Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Gumby’s eyes fell to the plump, round ass guiding him. Screw had mentioned bottoming in passing at one point. Fuck how he’d like to get up in there. And, Christ, he wanted Jazz to be present and an active participant. Maybe getting fucked by Screw while Screw was getting fucked by Gumby.

Yeah, he was pretty sure there wasn’t anything he wanted more.

“Lemme introduce you boys to my enforcer. He’s one righteous motherfucker. His name’s Crank.”

Except maybe surviving this party.

Jackpot. Bring on the motherfucker.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WHY HADN’T SHE canceled girl’s night?

After the doorbell chimed for the second time, Jazz put down the bottle of wine she’d been about to break into and trudged toward the offending sound. It’d been foolish to think her friend wouldn’t press that round button until the damn thing shorted out.

Ding-dong.

“Keep your apron on,” she muttered as she reached the door.

Before she even had the door all the way open, a squealing Holly jumped into her arms.

“Hi, Jazzy!” Holly said as she squeezed the life out of Jazz. The high-pitched greeting had her wincing as the words scraped across her overworked brain.

Why didn’t I cancel girl’s night?

“Babe, girl’s night is gonna suck if you have to drive Jazz to the hospital to have her ribs X-rayed.” LJ stood in the doorway, a giant Tupperware in his hand, filling the whole damn space with his enormous form. Since he was such a sweet guy and amazing boyfriend to her best friend, Jazz sometimes forgot he could pulverize her, and most people, with one swipe of his pinkie.

“Oh, please,” Holly said with a wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. “Jazz knows I’d never smush her. I love her too much.” She drew back and studied Jazz for a moment with shrewd eyes.

No doubt she noticed the bags under Jazz’s eyes that two pounds of concealer did little to cover. A bottle of chemicals only went so far in disguising a night of shitty sleep followed by a day of extreme obsessing.

“I thought I needed to let loose tonight, but you look like you need it even more. Hmm.” Without losing the bubbly smile, Holly spun to her man, grabbed his cheeks, planted a wet one on him, then whirled back to Jazz. “Get going, babe. Girl’s night has officially started. Oh!” She turned again—Jazz was getting dizzy at this point—and grabbed the Tupperware with an air kiss. “Thanks!”

The snort LJ let out had both women snickering. “Love you too, sugar.” After a quick slap to Holly’s ass, he strode out of the house, chuckling.

“Reese’s peanut butter cup brownies,” Holly said, lifting the tub of sugary goodness. Her laughter faded once they were alone. “Something’s up with you.” She pointed an unpolished finger and narrowed her eyes.

Ugh, Jazz wasn’t even close to prepared to divulge her inner turmoil right then. But she couldn’t lie to her friend either. “I’ve just got some personal stuff going on.” That sounded bitchy. She might as well have told Holly to mind her own damn business. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Holly held up a hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jazz shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Okay, then. You know I’m here whenever you are ready, so we won’t harp on it.” Holly linked her arm through Jazz’s and tugged her toward her own kitchen. “Instead we’ll get drunk and gorge on these sugar-free, fat-free, five calorie brownies.”

And that’s why she hadn’t canceled girl’s night. Not for the booze, though it was a definite bonus, but for the sisterhood. Her girlfriends rocked and could pull her out of her head like no other.

“Thanks, Hol.”

Holly squeezed her arm. “So, what are we drinking tonight?” she asked as they reached the small kitchen.

The two bathrooms in her little rental house had probably been updated within the last five to ten years, but the kitchen, the kitchen hadn’t seen so much as a coat of paint since the late eighties.

“Toni is bringing the booze. Something about Cosmopolitans and a Real Housewives marathon. But I have wine if we want to get a head start.”

“I’m game. What’s your house guest up to tonight?” Holly asked with a wag of her eyebrows. She set the brownies on the counter before pulling the lid off. The moment those babies were exposed to air, the intoxicating scent of chocolate and peanut butter wafted directly to Jazz’s nose.

“Dayyyum those smell good. And, uh, I think he was gonna hang out with Screw,” Jazz said as she got to work, opening a chilled bottle of Chardonnay. Thankfully, watching the corkscrew disappear into the cork gave her something to focus on besides any curiosity on Holly’s face.

Too bad her friend wasn’t unobservant.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down there, sister. My liver can wait a minute.” She pulled Jazz away from the counter. “Let me get this straight. The guy who’s spent the last eight months trying to get in your pants is hanging out with the guy who showed up from your past and who also happens to want to get in your pants. Those same two that caused you to blow your top at the party the other day? Is that what you’re telling me?”