Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Margot
The air outside is cooler now, carrying the scent of pine and burning wood. Light still lingers in the sky, but the parking lot is shadowed by the surrounding trees.
We pass several of Jigsaw’s brothers. Men who hadn’t been at the dinner but are just showing up now, backing their bikes into the long line of bikes against the fence. Many have women with them, dressed just a little differently than the ol’ ladies who’d been at the dinner table earlier. It’s not just the clothes—or lack of. It’s their entire attitude. Touchy and clingy with the guys. Laughing too loud. Attention seeking.
Jigsaw glares at the scene, but I can’t tell if it’s any one person in particular he’s annoyed about.
These must be the muffler bunnies he promised me wouldn’t be here tonight.
He doesn’t say anything, but his hand tightens around mine, his grip firm and reassuring. I squeeze back, silently letting him know I’m fine.
Ahead of us, a couple is about to dip into one of the forest paths.
“Grinder!” Jigsaw calls out.
The older gentleman’s pushing a large, all-terrain-looking stroller and easily bring it to a stop before turning around. His hard expression softens when his gaze lands on Jigsaw. The younger blonde woman leans over the stroller to check on whoever’s in it.
Jigsaw picks up the pace, pulling me along. “I want you to meet Serena,” he says to me in a low voice.
“Hey, Jigsaw.” Grinder gives him a quick hug and a fatherly pat on the back.
Jigsaw returns the hug, then steps back and nods at Serena. “How’re you doing, sweetheart?”
She sighs but forces a smile. “Tired.”
“You’re not going to the bonfire?” Jigsaw asks.
“I don’t think Lincoln’s up for it,” Serena says, reaching into the stroller to adjust the blanket covering her son. “We’re staying at Z’s place. We said we’d watch the twins so Teller and Charlotte could go to the bonfire for a while.”
“ You offered.” Grinder smiles at her affectionately. “ I didn’t volunteer to watch two more babies.”
She grins at him and nods toward Lincoln. “Well, it’s good practice if you want more any time soon.”
“Whoa.” Jigsaw holds out his hands. “That’s more information than I needed.” He slides his arm around my shoulders. “I just wanted Margot to meet you. I thought we’d get to hang at the bonfire, but if you’re not going…”
Serena smiles warmly and reaches to embrace me. “Shelby told me what a sweetheart you are,” she says against my ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to you at dinner.” She pulls back, still smiling, but there’s a teasing lilt to her voice now. “I caught the tail end of your banter with Ravage, though, and thoroughly enjoyed you going toe to toe with him.”
Grinder ducks his head and rumbles with laughter. “He keeps instigating these battles of wits when he’s unarmed.”
Serena shakes her head slightly. “It’s his way of welcoming you, Margot.”
Jigsaw snorts. “Welcome, or haze?”
“Well, both, probably.”
Serena’s so pretty it’s hard not to stare at her as the three of them chat. Then recognition hits me. This is the Serena. The woman behind Tranquil Sparkle—my favorite YouTube channel. I open my mouth to tell her how much I love her content, then snap it shut. Nope. That would be too weird. Borderline stalkerish. Not the time or place.
“We’re probably heading home early tomorrow,” Grinder says. “But I hope you’ll come to visit Downstate soon, Margot.”
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
We say goodnight to them, then continue to Jigsaw’s vehicle.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave the cookies for me?” he asks, shooting me a hopeful look.
“I’m sure.” I grab the container from the back seat, holding it close to my chest.
He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Okay.”
Laughing, I tuck the container under one arm. “Do you need me to carry anything else?”
“No.” He closes the back door and opens the tailgate. A few seconds later, he emerges with a thick blue blanket. “I didn’t think about chairs, but I did bring a clean blanket. We can check the garage if you want a chair, though.”
I step closer and slip my arm around his waist. “Cuddling on a blanket with you sounds perfect.”
“Let’s go cuddle, my little lady death.” He captures my hand, intertwining our fingers as we make our way toward the path at the far end of the fence.
Small dots of light line the trail, flickering softly in the night. Even some of the trees are wrapped in dozens of tiny white lights, turning the wooded path into something almost ethereal.
“Oh, this is so pretty,” I murmur, glancing up at the glowing canopy overhead. “Like a magical forest.”
Jigsaw chuckles. “I think Murphy started this for Heidi and Alexa.” He waves a hand toward the lights. “But everyone liked it, so they keep adding more.”
“Pretty and useful.”
The path forks with a narrower trail veering off to the left. Colorful balls of light hang from the trees on the new path but the same lights on the bottom mark the trail. Faint voices and music drift toward us.
Jigsaw steers us onto the new path. “That way continues to Rock and Hope’s house, and all the other guys’ houses.”
“They wanted to divert traffic away from their homes?”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
We push through a denser group of trees, and suddenly, the space brightens. The low hum of voices grows into lively chatter, laughter, and the occasional pop from the fire.
Clearing a small hill, the bonfire comes into view—tall orange flames licking toward the sky, encircled by a wide ring of cinderblocks. Shadows flicker over the faces of those gathered in a loose circle around the fire.
Couples are sprawled out on blankets spread over the ground. Others settle into camping chairs, coolers nearby. A few tents are nestled between the trees, one strung with glowing lights similar to the ones marking the path.
Jigsaw follows my line of sight.
“For the kiddos,” he explains. “They usually conk out early.”
“It’s nice that they’re included.” Leaves rustle under our feet and we snap a few twigs as we approach the circle.
Rooster leans lazily against a tree, while Shelby sits cross-legged on a blanket next to a bag and a cooler. She turns at our approach and lifts her hand. “Over here!”
Jigsaw’s steps quicken, and I match his pace.
Rooster pushes off the tree, motioning toward the open space beside them. “Saved you a tree.”
“Thanks.” Jigsaw claps Rooster on the shoulder before spreading out our blanket next to Shelby’s.
Shelby’s gaze drops to the container in my hands, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Whatcha got there, Margot?”
I grin. “Cookies.”
She flips the lid of the cooler open. “We’ve got water, seltzer, beer, grapefruit juice, lime juice, and,” she pulls out a large plastic jug, “Emily and I made this.” She holds the jug high in the air like a trophy.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Jigsaw says.
“It’s sweet tea and limoncello,” Emily calls out from a few blankets over.
“Sure is.” Shelby grins, shaking the jug enticingly. “You wanna try it?”
I don’t usually drink, but we’re staying here tonight. One cup shouldn’t be enough to pickle my liver, right?
“Sure.”
“Yay!” Shelby finesses a clear Solo cup from her bag, fills it halfway, and hands it to me.
“We’ve got ice over here, Margot!” Murphy calls out from across the fire.
I take a cautious sip. The sweetness hits first, then the tang of lemon, followed by a slow warmth sliding down my throat. “It’s… um, good.”
Jigsaw takes the cup from my hand. “I’ll grab some ice for you.”
“Thanks.”
After we settle onto our blanket, I hand Jigsaw a handful of cookies, then I pass the container to Shelby and Rooster. Shelby stares at them like she’s trying to decode their contents.
“They’re chocolate with white chocolate chips,” I explain. “No nuts. Butter, sugar, egg, vanilla, cocoa…” I try to list any ingredient that could be an allergen.
“They look so good.” Shelby carefully selects one, then passes the container to Rooster.
“I begged her to leave them in the truck for me,” Jigsaw teases. “But she had to share them.”
As soon as he says it, a container of Rice Crispy treats gets handed to Jigsaw from someone behind him. He lifts it in the air between us. “See, I told you there’d be plenty of treats.”
“These are so good, Margot,” one of the guys who’d been at dinner shouts from across the fire. “Thank you for not listening to Jigsaw!”
Laughter ripples through the group, followed by a chorus of similar thanks. It sounds more like they’re messing with Jigsaw than actual gratitude, but I lean into his side anyway, grinning.
“See?” I murmur, voice teasing. “Isn’t it nice to share?”
Jigsaw’s arm tightens around me, his lips brushing my forehead. “No,” he whispers, his tone all playful defiance.
I laugh softly, letting the warmth of the fire, the steady weight of Jigsaw beside me, and the easy camaraderie of the group sink into me, grounding me in the moment.
Trinity moves around the circle, handing out sticks and bags of marshmallows. Z’s son follows close behind, his little hands gripping a stack of graham cracker sleeves like he’s on an important mission. Right next to him, Heidi’s older daughter clutches packages of chocolate bars with the same level of seriousness.
“Whatcha got for me, Chance?” Jigsaw asks when the little boy stops in front of us.
Chance holds up a sleeve of crackers. “Uncle Jiggy, you only get one ,” he insists, his little voice firm with authority.
Jigsaw raises an eyebrow. “One? But I’m a big boy.”
“One.” Chance nods, expression grave. “That’s the rules.”
Jigsaw exhales dramatically, like the restriction is just too much to bear. “Fine. But only because you said so, little man.” He takes the crackers and tucks them into my lap. “Guard these with your life, little lady. Apparently, we only get one.”
“We’ll share,” I promise Chance, earning a single approving nod before he marches on to Shelby and Rooster, his job far from done.
The little girl stops in front of us next, eying Jigsaw with suspicion. She glances over her shoulder, then back at Jigsaw. “I’ll give you two chocolate bars, Uncle Jiggy. Don’t tell, though,” she whispers loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
Jigsaw’s lips twitch, but he keeps a solemn face. “I won’t say a word, Alexa.” He holds up his hand. “Swear.” He wiggles his fingers. “Now, gimmie.”
She giggles and tosses two large Hershey bars at him, then hands me one too.
“Oh boy, we really lucked out,” I whisper, setting the bar between us on the blanket.
“It pays to stay on the kids’ good side. They always have excellent snacks.”
Something warm squeezes around my heart. He might be joking about the snacks but it’s the way he talks to the kids like they’re people instead of annoyances that has me melting inside. They obviously like and trust him too.
Kids—like cats—in my opinion are good judges of character.
We all take turns approaching the fire with caution to roast our marshmallows. Rock carefully holds his daughter, allowing her to wave a long stick with several marshmallows at the end near the flames. But as soon as they droop and catch fire, Hope’s right there to scoop the stick from her daughter’s hand and rescue the gooey mess.
Laughter ripples through the group as the little girl smooshes sticky marshmallows into her mouth. As soon as everyone has at least one s’more assembled, someone tosses another log onto the fire, sending a fresh burst of golden sparks toward the sky.
The bonfire’s roaring now, flames twisting and crackling as the logs collapse inward, embers glowing hot beneath them. A few guys shift closer to the fire, settling onto a large log that’s been pulled up as a makeshift bench.
“All right!” The guy who’d quizzed me about Jigsaw’s boyfriend qualities at dinner stands and claps his hands.
“Brace yourself,” Jigsaw whispers in my ear. “Whatever Rav’s about to say will be thoroughly obnoxious.”
“Shelby tried to warn me when she called earlier.” I tip my head and catch his lips for a quick kiss.
His eyes widen. “What’s that for?”
“I’m having fun.”
He curls his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer.
A shrill whistle halts the remaining chatter.
“It’s time for our favorite campfire game,” Ravage announces.
A mixture of groans and chuckles ripple through our wide circle.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s everyone’s favorite game,” I whisper to Jigsaw.
He shakes his head. “That’s because we don’t have a favorite ‘campfire game.’”
“Nope! No way, Rav,” Shelby shouts. “If you’re talkin’ ‘bout us all sharing ‘first time’ stories, I’m out. I already know way too much about y’alls sex lives as it is.”
Laughter follows her declaration.
“He’s just collecting material for his wank bank anyway,” a big burly biker across the circle from us adds.
“Ewww,” Shelby moans. She leans against me, her warm tea and liquor breath spilling over my cheek. “He’s right, though,” she whispers loudly in my ear. “Don’t fall for it like I did. Keep it to yourself.”
I snort with laughter. “It’s not much of a story, anyway.”
“Girrrl,” she drawls. “Same.” She collapses into a fit of giggles, falling against Rooster’s chest.
Jigsaw turns, his body shifting slightly behind me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk, songbird.”
“I’m celebrating,” she says.
“Margot,” Ravage calls out, pulling our attention toward the fire. I squint and blink through the smoke. “Since you’re new to the circle, you have to go first.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jigsaw says in a low, warning growl.
“Didn’t you harass Margot enough at dinner?” Rooster shouts.
“Come on,” Ravage whines. “It’s a rite of passage. Give us your best first-time sex story. We’re all adults here.”
“Um.” Heidi raises her hand and waves it. “The kiddos are right over there.” She points to a tent next to the blanket she’s sharing with her husband.
“They’re sleeping. Besides, that’s your problem.” Rav turns toward me again and flashes a mischievous grin. “Margot, you’re up. First time…”
“That feels like fifth date conversation, at least,” I answer. “Since this is my first date with the club, I’m going to pass.”
A few chuckles go around the circle.
“Good call, Margot.” Lilly nods and lifts the bottle in her hand.
Jigsaw hugs his arms tighter around me.
“Technically, it’s your second,” Sparky says. “Teller’s wedding would’ve been your first.”
Teller groans and rolls his eyes. “Don’t bring my wedding into this degenerate wank bank collection festival.”
“Doesn’t count anyway,” Stash argues. “We had other clubs and civilians there. She’s right.”
“Teller.” Rav’s dopey grin swivels toward his brother. “I don’t think you’ve ever shared your story.”
“And I’m not going to, either.”
“Fine. I’ll go,” Ravage says.
Before he gets a word out, he’s cut off by boos and heckles.
“No one wants to hear whatever vintage Penthouse Forum story you’re going to regurgitate,” Z says, waving a hand toward Ravage.
Ravage’s eyes widen with innocence, and he cocks his head. “What’s Penthouse , Grandpa?”
“Ask your mom,” Hustler says, then snickers into his hands.
“Emily?” Rav draws out her name until it sounds like a dirty invitation. “You’re newer to our circle as well. Time to give it up.” He wiggles his fingers at her in a hand it over gesture.
“Um, pass.” The woman with the shoulder-length red hair sits up. “Pass is an option, right?”
“Yes,” Dex says. “Move on, Rav.”
“All right, all right.” Ravage rubs his hands together and focuses on me again. “We’ll save first time stories for another bonfire. How about scary stories?”
“That sure beats weirdest way you’ve ever injured your balls stories,” Dex groans.
Behind me, Jigsaw erupts in laughter, his body shaking against my back. “Those were classic. But let’s not subject the ladies to it, please.”
I turn my head and squint at him. “I’m scared to ask.”
“Murphy has the best one.” Jigsaw laughs even harder.
“Stories shared on the road,” Murphy shouts from across the way, pointing a finger at us, “stay on the road. You know this, brother.”
“I didn’t share anything,” Jigsaw protests between fits of laughter. “I’m just saying, yours is by far the best.”
Wrath, the big biker who usually looks so intimidating every time I’ve met him, snorts and breaks into an almost child-like fit of laughter. “It really is.”
“Fuck you.” Murphy holds up his middle finger and wags it in Wrath’s direction, then Jigsaw’s. “And you too.”
“I’m just saying.” Jigsaw’s slow tone fails at hitting the serious note I think he intended. “It’s a miracle you were able to go on and father another kid after that. Respect, brother.”
“That didn’t sound very respectful.” I turn and give him a scolding headshake. The corner of his mouth twitches into an irresistible grin and he leans in to press a quick kiss to my lips.
“Thank you, Margot!” Murphy yells from across the circle.
“Can we not rehash this tonight?” Rock’s grave tone cuts through the laughter, carrying the weight to make it sound more like an order than a request. His irritated glance at Rav seals it.
“Fine.” Ravage’s lips scrunch into a pout that lasts all of two seconds. “Okay, okay. We’ll stick with scary stories.” He snaps his fingers. “Who has a true tale of personal terror?”
“You realize some of us have been stuffed into literal boxes by their stalker, right?” Shelby says.
Her calm delivery freezes the conversation. My throat tightens, choking off my gasp of surprise. Poor Shelby. She’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I had no idea she’d endured something so horrific.
Everyone sits in sudden silence. Even Rav winces, his perpetual jovial smirk gone.
Jigsaw leans into me, pressing his lips to my ear and says, “That stalker is very, very dead .”
A thrill of satisfaction shoots through me. “Good,” I whisper back.
“Rav,” Charlotte says, with an impressive amount of patience—almost as if she’s used to explaining things to him slowly, “can we not use our loved ones’ trauma as entertainment, please?”
A couple of the other women murmur their agreement.
Next to us, Shelby rises, quickly slapping loose pine needles and a few dry leaves off her jeans. Rooster plants one hand on the ground, pushing himself to his feet at her side. He protectively curls his arm around her waist, leaving his hand resting on her hip.
Jigsaw leans back, his head tipping slightly as he reaches out, his knuckles grazing the leg of Shelby’s jeans. “You all right?”
She nods and flashes a quick smile at him. “I just need to go for a walk.”
Jigsaw frowns at Rooster who shakes his head and shoots a murderous glare at Ravage.
The three of them are awfully close.
It’s nice the way Jigsaw cares about Shelby. A much friendlier brotherly relationship than he seems to have with his actual sister Jezzie. A nicer relationship than I’ve ever had with my own brothers.
Am I jealous?
No. That’s not quite it. Wondering how I fit into their trio? If I’ll fit in…permanently?
Maybe.