Twist the Knife (Lost Kings MC #24)

Not lately.

Jigsaw

Punishment has never been my kink. Taking Margot’s verbal barbs, though, is kinda fucking hot. She’s pissed. As she should be. But she’s still polite for Dex’s sake. I think if I’d come alone, she would’ve slammed the door in my face.

My greedy gaze sucks her in. She’s so fucking perfect. She’s even wearing some of her cute little pins today.

One looks like a bottle of glass cleaner? That’s odd.

I squint at it, trying to read the tiny print. Fuckboi repellent.

The fuck?

She trots down the stairs ahead of us. I grab Dex to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” Dex asks.

“Did one of those pins on her collar say fuckboy repellent?” I whisper.

His lips twist into a smirk. “Yeah, she must’ve worn it just for you.”

How dare she. I told her from the beginning I didn’t do relationships. What exactly did she think that meant? “I’m not a fuckboy.”

Dex scowls like he can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “You’re the literal definition of a fuckboy.” He shoves me through the doorway.

“Nooo,” I protest, loud enough for Margot to hear me. “A fuckboy is self-absorbed and even though he has lots of sex, he’s bad at it. And, this part’s important, he also fucks with a woman’s emotions.” I start down the stairs but glance over my shoulder to make sure Dex is listening. “I’m sensitive to a woman’s needs, stellar in bed, and always honest about my intentions…to never see them again.”

I jump off the last step, startling Margot who’s waiting for us with an irritated expression wrinkling her pretty face.

She glares at me.

I glare right back.

Fuckboy, huh? I shift my gaze to the pin again. Actually, it reads Fuckboi repellent, which is even worse. It’s offensive to me and the English language.

I resent the fuck out of this little inside joke. And I have no doubt she wore it for my benefit. She’s way too professional to wear that at work for funsies.

Dex groans. “With the amount of brainpower you’ve spent on this, you could’ve ended world hunger, Father Fuckboy.”

“Your dissertation on fuckboys was enlightening.” She taps the pin on her collar and gives us a smug chin lift, like she’s accomplished her mission. “I’m pleased one of my pins sparked such a fascinating discussion.”

I bet you are.

I glance at the other pin. All men are cremated equal. Which is probably her way of saying she’d like to toss me in the retort and roast me alive.

“Come on.” She waves her hand over her shoulder and marches forward. Lights blink on as we walk through the cavernous storage area. Just how big is this fucking house?

“Back here,” she calls out.

We find her standing next to a huge black-and-silver casket.

“Now, that’s a biker’s casket.” I nod at the big, fancy tomb. “If I didn’t want to be cremated and tossed in the ocean, I’d want my carcass to spend eternity in something like this,” I joke.

Margot suddenly looks like she’s going to cry. “Don’t say that.”

I’m sorry.

I really wish Dex wasn’t here.