Collect the Pieces (Lost Kings MC #25)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jigsaw

Margot: Got my period.

Hal-le-fucking-lu-jah

Me: Need anything?

Margot: Advil and Sleep. I’m exhausted.

Is she telling me not to come over?

I stare at my phone, waiting for, what? An invitation?

Fuck it, I’m halfway to her house anyway.

We haven’t spoken about her ex again—except that I made her promise to tell me if he ever shows up at her house. I don’t want him alone with her for any reason.

“You seem moodier than usual,” Remy says, swiping a rag over the bar top way too close to my hands.

I swat his dishtowel away and glance around the bar. The place is quiet. No handsy assholes bothering Remy’s little sister that I need to threaten with my hunting knife tonight. Just two old guys who look like they’re capping off a day of fishing with a beer. Nothing that needs my attention. “You mind if I head out?”

He stops and stares at me. “You’re asking my permission?”

This kid. Sometimes, I respect him almost as much as I want to punch him. “Well, I was supposed to be here helping you out.”

He checks out the nearly empty dining area. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to get much more traffic tonight. Why, got a hot date?” His lips twitch like he thinks he’s clever, then his eyes widen. “Are you still seeing Margot?”

Not as much as I’d like. Hell, I’d hover over her like the ghost of needy boyfriends present, all day, every day, if I didn’t think it would drive her nuts. “Yes,” I growl. “Why?”

He holds up his hands and backs up a step. “Just making conversation. She’s a nice woman.”

She’s the perfect woman. Kind, sexy, smart, and deadly. My favorite blend.

Ignoring his comment about my woman, I ask, “You have cookies or anything chocolate back there?” I nod toward the kitchen.

“Uh, these gooey chocolate brownie things Molly insisted we add to the menu. You microwave them. And, if you want to go into diabetic shock, top it off with ice cream.” He shrugs. “They’re good but no one really orders them here.”

“That sounds good. Can I get two of them to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” He taps the bar top and swaggers down the hallway to the kitchen. “Hold tight.”

I pull out my phone again, re-reading Margot’s message. Advil and Sleep. I’d skipped over that first part.

Me: You need me to pick that up for you on my way over?

Look how easy that was to invite myself to spend the night.

Margot: No, it’s okay.

Is that a “no don’t come over?” Or “no, I have enough Advil?”

Fuck it. Unless she outright says don’t come over , I’m going.

Me: I pass right by a drugstore.

Well, I will if Remy hurries the fuck up so I can catch a store before it closes. I check my maps app to see where the closest pharmacy is and how late they’re open.

There’s actually a small, hometown pharmacy not far from Margot’s house. Perfect. Anything to avoid one of the big box stores. Hopefully the hours on their site are up-to-date.

“Here you go.” Remy sets a small brown paper bag with handles in front of me. “I threw in some chocolate chip cookies Lynette made earlier too.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” I pull out my wallet. “How much?”

“Seriously? You’ve been coming by for weeks to play bouncer for free, at least let me give you food.”

I realize Remy has his pride but I’m not really into accepting free stuff from people when I know they’re struggling. “Fair enough.”

I pull out a twenty and drop it in the empty tip jar on my way out.

Behind me Remy sighs. “Thanks, Jiggy.”

“Night!” I call over my shoulder.

Outside, I hurry to my truck and set the bag on the passenger side.

After a quick stop at Clover Hometown Pharmacy, I have two different kinds of Advil, the brownies, and what I hope Margot will think is a cute surprise.

I jog up the stairs of the back porch. I open the screen door, then stop. Shit. She didn’t hear my bike coming.

Me: on back porch.

A few seconds later something buzzes and there’s a click. I twist the knob and push my way inside.

I’m already passing the second floor when her door at the top of the stairs opens.

Behind her, the apartment’s mostly dark. But there’s enough light to make out her halo of blonde hair, mussed after a long day, and the loose blue sweatpants and long, baggy T-shirt she’s wearing.

As I reach the last step, her lips curve in a tired smile.

Dark circles ring her eyes, making her look paler than usual.

“How’s my favorite girl?” I slide my arms around her, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood in her hair. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” She backs up into the apartment, closing the door behind us.

“Brought you some things.” I hand the bags to her and stop to take off my boots.

“For me?” A hint of her usual sparkle returns to her eyes.

“Well, I don’t think Gretel’s going to be into any of it,” I tease.

She carries the bags to the counter and pulls the lava brownies out first. “Oh, these look so good. Are they from Remy’s place?”

“Yup. I guess we have to nuke them, and they get all gooey.”

“Yum.” She pulls the cookies out next and sets them next to the brownies.

“Those were for me.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and swagger over to her. “But I’ll share because you’re so cute.”

She laughs softly. “I don’t feel so cute today.”

I move closer and push the pharmacy bag toward her. “Open this one.”

The bottles of pills rattle as she pulls them out. “Two kinds of Advil?” She lifts an eyebrow in confusion.

“I wasn’t sure if liquid gels or regular ones work best in this situation.” I circle my hand in front of her stomach. “So I got both.”

She studies the blue box of liquid capsules. “I’ve never tried these. Thank you.”

She peers in the bag again and pulls out the flat, wide white box inside. “What’s this? Cuddly Plush Heating Pad ? Why is there a cartoon cat on the box?” She pries the flap of the box open.

“It’s a Gretel-shaped heating pad,” I explain. “You wrap her in damp paper towels and pop it in the microwave.”

“Oh my gosh!” She laughs and pulls out the soft, flat, plushy black cat filled with some kind of seeds that warm when nuked and give it weight. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. How did I not know this existed sooner?”

I’m way too pleased with myself over a simple gift and try to wipe the grin off my face. “I thought it was cute and once I read that it was for cramps and you said…well, I thought it might help.”

“Aw.” She lunges forward, hugging me so fast, the heating pad whacks my cheek. “Oh! Sorry!”

“Heavy little thing.” I rub my cheek. “Soft though.”

“She really is.” Margot rubs her cheek against the flat cat’s belly. “I really love this. Thank you.” She sets flat cat on the counter and loops her arms around my neck.

“You’re welcome.” I brush my lips against hers. “You want me to heat it up for you? It’s supposed to stay warm for half an hour.”

“Actually, yes.” Her expression twists with pain and she reaches for the box of pain meds. “I’m going to take these and lie down if you don’t mind.”

“No.” I take the box from her hand and tear it open, then break the safety seal. “Did you eat something?”

She nods quickly. “I had some yogurt and granola right before you got here.”

“Okay.” I twist the cap off and hand her the bottle.

While she gets ready for bed, I wrap the heating pad and nuke it, praying it actually does what the box promises.

Margot

The band of pain around my forehead tightens, while the heavy ball of misery in my lower abdomen refuses to go away. I’m not sure how I feel about Jigsaw seeing me like this but I’m too tired to ask him to leave.

And for once, it’s kind of nice not being alone when I feel so awful. Instead of acting confused or telling me “it’s just nature, get over it” or something equally infuriating, he brought what I needed and more.

Exhausted, I pull the covers back and climb into bed. Oh, sweet comfy mattress and pillow. I curl up on my side, willing the Advil to hurry up and do its job.

Behind me, there’s a swishing of feet over floor.

“Flat cat is warm and ready,” Jigsaw says in a low voice.

I groan and hold my hand out.

“I got it. Roll over on your back for a second.”

I open my eyes and stare up at him. This tall, brutally beautiful man looming over me, concern etched into his expression, and what’s basically a stuffed animal in his hands. “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to come up with anything better.

I ease onto my back. He holds out the heating pad. “Is that too hot for you?”

I reach up and place the inside of my wrist on the warm, velvety material briefly. “No, it’s fine.”

He lifts my shirt and tugs my sweatpants down a few inches, then carefully spreads the heating pad against my lower abdomen. “Here?” he asks.

Mildly embarrassed, I reach for it. “A little to the right.”

Once it’s where I want it, he rolls my pants into place and lowers my shirt, then covers me with the blanket. The warmth slowly seeps into my body and a fraction of the achiness recedes. “That actually does feel a little better.”

“Good.” He stares down at me for a moment. “Do you want me to lie next to you for a while?”

Emotion wraps around my throat, holding my words hostage for a few beats. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“You got it.” He walks around to the other side of the bed. There’s a rustle of fabric, the ticking of his zipper, and the whomp of heavy denim landing on the floor. The covers lift and the mattress dips. “Not trying to be frisky,” he says as he eases closer and slides one arm underneath me. “Just don’t want to get my dirty clothes all over your sheets.”

A smile curves my lips. “You’re so perfect,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I settle against his body. Cocooned by his warmth, I let out a contented sigh.

He drapes his free arm over me and rubs slow circles over the heating pad and up to my stomach.

“Mmm.”

“Is that good or am I annoying you?” he asks.

“Good.”

“Okay.” He buries his face against my neck and inhales. “Get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s early for bed and you came all this way…”

“Stop. I’m happy right here with you.” He kisses my neck. “You’re even being a good girl and letting me take care of you.”

I shake with quiet laughter. “It’s nice to be taken care of. You’re good at it.”

“Only for you,” he whispers against my ear, his hand still rubbing a soothing pattern. “If I can’t sleep, I brought my laptop. I’ll go out in the living room and do some work. If you need anything, just yell.”

“The Wi-Fi password is on a pink sticky note by my chair.”

“I’ll figure it out. You rest.”

“Okay.”

He’s quiet after that. His hand keeps moving in slow, rhythmic strokes over my stomach. Each pass seems to drag the tension from my body, leaving a weightless calm. His steady breathing grounds me.

Sometime later, he slips his arm out from under me, and I settle into my pillow with a sigh. The bed dips. He presses his palm over the heating pad and tucks the blankets around me.

Eyelids too heavy to open, I mumble my thanks.

My thoughts drift, untethered, slowly pulling me into sleep.

Jigsaw

Satisfied Margot’s asleep, I slide out of bed and out of her room, leaving the door ajar so I can hear her if she needs me. I pad to the laundry room, grabbing the sweats Margot seems to like me in and a T-shirt I left here last time. No need to risk Mr. Cedarwood catching me running downstairs to my truck in just my boxer briefs.

Once I have my bag, I’m back inside in less than a minute. No sudden appearances from her dad. No awkward small talk with her cousin.

Gretel yowls at me the second I step inside.

“Shhh.” I press a finger to my lips as if she understands what that means.

I set my laptop on the counter and grab a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge before settling onto a barstool. The laptop screen glows as I open my email.

Gretel leaps onto the stool next to me, tail twitching, bright eyes focused on me, wide and unblinking.

“What?” I whisper.

More freaky staring.

This cat.

I swivel my stool sideways, and she places one paw on my leg.

“You want to sit in my lap?”

Another paw. Then her little nails claw through my pants as she scrambles into my lap.

“Ow, you little demon.” I curl my arm around her and swivel back to the counter. She sits up, balanced on my leg and stares at the laptop as if she’s about to start typing.

“I don’t remember hiring you to be my assistant,” I mutter, curving my arm around her to tap on the keyboard.

Gretel purrs and rubs her head against my wrist as I check my email.

The first one, sent about an hour ago, grabs my attention.

I’m torn between irritation and confusion.

[email protected]

Request for funding.

The fuck is she sending this to me for?

Since Z got married, he hasn’t had much contact with the MC’s superstar porn girl. Rooster maintains her website—organizing her content, uploading new videos, keeping things running smoothly. Since Rooster never dipped his dick in Stella—the way Z and our old president, Sway, did—their relationship is strictly business. Although Shelby’s not a fan of Stella’s.

All I do is help Rooster with the messy parts of the website—fixing broken links, making sure the videos work, and sometimes troubleshooting login issues for her subscribers—although apparently, I’m not very “professional” in my responses. Whatever .

But the money side? Not my fucking domain.

Sway set up funding for Stella’s projects and was never transparent with the club about the financials. Now that Z’s president, every major expense goes to a vote. If Stella needs cash, she should be going through our treasurer—or Z.

I click the email open. Big mistake.

I almost gag. Both at the amount she’s requesting and what it’s for.

The MC’s porn princess has been pitching wilder and wilder content ideas for her site lately. No doubt in a sad attempt to capture Z’s attention again. Am I going to raise my hand at church and float that theory to my prez? Hell fucking no.

Not my business.

My phone buzzes against the counter.

I scoop it up and laugh when it’s Rooster .

“Hey, motherclucker,” I answer, keeping my voice low.

“You see this email from Stella?” he asks.

“I’m looking at it right now.”

Gretel lets out a loud, “Meeow” and bumps her head against my elbow, purring like a race car.

Rooster snorts on the other end. “I take it you’re at Margot’s?”

“Where else?”

“Well, I just got off the phone with Z.”

I flick my gaze to the clock on the kitchen wall. “Bet he loved you calling in the middle of the night about Stella.”

“Oh, yeah. He was ecstatic ,” Rooster says, dragging out the words. “Pretty sure he’s baking me a fucking cake as we speak.”

I chuckle at the thought of Z doing anything in the kitchen.

“But he never let me give him the details,” Rooster says. “We need you down here tomorrow afternoon for church.”

“I figured.”

“We need to discuss at the table, and we don’t need to involve Upstate,” he says. “Rock’s pretty sick of Stella.”

“It’s not their action, either.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Sorry, I know it’s a longer ride for you.”

“It’s not a problem, brother. I’ll probably stop by the house first to grab some clothes and my bike.”

“All right. Good.” He hesitates. “She didn’t call you, did she?”

“Who? Stella? I don’t think so.” I pull my phone away from my ear and scroll through my calls. “No.”

“Good.” He growls into the phone. “I spent thirty fucking minutes on the phone with her, listening to her lecture me about the ‘merits of her proposal,’” he finishes in a pretty decent imitation of Stella’s snotty voice.

“Z should bake you a cake for listening to that.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

We plan a time to meet at the house, then end the call.

I check the rest of my messages, take care of a few issues, then close my laptop. “Tomorrow’s problem.”

“Murrrp.” Gretel rubs her head against my chest.

I set her on the floor and head into the bedroom. Margot’s still sleeping on her side, her breath steady and even. I strip down to my shorts again and slide into bed, careful not to disturb her.

Margot

“You feel better this morning?” Jigsaw asks as soon as I walk out of the bedroom the next morning.

“I do. Thank you.” I hold the kitty heating pad up. “I think she stayed warm for longer than thirty minutes.”

“Good.” He closes his laptop and shifts off the stool.

My mouth goes dry as he prowls closer in those low-slung black sweatpants and no shirt. I force my gaze up to his face.

A half smirk tilts his lips as if he caught me admiring him.

“Uh, did you sleep?” Was he afraid to sleep in bed with me because I have my period? No. He’d been so kind and gentle last night, not disgusted.

“I did. Guess that means I didn’t wake you.”

“No.” I yawn and stretch.

“Good. I was on the phone with Rooster late. I tried to be quiet.” He shrugs.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just some club stuff.” He gestures toward his laptop. “Which is why I was up early and not in bed with you .”

He pulls me closer, tucking me against his solid body, his palm warm against my lower back. “I need to get on the road early.”

“Oh.” I slide my arms around him to hide my disappointment. Resting my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat.

From my bedroom, my alarm dings. I sigh and pull away. “I have an early consult this morning.”

“Pre-planning or…” He pulls a face.

I let out a dark chuckle. “I wish more people pre-planned. It’d be so much easier on their families. But no, this is an elderly woman. Her niece was her only family, and she said it shouldn’t be too much.”

“That’s good, I guess.” He reaches for his T-shirt draped over the barstool and slips it over his head. “I’m stopping at my place to meet with Rooster and get my bike.”

I glance down at my sloppy sleep clothes. “You want me to walk you out?”

“No. Get ready for your appointment.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, then catches my lips.

I curl my fingers in his T-shirt and hold him. His kiss is slow and deliberate. “You know I hate leaving you, right?” he says against my lips.

I nod quickly.

He lingers for a moment, like he has more to say, then gathers his things and presses one last kiss to my temple.