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“I’ll live.” He tilts his head toward me. “Jiggy ain’t looking after me as much as he’s been busy flirting with Margot.”
Z shoots a glare at me, and I hold my hands up in an appeasement gesture. “Hey, Rock wanted me to keep an eye on her. He sent her out here to talk to me specifically.”
Z stares at me. Awww, did I really leave my president speechless?
“Yeah, all right. Guess it’s good to keep her out of our business.” He glances around the parking lot. “Where is she?”
“She went inside. I told her I’d text if something comes up.”
“Smart.” Z jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Fucking taking forever but we’re almost ready for the next contestant.”
I hold up one hand. “Don’t forget, I need a pinky or two for my collection.”
Z does a slow eyeroll, head-tilt thing that’s not as funny as he thinks it is. “Are you fucking serious?”
I cross my arms over my chest, holding his gaze.
Z leans in close and whispers, “You realize if someone ever finds your ‘collection’ it can be used against you as evidence, right?” He lifts his brows to punctuate his words.
“No one’s finding my stash.”
Z turns to Rooster. “Is he fucking serious?”
Ever my protector, Rooster shrugs. “Everyone needs a hobby.”
“Jesus Christ.” Z plows his fingers through his hair. “The bone fragments are still pretty big once the burning’s over. We have to put them through the grinder to turn ’em into ash. Can’t you just take a bone chunk?”
That actually would make things easier than what I normally do, but I’m enjoying fucking with Z. “But how will I know it’s the pinky?”
Z clenches his jaw and snarls—something I’ve rarely seen him do. Maybe it’s time to dial it back a bit.
“Bone chunk will be fine,” I concede before his head explodes.
“Great,” Z claps his hands together, “now that we’ve sorted out souvenirs for the insane, can we move things along?”
Rooster lifts his chin toward the brick building. “Want me to move my truck closer?”
“That’d be preferable.” Z barely controls his sarcasm. Out of respect for Rooster’s injury, no doubt.
“I’ll do it.” I hold out my hand for Rooster’s keys, but he shakes his head.
“Let me do something,” the stubborn fucker insists.
“You got stabbed, brother,” Z points out. “Wasn’t that enough?”
Rooster grunts and shuffles into the truck, holding his side. He lets out a barely audible groan as he hoists his big ass into the cab.
Z turns his stern, presidential glare on me. “In between sifting through bone fragments, will you please keep an eye on him? I’m trying to reach Doc. See if he’ll meet us at Upstate’s clubhouse. No way he’s driving all the way downstate in that condition.”
“You know I will.” I tilt my head toward the house. “Margot offered to help, but you know how stubborn he is.”
Z’s lips curl into a slight sneer. “Or he was concerned since she usually spends her time sucking blood out of bodies, not trying to keep it in.”
A violent urge to defend Margot washes over me, even though I barely know the woman, and technically Z isn’t wrong. He’s also my president and I respect him. So I keep my lips zipped. Even in the weak moonlight, my irritation must show on my face, though.
“Easy.” Z holds out his hands in a “calm yourself” gesture. “She’s a nice woman. I’m just saying, she usually attends to the dead, not the living.”
“I hear you, Prez.”
