Page 72 of Scatter the Bones

Still, Margot has good instincts. She knows people and understands all sorts of fucked-up family dynamics. Am I actually worried Cain’s a threat? Or do I just want to hide from the truth of how I abandoned him?

I roll to a stop. No traffic in either direction. No one behind me either. Right will take me to the highway. Left will take me into the small city of Johnsonville. Wrath said he’d talk to Sully about giving my brother a job, but I’d rather know for sure that Sully’s good with it.

I turn left.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the lot behind the strip of businesses along Main Street, stopping behind Strike Back Studio. Through the glass door, the place looks dark.

Shit. Are they even open this early?

I kill the engine and get off my bike.

Farther down the parking lot, a family’s hauling big black garbage bags and bottles of detergent into the back door of one of the businesses. The scent of dryer sheets drifts in the wind. Another back door is propped open with a large, white trashcan.

I pull on the wide metal handle of Strike Back’s door and it swings open. That’s a good sign.

Cool air and the sharp scent of industrial cleaner mixed with sweat and rubber mats hits me first. Ahhh, the comforting stink of hard work and discipline. Shiny hardwood floors stretch down a long hallway, leading to an open area with the front desk.

Muffled grunts and a repetitive clink of metal echoes from the other side of the wall. Otherwise, it’s quiet. No music cranking through the system for motivation or background noise. I continue down the long hallway, stopping outside Sully’s office. The door’s ajar. I tap my knuckles on it, then push it open. Empty.

Weird. Every time I’ve stopped by to work out, either Sully, his brother Jake, or Sully’s fiancée Aubrey are here. I wander toward the reception desk by the front door and peek around the corner leading into the workout area.

As I pass the men’s locker room, the door swings open. Sully steps out, arms full of neatly folded white towels. He stops short when he sees me, surprise flashing across his face.

“Jigsaw? What are you doing here at this hour?” He recovers quickly and jerks his chin toward the front desk. “C’mon.”

“I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to talk to you if you’ve got a minute.”

“Yeah, sure.” He drops the towels into a basket beside the desk and turns to face me.

The gym’s quiet—just one guy across the room grinding out pull-ups, back to me, face tilted toward the ceiling.

“You working solo this morning?” I ask.

He scrubs a hand through his dark brown hair and huffs out a breath. “Yeah, Aubrey’s at the house with my mom waiting for a furniture delivery.” He casts a quick glance at the front door that looks out on Main Street. “And who knows where Jake is.”

“Furniture delivery? You know, like, twenty bikers in the immediate area, why didn’t you just ask us for help?”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s a whole new bedroom set for my daughter—she’s coming to live with us. I thought it’d be easier if the store delivered it but so far, not so much.”

He runs his hand through his hair again, clearly stressed. I feel bad wasting his time with this, but I guess Wrath was right and he could use an extra set of hands. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“Did Wrath talk to you?”

“About your brother? Yeah.” He nods. “As you can see, I need the help.”

“Okay. Good. Thanks.” To a clean-cut family guy like Sully, what I’m about to say will sound shitty as hell but I need to get it out. “Look, I don’t know how much he told you but we’re only recently back in touch. I, uh, don’t know him that well, yet.”

He stares at me for a few beats, no judgment, just calm understanding. “You’ve met my little brother, right?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Jake’s still a handful. I get it.”

Our situations aren’t even remotely similar, but the thought’s nice. And now I’ve said what needed to be said.

Something buzzes and he slips his cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s Aubrey. Let me grab this.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

He walks a few steps away toward his office. It’s impossible not to overhear him, though. “What do you mean? Of course, they’re supposed to carry it inside. Put him on the phone.”

I walk over and tap Sully’s shoulder. “You want me to go have a chat with ’em?” I knock my fists together to demonstrate the kind of conversation I have in mind.

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