Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jigsaw

As I step into the downstate clubhouse the next day, a sense of wrongness washes over me. This doesn't feel like the club's home anymore. Not since we were raided and had the place turned upside down.

Sure, months have gone by. We've put all the furnishings back together, replaced couches, patched holes in walls, but the security I used to feel here hasn't returned.

Since the raid, I haven't bothered keeping more than a change of clothes, a box of condoms, and a toothbrush in my room. Anything personal resides at my cozy apartment at Rooster and Shelby's place.

Still have to check in with Z and Grinder to see what needs to be done. Z always says I can stop by his house but the uppity suburban neighborhood full of hideously oversized McMansions makes my skin crawl.

Z's office is the second door on my left. I stop there first and tap my knuckles against the wood.

"Come in."

"What's up, Prez."

"Look who it is." He stands and rounds the desk to pull me in for a slap on the back.

"You act like I've been gone for a month."

"Where have you been hiding?"

"Nowhere." I've been in plain sight. Except for that detour to Margot's place.

"You covering the laundromat this week?"

I hook my thumbs in my pockets. "If Suds is still on the road, I kinda have to, don't I?"

"No, not if you've got something else going on," Z answers.

Our last president didn't give a fuck what we might be doing in our personal lives. Z's a lot more respectful about giving us a choice. I need to show him the same respect. "I don't mind. I can bring my laptop and get my shit done for Rooster while I'm there."

He snorts. "You better make sure some little tweaker doesn't steal your laptop."

"No shit." The last one who tried learned the hard way not to fuck with the Lost Kings.

"If you don't mind, Eazy's planning to stick around for a while. Would you show him the ropes there? That way, I can start freeing you up for other things."

Hell yeah. Please let those assignments be closer to Pine Hollow. "Like what?"

"Rock and I would like you working with Dex on the support club."

Fuck yes. This keeps getting better. Johnsonville's much closer to Margot's place.

"And Teller's going to be wrist-deep in diapers when the twins get here." A quick frown settles over Z's expression, then disappears. "So if you can help out at the funeral home as needed, that would be a relief."

I'm helping out there more than you know, Pre z.

"None of the financial stuff," Z hurries to add.

I snort a laugh. "Yeah, no shit, Teller's not letting anyone look at his books."

"Right." Z chuckles, then turns serious. "But stay away from the daughter."

My jaw tightens. Too late.

Z scowls at the hard look on my face. "I'm serious. That place is gonna be a gold mine for the club. Don't fuck it up for us."

Openly lying to my president isn't my style—so I say nothing. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and nod once to acknowledge the message was received—even if it's too late to follow the order.

My non-answer seems to satisfy Z for now. "I know you've been picking up a lot of shifts at Crystal Ball to help out Dex," he continues. "Upstate appreciates that a lot. You're doing more than your fair share for the club. I told Hustler to bump up your pay."

"Appreciate that, but it's not necessary."

"We got you running all over New York, brother."

"Prez," I say in a let's not fool ourselves tone, "I'm basically riding to one place, sitting on my ass, then riding elsewhere, playing with cars at the track, riding some more to watch ladies dance naked and if I get lucky, punch a few guys who don't understand the no touching policy. None of that's a hardship, I swear." Still leaves me plenty of time to do whatever the fuck I want, and that's all I care about. Freedom.

"Don't downplay your role. You do more than that." He closes his eyes for a second. "Just you and Rooster taking over the porn business and making sure I don't have to deal with Stella has been a huge relief."

Yeah, I bet it is.

"Again, I'm not as hands on with Stella as you were." I smirk at him and he rolls his eyes. "I'm doing the work from my computer. So it's not hard." Was it a dick move to remind him of his involvement with a club asset? Yup. Do I care? Nope.

"It's bringing the most money into the club right now, so it matters." His lips curl into a sarcastic smirk. "Isn't that supposed to be the goal—work smarter, not harder?"

"That's what I've heard."

"All right, so walk Eazy through the laundromat stuff for me. Let me know if you have any issues with him."

"Like what?"

He shrugs. "Whatever."

Great. Is Eazy going to act like a little cuntwaffle who's too good to scrape lint traps and mop the floors? I haven't seen much of him over the last two years, maybe he came home with an attitude.

"Anything else?" I ask.

"Nope. Grinder's home with Serena. I think Lincoln's gonna be here any day now."

Zero interest in that, thank you very much. "Uh, that's good." I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "I'm just gonna stop by my room, then head home. I'm beat."

"Later." He waves his hand at me.

There's no point stopping by my room. I really just want to go home. Crashing at the new clubhouse upstate had been noisy as fuck last night. Barely got any sleep.

I take the back roads from our downstate clubhouse to Rooster and Shelby's place. The ride takes almost an hour. Tomorrow, I'll be back in Union. With all the zigzagging around I'm doing lately, I might as well join the Nomad squad.

But it's good that I saw Z. Now I've got a plan for the week. Handing off my hours at the laundromat to Eazy will be a relief and free me up for more important pursuits—like "educating" Margot on every sexual skill my deviant mind can fathom.

I can't wait to get my hands on her again. That quick glimpse of her sweet pink nipples drove me insane. Lesson number two needs to be clothes off for her.

I turn onto the little dirt road that leads to Rooster's place, then the driveway, and roll right into my spot near the garage.

Rooster and Shelby are outside, switching out the lights on the thirty-foot skeleton I erected in their front yard. I knew it'd grow on them.

I walk around the side of the house to join them, but Rooster meets me halfway with Shelby not far behind.

"Are you okay?" Rooster stops and stares at me like I've lost my mind.

"Yeah, why?"

He studies my face so intently, the urge to punch him curls my fingers. "You've been smiling non-stop since you got off your bike."

I flatten my lips into a line. "So what?"

Rooster strokes his beard and stares at me like he's a hawk fixating on a field mouse. "It's unnatural."

"Stop it." Shelby slaps Rooster's chest and grins at me. "You're even more handsome when ya smile. That's what Rooster was tryin' to say."

Rooster shakes his head but his mouth quivers like the fucker's trying not to laugh. "It really wasn't."

"Where ya been?" Shelby asks me. "I was gettin' worried."

I touch my fingers to my throat and cock my head. "Aww, you were worried about me, songbird? I'm touched."

"Yes." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I was fixing to call Heidi to see if you were upstate."

"I knew you couldn't live without your daily dose of my charm and wit." I ruffle my hand over the top of her head, and she rolls her eyes. You'd think I'd be annoyed with my best friend's girlfriend grilling me on my whereabouts, but her concern wraps around my cold, black heart and squeezes in a sprinkle of warmth.

Rooster cups his hand over his ear. "Daily dose of bullshit? Yeah, sounds about right."

"I stayed upstate last night. Just came from our clubhouse. Had a sit-down with Z." I aim a dickish grin at Rooster. "He patted my head and told me how pretty I am."

Rooster rubs his hand over his throat, up to his chin. "Wish I'd never told him how much you've been helping me out," he mutters. "I knew it'd go straight to your head."

I've been enough of a dick, now it's time to be serious. "He's plannin' to give me a raise, so if you want to charge me more rent?—"

"Get the fuck outta here with that." Rooster scoffs. "I'm only taking your money now because you're a pain in the ass about it."

"That's all you, boys." Shelby raises her hands in the air and slowly backs away. "Jigsaw, I'm happy you're home."

"Thank you." I point at Shelby and cock my head Rooster's way. "See, that's how you greet someone."

Once she's in the house, Rooster crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his chin. "So, where were you?"

I mirror his pose. "None of your business."

He strokes a hand over his beard. "Uh-huh. Why were you at a car show out in Johnsonville?"

Christ, how'd he figure it out? A picture of Rooster sitting at his laptop searching Google Maps to match up the background in the photo I sent him forms in my head.

"I googled the diner in the background, dipshit," he confirms.

I tug on the collar of my shirt. "This feels kinda stalkerish, brother."

He continues staring at me but doesn't apologize or explain himself. "You thinkin' about getting another cage?"

I glance over my shoulder at my old, beat-up Toyota 4-Runner that I only drive when the weather forces me to. Margot doesn't ride. If I ever want to pick her up, I should probably get something a little nicer to take her out in…

Take her out? What the fuck? Where did that come from?

We're not dating.

Rooster waves his big hand in front of my face. I shake myself out of whatever fevered daydream took over my brain there for a second.

"Yeah, maybe," I finally answer. "But I saw that truck and it made me think of Uncle Boone, that's why I sent it to you, not so you could grill me on my whereabouts."

His harsh expression fades. "Yeah, that was way too pretty for Uncle Boone, though."

"That's what I said too." I cough and look away.

The back door squeaks open. "Jiggy, you want steak fajitas?" Shelby calls out. "Rooster said he'd fire up the grill tonight."

My mouth waters. Whatever mystery southern spices she uses on the meat always tickles my taste buds. "Hell, yes, I do."

"Got it!" She raises one hand in the air in a half wave and disappears inside the house again.

"Hey, instead of grilling me , how about you get that grill going, brother?" I jerk my head toward the far end of the patio where Rooster has a Weber three-burner grill stationed. "I'm ready for some steak."

The next day, I'm at the laundromat, watching Eazy pull apart and clean the lint traps and vents. So far, I've had him mop liquid detergent a screaming kid spilled all over the floor, and wipe the tables, chairs, and doorknobs with disinfectant—twice. He hasn't complained about the manual labor, and he's done a thorough job. Could be he has a good work ethic or that he knows Z's gonna ask me for a report later.

My phone buzzes. Expecting it to be Rooster or Dex, I pull it out of my pocket.

Little Lady Death.

Much better than the Last Responder name I'd originally listed her under.

A picture appears. A close up of Margot from her mouth down to her chest. My cock pulses like he wants to immediately hunt her down and impale her. I recognize her because I've spent so much time studying those pouty lips that I'm dying to shove my cock between. Next lesson.

My gaze drifts lower. A hint of the swell of her breast peeks through the V-neck. I didn't look at her gorgeous tits nearly long enough the other night. Maybe I should break oral into two lessons. First, I'll teach her the joy of having her tits covered in cum. Then, a lesson on how to swallow every drop.

I may have missed my calling as a professor.

I can't stop staring at the photo. It's not racy compared to the pictures most women send me. But I can't stop staring at it. Is she wearing the gray shirt she finished me off with the other day?

Me: That cleaned up nice.

Little Lady Death: I'm going to think of you every time I wear it.

Fuuuck, that's fucking hot.

Good to know maybe this relationship—no, arrangement—will last as long as the life of a shirt.

Me: You're hot as fuck. No, that sounds fucking juvenile. I erase it.

Me: Your lips will look so good around my cock. Christ, that's even worse. I delete that too.

Me: I can't wait to see you again.

Little Lady Death: Looking forward to our next lesson.

I can't believe I'm willingly doing this, but I open my camera app and hold my phone out to take a selfie, making sure to capture the rows of washing machines in the background. Am I really turning into a guy who sends pictures of himself to chicks?

Send.

Apparently, I am.

Little Lady Death: You really are at a laundromat.

Did she think I was lying to her?

Me: Not a titty in sight. Nope. Delete that. No reason to remind her I'll be working shifts at a strip club later this week.

"What's with the goofy look on your face?" Eazy steps next to me and tries to peer at my phone. "You've been staring at your screen for like ten minutes."

I click it off. "No, I haven't."

"Were you watching porn?"

"What? No, you fuckin' creep."

"Were you talking to that hottie from the wedding? Margaret?"

I don't bother correcting him. No reason for him to know her name.

"Nope, not Margaret." There, now I didn't lie to a brother. I don't even know a Margaret. Heh.

"You done with those lint traps?" I ask.

He holds up a fluffy tumbleweed-sized ball of gray, black, and white lint. "Want me to knit you a sweater with it?"

"Fucking throw it in the garbage, dumbass."

The bell over the door jingles and I groan when I see the tall, slender brunette walking through with her little sack of laundry.

"Hey, Jigsaw." She wiggles her fingers at me. "I didn't know you'd be here today."

As if you didn't notice my bike parked right outside. "Hey, Tara."

She's not exactly a muffler bunny but if she blows another couple of brothers in the back room, she might as well be.

While she makes a show of bending over to toss her dainties in the washer one by one, I stay behind the counter, pretending to be completely fascinated by a three-day-old copy of the Union Reporter.

Rare virus found in horses in Union Point.

Scintillating stuff.

"Who the fuck still reads newspapers?" Eazy rips the paper out of my hands. "Ooo, better stop fucking horses, the article says humans can catch this virus."

I side-eye him. "You have something you need to share, brother?"

"It's in the article," he protests.

"It doesn't say a damn thing about fucking horses."

"Hey, Jigsaw." Tara's soft voice interrupts us. "Could you break this for me?" She holds out a twenty.

We have a perfectly good change machine bolted to the back wall. This is her polite way of asking if I'd like a blow job in the back room today.

I point to the machine but don't want to make her look stupid in front of Eazy. "It's working today."

"Oh." Disappointment turns her pretty mouth down.

I could sneak in the back with her. Brush up on my receiving skills before my oral lessons with Margot. What's stopping me? A promise I made to Margot? I only promised not to sleep with anyone else. A quick blow job doesn't count as sleeping with someone, does it? It's a giant, gaping loophole in our agreement.

How would she ever know?

I'd know.

Honor isn't the only thing stopping me. My desire for anyone else is gone. Poof. Up in smoke. One lesson—one very chaste lesson by my standards—and I'm totally consumed by thoughts of one woman. All I can think about is Margot's cute, bouncy blonde curls, her quirky humor, and her wicked little smile. The way she's shy but still curious and eager to learn. Never mind, I'd rather have Margot's pink pouty lips wrapped around me a week from now than have anyone else's right this second.

"Tara, this is my brother, Eazy." I slap his back. "He's been out on the road for a while and finally home. He'll be happy to help you out with whatever you need."

Eazy may not know how to read a newspaper, but he can read a woman like a traffic signal. He works a sleazy smile onto his clean-cut face. "How are you doing, darlin'?"

Her eyes sparkle as she looks him up and down. He skirts around the counter, drops his arm over her shoulders and steers her to the cash machine.

Well, aren't I fucking cupid.

I glance at the big clock above the entrance. Feels like way too many hours until I can get my hands on Margot again.