Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“You’re welcome.” Sparky throws two middle fingers in the air and kicks his feet up on the coffee table.
“My worldview has truly been shifted,” Hustler adds.
Rock heaves a long breath. “If I do take Priest’s place at National, does that mean these charming clusterfucks are all yours, Z?”
“Hah!” Z claps his hands and points at Rock. “I knew you’d come around. Fuck, yeah.”
“Simmer down,” Rock says. “No one knows what Priest actually wants.”
Once the laughter dies down and Rock reins everyone back in, he goes around the table, asking for updates.
Dex mentions needing help at Crystal Ball.
I stare at the table like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen, praying someone else speaks up first.
Thank fuck, Ravage, Butcher, and Eazy volunteer before I have to say a word.
Hustler pipes up next. “Stella just cracked six hundred thousand subscribers.”
“Already?” I blink. “Good for her.” I groan and rub my hands over my face. “But please don’t tell me we’re throwing another party at our clubhouse.”
“Not yet,” Hustler says, pointing between Rooster and me. “But I need one of you to get that site update done this week and her new photos uploaded. Banner’s still showing pics with her ‘old hairstyle’ and I’m sick of listening to her bitch about it.”
“We’ll get it done,” Rooster promises.
Rock nods at Teller.
“We’re getting ready to open up the drive-in for the season,” Teller says. “I could use some help cleaning the place, hiring some folks and getting it ready.”
“I might be able to help out there,” I volunteer.
Teller nods. “Thanks. What about your brother? How’s he like it at Sully’s?”
“So far, so good. But I’ll ask if he wants a second job for the summer.”
Once all regular business is done, Z stands. “As some of you know, our favorite chucklefuck has taken an ol’ lady.”
I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair.
“And he’s asked to patch her.”
My brothers start slapping their hands against the table.
“So, I ask, do we need to take a vote on Ms. Margot Cedarwood to wear Jigsaw’s patch?”
“No.” Wrath laughs like it’s an absurd question.
Z goes around the table anyway. Every officer—upstate and downstate— says yes to giving Margot their patches as well.
Z nods, pleased with his performance. “I’ll try to have it ready for you by the time you get back from Vegas,” he promises.
“Thanks.” I nod once, a little slower than usual.
No twist of anxiety. No second thoughts.
Just the low, steady hum of anticipation buzzing under my skin.
Margot’s mine. And I want the world to know it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jigsaw
By the time I land in Vegas, my leg’s mostly healed. Still twinges if I twist the wrong way, but nothing I can’t handle. I didn’t come here to whine.
I came to watch Griff’s back—before, during, and after the fight.
Then I’m getting my ass home to see my girl.
Until then, I check into my fancy-ass room in the hotel where all the fighters are staying. Unfortunately it’s in a suite, with Griff and Molly in the room next to mine. Ella and Eraser are on the other side, and Remy’s room is next to theirs.
Great. Two couples and a hound dog that likes to jump on everything in sight. These fancy-ass walls better be thick.
First thing I do—before unpacking, before even sitting down—is call Margot.
She answers on the first ring.
“Hey,” she answers, all soft and almost sleepy sounding.
Fuck, I needed to hear her voice.
“Hey, little lady death.”
A soft laugh rustles over the line. “Did you land okay?”
“Yeah. Just got to the hotel.”
“How is it?”
“Nice. Real fuckin’ nice. Glad I’m not the one paying for it.”
Another bit of laughter, then hesitation. “How does your leg feel after all that walking?”
“Fine. Little sore.” I ease back against the stiff hotel chair, stretching my leg out. “I miss you already. Really wish you’d been able to come with us.”
“I miss you too,” she answers, a bit clipped. “How was the private jet?”
“Fuckin’ nice. Kinda sucks ‘cause I think I have to fly back commercial.”
“Awww, you’ve been spoiled.”
“You miss me?”
“Of course,” she answers immediately. Matter-of-fact. No hesitation. Even though I’d been a bit of a dick, pestering her to take the time off and come with me to Vegas.
“Miss you too.”
“I really do wish I’d been able to go with you guys,” she says softly. I picture her curled up in her lounge chair with Gretel in her lap and a stack of books next to her. “You know that, right?”
“I know. Sorry I’ve been a prick about it.” I need to get it through my head, not everyone can just fuck off to Vegas for a week whenever they feel like it.
Silence hums for a beat. Did she hang up?
“It’s okay,” she finally says.
“How was your day?” I ask.
She sighs. “Helped a cantankerous family plan a memorial service. Handled two cremations with Paul and probably have a pickup later tonight.”