Page 53

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jigsaw

The throb in my temples won’t go away.

I glance at my watch, checking the time. I should call Margot and tell her not to bother meeting me here at Remy’s bar when she’s finished with work. I’d rather be alone with her—no crowd, no noise, no interruptions.

But she’s been looking forward to this night out.

Said she wanted to see my sister. Spend time with Jezzie and get to know her better.

The party’s in full swing. Music scraping my nerves raw, lights low, and the place packed tighter than a cage on fight night.

Most of my brothers are here. A bunch of fighters from The Castle.

Friends of Remy and Griff’s. A few familiar faces from Zips.

Even some cartel guys showed up to welcome Griff home.

A regular gangster party in our little corner of Bumfuck, New York.

After Rooster, Wrath, Dex, and I not-so-subtly explained we’d help Griff train for his Vegas fight, he finally seemed to grasp the stakes. We’re not only doing it out of the kindness of our black hearts, we’re backing him to win. Big.

No pressure or anything.

With my good deed for the night done, I plant my ass at the end of the bar. Elbows on the polished wood, boots planted wide, eyes locked on the front entrance.

My sister’s behind the counter, tossing smiles and pouring drinks like she runs the place. Remy’s little sister, Molly, handles the rest of the crowd like a pro. Shelby’s bouncing between patrons, laughter bubbling from her lips, Rooster watching her every move.

Jezzie seems way too comfortable here. Like this ain’t her first visit to Remy’s bar. That worries me more than I want to admit. But I don’t want to pick a fight with her tonight.

Having Jezzie here, so close to Cain when I haven’t introduced them yet, spins a knot of guilt behind my ribs.

A glass thunks against the counter beside me.

“How’ve you been, Jigsaw?” A low, raspy voice cuts through the crowd noise.

Irritated someone dared to pull my attention from the door, I swivel on my stool—eyeing the tall, tattooed Latin guy dressed like a cartel accountant. Black sweater. Slim black pants. Leather jacket that probably cost more than my first Harley.

Quill.

The last person I feel like shaking hands with.

I slide off my stool and hold out my hand out of habit and respect. “Quill. What’re you doing here?” My tone comes out as more of an accusation than a question. Ooops.

He clasps my hand with a quick shake—no grip, no warmth. “Eraser said it was open invite.”

Of course he did.

If it wasn’t for the ink crawling up his neck and the lethal glint in his eyes, his voice might fool someone into thinking he’s harmless.

But I know better. Son of a cartel king.

Half-brother to a club president. Because of that, we let him drift through our territory on whatever business he claims is family-related.

Mostly, he haunts Zips like a ghost, challenging people to race with an endless supply of cash.

“Had to welcome young Griff home from his…battle.” He rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug.

“Battle,” I scoff. “You mean that clown show on TV?”

“You watched it?” he asks.

“Hell no. Sounded embarrassing as fuck.”

“He handled it with class, though.” Another lazy wave of his hand. “Well, as much class as one can under those circumstances.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a fan of reality television.”

“I’m not. But my mother is.” He drops his gaze like it’s a private joke. Or maybe he doesn’t want me to know too much about his family. “She was rooting for Griff the whole season.”

Given how sideways the show went, that’d probably make Griff wanna crawl into a hole. “You tell him that?”

“Nah.” His gaze skims the room, detached. “He seemed preoccupied with his girl. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“He’s always preoccupied with Molly.” I wave it off. “Nothing new there.”

“Young love.” He sighs, all fake wistfulness.

Demons give me strength to deal with this smug asshole.

His gaze drifts toward the entrance. Lingers.

“Ah, now that’s grown man’s work,” he says, a slow, appreciative smile spreading over his arrogant face. “What’s that boy doing?”

Is Quill having a stroke? “The fuck you talking about?”

“Don’t judge. I like my ladies a little more on the ample side.” He licks his lower lip like a vulture. “That orange-haired kid isn’t equipped to handle all that.”

“No one gives a fuck about your preferences,” I mutter.

Talking to Quill has my back to the door. I shift slowly, following his line of sight?—

And three realizations hit me at once.

Margot’s arrived.

Torch is talking to her.

Quill’s admiring her ass.

My blood shoots to boiling.

“You better avert your eyes and watch your tongue, motherfucker.” I lean in close to Quill’s ear. “Or I’ll slice them from your skull. That’s my woman you’re talking about.”

He blinks.

Surprise, then amusement flickers over his lips.

“Whoa.” Rooster’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, dragging me back a step. “What’s going on?”

Quill holds up both hands in surrender, eyes still lit with smug delight.

“Nothing.” I shrug Rooster off and shove away from both of them, their low, tense voices fading behind me.

Margot turns away from Torch, her anxious gaze searching the crowded bar. The second her eyes find me, her whole face lights up.

Her lips form the words “Excuse me,” as she squeezes past a group of Molly’s giggling friends.

Margot’s eyes stay locked on mine as she weaves through the crowd like I’m the only man in the room.

Every step she takes sends heat thrumming through my body.

I meet her halfway, curling a hand around her waist and tugging her closer. “There’s my little lady death.”

She throws her arms around my neck. “Sorry I’m so late,” she says in a breathless rush.

I bend down, sealing my mouth over hers for a quick, hungry kiss. But the second she groans a needy little sound and strokes her fingers against the back of my neck, I lose track of everything else. Her lips part and I sweep my tongue against hers, tasting peppermint.

She drags her nails against my scalp, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

A splash of cold hits my cheek.

Then several more. The fuck?

I pull away, seeking the source.

Jezzie grins at me, twirling her fingers in a glass of water like she’s about to launch round two. “Cool off, lover boy.”

“You do that?” I swipe water off my cheek.

“Sorry, I was trying not to soak Margot,” Jezzie says, not sounding sorry at all. “But I didn’t want the room to catch on fire.”

Margot lets out an embarrassed laugh but keeps her arms around my neck. “Hi, Jezzie.”

“What can I get you?” Jezzie holds her arms open wide.

“Um, just a club soda and lime, please”

“You got it.”

Jezzie hurries to the other end of the bar and Margot returns all her attention to me. “How’s the party? Talk to Griff?”

“Yeah. I think he understands the assignment.”

“Good.” She reaches up and kisses my cheek. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Same. Been watching that door all night.”

I step back just enough to admire her. Short-sleeved purple dress hugging her curves. High collar but a cut-out dips down low, leaving her chest and the tops of her breasts on display. “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, cheeks pink.

“Well, who knew there was a Mrs. Jigsaw?” someone says behind me.

That better not be fucking Quill.

I turn slowly, arm still around Margot’s waist.

Quill’s disrespectful mouth slides into an appreciative smile as he runs his gaze over her. “This your lady, Jigsaw?”

“Yes,” I growl. My hand tightens on Margot’s hip.

Behind Quill, Rooster looms, hopefully ready to help me gut Quill and throw him out back.

Quill holds out his hand to Margot, all polite, civilized gentleman now. “Quill. Friend of your man’s club.”

“Friend is stretching it,” I mutter.

Polite but cautious, Margot takes his hand. “Margot.”

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you.” He holds her hand longer than necessary. “But your man just threatened to slice out my tongue and eyes a moment ago.”

Margot pulls her hand away and snuggles closer to me. “What’d you do to provoke him?”

Quill lets out a hearty laugh, hand to his chest like he’s enthralled with my woman. “Clever and beautiful. You hang onto her, Jigsaw.”

“All right.” Rooster claps a hand over Quill’s shoulder, pushing him around us. “Let’s go play darts.”

“I feel like you’re looking for a way to poke sharp instruments in me.” Quill laughs but goes without a fight. Must want to keep his tongue.

Margot tilts her face up, eyes searching mine. “Did I miss something?”

“No, just a guy who needs to learn some manners.”

She frowns. “Was he…making fun of me? Of us?”

I let out a sigh, frustration still simmering. “No. He…clocked you the minute you came in. Saw you talking to Torch.” I grit my teeth because I still haven’t addressed that issue. “He definitely wasn’t making fun of you. But he was trying to piss me off just now.”

Her brows pinch together. “Oh.”

“What’d Torch say to you?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Just said hello and asked me how I was.”

“Want to cash in that rain check for your date?”

She pokes me in the stomach. “No. You can’t seriously still be jealous.”

“Not jealous.” I lean down, nose her hair out of the way, and kiss her neck. “Just want my hands”—I kiss another sensitive spot—“and mouth”—I drag my tongue over her pulse—“all over you.”

She shivers and slides her hands under my T-shirt, soft fingers stroking my sides and lower back.

“Do I need to get the water gun?” Jezzie says.

Groaning, I drag myself away from Margot.

“My goodness.” Jezzie laughs. “Let the woman breathe.” She pushes a short glass of bubbling soda with a lime wedge perched on the rim toward Margot.

“Thank you.” Margot grabs it and takes a long sip.

Shelby joins us, hugging Margot fiercely. “I’m so happy you’re here! Come on, let’s go hang with the girls.”

Margot glances at me.

As much as I want her all to myself, I want her to hang out with the ol’ ladies of my club. Have fun.

But this place is loud, crowded, and crawling with people I don’t trust. She’s just going to have to do it with me standing guard.

I nod. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Shelby loops her arm through Margot’s and leads her to the end of the bar, already chatting a mile a minute.

I follow a step behind, scanning every face, every movement, every shadow.