Page 150 of Scatter the Bones

Then why are you bustin’ my nuts about it?

He lifts his chin toward Cain. “He says he might be interested in learning to fight.”

Great, just what my brother needs—cauliflower ears and brain damage.

I curl my arm and thump my bicep. “What can I say? It’s in his blood.”

“You still taking fights at The Castle?”

“Not recently.” I shake my head. “Remy hasn’t been hosting any, far as I know.”

And I’ve been too busy wrapped around my little lady death to give a fuck about cage fights.

Has she managed to tame the violence right out of me?

“Griff’s a talented fighter,” Sully says. “Had a once-in-a-million shot with that show. Now every kid who walks in here thinks they’re gonna be the nextSupreme Underground Fighterpick. No clue what a clusterfuck it actually was.”

“Ain’t that true of just about everything?”

“What I meant was, I don’t mind training Cain if he’s interested. But…” He hesitates, then lifts an eyebrow. “He says he’s planning to go to JCCC in the fall?”

“Far as I know, yeah.”

“Good. I told him I’ll work around his schedule.” He glances toward the weight room, lips twitching into something damn near fatherly. “Told him fighting’s fun, but he needs a stable fallback in case he doesn’t hit the big time—or, God forbid, gets hurt.”

This prick just keeps serving me emotional gut punches.

If only Cain and I had a decent father who gave half the shit Sully seems to give about a kid he barely knows.

The buzz of my phone saves me from spiraling too deep. I check the screen. “Ha. Look who it is—our favoriteSUFstar.”

Sully snorts. “Tell him to stop fuckin’ around at the garage and get his ass down here on the treadmill.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He slaps my shoulder—firm and final—then disappears into his office.

I thumb the green button. “Royal, what’s so important you couldn’t put it in a text?”

Griff lets out a shaky breath that’s supposed to pass for a laugh. “Trust me, you don’t want this in writing. Can you and a few of the guys come to Jerry’s garage? There’s an urgent...situation I could use your club’s help with.”

Fuck.

Griff doesn’t rattle easily. And he sure as hell doesn’t ask for help unless he’s out of options.

“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Jigsaw

I turninto the parking lot of Jerry’s Garage, unsure of what we’re walking into. I roll my bike into a spot on the side of the old brick building, not visible from the road. Wrath stops his bike next to me.

We stare at each other for a minute, then shut off our bikes.

“Murphy’s on his way with the van,” Wrath says.

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