Page 48 of Scatter the Bones

She frowns as if she’s working through my words. I hope I didn’t offend her.

“Wow,” she breathes out. “Thank you for saying that, Margot.”

Her voice is softer now. Less bitter.

I squeeze her hand gently, then stand.

“You sure you don’t need anything?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I’m okay. He really wanted this,” she says, gesturing toward the casket and the room full of men in leather. “Thank you for working so hard to make it all come together.”

“Of course.” There’s still so much left to do but at least we got this part right.

I step away from Abby and circulate through the room. Different leather vests with various states stitched into the bottom of the back patches—Montana, Idaho, Nomad. Huh, that’s different. The scent of leather, oil, cologne, smoke, and flowers fills the air—a little grittier than the normal funeral scents.

In the hallway, I bump into my father. “Everything’s going well,” he says in a low voice, his gaze flicking around. “All the permits are in the glove box.”

“Got it.” I flick my pen over the checklist on my small clipboard. “We have our escorts and the route ready.” I lower my voice. “Ulfric says his men will take care of the few road closures we need but Slater PD said they want to handle Main Street.”

He nods once. “I’ll speak to Ulfric about that one.”

“Thanks.”

“Wrath says they’ll assist with a perimeter at the cemetery. It seems like overkill but,” he shrugs, “I’m not about to argue with him.”

My lips quirk. “No, I suppose not.” Does that mean Jigsaw will be there too?

Nope. Not now. I wrap up things with my dad and move on to the refreshment table, dispose of empty paper plates and wadded up napkins.

Someone gently bumps my shoulder, a light, warm presence. “Dear God,” April whispers in my ear. “That tall, intense one with the murdery vibe, wearing the dark blue plaid flannel under his leather vest, hasn’t taken his eyes off you all morning.”

“What are you talking about?” I laugh then quickly smooth my expression into something respectful.

I turn and scan the room. More than half the men in attendance today qualify as “tall, intense, and murdery.”

But I don’t have to ask who she’s referring to. The weight of Jigsaw’s gaze weighs heavy on my skin even before our eyes meet.

There he is.

My breath catches.

April’s right. Even though he’s in a loose circle with three other bikers, his eyes are on me.

Waving like an infatuated teenager would be more than inappropriate. Besides, what I really want to do is throw my clipboard in his face. Ask him where he’s been. What the hell’s going on.

“Yup. Tall and scary,” April murmurs. “My goodness.”

“He’s not scary,” I mutter.

He’s a dangerous heartbreak waiting to happen.

“Ohhh,” she says under her breath, somehow managing to keep a placid, professional expression in place while subtly teasing me. “He’s the guy you’rekind ofseeing?”

I lift one shoulder, afraid to admit all the things I feel for him.

“A biker, huh?” She raises her eyebrows but not her voice. “Did your dad shit a brick?”

“No, he likes him.”

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