Page 140 of Collect the Pieces

“Good. I was on the phone with Rooster late. I tried to be quiet.” He shrugs.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just some club stuff.” He gestures toward his laptop. “Which is why I was up early and not in bed withyou.”

He pulls me closer, tucking me against his solid body, his palm warm against my lower back. “I need to get on the road early.”

“Oh.” I slide my arms around him to hide my disappointment. Resting my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat.

From my bedroom, my alarm dings. I sigh and pull away. “I have an early consult this morning.”

“Pre-planning or…” He pulls a face.

I let out a dark chuckle. “Iwishmore people pre-planned. It’d be so much easier on their families. But no, this is an elderly woman. Her niece was her only family, and she said it shouldn’t be too much.”

“That’s good, I guess.” He reaches for his T-shirt draped over the barstool and slips it over his head. “I’m stopping at my place to meet with Rooster and get my bike.”

I glance down at my sloppy sleep clothes. “You want me to walk you out?”

“No. Get ready for your appointment.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, then catches my lips.

I curl my fingers in his T-shirt and hold him. His kiss is slow and deliberate. “You know I hate leaving you, right?” he says against my lips.

I nod quickly.

He lingers for a moment, like he has more to say, then gathers his things and presses one last kiss to my temple.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Jigsaw

“All right. Settle the fuck down,”Z rumbles, running his hands over the polished wood of the table. He pulls his coffee cup closer and takes a slow sip, like he’s mentally preparing himself for the bullshit about to go down. “Been a while since we sat down at our own table.”

“You gotta admit, Upstate’s clubhouse is much classier,” Hustler snort-chuckles. “No wonder we don’t wanna meet here.”

Z shakes with silent laughter and inclines his head in agreement. Prez is walking a fine line not to outright insult our clubhouse since he hasn’t been our president for that long.

Hustler has a point, though. When Z took over our charter, he kicked our asses into gear. We upgraded large portions of our compound. Still—it’s nothing like Upstate’s property.

Since most of the time my brothers treat our clubhouse like it’s an amateur porn studio, all the upgrades in the world can’t hide its seedy, cum-dumpster-esque charm.

Z doesn’t take the bait, just moves on. “First things first. Grip, Brew—welcome back to the table.”

Grip grins. “Good to be home, Prez!” He slaps his palms against the table like an overexcited toddler. Brew follows, drumming his hands on the edge.

Z barely gives them a glance. “Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.”

Grinder snorts. “That’s a big ask.”

Z covers club business: the laundromat break-in, our dirty cop’s latest updates, the usual. Then he finally circles to the porn empire.

And Stella.

He sweeps a hand toward Rooster, who’s sitting next to him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Rooster, why don’t you share with the club what had you squawking in my ear late last night?”

I bite my lip and tuck my chin to my chest to hide my laughter. Rooster’s glare snaps to Z, but Prez is completely unbothered.

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