Page 142 of Scatter the Bones

Outside our door, Rooster’s leaning against the opposite wall with his arms wrapped around Shelby.

Jigsaw stops short, squinting at him. “What are you, my guard dog?”

“Shelby didn’t want to head to the dining room without you guys.” Rooster’s amused gaze slides from Jigsaw to me. “Morning, Margot.”

“Morning.”

Shelby wiggles loose from Rooster’s hold and gives me a quick embrace. “Lost sight of ya last night.”

Her sympathetic tone suggests she already knows what happened. My cheeks warm and I shrug.

“We’re still waitin’ on Serena too,” Shelby says.

“You bang on Grinder’s door like you did ours?” Jigsaw says to Rooster.

Rooster sweeps his hand toward the door. “Be my guest.”

Jigsaw takes a step forward, then hesitates. “Nah. They’ve got Link with them. I don’t want to scare the little guy.”

“Exactly,” Rooster says, in that slow, exaggerated tone that sounds like a verbal pat on the head.

My lips twitch with laughter I’m holding back.

Shelby catches it and gently bumps her elbow against my side. “They’re always like this. Worse, if you can believe it.”

“It’s fun.” The smile slides from my mouth as I glance at Rooster again. From what Jigsaw’s told me, Rooster’s been an important part of his life—probably even saved his life more than once—for a long time. “There’s a lot of love under all that teasing.”

Shelby nods, slow and thoughtful. “Mmmhmm. They’ll never admit it, but it’s there.”

“Yes.” Rooster throws a patient look in Jigsaw’s direction. “Don’t know why, though.”

Jigsaw widens his eyes and waves his hand toward Rooster’s face. “Who else is going to tell you when that collection of tumbleweeds on your chin is out of control?”

Rooster strokes his hand over his impeccably groomed full beard. “All I hear is jealousy, brother. Keep eating your veggies. Maybe that scruff will turn into a big boy beard one day.”

Jigsaw rumbles with laughter, not the least bit offended. They know exactly how far to push each other, always dancing close to the line but never crossing it. Their teasing always seems wrapped in affection, not malice.

Grinder’s door clicks open and the older biker steps into the hallway. With his broad back to us, he half-turns and glances into the room, one arm casually braced against the doorframe, waiting patiently. A few seconds later, Serena emerges, cradling a chunky baby in her arms, her long blond ponytail swaying as she balances his weight against her hip.

Grinder leans in, brushing a kiss over Serena’s cheek, then another against the top of the baby’s head. He murmurs something to her, too low for me to make out. When he turns toward us, all softness disappears. His expression sharpens, posture shifting—shoulders squared, chin lifted, eyes scanning with quiet intensity. The change is subtle but unmistakable. Yup, it makes sense that he’s the club’s enforcer. It’s hard to reconcile this commanding, quietly protective man with the way those club girls dismissed him last night—“that old guy who got outta prison.” Casually cruel. So far off the mark, it’s almost laughable.

I’m so happy he kicked their asses to the curb. I only wish I’d been able to watch.

“Morning,” he says, voice calm but clipped.

His eyes zero in on me. “How’re you doing today, Margot?”

“Much better.” I reach for Jigsaw’s hand, squeezing his fingers to anchor myself.

“Hey, lil’ mama.” Shelby hurries to Serena’s side, giving her a gentle one-armed hug while peeking at the baby. “And good mornin’, lil’ butterbean.”

Serena giggles and Lincoln gives a soft, squawky protest, squirming in her arms.

“I’ll take him, buttercup.” Grinder slides the baby from her hold with practiced ease, tucking him against his chest. He tips his chin toward the hallway. “Why’re we all standing around here? Let’s go.”

“Uh, we were waiting for you, Grumpy.” Jigsaw coughs into his fist. “I mean, Grinder.”

“Keep that shit up,” he growls, cutting a sharp glare at Jigsaw. “You and Z, with the grumpy shit.”

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