Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Gee, it’s almost like I do this for a living or something.
“I meant it.” I gesture toward the house. “Obviously, I see people moving through grief all the time. It’s complicated. Especially if they had unresolved issues—which many parents and children do.”
“Yeah, he tried healing those wounds a little too late. Moved across the country to be near her but I’m not sure that went so well.” He lets out another heavy sigh. “He was a good brother. Loyal as they come. To the club, anyway. I want to give him the best send-off possible.”
“Absolutely.” I rest my hand on his forearm. “Relationships are complicated.” I nod toward the house. “We’ve seen it all. We don’t judge. Bringing Mr. Hall’s loved ones peace and comfort during this difficult time is our only concern.”
“Thank you, darlin’.” He lifts his chin toward the house. “Your dad’s handled funerals for us before. I trust you.”
“Well, we appreciate that.”
“What she said about a shoot-out ain’t gonna happen.” He lifts his chin toward the road. “I just want to put your mind at ease.”
“I wasn’t worried.” That seems like the safest thing to say.
“Lost Kings MC is the other club around here,” he says. “We won’t have a problem with them, though. I’ve already spoken to their enforcer.” He grinds his teeth as if he’s debating whether to speak his next words. “But Whisper had some other…business associates who might attend. I’ll make sure there’re no issues. Wrath already said he’d assist.”
Guilt prickles over my skin.
I’m not obligated to disclose my relationship with Jigsaw’s club, am I? Is it dishonest to stand here and act like I don’t know who he’s talking about? This feels like a hypothetical that would’ve been on one of the exams in my Funeral Service Ethics class.
Why is he even sharing all of this with me now? Is he worried my father would tell him to take his business elsewhere? If only Ulfric knew. We’ve had family showdowns that make a biker brawl look quaint.
“We can coordinate with whomever you’d like.” There. That’s a perfectly neutral answer.
The deep rumble of an engine rolls through the streets of the usually quiet neighborhood. I cock my head. Is that Jigsaw’s bike?
A faint smile lifts the corners of Ulfric’s mouth, as if the throaty engine is music to his ears.
The sound grows louder, until the sidewalk under my feet trembles.
Jigsaw lifts his chin as he approaches the house. Instead of riding around back to park in the lot, he pulls up right at the curb.
“Speak of the devil,” Ulfric murmurs, his gaze locked on Jigsaw as he swings his leg over his bike. “A Lost King right here in Pine Hollow.”
His tone holds curiosity, not hostility, but guilt still ties my stomach in knots. I should’ve told him sooner.
“Yes, uh…” All my professionalism seems to be leaking out through my shoes.
Jigsaw strides over the sidewalk, his gaze locked on my face, although I don’t doubt he took a good look at who’s standing next to me.
Without hesitation, he slips an arm around my waist and leans in, pressing a warm, deliberate kiss against my cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”
No need to disclose anything to Ulfric, now.
I flash a brittle smile. “Hi.”
Jigsaw turns to Ulfric and extends his hand.
“Ulfric,” he greets smoothly, his grip firm. The kind of handshake that carries the weight of respect. “Long time.”
Ulfric studies him for a second before clasping his hand. “Jigsaw, right?” His gaze flicks to me.
Is that disappointment on his face?
Annoyance?
My entire body clenches with anxious embarrassment.
“Well, no offense to Ms. Cedarwood,” Ulfric says, his voice rough as weathered stone. “But visiting a funeral home isn’t usually under good circumstances.”
“Sorry to hear about Whisper, brother.” Jigsaw’s smooth tone carries the weight of understanding and respect. “Everyone I know always had a lot of regard for him.”
Ulfric’s shoulders and posture relax a fraction. “Thank you. The Cedarwoods have all the details. I hope you’ll be at the service.”
That sounds more like a command than an invitation.
“You know it,” Jigsaw says. “Wrath wanted me to tell you not to hesitate to reach out if you need anything. We built a new clubhouse down in Empire. Next to Crystal Ball. If you’ve got brothers coming in from out of state who need a place. We have some extra rooms there.”
Ulfric stares at him for a few seconds, then nods. “That’s generous. Appreciate the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”
I can already picture it. A gathering of bikers drinking whiskey and telling stories about Whisper in the middle of a strip club, half-naked dancers weaving between them while they mourn.
Barely containing my eye roll, I fold my arms over my chest as Ulfric swings a leg over his bike and starts the engine.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I step back, slipping free of Jigsaw’s hold.