Page 51

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jigsaw

The next morning, I’m eager to roll the fuck outta downstate.

Z had us up early for church. I didn’t waste any time pleading my case for Bonnie, Amanda, and Nikki to be banned from the clubhouse.

Grinder couldn’t agree fast enough. Since they’re just club girls—or ex-club girls—Z didn’t even bother calling for a vote. No one asked for one, either.

Last night’s fuckery was too much.

The sun’s already high, the air thick with diesel and dew, but it feels damn good on my skin as I head across the parking lot to grab a bag out of my truck.

Looking forward to the long ride to Margot’s after breakfast. Just the two of us.

No more club drama. No one trying to fill her head with lies.

A baby’s wail carries over the parking lot. I turn, seeking the source. Serena’s long, blond ponytail whips in the wind as she struggles to balance Lincoln on one hip and drag a large bag from the back of her SUV with her other hand.

I jog across the lot, hurrying to her side.

“You need help?” My gaze darts from the bag in the SUV to the baby in her arms. I reach for the bag.

Her face lights up. “Oh my God, Jiggy. You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” She takes a step back to give me room. “Is Gray here?”

“You just missed him. Z and your ol’ man ran over to the laundromat. Said they’d be back in ten.”

The corners of her mouth pull down. Just a little. Does she think I’m lying? Covering for Grinder while he taps some club ass? Nah, she knows better.

“I told him I was on my way back,” she says, adjusting Lincoln against her chest.

“They’re not supposed to be gone long.” I glance at the full cargo area. “All that stuff coming in too?”

She gives me an apologetic half shrug. “It can wait.” She hoists Lincoln higher in her arms and leans closer, rubbing her nose against his cheek. “My little chunk’s getting heavy.”

“He definitely looks well-fed.” Oh shit, she’s gonna think I’m insulting her kid or worse that I’m referring to the lactation porn Stella suggested last night.

But Serena laughs. “Oh, yes he is,” she coos.

“How’ve you been, sweetheart? I barely got to talk to you last night.”

“I’m good. I had fun getting to know Margot better.” Her lips curve in a knowing smile. “You two disappeared on us early.”

Another way those girls ruined things for Margot. The whole point was for Margot to get to know the other ol’ ladies better, not hear lies and half-truths from bitter club girls with big mouths.

“She liked hanging with you too,” I say. “She’s looking forward to seeing you this morning.”

She blows out a relieved breath. “Oh, good.”

“Some of the girls hassled her,” I explain, reaching into the back to grab a folded-up playpen and two giant tote bags. “Between that and Stella, I figured she’d had enough for one night.” I slam the tailgate closed.

“Don’t blame you.” She walks ahead of me, shaking her long, blond ponytail off her shoulder. “I’m leaving some of that here in our room so I can stop schlepping it back and forth. I left my other travel stuff at Emily’s place since we’ve been staying there when the club’s on a run.”

“You know Grinder’s grumpier than usual when he’s away from you for more than an hour, right?”

Serena blushes and shakes her head. “I know.”

She reaches the clubhouse doors first and opens one for me. I motion for her to go in first, but she pauses, glancing over her shoulder.

“I like Margot,” she says quietly. “A lot. She’s really sweet. I think she’s a great match for you.”

You have no idea. I nod once. “Agreed.”

She smiles wider. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

She pushes the door open wider and steps through, holding it long enough for me to follow.

Margot

Not even the scent of freshly brewing coffee wafting through the hallway could drag me out of our room this morning. Not until Jigsaw returns.

He promised those girls would be gone but I’m not taking any chances.

I don’t want to face anyone else yet. Not Serena, or even Shelby. I’m not ready to see his brothers, either. Surely by now Jigsaw’s told all of them about last night. So now they’ll all know that when Margot comes to a club party, trouble follows.

While Jigsaw’s gone, I take a long shower.

I packed all my favorite curly hair products to bring with me this weekend and spend time drying and shaping my hair into long, glossy curls.

I brought lots of hair products but not much makeup.

Part of me longs to run across the hall and ask Serena for help. But I’m too embarrassed.

I dress in a simple pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Hopefully no one will be all done up at breakfast this morning.

There’s a low murmur of voices, then a thump in the hallway. A man’s voice. I cock my head. Jigsaw?

A few seconds later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

As soon as our eyes meet, his serious expression softens. “Hey, you’re up.” His gaze sweeps over me, and his mouth curves into a smile that melts straight through me. “Already so pretty this morning.”

The warmth in his voice sends a flush over my skin. “Thank you.”

He crosses the room in two strides and dips his head, brushing his lips over mine—soft, reverent.

The suddenness steals my breath, and I gasp against him.

His hand slides into my hair, fingers curving around the back of my head, holding me still as his hot, silken mouth deepens the kiss.

Heat flares through me as his tongue slides against mine, unhurried and possessive.

I sigh into him, threading my arms around his neck. He hums with approval and gathers me close, one arm banding around my waist, the other still tangled in my hair, like he doesn’t want to let go.

A quick burst of knocking rattles our door.

He breaks the kiss with a frustrated growl, resting his forehead against mine. His breath fans my lips, and for a second, I think he’s going to ignore whoever it is.

“You ready for breakfast?” he asks, like choosing food over kissing is a punishment he’s forced to accept. “Everyone’s headed down to the kitchen.”

“Are…are those girls still—?” I hate the way my voice quivers. I’m not scared of them—my knife rests heavy in my jeans pocket this morning—but last night was humiliating enough. I’ll melt into the floor if they embarrass me in front of the whole club that way.

“Gone.” His voice is firm and leaves no room for doubt. “Prospects know not to let any of them in the gate.”

I let out a shaky breath of relief.

He scrubs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. “We ended up banning our old president’s wife last year?—”

“Really?” I blink up at him. “Wow. Why?”

“She pulled a nasty trick on Serena.” He frowns, jaw working side to side.

“Tawny had been a problem no one wanted to deal with for years. She got to hide behind her old man’s president patch.

But what she did to Serena was the final straw.

” His lips curl into a cruel smirk. “I pushed hard for that ban and G had my back today.”

“Wow.” I hate that I’m about to ask this, especially after what he told me about Serena’s ex last night. But I can’t help it. “So, I’m not the only one who’s run into trouble with other women in the club?”

“No.” He frowns. “Those women weren’t ‘in’ the club. Just—club girls who hang around here sometimes. But yeah, I told you it happens. It shouldn’t, but it does.” He says it like it’s a fact of MC life he’s had to accept even though it pisses him off.

For a few seconds, neither of us say anything. I study his hard, but handsome face. How many other stories are there? Is he giving them to me in drips so that he won’t scare me away?

As if flipping an internal switch, he turns and walks over to his closet, sliding the door open. “Hey, you look really good, but will you wear this for me instead?” he asks, his voice low and so achingly sweet I couldn’t say no even if he handed me a pillowcase.

Thankfully, it’s a soft, faded blue hooded sweatshirt. I take it from him, fingers brushing his for a second too long, and hold it up to inspect the design. The skull and crown are printed in blue on blue. A subtle design. A whisper of his club’s insignia instead of a declaration.

“Am I allowed to wear it?” I tease, peeling off my own sweatshirt and tossing it onto the bed.

“Yes,” he answers in a slow, teasing tone. “Only thing you can’t wear is my cut.” His tone dips lower. “But I love you so damn much, I’d probably break that rule for you.”

“Wow, that is love,” I tease, pulling his sweatshirt over my head. It’s huge on me, but so soft and snuggly. “You know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“Fine by me.” He reaches out and adjusts the hood, his fingers slipping beneath to free my hair from the collar. “I like you in my club’s colors.” He brushes his knuckles along my jaw, and I lean into him, helpless against the gravity of his touch. “Looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He curls his fingers around mine, his palm warm and steady. “Ready? We don’t do the elaborate buffet like Upstate, but Lilly brought muffins and pastries from this bakery she loves. They’re actually really good. And there’s coffee, of course.”

“Oh, Lilly’s here?” That makes me feel better. Lilly seems to have such a kind, calming presence. My nose wrinkles. “Is Stella gone?”

“Eh, she’s still lurking somewhere. Lilly gets along with her.” He wobbles his free hand in the air. “Like, they’re cordial. I think it was really Z who didn’t want to be here to celebrate Stella, you know?”

He respects his wife too much to put her in that situation. I like Z even more now.

Outside our door, Rooster’s leaning against the opposite wall with his arms wrapped around Shelby.

Jigsaw stops short, squinting at him. “What are you, my guard dog?”

“Shelby didn’t want to head to the dining room without you guys.” Rooster’s amused gaze slides from Jigsaw to me. “Morning, Margot.”

“Morning.”

Shelby wiggles loose from Rooster’s hold and gives me a quick embrace. “Lost sight of ya last night.”