Page 167 of Scatter the Bones

“We’ll get your big ass up there,” Rooster promises, way too cheerfully. “One way or another.”

“I’m thinking we might run over to the urgent care clinic in the morning. Have an actual doctor look at it,” Margot says, still focused on my thigh. “Maybe give you antibiotics.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I grumble. “I don’t need to drop my drawers for some doctor.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, bunching up the blue scrub top she’d put on at some point. “You lose your leg, you won’t be riding again any time soon, so you’ll go if I think you need to.”

Rooster huffs and snorts.

Wrath actually cackles.

“Can he put pants on?” Rooster asks. “I brought some loose athletic shorts and a pair of sweats.”

Margot meets my eyes. “The shorts should be okay, if you think you can tolerate them.”

“Yeah.” I stretch toward the counter. “Gimmie.”

Rooster sets the duffle bag on the table next to me. I paw through the stuff—Gatorade, shiny black shorts, sleeveless shirt?—

“You brought me a pair of fuckin’ Crocs?” I hold up the giant, black clown shoe and whap his arm with it.

“Ow.” He laughs and covers the spot I nailed. “I did the best I could on a moment’s notice. Figured you’ll be recovering for a few days.”

Margot fishes the other shoe out of the bag. “We can put some of my pins in the holes to dress them up if you want.” Her lips curve into a wicked smirk.

That gets the guys laughing again.

Fuckers. Every one of them.

Except Margot. Can’t get enough of her. Even if she’s poking fun at me and ordering me to go to the doctor.

“Where’s Rock?” I ask.

“Checking the oven,” Murphy says.

Margot’s eyes widen. “I better go. I need to burn all these clothes.” She gathers my ruined jeans, digging into the pockets. She empties everything onto the counter—wallet, keys, loose change…

And one gold foil square that must’ve escaped my wallet.

Murphy doubles over, howling.

Rooster—asshole—chuckles.

Margot slants a look at me and tucks the condom back in my wallet. “You won’t be needing that for a few days.”

Wrath loses it, snickering like an idiot.

I glance from the gauze taped on my thigh to Margot. “We’ll figure out something.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, scooping up the clothes into the sheet and bundling it into a massive ball.

“I can take that, Margot,” Wrath offers.

She glances at the bundle, then Wrath’s cut. “I’ve got it. I’d rather not risk transferring any DNA onto your leather, since Iknowyou won’t tossthatin the fire.”

“Good point.” Wrath tips his chin in approval.

I tilt my head toward the door. “Go with her,” I say to Rooster.

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