,” he murmurs. “It’s pretty.”

My breath catches. I can’t believe he noticed so quickly.

“What’d we miss?” Shelby asks, gesturing toward the red room.

Rooster lets out several slow, sharp huffs of laughter.

Grinder cuts him a murderous stare. “Don’t.”

“What?” Serena asks with wide eyes.

Behind me, Jigsaw’s body starts to shake. I tip my head back and find him biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“You two, keep your damn mouths shut,” Grinder snaps.

“We’re not special anymore.” Jigsaw flicks a finger under his eye, pretending to wipe away a tear.

Rooster shakes with silent, full-body laughter.

Serena, Shelby, and I all share confused looks.

“Stella has an age gap niche she wants to…fill,” Rooster says between chuckles.

Understanding washes over me. Not finding it as funny as the guys do, I elbow Jigsaw in the stomach.

He laughs harder.

“You guys are terrible,” Shelby scolds, scrunching her nose. “Wait—are we the only ones who didn’t get the three-way invite?”

“Serena wasn’t invited to that production,” Jigsaw says.

Serena’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” She cranes her neck, swaying from side to side to peer around Grinder’s large frame. “She asked my ol’ man to do what ?”

“Don’t worry,” Rooster adds. “She had a project in mind for you too.” His laughter dies mid-sentence.

The icy blast of Grinder’s stare ruffles the hairs on the back of my neck. “Keep on cluckin’ and I’m gonna beat the disrespect right outta you.”

“She has a right to know,” Rooster protests. “So she can be prepared in case Stella ambushes her.”

Serena’s eyes widen like she’s trying to hold back tears. “What did she say about me?” she asks in a small voice.

Grinder throws another frosty glare at Rooster, then Jigsaw—who thankfully took the hint and shut his mouth. Finally, Grinder leans down, whispering something in Serena’s ear.

Whatever he says must be worse than a three-way. Serena dry heaves. “What the… ewww .”

“Yup.” Rooster nods. “I heard and I judged. Harshly.”

Jigsaw reaches out and slaps Rooster’s shoulder. “Don’t tell Dex, but I’m absolutely yucking that yum.”

Shelby raises her hands. “Nope. Don’t wanna know.”

I pull out my pocketknife and hold it out. “Do you want to borrow this, Serena?”

She blinks at the knife resting in my open palm, then bursts into giggles. “Yeah, kinda.” She leans in and kisses Grinder’s cheek. “But I won’t.”

“I told her where to go with her request,” Grinder says.

Considering how much money Stella brings into the club, whatever she asked must’ve been really offensive.

We migrate toward the bar again. I never finished my drink earlier, and I doubt it’s still waiting for me—probably claimed or cleared.

“You need something to drink?” Jigsaw asks.

“Yes, but no more champagne.” My head’s still a little floaty from the first one. Now that we’re in the thick of the party again, I need to stay sharp, not start giggling like an idiot.

Our stools are now occupied, a pair of nearly naked women draped over them like blankets. Jigsaw steers me around to the other side, settling us near a pair of tall, silver swinging doors that catch the light every time they flap open.

“What’s in there?” I ask, nodding toward them.

“Kitchen. Big dining room off that,” Jigsaw answers. “We’ll all have breakfast in there tomorrow.”

Breakfast with the bikers. The last one at Upstate’s clubhouse had been fun. I’m looking forward to that more than what’s happening around me tonight.

I climb onto one of the bar stools. The man who came in with Stella earlier walks up and taps Jigsaw’s shoulder.

Keeping one hand on my back, he turns to talk to the man.

He doesn’t bother introducing me to the guy—who I assume is also a porn star—and given the way our conversation with Stella went, I’m fine with it.

The bar’s slammed and it takes a while for Lala to make her way over to me. “You want another Velvet Crown?” she asks, lifting an open bottle of champagne.

“No, maybe just sparkling water? With lime, if you’ve got it?”

She ducks behind the bar—then pops up like a waffle out of the toaster. “We’re out back here, but I know there’s a case of those little San Pellegrino bottles in the big fridge.” She jabs a finger toward the double doors. “Or I can grab you seltzer from the soda gun.”

She points to a battered black-and-silver machine. My nose wrinkles. Who knows the last time they pulled that thing apart and cleaned it?

“That’s okay. I’ll try the kitchen.”

“I’d do it, but—” She waves a hand toward the packed bar.

“No problem.” I offer her a warm smile. She shouldn’t have to worry so much about serving me. “I got it.”

I slide off the stool.

Still mid-conversation, Jigsaw whips around. His eyes lock on mine, a where are you going scowl on his face.

Charmed by his protectiveness, I point to the kitchen doors. “Grabbing a water. Want one?”

He frowns, eyes flicking from the door to me, then nods.

The second the door swings shut behind me, regret claws up my spine.

Five women. Early twenties, maybe younger. Heads cocked like rabbits trying to decide if I’m a threat or a snack. Three perched on the high stainless steel counters, whispering and laughing. One by the stove. One elbow-deep in an industrial dishwasher.

Their chatter stops.

They all have one thing in common—a whole lot of skin on display.

Too many clashing artificial scents—buttery vanilla, coconut lime, cheap musk—crash into me like a mall kiosk ambush.

The two women actually doing something go back to their tasks, ignoring me. The other three continue staring.

I paste on a polite smile like armor and head straight for the large, stainless steel refrigerator on the far wall.

I’m fine. I belong here. My boyfriend’s right outside those doors. He’s an officer of the club. I’ve got my trusty little knife.

I might not be wearing one of the property patches, but people have seen me with Jigsaw tonight, right?

The whispers start again. Softer. Meaner. Ignoring them, I yank open one of the heavy fridge doors.

The murmurs grow louder, conniving and smug.

No longer gossiping…plotting?

Lala was right. One whole shelf is full of nothing but short green bottles. I grab two and shut the door. I’d kill for a lime, but I don’t want to stay in here longer than necessary searching for one.

I turn and two girls are blocking my escape.

“You’re Margot?” one of them asks. She’s all angles and eye rolls, arms folded tight. Huh, must be the leader of the mean-girl gang.

The one beside her was definitely at the bonfire. My lips tug into a shaky smile. “Hi. Bonnie, right?”

Bonnie matches her friend’s hostile stance. “Yup. That’s her, Nikki.”

Nikki drags her gaze down and back up like she’s measuring me for a fight. “So you’re the reason Dee-Dee got suspended from Upstate’s clubhouse?”

Seriously? They’re blaming me? “I’d argue Dee-Dee is the reason Dee-Dee got suspended.”