Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jigsaw
“Let’s just go in and get them.” I grab Rooster’s arm, pulling him toward the ladies’ room.
He jerks out of my hold. “Fucking relax. Shelby said they’re fine.” He glances over his shoulder. “Dee-Dee’s gone. Pretty sure she’s not coming back.” He laughs. “Ever.”
“She shouldn’t have been up here anyway,” I growl.
His casual shrug pisses me off.
“She better not have tried to tell Margot the same lies about me that she told Shelby about you, ” I grumble.
He scowls as that memory sinks in. “Who brought her up here again?”
“That’s what I’m asking you , VP.”
He shrugs like he’s completely blameless in the situation. “Serena must’ve told Grinder she was cool.”
“Don’t blame Serena.” Hell, why am I taking this out on Rooster? It’s my own damn fault. I should’ve gotten off my ass and walked the girls to the clubhouse sooner.
He sighs in exasperation. “I’m not.”
Finally, the door opens. Shelby steps out first. Her gaze lands on Rooster and she beams. Margot peeks out and gives me a sheepish sort of smile.
All the tension that gathered in my chest releases. She’s fine and she’s not mad.
Shelby glances toward the clubhouse living room and giggles. “Dee-Dee better’ve run off to warn the other bunnies that Margot is not to be fucked with.”
“How’s that?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Margot shrugs and stares up at me with innocent eyes. “All I did was show her the shiny end of the pretty knife you gave me.”
Rooster chokes out a confused laugh.
I stare at her. Is she serious? Fucking with me?
More importantly—is there actually a heaven? Because Margot has to be sent from above.
Margot shrugs again. Tension drags the corners of her mouth down. Shit, she’s trying to act cooler than she’s feeling.
I curl my arm around her waist and drag her closer. “We’re going to head upstairs. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Rooster says in a whatever tone. “Night.”
“Night, Margot,” Shelby calls out.
“Thank you, Shelby,” Margot says over her shoulder.
The few bunnies we pass on our way to the stairs take one look at us and avert their eyes. Maybe word has spread—my woman is ferocious. Cross her at your own peril.
I’m grinning from ear to ear by the time we reach our room. Margot, not so much.
As soon as I close the door behind us, she turns and faces me. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Her bottom lip wobbles. “I’m sorry.”
“Done what?”
She lifts her gaze, and I can’t tell if that’s genuine remorse or sinister satisfaction in her eyes. I’m kind of hoping for the second one. “Threatened dumb-haircut girl with my knife.”
Laughter bursts out of me. “What?”
“I don’t want your brothers to be mad that I threatened someone in their clubhouse.”
Ah, that’s what’s bothering her. Not the confrontation with the girl.
She purses her lips into a remorseful pout. “It was a little extreme.”
“Yeah, I don’t care about that. And no one else will either. Did you actually stab her?”
“God, no.”
“Then we’re good. She shouldn’t have cornered you.” I hold out my arms. “Come here.”
She’s slow, tentative to embrace me. What the fuck did that girl say to her? “Tell me what happened.”
She exhales a long, slow breath and slides her arms around me, cuddling up tight. That’s better.
“Nothing. Just implied a bunch of gross stuff about you. I don’t really want to dissect the conversation.” She tips her head back. “Just promise me whatever you had with any of those girls is in the past.”
“Uh, I told you. There hasn’t been anyone but you since we got together. I wouldn’t lie about that, Margot.”
She nods slowly. “That’s what Shelby said too.”
Thank you, songbird.
Doesn’t matter if she trusts Shelby’s word more than mine. All that matters is that she believes it. That she believes in me. In us.
“She won’t bother you again,” I promise. “Neither of them will.”
She snorts and pulls away. “Why? You’ll have them banned? Shelby said crooked-hair girl shouldn’t have been here at all.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean. I’ll find out who brought her and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for that.” The corners of her mouth curl up. “Let her stay. She can spread the word to the other bunnies—you’re mine. Period.”
Holy fuck.
A slow heat rolls through me, settling deep in my bones. I’ve had women fight over spending time with me, eager to please me, desperate to keep my attention. But this?
This is different.
Margot isn’t trying to impress me to secure a place at the clubhouse. She isn’t looking for bragging rights or validation. She doesn’t want to use me, then hop into bed with one of my brothers. Hell, she’s not even angling for a property patch. Nope. None of that. She sees me—all of me—and wants me to be hers.
And damn if that doesn’t feel better than anything else ever has.
Who knew I’d ever like the sound of a woman claiming me this much?
“I’m yours,” I promise her. “Every bit of me.”
“Good.” I still detect a hint of petulance in her tone. Those two girls did some damage tonight. Maybe staying here isn’t the best idea. Everything always seems less complicated when we’re at her place.
But it doesn’t work that way. I love my club and they’re my family. Besides, Margot fit in perfectly tonight. “Everyone loved your story,” I say. “Well, everyone who matters.”
In my arms her body shakes. Shit, did I make her cry?
But no, she pulls back and she’s laughing. “When Shelby warned me that Ravage likes to tell stories around the bonfire, I just knew if I had a chance, I wanted to tell that one.”
“Was it true?”
Her gaze slides to our bedroom door. Instead of answering my question, she asks, “Which one is Ravage’s room?”
“Uh, why?”
“Can I show you something?”
A prickling of awareness travels over the back of my neck. It can’t be.
“I’m afraid to ask.”
She grins even wider and tiptoes to the corner where she left her backpack. She unzips one of the front pockets. After a second or two of rummaging through the dark depths, she pulls out a black velvet satchel with a triumphant smile.
My stomach clenches. She’s fucking kidding, right? “That’s not…”
She unties the bag and pulls out the freaky statue from her story. Solid dark wood, a little charred on one side and a bunch of nails poking out of its eyes and belly button.
I stare at it, thoroughly creeped the fuck out. “That story was true ?”
She shrugs. “A client gave it to me. It’s kinda spooky, though. Right?”
Hail Satan, could this woman be any more perfect for me?
Uncertainty dims the excitement in her eyes when I don’t answer right away. “You also warned me that the guys might mess with me. I figured if I had the chance to tell that story, I’d leave this as a gift for one of the guys to find…” She drops her gaze. “Sorry, that’s silly and childish, huh?”
“It’s fucking perfect, is what it is.” Pure glee bubbles through my blood. This will haunt Rav for at least a few hours. Serves him right for picking on my girl the first time she visits the clubhouse. “Where should we leave it?”
“Oh, I thought right in front of his door would be funny.”
“Nah, we can do better than that.” I pull out my phone and thumb through my texts until I find the group chat with Wrath, Trinity, Murphy, Heidi, and Dex.
Me: Anyone know code to Rav’s room?
A few seconds later, Wrath comes through for me. No questions asked.
“Put her back in the bag.” I nod to the statue in Margot’s hands. “We’re taking her on a lil’ trip.”
Murphy sends a follow-up. He’s still at the bonfire.
Perfect.
Giddy with the thought of scaring the piss out of Ravage tonight, I lead Margot out of our room and across the hallway. He’s not an officer yet, so his room’s closer to the staircase. I hurry Margot to his door, punching in the code fast, hoping to avoid anyone seeing us and ruining the surprise.
Margot giggles as I shove the door open and usher her inside.
Her laughter cuts off as I close the door behind us and flip on the overhead light.
“Goodness, I thought I was nose blind from all the chemicals I use at work, but it reeks of…” Margot wrinkles her nose in the cutest way.
“Cum and disappointment?” I suggest.
“I was going to say bodily fluids and weed.” She sniffs the air again. “But yours is probably more accurate.”
My gaze ping-pongs around Rav’s messy room—open closet door with clothes drooping from hangers, boxers and shirts dripping from dresser drawers. Nightstand drawer open with strips of condoms dangling from all directions. “All right, where are we leaving it?” I cast another look around. “Where he’ll actually see it at some point this weekend?”
She purses her lips and studies the room. “Top of the nightstand? If he comes in late, he might not notice it until morning.”
“Perfect.” I hold my hand out, offering her first crack at prank placement.
She plucks at a box of tissues with her thumb and index fingers, gingerly shifting it aside, then plants the statue right in front of it.
“Nice.” I let out a cackle. If Rav’s as drunk or high as I think he’ll be when he turns in tonight, he might not notice it until morning. From the angle it’s sitting, it should be the first thing Rav sees when he opens his eyes.
And to be sure he doesn’t see it until the sun’s up, I walk over and unplug the lamp on the nightstand. “Give me that chair.” I point toward the desk.
Margot hesitates, eyeing it for a second before shifting a pile of clothes onto the floor and dragging the chair over.
“Hit the light switch,” I say, stepping onto the seat.
She flicks the switch off, plunging us into darkness. A second later, the glow of her phone’s flashlight slices through the shadows.
“Thanks,” I murmur, carefully unscrewing the overhead lightbulb. “There. That’ll keep him from seeing it until morning.”
A sharp gasp. Then Margot slaps a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. “Oh my God. You’re evil.”
While Margot keeps the room illuminated with her phone, I hop off the chair, set the bulb on the dresser, and return the chair to the desk. She sweeps the light across the space again, pausing on the statue.
“You realize he might actually destroy it when he finds it, right?” I feel compelled to make sure she’s thought this through in case the creepy statue actually has some sentimental value to her. “It’s not like a priceless piece of art or family heirloom, is it?”
That wicked, scheming smile spreads across her face again, lighting something warm and dangerous inside me. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Her grin doesn’t fade as we slip back to the room we’re crashing in for the night. “You’re sure this is okay?” she asks. “You’re not going to get into trouble with your club because of me, right?”
I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life—Margot Cedarwood is exactly my kind of chaos.