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“What do you do for fun, Margot?” Jigsaw leers at her.
“Go to bars, pick up strange men, and bring them here for sex.” She gestures toward a pink, satin-lined casket, and lowers her voice to a hushed, secretive level. “The lucky ones get to go home when I’m done with them.”
She winks at him, then turns and leaves the room.
Jigsaw stares and sputters. Heh. Look at that. He’s speechless.
“Can we go now, Captain Creep?” I ask.
I swear, if we’re not on the road in the next five minutes I’m gonna stuff him in a casket.
One corner of his mouth slides up. “Yeah.”
We find Margot and say our goodbyes. She thanks us and offers money which we decline.
Outside, I stop at my bike, tip my head back, and inhale the fresh, crisp air. Thank fuck we’re done with that.
Jigsaw stops next to me and glances back at the house. “I’m not sure if she was kidding or not.”
“Same, brother.”
His mouth turns up in a wolfish grin. “I think she might be the first woman who’s ever scared me before.”
Sensing what he’s going to say next, I close my eyes and bite back a groan of annoyance.
“I kind of like it.”
“Of course you do.” I strap on my helmet. “Can we get going now?”
“Lead the way, brother.”
Our engines roaring to life shatter the silence around the funeral home. Jiggy and I exchange glances. He nods and uses two fingers to indicate I should go first.
I rev the throttle, embracing the warmth of the sun as I navigate the open road back to the land of the living.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dex
Organizing a long trip for the club is a complex job by itself. Coordinating between our two charters, then picking up the Virginia charter and riding down to Tennessee will take extra planning. With so many brothers—and egos—riding together it will take skill and diplomacy.
Thank fuck I’m sharing the responsibility with Jigsaw. Despite my desire to punch him after the visit to Cedarwood’s Funeral Home, I’ve spent a fair amount of time on the road with him. While he loves spouting off weird shit and has no problem letting people think he’s a deviant, underneath his annoying exterior, the brother knows his shit and takes the job seriously.
“Since we’re not swinging all the way out to Ice’s place, we should take the Blue Ridge Parkway for at least part of the ride.” Jigsaw points to the map we have spread out on the war room table. The fucker’s younger than I am but apparently prefers paper maps for the initial planning stage.
Like a sane person living in the twenty-first century, I consult the map on my tablet, orient myself and trail my finger along the road that will lead us into North Carolina. “It will take a bit longer but—”
“It’s scenic,” Jigsaw says, as if he’s worried I want to go another way. “I know we’re headed to a funeral but seems like every time we’re on the road lately, we’re in a rush, trying to stay on schedule.” He taps the map with more force. “We can spend the night outside Asheville, then continue to Deadbranch.”
“I’m with you, brother.” While I don’t relish the idea of being away from Emily longer than I need to be, his route makes sense. “The funeral’s bound to be a shitshow. Some pretty views of the Appalachians should help get everyone’s head right.”
He pinches his chin between his thumb and index finger and studies the map like he’s trying to burn a hole through it with his eyeballs. “Fuck, no kidding.”
“It’ll have more places to stop, too,” I point out. That’s something that isn’t on his paper map. “To come home, we’ll go I-81 all the way.” I flick my gaze toward the closed war room door and lower my voice. “Fuck knows Prez will want to get home as soon as possible if he’s away from his ol’ lady for too long.”
Jiggy snorts then lets out a cackle. “I think that applies to all our castrated brethren.” He presses his fingers to his lips and widens his eyes to cartoon clown size. “Oops. Sorry, bro. Forgot that includes you too, now.”
“Keep that up, you’re going to wake up with someone’s balls resting on your forehead during this trip.”
He pulls his hunting knife out of its sheath against his leg. “That’s why I always sleep with this under my pillow.”
Shaking my head, I return to planning our route. “Hopefully fewer chances of running into law enforcement.”
He gestures to an area on the map close to the North Carolina border. “Need to steer clear of Black Venom territory too.”
“Amen to that,” I mutter. “Fuck those clowns.”
Jigsaw frowns and stares at the map. “Bro, this can’t be an open casket funeral, right?”
“Christ, I hope not.”
“Like, he’s gotta be ripe by now”—he screws his face into a disgusted scowl—“don’t you think?”
