Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Margot

Float.

That's all I do for the next few… hours?

When I finally claw myself out of the soft, mushy feeling, I'm on my back with my hands folded over my stomach like I'm about to be placed in a coffin. The heavy weight of one of Jigsaw's arms still rests protectively over me with his hand over mine.

I blink and stare into the branches of the tree above us. Green leaves and darkening sky beyond.

What time is it? I gasp and sit up, jostling Jigsaw's arm. "How long have I been out?"

"Hmm?" He stares at me groggily. "A little while. Hungry?"

He reaches for a big blue-and-gray cooler on his other side. "When Sparky says he's bringing snacks, he doesn't mess around." My stomach feels rumbly now instead of queasy, so that's an improvement.

But as I sit up, my brain swims and sloshes around. "Has the pot altered me forever?" I blurt.

"What?" Jigsaw laughs. "No, I don't think so."

"It wasn't laced with anything else?"

"No. Sparky's a purist. He wouldn't dare mess with nature's harvest." He passes me a cold can of Sprite and a blue can koozie with a crown, dollar sign, and sun with today's date on the bottom.

"Wedding favor?" I ask, staring at the design.

Jigsaw taps the crown image. "For Lost Kings." He moves to the dollar sign. "Teller's symbol for the club." Finally, he lands on the sun. "Charlotte's nickname is ‘sunshine.'"

"Ah, clever."

"We're all about the symbolism, baby." He gives me a cocky wink and smile.

Laughing, I take a sip of the soda, sighing as the cool, sweet liquid eases my dry throat. "I didn't snore, did I?"

"No." He hands me a plate stacked with cold cuts and a fresh, squishy roll.

I wave the condiment packages he offers away and slap a few pieces of ham and a slice of cheese on a roll. "How embarrassing. Everyone knows I got high and passed out like a nerd?"

He drills me with a hard stare. "It's not your fault, Margot."

"I made you miss the whole party."

"You didn't make me do anything." His lips quirk. "Few people have that ability."

"Why does it seem so much…quieter?" I glance toward the backyard but it's only a few couples in lawn chairs talking now.

"A lot of folks went up to the clubhouse." He lifts his chin toward the long hill stretching behind the house. "Or down to Crystal Ball and our other clubhouse."

"Crystal Ball? The strip club?"

He lifts his eyebrows. "You know it?"

I shift my gaze to the side. "I knew someone who danced there in college."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she didn't stay long. It wasn't for her."

He nods slowly. "I'm sure a lot of girls figure out real quick it's not just glitter and dollar bills."

"That's what she said."

"Margot, be honest," he says in a teasing voice, gaze drilling into me. "Are you the friend?"

"Me?" I gasp. "No one wants to see that."

A frown draws his eyebrows together. "See what?" His tone's sharp, disapproving.

"Me…like that." I run my hands through the air in an outline of my body. "Naked," I whisper.

He leans forward. "You're mistaken," he whispers back. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What boyfriend? I came with my dad today."

"I figured that was just a business thing." He shrugs. "You're not seeing anyone?"

"I'm too broken for a boyfriend." I giggle and clap my hand over my mouth. "That sounds like a song."

He freezes and stares at me. "What did you say?"

"Broken in the s-e-x department." I quickly look around to make sure no one overhears me. "One star, do not recommend. Boring in bed." Is it the pot making me admit this to a guy I barely know? "Maybe I can be fixed?" I mumble the last word, as I lose my nerve. "Who knows."

Jigsaw continues staring at me.

A hot flush of embarrassment creeps up my chest, chasing away a good portion of the pot-brownie high.

"You're not broken, Margot," he says through clenched teeth. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You just need to meet the right person who appreciates you."

"But I'll only disappoint them." A truly awful and wonderful idea takes shape in my mind. Jigsaw's been so kind to sit with me today. He's patient. He said he's not in a relationship. I'm attracted to him but we're so opposite, there's no chance of an attachment forming…

"Maybe you could be my tutor? You know, teach me," I blurt out.

He sets his plate down and sits forward. "Teach you what ?" His voice is low and raspy. Interested or disgusted by the idea—I can't tell.

Realization at how stupid it was to even ask sets in, but I continue digging my awkward grave anyway. "You know …"

Jigsaw's eyebrows crawl up his forehead. "Teach you sex ?"

I wince at the outraged disbelief darkening his words and expression. I'm probably not as pretty as the kind of girls he's used to but I'm not a complete toad, either.

"Well, yes." This was dumb. Why did I think this was a good idea again? Can I even blame this on the pot brownie?

"How old are you?"

Is he actually considering my request?

Heat burns the tip of my nose, and spreads over my cheeks. My face must be pink enough to match my shoes by now.

"Never mind." I pick up my plate and tear off little pieces of my roll. I'm too disgusted with myself to eat any of it, so I just end up sprinkling crumbs all over my dress.

How am I ever going to look at Jigsaw again? Maybe I'll call Teller and ask him to send a different brother to help out from now on? The MC's supposed to be our partner. It won't be weird if I reach out,will it? I could start by thanking him for letting me come to his wedding. That's normal, right?

No. I can't do that . What if that gets Jigsaw in trouble with his boss or president or whatever. It's not fair to get him in trouble because I embarrassed myself.

"Why me?" he finally asks.

I risk meeting his eyes. They're round with curiosity and…interest? "I, uh, like you."

"You don't even know me."

I know him well enough. I shrug. "I feel safe around you."

"You shouldn't," he mutters.

"I felt safe enough to sleep on you." All my pride travels south. This isn't going well. "You don't seem to judge me. Well, at least up until now."

"Judge you how?"

I shrug. "You know, for ‘playing with dead people'."

He winces. Maybe I'm wrong. Does he think I'm a weirdo? And he's only being nice to me because he has to?

"You make an honest living and you help people through a rough time," he finally says. "Why would I judge you for that?"

"You'd be surprised the things people say."

"People are assholes."

I huff a sad laugh. "No arguments there."

Jigsaw

Why does considering Margot's proposal rocket my heart rate into the red zone? She's an absolutely fascinating puzzle. Shy but brave. Smart and compassionate, but somehow sheltered too. So innocent she's never been high in her life but bold enough to ask me to teach her about sex.

I want to collect and study every piece of this woman.

She slides her tongue against her bottom lip and my cock reacts as if the gesture was an invitation, hardening behind my zipper. I shift on the slippery blanket and force the images of all the places I'd like her pretty pink tongue to visit aside.

"You're a good guy," she whispers. "I knew it the second we met. I guess that's why."

Good guy my ass. If she knew all the wicked things I'm picturing doing to her, she wouldn't think there's an ounce of goodness in me. And if she knew all the horrors that lurk in my mind, or all the violent deeds I've been part of—and enjoyed—she'd probably run screaming all the way back to Pine Hollow.

"If you say so." Man, I was not expecting this today. First, having her fall asleep on my leg. Now asking me to teach her to fuck.

She always looks so prim and proper, comes from a prominent family, yet she had no problem being around the club today. She likes Sparky, even though he accidentally got her high.

High…fuck! That's why she made that ridiculous request. It's Sparky's latest strain talking.

"You were nice enough to sit here with me while I slept. You must've been so bored. You missed the party because of me."

I've been to enough parties in my life. And once Z heard what happened to Margot, he was more than fine with me sitting this one out.

More importantly, I'm almost never able to settle down and be still. Even when I sleep, it's violent and fitful. But with Margot, sitting here and watching her, it was so easy.

"That's not a reason to have sex with someone," I point out.

She shrugs. "Why not?"

This is insane. She can't possibly be serious. "It doesn't bother you that I'm a biker?"

"Why does that matter?" Her gaze shifts toward a row of bikes backed up against the side of Teller's house. "As long as I don't have to ride, it's fine."

"You've never been on a motorcycle?"

Her steady, sincere gaze drills into me. In the low afternoon sunlight, it's hard to make out the color of her eyes. An interesting blend of blue and green with gold flecks.

What the fuck. I've never studied the color of a woman's eyes with this much curiosity before.

"No. Unfortunately, I've seen one too many results of motorcycle accidents." Her tone's so solemn. So serious. Almost like she's about to cry.

Normally, if some citizen pointed out the dangers of motorcycles, I might look them dead in the eye and say something like, "Yeah and if I stab you in the face with a pencil right now, for the rest of your life you can tell people how dangerous pencils are." Or if I'm not feeling stabby, something trite like, "I'm not here for a long time, I'm here for a good time." A good, hard fuck-off stare and, "Not as dangerous as not minding your own business" always works too.

But Margot? Damn, I bet she's seen some gnarly shit. I don't want to make light of that. Besides, she's not trying to convince me that I shouldn't ride. Just telling me that she doesn't want to. I can respect that.

"What, you're not going to try and convince me that it's perfectly safe?" she asks.

"No, I know it's dangerous," I answer. "But I'm not distracted by my phone or fucking with the radio when I ride. I keep my eyes peeled for hazards, like other drivers, which is usually the biggest threat to bikers. I wear a helmet and I never ride impaired."

"Minimizing risk."

"Yeah."

An odd sensation simmers along my spine. Margot's acceptance, her kindness, makes her even prettier. Anxious eyes looking anywhere but at me. Dark lashes fluttering. Pink lips, just the perfect amount of pouty. None of that poison filler injected into her lips until they look like they're ready to burst like so many women I encounter lately.

A vivid image of turning her around, sweeping her hair aside, and unzipping her dress won't stop flashing in my mind. I'd ask her to keep those cute Barbie-pink heels on while I bent her over the nearest object and admired every inch of her.

"You're impaired." I need to hit the brakes on this sex tutor idea of hers now. I finish the last bite of my sandwich and start picking up the garbage. "You don't know what you're asking."

"Sure." She sounds so sad, I want to yank my words back.

She takes a bite of her sandwich and chews slowly. Good God, now I can't stop thinking about having her mouth on me.

I jump up and almost fall right back down, my butt's so numb from sitting on the ground for so long.

"I'm going to toss this." I hold out the paper plate and wrappers in my hands. "There's, uh, wedding cake in the cooler. I'll be right back. Want anything?"

"Another can of Sprite?" She holds up her almost-empty can.

"There's one in there." I point to the cooler, then haul ass to the house.

The garbage cans on the other side of the house are overflowing with trash. "The fuck?" I grumble, stuffing my trash inside the closest one.

I need a minute to get control of myself.

As I head for the side door leading into the kitchen, I bump into Murphy. Figures he and Heidi didn't leave yet.

"Where've you been?" he asks.

"Around."

He tilts his head and frowns. "Why do you look so stressed?"

"I'm not." I blow out a breath. "Hey, you got a truck or something I can borrow?"

His eyes widen, and his big, red beard shifts as his jaw drops slightly. "Since when do you want to sit in a cage?"

"I told Margot's dad I'd drive her home, and she's not dressed to ride." I'm not telling Murphy what Margot shared with me. It feels too personal.

"Yeah, I'll get you something." He runs his hand over his beard. "Actually, Heidi's car is still parked down here." He tilts his head toward one of Teller's garages.

"The Hellcat?" I ask hopefully.

He snorts. "No. Nice try, though. Her SUV."

"Aw, shit. That thing barely qualifies as an SUV. It's tiny."

He shakes his head. "You want it or not?"

"Yeah, I'll take it. Thanks, bro." I slap his shoulder.

"I'll get the keys." He turns toward the house.

"I'll go with you. The garbage cans are overflowing, I was going to ask Teller for some bags and clean that up before I go." Playing with a day's worth of trash should get my mind off of Margot's request to be her sex…coach…tutor…whatever the fuck arrangement she proposed.

"You want to be garbage man instead of hanging with Margot?"

"I'm trying to be a polite guest."

"I don't think Charlotte wants her guests on garbage detail."

He pulls the latch for the side door, and I follow behind him. Heidi and Charlotte's friend Mercy are in the kitchen. Heidi glances up and beams at Murphy as if she hasn't seen him in ten hours instead of ten minutes. So disgustingly, adorably domestic, these two.

"Hey, Little Hammer," I say to Heidi. "Murphy said I can borrow your SUV for a couple hours. That okay with you?"

"Wow," Mercy drawls. "You're actually asking her permission, even though your bro said it was okay?" Her mocking tone isn't as cute as the sass Shelby always throws my way. Or the witty banter I like to engage in with any of the club's ol' ladies. Maybe it's because Mercy's not an ol' lady that I find her so fucking annoying.

Ignoring her, I keep my focus on Heidi.

"Of course you can borrow it," she says. "How's Margot feeling?"

"Better."

Murphy hands me a set of keys. "Tank should be full. It hasn't been run for a little while, though. If it gives you any trouble, let me know."

"I will. Thanks."

Outside, Dex is at the garbage cans. Apparently, he decided to play garbage man whether Charlotte likes it or not. I stuff the keys in my pocket and hurry to help him.

"Give it to me." I wiggle my fingers for one of the industrial sized trash bags in his hands.

"Thanks," he says, handing it over.

I give the bag a few good shakes to unfold it and hold it open while Dex tosses stuff inside.

"You talk to Emily?" I ask. Brother's been pining for that cute redhead for months, everyone knows it. Since she's Serena's best friend, Dex has ample opportunities to run into her.

"Jesus Christ, why is everyone up in my business today? We're supposed to be celebrating Teller and Charlotte finally gettin' hitched, not worrying about who I do or don't talk to."

Someone's touchy. "Uh, bro, I've barely talked to you since this morning."

He waves his hand through the air in annoyance. "Grinder was annoying me with his rust or ride bullshit earlier."

I snort-laugh. Sounds like Grinder. "He's like a grumpy old papa bear, huh?" I didn't know Grinder before he went to prison, but from the stories Z tells, Grinder's always been a wise old owl, handing out advice to the baby owls in his flock. Now that he's out of prison, assumed the role of Downstate's sergeant-at-arms, back on his feet, and about to have a baby, he's returning to his normal, meddlesome, advice-giving self, according to Z.

"Papa bear, my ass," he grumbles. "I already got Rock for that."

"Yeah, but Rock won't give advice unless you ask for it."

"As it should be."

Once the bag's full, he tugs it from my hands. "I got this. My gift to Teller was I'd haul all this down to throw out at CB."

"Gee, and all I brought was a cash envelope." I slap his shoulder. "I'll catch you later."

I nod and say a quick hello to other guests as I pass them, but the stay the fuck away face I'm wearing seems to keep my path clear.

I round the corner of the house and my gaze immediately lands on Margot.

Fuck, she's pretty. Who the hell would judge her about anything? Or make her doubt herself so much, she'd ask someone like me for sex tips?

Then my gaze lands on the man sitting next to her on the blanket now. Eazy—a brother from downstate. Fucker's on the road more than he's at home but of course he's here today.

Talking to my girl.

No.

Not my girl.

My student?

No.

Fuck this. Eazy's road name is the predictable result of him easily talking girls into bed. I don't need Margot to decide she should ask him for help instead.

"Hey, fucker." I kick his boot. "Dex is looking for you to help him out."

He slowly turns his head and stares up at me with irritation written all over his pretty-boy face. "For what?"

"Don't know." I pull the keys out of my pocket and dangle them above Margot's head. "You ready to go, babe?"

She flashes an apologetic smile at Eazy. "Jigsaw promised to drive me home."

Eazy frowns at drive. I rarely willingly put myself in a cage and all my brothers know it.

"You mean ride, darlin'," he says.

"She's not dressed for it, dumbass," I snarl. I won't embarrass Margot by telling him she doesn't ride. It seemed like a personal reason she might not want to share with random people.

I hold out my hand to Margot and help her off the blanket. Still a bit high or maybe her butt's numb like mine was, she tumbles forward, landing hard against me.

She braces herself with two hands on my chest and looks up at me with the sweetest expression.

"You've got frosting on your nose." I swipe it off with my thumb, then pop it in my mouth.

"It was good cake," she whispers. "Did you eat any?"

Suddenly, I can think of a very different kind of cake I want to eat.

"Well, then. I better get going." Eazy springs up. "Nice meetin' you, Margaret."

Margot frowns but doesn't bother correcting him.

Looks like I'm still in the lead for the position of sex coach.

Eazy slaps my shoulder and lets out a dirty chuckle. "Have fun with that ride."

I sneer at him and he laughs harder. Asshole.

Margot's hands are still on my chest, calling up the wildest urge to strip down and have her hands on my bare skin.

"Sorry I left you alone for so long," I say.

"That's all right."

"Eazy didn't…he wasn't rude to you, was he?"

"Not at all."

"Good."

I'd hate to ruin Teller's wedding by maiming one of my brothers today.

Margot's quiet for the first half of our drive to Pine Hollow. I keep glancing over to see if she's asleep, but she's always staring out the window.

"How do you feel?" I ask when I can't stand the silence another second.

"Stupid."

"What? Why?"

"I'm sorry I asked you." She takes a deep breath and continues, "What I asked you back there. Please forget about it."

"What if I don't want to forget it?"

Her dress rustles as she shifts her body to look at me. "What does that mean?"

"It means we should talk about it more."

"I briefly considered asking your friend Griff." She waves her hand in the air.

A pulse of jealousy slows my racing heart. "Say that again?"

She curls her fingers in her dress, bunching up the skirt, then releases it and smooths the fabric over her legs. Her long, elegant fingers move quickly but gracefully. With one word I could finally have her hands on me. I don't even care that I wasn't her first choice.

"My mechanic, Griff. I saw him at the wedding."

"Yeah, what about him?"

"I'm not usually interested in younger guys," she continues, "but he's quite handsome and he's always so kind to me at the shop." Her lips pull into a frown. "But then I learned he has a girlfriend, so I never asked…" Her voice trails off as if her brain just processed the words coming out of her mouth.

Griff doesn't have a girlfriend, yet. He's obsessed with his best friend's little sister Molly. Everyone, except her brother, knows it. Did Margot already ask Griff and he told her he has a girlfriend? Or did she see them hanging out at the wedding and assume they were a couple?

Doesn't matter.

I won't correct Margot's wrong assumption.

No, I'll have to thank Molly. Apparently, she's the only thing stopping Griff from being Margot's sex tutor instead of me.

Because I'm definitely accepting the job.