Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

“Mmm. If you’re not careful, I’ll fall asleep like this.” Her tongue felt thick making her sound slurred, drunk.

“That’s what I’m counting on, Jazzy,” he said, running his hand up and down the length of her spine.

He’d started calling her Jazzy like most of the Handlers did, and she loved it. His use of the nickname made her feel he accepted and wanted to be a part of the life she’d made for herself in Tennessee.

The bed dipped, causing her to open her eyes in time to see Screw slip under the covers.

He was staying. Again. At least for a little while.

Screw rolled to his side and scooted close until he was flush against them. Then he threw his arm and leg over top Jazz’s body, effectively locking the three of them in one tight embrace. It was lights out for both men in a matter of seconds,

Jazz, however, took much longer to fall asleep. Her brain ran wild while her body absorbed the feeling of warmth and safety that came from being tucked between two strong men.

For the first time in a long time Jazz felt insulated from the potential horrors of the outside world. With two sets of arms holding her, it seemed as though nothing evil could ever get to her.

Not the Chrome Disciples.

Not Paul.

Not even her own negativity.

But as extraordinary as it felt, she couldn’t allow herself to slide too deeply into that feeling of security.

There’s no way it would last. Gumby would return to Arizona. Screw would return to…screwing around.

And she’d be right back where she started.

Alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“I’M BACK FROM my honeymoon for less than two hours when I get a text about an emergency exec board meeting.” Maverick chuckled and kicked his boots up onto the table.

Screw rolled his eyes. Only reason Mav was able to get away with that shit was because Copper hadn’t left his office yet.

“I hear you’re the fucker who screwed the pooch, pardon the pun.” Mav smirked and interlaced his fingers behind his head.

Screw flipped him off. Smug asshole.

“You know this kept me from fucking my wife after I got off the plane, right?”

Screw was pretty sure Mav spent the entire past seven days buried balls deep in his new wife, and they were supposed to feel sorry the guy had to delay one romp?

He snorted. “Sure she’s sick of your inked dick by now anyway. I’ll swing by on my way outta here. Take care of her for ya.” He shot Mav a snarky wink.

“Ha, as though that cocktail weenie you’re sportin’ could satisfy anybody.”

Mav raised his pierced eyebrow as though to say, “You’re up.”

Never one to be outwitted in the trash-talking arena, Screw snickered as he vaulted to his feet. Before any of the guys had time to realize his intentions, he had his jeans unzipped and shoved down to his knees.

He’d gone commando that day.

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, man. Cover that thing up.” Zach held one hand in front of his eyes and the other straight out to ward off the sight of Screw’s uncovered cock, as did most of the other guys.

“Huh, pretty big dick you got there, Screwball,” LJ said as he also rose to his feet. “Can’t say it’s the biggest in the room though.” He began unbuckling his belt, a conceited fucking grin on his face.

Motherfucker. It was well known throughout the club thanks to one mouthy Honey that LJ’s snake was of the anaconda variety.

“Fuck, LJ, I don’t wanna see that thing,” Jigsaw said as he smacked LJ’s hands, disrupting his task. “Before we know it, you’re gonna be jerking each other off.”

“Nah,” LJ said as he sat back down. “Holly took good care of me this morning. Sorry you had to crash on Jazz’s lonely couch last night, Screw.”

If they only knew.

He laughed as he tucked himself back in his jeans and sat.

Mav leaned back, haughty satisfaction in his gaze. Asshole probably loved the fact he started this shit show.

“All right.” Copper strode into the room, immediately shoving Maverick’s boots off the table. “You know the rules, fucker.”

Screw laughed and Mav flipped him off.

“Welcome back, by the way.” Copper took his spot at the head of the table. “Guessing you enjoyed yourself.”

“Well, let’s see, there was sun, warmth, good fucking food, shit ton of booze, and my sexy as fuck wife who was naked for about ninety-six percent of the week, so yeah, it didn’t suck.” The haughty fucker practically glowed.

“Well, sorry to call you in the second your ass hit American soil.” He shot a scowl Screw’s way. “Couldn’t be helped.”

A smartass comment about hittin’ Mav’s ass tingled the tip of Screw’s tongue, but he scraped it across the back of his teeth instead of letting it fly free. He’d gotten himself in enough hot water. Copper’s disappointment in him felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with each passing minute. Normally, his go-to method for dealing with such emotions was to shit all over them with humor and snark.