Chapter Nine
Bone
My phone buzzed against the table.
I glanced down from the paperwork spread in front of me. It was Ma.
Come eat.
That was it. No hello. No question about whether I was busy. No mention of what she’d made. Just an order.
I looked at the time and saw it was almost seven.
Shit. I’d been sitting in the office for close to three hours.
The cigarette burning between my fingers had gone down almost to the filter, and the cup of coffee beside me had probably been cold for at least two of those hours.
I picked up my phone and typed back, Busy.
The three little dots appeared immediately. Of course they did. Too busy to eat?
I took the last drag off my cigarette and crushed it into the ashtray. No.
Her reply was again instant. Good. Come eat.
I stared at the screen. Then another message came through. Pot roast.
Well, fuck. She knew exactly what she was doing.
I shoved the paperwork away and stood.
We still didn’t know who the dead guy was. Didn’t know who had sent him. Didn’t know how the coffin had ended up at the Milwaukee transfer dock. And after spending the last two days digging into every fucking angle we could think of, we weren’t much closer to knowing any of it.
The casket itself had given us something, but not enough.
Bull had tracked the serial number. It had been one of ours, built almost eight months ago and shipped to a funeral home outside Madison. Everything about that order checked out.
Except the funeral home didn’t have it anymore.
They’d sold it to another funeral home after a family changed their mind on the finish.
That place had supposedly sent it somewhere else.
We were still working our way down the fucking chain.
I hated loose ends. Right now, I had enough of them to tie a goddamn net.
“Where you going?” Myth asked when I walked out of the office.
“Ma’s.”
He looked at the clock behind the bar. “Everything okay?”
“She made pot roast.”
Myth nodded. “Understandable.”
I grabbed my keys. “Call me if anything comes up.”
“You’ll be two miles away.”
“Still call.”
“I know how phones work, Bone.”
I flipped him off and headed outside. The sun was getting lower, but there was plenty of daylight left. I climbed onto my bike and started it.
Two minutes later, I was heading up the road. I’d been thinking about riding again anyway.
Yesterday hadn’t exactly done what I’d wanted it to.
I’d left the clubhouse to clear my head; instead, I’d found Hazel.
Or she’d found me. No. I’d definitely fucking found her.
I’d been the idiot who’d turned around.
I pulled into Ma’s driveway and killed the engine. The smell hit me before I even reached the front door.
Pot roast.
I opened the door. “Ma?”
“In here.”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. “Smells good.”
“It better. It’s been cooking all day.”
I walked toward the kitchen. “I would’ve come sooner if you’d led with pot roast.”
“I shouldn’t have to bribe my own son into eating dinner with me.”
“You weren’t bribing me.”
“No?”
“No. You were manipulating me.”
“Whatever works.”
I stepped into the kitchen and stopped.
Hazel was sitting at the table with a glass of wine in one hand and a smile on her face.
Of fucking course she was there.
She looked different than she had the other times I’d seen her. Her hair was down tonight.
Dark waves fell over her shoulders, and she had on a blue shirt that dipped low enough in the front that my eyes went there before I could stop them.
Hazel’s smile grew. “Oh, look.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“The parking lot stalker.”
I pulled out the chair across from Hazel and sat.
Hazel took another sip of wine, and I watched her.
She lowered the glass. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring,” she pointed out.
“I’m sitting across from you. Hard not to look at you,” I defended myself.
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“Could move if it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t.”
There it was again.
That fucking spark.
Small, but definitely there.
My cock apparently noticed it too. Great. Exactly what I needed.
I looked away.
“Bone, get the rolls,” Ma ordered.
“Where?”
“Counter.”
I stood. “You invited me here to eat, not help.”
“Same thing,” she sassed and threw a wink at Hazel. Hazel leaned toward Ma. “He’s difficult.”
“Always has been,” Mom whispered loudly.
“I’m standing right here.”
“We know,” they said at the same time.
I stared at both of them. “This was a mistake.”
“What was?” Hazel asked.
“You two getting together.” I grabbed the basket of rolls. “This is what happens when you make friends with strangers.”
Hazel pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m not a stranger anymore.”
“Barely,” I muttered. I put the rolls on the table.
“Sit down,” Ma ordered.
I sat.
She brought the roast over and put it in the middle of the table before taking the chair at the end.
For the next few minutes, the only thing that mattered was food.
Ma’s pot roast had been one of my favorites since I was a kid. Beef, carrots, potatoes, onions, gravy thick enough to drown everything in.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first bite hit my mouth.
Hazel made a noise from across the table. A soft little moan.
My fork stopped halfway to my plate. Fuck me.
She closed her eyes. “Pink.”
“What?”
“This is amazing.”
Ma beamed. “I told you.”
Hazel opened her eyes and caught me looking at her.
Her eyebrows lifted and I put the fork in my mouth.
Nothing to see here.
She smiled.
I chewed.
This dinner was going to be a fucking problem.
“So,” Ma said, “Hazel got a job.”
I looked at Hazel.
She immediately groaned. “Pink.”
“What?”
“You couldn’t wait?”
“I’m proud. Some people these days don’t want to work, and you managed to get a job barely a week after you got here.”
“Where?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.
Hazel looked at me. “Bing’s.”
“You took it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware I needed your approval.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You said it like you did.”
“I asked a question.”
“With a tone.”
“What tone?”
“That one.”
I looked at Ma. “Does she always do this?”
Ma shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “I’ve known her a week.”
“Yes,” Hazel answered for her.
Ma nodded. “Yes.”
I shook my head and went back to my food. “When do you start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Serving?”
“Mostly. Bartending if they need me.”
I nodded. “CL hire you?”
“You know CL?”
“I know everybody at Bing’s.”
“That’s not concerning at all,” she muttered.
“I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“So you’re not secretly stalking everyone?”
“Not yet.”
Hazel smiled. “Good. I like feeling special.”
Ma snorted.
I pointed my fork at her. “Stay out of this.”
“I’m eating.”
“You’re listening.”
“I’m sitting three feet away. How could I not listen?”
Hazel laughed.
I stared at her and she stared right back.
Ma took a bite of potato. “You two are exhausting.”
“We’re not doing anything,” Hazel said.
“Uh-huh.”
I hid my grin behind my glass.
Maybe dinner wasn’t so bad.
“Pink said you make caskets,” Hazel said.
My eyes moved to Ma.
She shrugged. “It’s not a secret.”
It wasn’t. Grave Casket Co. was completely legitimate. Part of it, anyway. “What about them?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just didn’t expect that.”
“What’d you expect?”
Hazel tilted her head. “I don’t know. Motorcycle repair shop?”
“Taco would bankrupt us.”
She laughed. “Bar?”
“Too much work.”
“Strip club?”
Ma slapped a hand against the table. “Hazel!”
“What?” Hazel laughed. “It’s a motorcycle club.”
“We do not own a strip club.”
“Good to know.”
“Why?” I asked. Her eyes moved back to mine. “Looking for another job?”
Hazel almost spit out her wine.
Ma gasped, then started laughing.
Hazel set her glass down. “Wow.”
“You opened that door.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You asked.”
“I said strip club.”
“And I asked if you wanted a job.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you picturing me working at a strip club, Bone?”
Fuck.
That question landed directly where she intended it to. I leaned back and our eyes locked. “Didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“Do you want me to?”
Hazel’s lips parted.
Ma slammed her fork onto her plate. “Is this not the best pot roast you have ever had?”
Hazel dissolved into laughter. I laughed too.
Ma looked between us. “I think we should talk about the pot roast. That seems safer.”
“You raised me,” I reminded her.
“I did better than this.”
“Debatable.”
Hazel wiped beneath her eyes.
“Sorry, Pink.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.” She took a breath. “I’m really not.”
I liked her laugh. I’d already figured that out. I liked her mouth too. Also already knew that. The problem was I was starting to like the shit that came out of it.
“So how’d you end up making caskets?” Hazel asked.
“Family business.”
Hazel raised her eyebrow. “Your family?”
“Club family.”
She nodded. “How long?”
“Grave Prowlers started doing it before I was born.”
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Virginia chapter started the business back in the eighties. The club expanded later. Wisconsin eventually started making our own. I became Prez a few years back,” I said proudly.
“And people actually order custom coffins?” she asked.
“More than you’d think.”
“What makes one custom?”
“Anything somebody wants. Wood. Finish. Interior. Carving. Handles. We’ve done logos, military insignias, family crests.”
“That’s kind of cool.”
“Yeah.”
“Morbid,” she muttered, “but cool.”
“Also yeah,” I chuckled.
“Do you make them?”
“I just said we did, babe.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean you, personally making the caskets.”
“Yeah.”
That seemed to surprise her. “You actually build caskets?”
“I know how.”
“Why does that surprise you?” Ma asked.
Hazel glanced at her. “I don’t know.”
I rested my forearms on the table. “What’d you think I did all day?”
Her eyes moved over me. Slowly. Definitely intentionally this time. “Should I answer that with your mother sitting here?”
Ma choked on her water.
I stared at Hazel and she smiled sweetly.
Fuck, I liked her. That realization came fast enough that I immediately pushed it away.
Attracted. I was attracted to her.
Different thing. Very fucking different.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Me?”
“Why Wisconsin?”
Hazel’s expression changed. “The house.”
“I know that.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“You could’ve sold it.”