Page 177 of Scatter the Bones

“Trust me, they respect the hell out of you.”

Her lips twist into a wicked smile. “Ah, just what every ol’ lady dreams of—her boyfriend’s outlaw biker brothers impressed by her murder skills.”

“Yeah, kinda.” A flicker of pride burns through me. “Now they know exactly how far you’ll go to protect your man. And the club.”

A couple of hours later,Rooster and I pull into the upstate clubhouse’s parking lot.

On the way up the stairs, he side-eyes my outfit. Again. He’d given me the samedying to crack a jokeface when I’d met him in Cedarwood’s parking lot this morning.

“Shut up,” I grumble.

“I didn’t say anything.” He offers his shoulder like I’m a fragile grandpa who forgot my walker at home, but I make it up on my own.

“Your face says plenty.”

Inside the clubhouse, it’s quiet and clean. A lot fewer wild parties being thrown up here these days. Sparky and Stash are still passed out on the couches—some things never change. Although today it looks like Willow’s sound asleep on top of Sparky—his own human blanket.

I slap Rooster’s arm and point at the trio.

He shrugs and keeps heading for the war room. “Not my business.”

“What in the gangbanger-turned-suburban-dad fuck are you wearing?” Murphy cackles the second I limp into the room.

Short on options that wouldn’t irritate my Franken-leg, I’m wearing the ridiculously loose black sweats Rooster brought the other night, a plain white T-shirt, and the Crocs. Still ugly as sin but surprisingly comfy. Of course, my cut on top. I wouldn’t dare show up for church without it.

Rock shoots Murphy a shut-the-fuck-up look. “You’re fine, Jiggy. Come in. Have a seat.”

I land a solid punch on Murphy’s arm as I pass his chair.

“You all right, bro?” Teller asks.

“I’ll live.” I lower myself into the chair beside him. “Think you’ve had worse. At least no one put a bullet in my ass or splinters in my side.”

“Or ran you off the road,” Teller mutters. “Don’t remind me.”

I lift my head and nod at Dex across the table.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“Eh.” I shrug. “Still stings like a bitch. But Margot says it looks okay. Stitches have held so far.” I try to flatten the smirk forming on my lips. Been testing those stitches by asking Margot to ride my face a couple times a day—which inevitably turns into something else not medically advised.

Wrath holds out his arms as if he wants to silence the chatter. “Glad you’re okay, brother.” He pauses and looks around the table. “But can we all take a moment to appreciate how Margotslitthat guy’s throat without even hesitating?”

Teller’s eyes bug. “I’m sorry, what?” He glances at Murphy. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Nope.”

Rock’s mouth twists into a smirk. “You two are one hell of a match.”

“Agreed.” I swallow hard. This would be the time to mention her favorite…hobby. I won’t get a better opportunity.

But it feels wrong. Private.

Her kills don’t have anything to do with the club.

“She was rattled when she saw me bleeding,” I offer instead.

“Didn’t look rattled to me.” Murphy makes a slicing motion through the air. “She handled business like a boss.”

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