Page 134 of Scatter the Bones

But Bonnie? She pulls a mocking sad face, her voice laced with pity. “Let me guess—he tells you you’re different?” She tilts her head, fake sympathy oozing from every syllable. “Honey… aren’t you old enough to know theyallsay that?”

A million comebacks flood my brain.

But before I can line one up and spit it out?—

The doors slam open.

“What the fuck?” Jigsaw’s voice slices through the air like a machete. “Get the fuck away from my ol’ lady.”

The girls scatter—but not fast enough.

I didn’t even get to pull my knife this time.

In his rush to reach me, Jigsaw shoulder-checks Bonnie, sending her crashing into the edge of the counter.

She screeches and clutches her side, staring at the angry red line blooming across her exposed stomach. “That’s going to bruise!”

I lean in, close enough to choke on her strawberry pound cake–scented body spray.

“You said how much you enjoy taking a pounding,” I whisper. “That’s the last one you’re ever getting frommyman. So, enjoy.”

Jigsaw grabs my hand, rough and possessive, and hauls me out of the kitchen behind him.

My pulse stutters. Is he mad?

Disappointed that I let myself get dragged into another altercation?

Trouble seems to find me every time I step into one of his MC’s clubhouses.

Maybe I’m not cut out to be an ol’ lady after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jigsaw

The serial killerface people always joke about must be working overtime. Bikers, porn stars, hangers-on—they all part like I’m Moses storming through the damn Red Sea. No one meets my eyes. Even the drunkest hangarounds flinch and stumble back, giving us space.

Good.

I keep my arm clamped around Margot, her body close to mine, guiding us through the noise, lights, and sweat-slick chaos of the common room toward the back hallway.

She’s trembling.

Every step we take, she stiffens—like she’s bracing for an attack.

My stomach burns.

Grinder slips out of one of the side rooms—eyes scanning the room for trouble. He spots me barreling toward him and throws up both hands like he’s trying to calm a wild animal.

“Whoa, slow down. What’s wrong, Jiggy?”

Margot clings tighter to my side, like she’s trying to crawl under my cut for safety or hide herself from everyone.

Grinder’s gaze drops to her. “Margot, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She pulls away from me just enough to lift her chin. Her voice comes out too calm and flat. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

A disapproving, but somehow gentle, scowl settles over his face. Grinder reads people too well. He knows she’s lying and putting on a brave face. “Are you sure, honey? You were all smiles and cheer a few minutes ago,” he coaxes.

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