Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“So, he’s a dumb motherfucker too,” Z says.
I expel a huff of agreement.
“Her dad there today?” Teller asks with a note of concern.
“Yeah. And her cousin. It’ll be a full house for the funeral. That’s the only reason I was able to leave her,” I admit.
Z glances at the clubhouse, then Teller, and finally Rock. “Church will be quick,” Z says. “Winter’s coming. We’re not going on any major runs right now.”
“Keeping things copacetic at Cedarwood’s is kinda club business.” Teller shrugs.
I open my mouth to protest that my relationship is absolutely the fuck not club business.
Teller’s trying to help me out here.
I snap my mouth shut.
Z opens his mouth, but he’s drowned out by the rumble of Rooster’s bike rounding the corner of the clubhouse. He nods at the four of us and slowly backs his bike into a space a few feet away from mine.
“Nice of you to join us, motherclucker,” Z calls out.
“Go easy on him. He’s lost without his little songbird,” I joke.
Z snorts. “So are we. Chance keeps asking when Aunty Shelby’s gettin’ back from Tennessee.” He glances at Rooster, then me. “Gettin’ real worried you’re both gonna jump charters and take over Deadbranch eventually.”
The thought has occurred to me more than once. Shelby spends so much time there, it’d make sense. And I always thought I’d go where Rooster goes. But Margot’s family business is here. I doubt she’ll want to move to Bumbfuck, Tennessee just because Rooster wants to stay attached to his girlfriend as much as possible.
Wife. Shelby’s going to be his wife.
“Yeah, over Squiggy’s dead body,” I quip. “I don’t think he’d be eager to have Steer’s downstate brothers invade his little Deadbranch kingdom. He’d feel outnumbered.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Z mutters. “It might not be up to him anyway.”
Well, fuck. For whatever reasons, Rock and Z command a lot of our national president’s respect and unfortunately, his attention. Of course, Z would know how pleased—or pissed—Priest is with Squiggy as the new president of the Deadbranch charter. Fuck, for all I know, our last SAA Steer—Deadbranch’s new SAA—is feeding information back to Z on the regular.
“You talkin’ shit about me?” Rooster’s boots scrape over the blacktop as he approaches us.
Z runs his hand over his chin, attempting to seem serious. Too bad his grin and accompanying dimples kind of undercut the stern president thing he’s going for. “Now, why would you assume that?”
Rooster hooks his arm around my neck and yanks me to him, dropping a loud, sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Miss you, fucker. Had no one barging into my kitchen draining my coffeepot all week.”
Laughing, I shove him away. “You wouldn’t even notice my absence if Shelby were home.”
“Not true. She’d be asking why there was so much leftover coffee.”
Z’s mouth pushes into a sad puppy pout. “Bro, if you’re lonely, you can stay at our place.” He pats Rooster’s cheek a few times. “We could use a manny.”
I snort, then cough-laugh into my fist. “How is our little songbird, anyway?”
“Good.” Rooster rubs his hands together fast enough to light a fire. “Picking her up tomorrow.”
I could crack a joke about all the noise they’ll be making tomorrow night, but I’m not in a joking mood.
Z glances at me, frowns, then steps forward and taps Rooster’s chest. “Church is going to be short. I want you to ride out to Cedarwood’s with Jigsaw.”
“Prez, he doesn’t have to,” I say, annoyed he’s asking Rooster to do something I’d ask him to do myself, if I thought it was necessary.
The humor washes off of Rooster’s face. “What’s wrong? Is Margot okay?”
“She’s fine.” I aim a scowl at Z.
“Fill Rooster in later.” Z slaps my shoulder, then Rooster’s. “Let’s sit down at the table.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Margot
The service is even busier than we anticipated. I haven’t had much time to worry about Daniel’s whereabouts since he disappeared to chat with my father earlier.
Jigsaw helped Paul and me finish the last bit of prep work before guests started arriving. I hated saying goodbye with Daniel lurking about. But I couldn’t ask Jigsaw to stay just because I didn’t want to be near my ex.
I’m leaving the viewing room to check on guests in the parlor when footsteps snap against the floor behind me.
A strong hand wraps around my elbow and tugs. “Can we talk?” Daniel asks.
Why didn’t I ask the priest for a vial of holy water before he left? Would Daniel sizzle if I sprinkled him with it?
I shake myself loose and glare at him. For his grandmother’s funeral, I had to be polite and professional.
Now, I’m done pretending. “About what?”
“I need to speak to you.”
I glance into the viewing room. The guests have dwindled down to a handful of folks. I catch Paul’s eye and through a series of hand signals let him know I’ll be in the kitchen.