Page 46 of Collect the Pieces

Her laughter’s lighter than before. Teasing. “Not because I have the keys to the oven?”

“That doesn’t hurt,” I answer honestly. “But it’s not important enough to take a bullet.”

Margot

Betrayal. Punishments. Cash. Blood.

The words repeat over and over in my mind. A grim reminder of the world I’m about to visit. I wish I hadn’t asked Jigsaw so many questions about the club. Now I’m even more nervous that I won’t fit in.

As he steers the truck through back roads of Empire County I never knew existed, a dark weight of disappointment or regret hovers over me. Except for college, I haven’t ventured far from Pine Hollow in my life. Jigsaw has lived in different states and traveled all over the country, seeing places I’ve only read about or visited through YouTube videos.

So much of my life has been consumed by death instead of actually living.

“How many states have you visited?” I ask.

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Probably all of them? Except Alaska and Hawaii. And the ones in the middle.” He swerves one hand between us like an airplane. “Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma. No desire to see them. But I only traveled through alot of those places to get to the next stop. Like when I’ve been on one of Shelby’s tours. Didn’t always have a chance toseea lot of stuff.”

“Still, that sounds like fun.”

“It’s a blast. When I’m traveling with the club, we usually rough it. Sleep in tents and stuff.” He laughs. “The older brothers started putting a stop to that. Wrath says he’s too big to be sleeping on the ground.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound appealing.”

“You have somewhere you want to go?” he asks.

“Everywhere.” I glance out the window again. “Somewhere.”

He clears his throat. “We can do that. Not roughing it on the bike,” he hurries to add. “Fly somewhere, I mean.”

Why does that simple promise cut through my doubts so easily? “I’d like that.”

The roads look more familiar now. Jigsaw must’ve gone some back way I’ve never used. After a few more miles, I recognize the big rooster mailbox at the end of Teller’s driveway.

“That’s Teller’s house, right?” I ask.

“Yup. In case you couldn’t tell, Rooster got him the mailbox.”

That must’ve been a moment. “It’s cute.”

Not too much farther down the road, Jigsaw flips his turn signal on. The anxiety growing in my stomach expands like a balloon. He turns onto a road that stretches into the trees, but then he makes another sharp left and approaches an open gate. The truck bounces slightly as it moves from the dirt to the paved driveway.

Straight ahead, a golden Buddha statue seems to greet us with a serene expression that seems odd for a motorcycle club whose emblem is a grinning skull wearing a crown.

“Oh my gosh, that’s huge!” I laugh as we pass it, the vehicle following the driveway’s gentle curve to the right. The truck lurches as it climbs the steep hill. A huge building that almostlooks like a log cabin but is the size of a boutique hotel comes into view.

“My goodness,” I breathe out. “That’syour motorcycle club’s clubhouse?”

“Were you picturing a shack in the woods?”

“No, but I wasn’t expectingthiseither.”

“Legend has it that it used to be a spiritual retreat center or something before Upstate bought it.”

“I believe it.”

“Don’t, um, get too excited. Downstate’s clubhouse isn’t this nice.”

I open my mouth to ask why, what’s the difference, but he already mentioned their last president wasn’t as dedicated.

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