Page 155 of Scatter the Bones

Margot answers on the first ring. “Is everything okay?”

Damn, even when I’m about to make myself an accomplice to murder her voice still tickles my ears and turns my chest cavity all gooey.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Things still busy there?”

“No. Dad’s at the church. Paul’s helping me grab a few things, then he’s heading out.” She pauses. “He has a date,” she adds in a cheerful tone.

Go, Paul.

“How do you feel about us baking some fresh bread tonight?” I ask, hoping she understands theusis my club and thebreadis a body.

She pauses long enough to suggest she hears what I’m asking. “That sounds good. Let me pre-heat the oven so it’s ready when you get here.” Her voice finishes on a questioning lilt.

“That works.” I glance back at the guys. “We’re, ah…not too far from your place.”

“Great. See you in a bit.”

We hang up and I tuck the phone back in my pocket.

“Bread, huh?” Murphy’s ginger-bearded face breaks into a grin. “That’s a good one. She knows we’re bringing a body, though, right?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure she understood my code.” I reach out and pat his cheek a few times. “But thanks for asking, Ginger Yeti.”

“Stop fucking around and get this asshole loaded in the van,” Rock orders.

Wrath jogs over the garage floor like a jolly Viking heading to battle.

Margot.Damn, she was so steady and calm. Understanding my code—willing to “preheat the oven” for us on a moment’s notice. Sure, it’s the deal her dad made with my club, but she didn’t even hesitate.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push out the image of Margot flipping switches and prepping the crematorium—like she’s preparing to host a bake sale for demons.

It isn’t right.

Dragging her into our mess. Making her dispose of our garbage.

I shove that thought away. She can handle this. She’s handled way worse. On her own. Griff’s her mechanic. She likes him a lot. She met Molly at the party and loved her. Once Margot knows this guy tried to hurt them, she’ll be more than happy to help us toss his worthless body in the fire.

Wrath lifts the guy as if he weighs nothing more than a few bags of salt. The tweaker wasn’t that out of it. He squirms and struggles, snapping his teeth at Wrath’s wrist.

“Ow! Fuck!” Wrath flings him into the back of the van and stares at the red crescent marks denting his skin. “I better not get rabies from you, fucker.”

“Let’s move,” Rock barks, slapping my shoulder. “We’ll all go in the van. Less noise at the Cedarwoods.”

Good. The fewer people who see us there or hear us rumbling through their parking lot, the better.

“I’ll drive.” Wrath plucks the keys from Murphy’s hand. Rock returns to the passenger side.

“Whatever,” Murphy grumbles. “Guess we’re riding in the back with this prick.” He jumps into the cargo area.

I follow, ducking my head as I step inside. The back of the van’s clean and organized, probably how Dex keeps it. A couple of heavy-duty tarps are folded and strapped down along one wall. A shiny, neon green toolbox sits secured behind the driver’s seat—probably a few things in there we could use to make this guy disappear.

No benches back here. Murphy and I take the floor, backs to the wall, sitting across from the prick who thought he could terrorize friends of my club.

The van growls to life; its low rumble thrums in time with the unease churning in my chest. The garage door hums and rattles as it rises.

We sway with the motion of the van as it rocks onto the road. Wrath’s up front, bitching about his wrist while he guides the van toward Margot’s place. I lean back and close my eyes for a second.

The tweaker mumbles and mutters to himself. We should’ve put his fucking gag back in.

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