Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

“Oh, shit,” she said as though talking to herself. “A few weeks ago, I told him about my snake encounter. Oh, I’m so stupid.”

He heard a slap as though she’d palmed her own forehead.

“I told him I’d rather die than go in that shed again. Why did I do that?” she said with a groan.

Gumby hustled over. “Zach will be here in five,” he mouthed holding up five fingers. He stayed close, but didn’t touch Screw at all, as if he needed the nearness but couldn’t allow himself that last final link. At least not in public.

It sucked, but there were more pressing matters at hand. “Jazzy, baby, stop. Why on earth would you have thought twice about telling him? At the time, he was just your helpful neighbor.” A neighbor who wanted in her pants, but it probably wasn’t the time to mention that particular detail. “Sit tight. Gumby and I are leaving as soon as Zach gets here. Five minutes tops. I’ll call Thunder as soon as I hang up.”

“Okay. Careful driving over here. Precious cargo in that truck.”

Despite the thrum of anger and fear pumping through his veins, he smiled. “Will do.” Jazz cared and she’d worked her way into his heart, bringing life to the organ in a way no one else had been able to.

Well, maybe one other. Shit, he couldn’t stop from wanting both Jazz and Gumby even at the worst times.

“Zach just parked,” Gumby announced as Screw hung up.

“Okay, let’s roll,” he said before bringing the phone back to his ear, this time with Thunder’s cell ringing on the other end.

“Hey, Screwball, what’s up?”

“Need you to get in Jazzy’s house ASAP. She found weapons in her shed.”

“Fuck,” Thunder murmured. The sound of his car door slamming alerted Screw to how serious the prospect took this task. He’d make a great brother and sooner rather than later. “The fucking prick next door?”

“It’s gotta be.” He held the door for Gumby, who jogged through then out to the driver’s side of the truck. Screw tossed him the keys and slipped in the passenger seat while Gumby fired up the truck.

They worked well together. In sync almost as if with one mind.

“I haven’t seen him at all the past few days. If he’s coming and going, he’s doing it when Jazzy isn’t home.”

“Yeah.” Fucking asshole.

Another door slammed in the background. “I’m inside with her.”

“Thanks, Thunder. Gumby and I are on our way. Zach probably called Copper so others may show up before us.”

“No worries, man. You and Gumby are all good, I’ll take good care of your girl,” he said in a knowing tone. As though the three of them weren’t fooling anyone. Guess if someone was gonna figure it out, it’d be Thunder. Not only was the guy more open minded than anyone Screw knew when it came to sex—probably from his years-long career as a go-go dancer—he’d been tailing Jazzy more often than not over the past few weeks.

“All right. See you in a few.”

He hung up but didn’t stow his phone, instead, tapped it against his thigh in a nervous rhythm. The idea of Jazz being so close to this, being caught between two warring MCs was the perfect kindling for a raging wildfire.

“Hey.”

Screw startled at Gumby’s voice, not that he’d forgotten the other man was there, but he’d started getting sucked into the quicksand of anxiety. This wasn’t him. This stressed out, angry, fucking emo…mess. He was the guy who laughed shit off, cracked others up, and walked through life with a who-gives-a-fuck attitude.

And now? Now he was wishing more than anything that the man next to him would what…comfort him as he worried over the woman who had come to mean just as much to him as this man?

Enough of all this. Time to straighten out his shit and get back to who he was before he lost himself.

“Screw? You coming?”

He blinked. Shit, when had they pulled into Jazz’s driveway? Another example of how he was unraveling. He turned to see Gumby still in the driver’s seat, door open. His concerned gaze fell on Screw.

“Coming?” Screw grunted. “Fuck, not yet, but if you wanna suck me off before we go in there, I’m down. Or…we could up our game. Ask Thunder to join us.” He winked. “There’s not much that guy hasn’t seen and done.” God, the thought of Thunder so much as touching either Jazz or Gumby had Screw wanting to crawl out of his own skin.

Gumby didn’t react. Not a laugh, not a disgusted eye roll, which was the reaction Screw deserved. Nope, he just reached out and interlaced their fingers. The simple gesture was exactly what he’d been both hoping for and dreading like he dreaded fucking gonorrhea.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m an assh—”