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)
She glares at me.
I give her a smug smile in return. “It’s okay. You don’t have to agree with me. We both know I’m right.”
“Ugh.” She clenches her fists like she’s physically restraining herself from smacking me, then stomps up the front stairs.
Laughing, I follow behind her. My smugness dies a quick death when we cross the threshold and run into Mr. Cedarwood.
Margot stops, absolutely rigid. I just avoid slamming into her back.
“Jensen.” His usually somber face actually flexes into a smile. “I was hoping that was your bike I heard.”
You were?
I straighten my shoulders. “It was me,” I answer like a doofus.
Mr. Cedarwood nods, his assessing gaze lingering on me for a beat too long, like he’s working something out in his head. “Did you run into Ulfric outside?”
“Our clubs are friendly. Have been for years.” I pause, then choose my next words carefully. “Wrath asked me to check in, see if he needs anything.”
His gaze stays fixed on me. “Well, Mr. Hall had a long list of items. It’s going to keep Margot busy for several days.”
Margot’s placid expression shifts to outrage.
Wait, is this his polite way of telling me to get lost?
His gaze flickers to Margot then back to me. “One request was a bit unusual. I was hoping you could assist Margot with it? We have another case that’s…stalled and—”
“Yeah, of course,” I answer, relieved there’s something I can do to help Margot.
“Wonderful.” His gaze shifts to Margot. “I’m sure you know which item I’m talking about.”
“Well, I assume it’s not the floral arrangements.”
What am I getting myself into? Did Whisper request a gaggle of strippers to gyrate over his grave or something?
“You can use my office. I need to run out for a bit,” Cedarwood says. He reaches out and pats my shoulder. “Thank you, Jensen.”
“No problem, sir.”
Margot sighs as she watches her dad stride down the hall to the back door. “Come on.”
Once the door closes behind Mr. Cedarwood, I slide my arm around Margot’s waist and let my hand stray to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.”
She slants an exasperated but affectionate look my way. “Have you ever seen a Harley Funeral Chopper?”
“Now we’re talking.” I clap my hands and rub them together. “I’ll make some calls.”
Margot
I settle into my father’s chair behind his desk and go through my list of vendors.
Jigsaw’s on the couch, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, phone pressed to his ear.
The contrast between his rough-cut biker energy and my father’s neat, methodical workspace shouldn’t work. But he somehow fits right in. I thought he’d be annoyed at my father imposing on him. Instead, he’s eager to get started.
“What’s up, Steer?” he speaks into his phone. “Yeah, of course we miss you.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling.
I open my laptop and log into one of our vendor accounts. I might as well start with the smaller items that aren’t as time sensitive until we figure out the vehicle situation.
I glance over at him as he laughs into the phone, the deep, warm sound curling through the room.
“No, brother, I don’t need it for myself,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. “You’ve seen them before, though, right?”
I bite back a smile.
His hand lazily drags over his jaw as he listens, his gaze landing on me every so often. He raises an eyebrow or smiles at me every time our eyes meet.
It’s distracting. But I like it.
He ends the call and scratches out some notes on a pad of paper.
“Find anything?” I ask.
“Sort of. Our charter in Tennessee can get one easily but that’s going to be a pain in the ass and probably really expensive to ship here. But one of the guys down there knows of a place in Vermont, so I’m going to try them next.”
“Great. Vermont will be a lot easier.” I stand and walk around to his side. “Thank you. This is a big help.”
“You got it.” He curls one arm around my legs and drags me closer, until I topple into his lap. “Only payment I need is a kiss from you.”
I press my lips against his bristly cheek. “I’ll give a lot more than that later,” I whisper in his ear.
“I’ll happily accept.” He turns, catching my lips.
The chime of the front doorbell echoes through the house.
Frowning, I slide out of his lap. “You think Ulfric came back?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Got me. You don’t have any other appointments today?”
I check the small black-and-white video monitor with a wide view of the front porch. Two men in suits peer up at the camera, then glance at the door.
It’s not the same men who questioned me about Laurel. But they definitely look like cops.
My stomach plummets to the floor.
“Margot, what’s wrong?” Jigsaw’s concerned voice pulls me away from the screen.