Page 160 of Collect the Pieces

“What’s up, Steer?” he speaks into his phone. “Yeah, of course we miss you.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling.

I open my laptop and log into one of our vendor accounts. I might as well start with the smaller items that aren’t as time sensitive until we figure out the vehicle situation.

I glance over at him as he laughs into the phone, the deep, warm sound curling through the room.

“No, brother, I don’t need it for myself,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. “You’ve seen them before, though, right?”

I bite back a smile.

His hand lazily drags over his jaw as he listens, his gaze landing on me every so often. He raises an eyebrow or smiles at me every time our eyes meet.

It’s distracting. But I like it.

He ends the call and scratches out some notes on a pad of paper.

“Find anything?” I ask.

“Sort of. Our charter in Tennessee can get one easily but that’s going to be a pain in the ass and probably really expensive to ship here. But one of the guys down there knows of a place in Vermont, so I’m going to try them next.”

“Great. Vermont will be a lot easier.” I stand and walk around to his side. “Thank you. This is a big help.”

“You got it.” He curls one arm around my legs and drags me closer, until I topple into his lap. “Only payment I need is a kiss from you.”

I press my lips against his bristly cheek. “I’ll give a lot more than that later,” I whisper in his ear.

“I’ll happily accept.” He turns, catching my lips.

The chime of the front doorbell echoes through the house.

Frowning, I slide out of his lap. “You think Ulfric came back?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Got me. You don’t have any other appointments today?”

I check the small black-and-white video monitor with a wide view of the front porch. Two men in suits peer up at the camera, then glance at the door.

It’s not the same men who questioned me about Laurel. But they definitely look like cops.

My stomach plummets to the floor.

“Margot, what’s wrong?” Jigsaw’s concerned voice pulls me away from the screen.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “They look like cops.”

He leans down, staring at the screen. “Fuck.”

In a matter of seconds, his entire demeanor shifts. My relaxed, cocky biker trying to cop a feel—gone. Replaced by this protective, watchful,dangerousman.

He rests his hands on my upper arms. “All right. Relax. You’re fine.” He glances at the screen again. “Are those the same cops from last time?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Good. Do you want me to answer the door?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shake my head. “Do you?”

He runs his hand through his hair, clearly torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to keep our relationship away from the police.

“I’ll be right in here. Bring them into the parlor so I can overhear the conversation.” He pauses. “This time if they ask if anyone’s here, just say yes, your boyfriend. My bike’s right out front. They’re going to figure it out eventually.”

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