Page 117 of Collect the Pieces

His shoes scrape against the asphalt as he hurries to catch up to me. I force my face into something somber and professional. No matter how much I hate Daniel, I’m at work. He’s just another member of the public I have to interact with.

He stops in front of me and smiles like he has every right to my time and attention. Then his gaze travels over me from head to toe.

“You look…different.” His voice drips with the cold condescension I used to mistake for sophistication.

Differentdoesn’t sound like a compliment or even a normal thing to say to someone.Wait.

Did he see Jigsaw and me kissing? Is that why he’s making a face like a skunk pooped in his Cheerios?

I hold my breath—acutely aware of the stillness around us. The quiet of the neighborhood.

The absence of a certain Harley engine.

Behind me the air shifts. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Jigsaw’s aura of protection at my back. He rests his hand right above my butt and stands so close, we’re touching from shoulder to thigh, making it obvious he’s not some rando hanging out in the parking lot who just walked up and joined our conversation.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Daniel, although his perfectly tailored black suit should make the answer obvious—he’s attending the service.

When my father said Mrs. Penny lived in the same area as Daniel’s grandmother, I’d wondered if they’d been friends. I never expectedDanielto show up today, though.

His curious gaze flicks between Jigsaw and me.

My palms sweat. Should I introduce them? Jigsaw clearly isn’t going to introduce himself.

“I, uh…” Daniel swipes his hand through his hair. What’s wrong with him? I’ve never seen him…nervous? Is that what’s making him sweat? Jigsaw must be giving him a lethal dose of his death stare.

Good.

I swallow a giggle. Jigsaw could crack Daniel like a saltine if he wanted to and Daniel seems to know it.

“Mrs. Penny was a good friend of my grandmother’s,” Daniel finally explains. “I left a voicemail to let you know I’d see you…” He frowns at Jigsaw again.

“She’s been busy.” Jigsaw’s grave tone vibrates with the restraint of someone who wants to knock the man in front of him into next week.

My father must have gotten the message and not bothered to tell me. A warning would’ve been nice.

I don’t care about Daniel anymore, so why am I slightly stunned and paralyzed standing here talking to him?

Honestly, I’m grateful our relationship ended. Everything in my life right now is good and some of it wouldn’t have been possible if Daniel and I were still together. Like the man standing next to me.

The deadly expression on Jigsaw’s face is so intense as he stares Daniel down, I’m almost scared someone else has taken over his body. Is this the same man who so sweetly cuddled under the sheets, told me he loved me, and made me come so hard I heard angels sing this morning?

Is that low, vibrating sound an actual…growlcoming from him?

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jigsaw

The wayI’m holding myself back from punching this motherfucker into next week can’t be healthy.

Margot’s pretty face is salt-pale and clenched with anxiety. This isn’t a random guy here for the funeral. He has to be one of the exes who treated her shitty. There’s no other reason for her rigid posture. I’ve seen her interact with quite a few clients now. She’s always warm and friendly. So natural and effortless at putting people at ease. Now, she looks like she wants to melt into the pavement or punch him in the nuts.

His jaw flexes as he fixes me with an imperious glare. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Your worst nightmare.

My hand strays to the hunting knife at my side.

“Oh.” A short, choking sound stumbles out of Margot’s mouth, as if she had to cut off an automatic apology.

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