Twist the Knife (Lost Kings MC #24)

Margot

Teller said he’d be here in two hours. Two hours to fret over whether or not I’m going to see Jigsaw.

Just in case he is one of the bikers who shows up, I run upstairs and add another pin to my sweater. To anyone else, they’ll either seem odd or won’t even be noticed.

But Jigsaw will notice and get the message.

The deafening roar of more than one motorcycle riding through the neighborhood twists my stomach in knots. It’s a rare sound in our area. Most likely the Lost Kings are here.

I hurry downstairs, my hand gripping the banister the whole way. The fluttering in my stomach won’t stop. The rumbling engines seem to cease at the front of the house. Good. That must mean it’s not Jigsaw. He always parks in the back.

But when I finally reach the first floor, voices and footsteps over the back porch indicate we have company.

I swing the door open before either of them knocks or rings the bell.

The tall, older biker, Dex I think is his name, has his hand poised to ring the doorbell. His jaw drops for a second, then he smiles.

Jigsaw’s leaner frame peeks out from behind Dex’s bulkier one. His heated gaze travels over me so fast, my skin tingles.

I force the warmest, fakest smile possible and hold the screen door open wider. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming over.”

Dex sweeps his gaze over me, not in a gross way, like most men, just observing. His eyes land on my pins. The corner of his mouth curls up and he snorts.

Our eyes meet and I wink at him. Looks like Jigsaw isn’t the only man who gets my sense of humor.

“Come in.” I wave them over the threshold, although I’d really rather slam the door in Jigsaw’s face.

He stares at the pins and frowns. Ha! Good.

I spin away from them, leading them down the long hallway to our left and the door to our storage and initial prep room downstairs.

Damn, I’m being rude. They did ride a long way to do a pretty basic chore for my family and arrived in under two hours. I shouldn’t let Jigsaw’s behavior get under my skin.

This is what he meant by our involvement leading to trouble, isn’t it?

I face Dex and give him a more sincere smile.

“Thank you so much for coming all the way out here. I know it’s a long ride for you both.”

“Not a problem, darlin’,” Jigsaw drawls in the most obnoxious way possible and slaps his hand on Dex’s shoulder.

Dex flicks an irritated glare at his brother.

“Margot, you remember my brother, Dex, right?”

Two can play the obnoxious game.

“Oh yes. Dex,” I coo, drawing his name out in a way that I hope sounds seductive but probably comes out a bit unhinged. “Of course. I’d never forget such a handsome face with such excellent bone structure.” I reach up and cup his bristly chin. “Just excellent.”

Dex stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

“Yeah.” Jigsaw nudges Dex with his elbow. “My brother’s very vain. He’s had a lot of plastic surgery and Botox.”

Oh my God. Is he really that jealous of some harmless flirting? He’s the one who’s ghosted me.

“I can tell that’s not true. Don’t be jealous.” I reach up and pat his cheek like he’s nothing more than an annoyance. “Your bone structure is lovely too.”

Dex has had enough of our back and forth. “Lovely.” He snorts. “Clearly you haven’t spent a lot of time with him.”