Gumby’s lips landed on his in a soft kiss. “I get it, Luke. I. Get. It.”
Screw opened his eyes and what he saw had him swallowing a lump in his throat. Gumby did get it. The reason behind the jokes, the confusion, the unfamiliar emotions. He got it all and that settled Screw more than anything could have. He wasn’t alone. Not in dealing with the CDMC. Not in keeping Jazz safe.
Not in the complex but real relationship they had fallen into.
“Come on,” Gumby said. “Let’s go help our girl.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what they’d do. And afterward? The three of them would cocoon themselves away from the rest of the world for the night as they’d done every night recently.
And he secretly hoped they’d do for many nights to come.
Maybe even…forever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HALF AN HOUR later, Jazz’s house was abuzz with at least seven Hell’s Handlers all voicing loud views on the motivation for Jeremy stashing the guns in her shed and what should be done with them.
Gumby’s head had been throbbing for the past twenty minutes, he could only imagine what Jazz was feeling as her home was invaded by loud-mouthed, opinionated bikers.
She sat on her couch, where she’d parked after getting everyone coffee and answering at least a hundred questions.
Once it appeared he could sneak away, Gumby lowered onto the couch next to Jazz. “How you holding up, Jazzy?”
She tipped to the side until her head rested against his arm, which he then slipped around her, pulling her into his side.
“I feel so stupid and guilty. Like I did something wrong. Something I need to apologize for even though the logical part of my brain knows I didn’t.” As she spoke, she picked at a small fray in the knee of his jeans. “I mean how the hell was I supposed to know Jeremy would prospect with the CDMC? And how would I know he’d use my yard to hide his…contraband.”
His lips quirked. “Contraband?”
“I don’t want to say guns. I’m sick of saying guns. It’s making me sick to think one of those things could be used in a school shooting or something equally horrifying.”
“I know, baby.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You stole my speech though.”
She shifted, gazing up at him. “Your speech.”
“Yup,” he answered with a nod. “I was all prepared to give you the there’s-no-way-you-could-have-known-what-he-was-planning speech, but you gave it to yourself.”
With a huff she resumed toying with his pants. “I’ve given it to myself at least fifty times.”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere. If I were Screw, I’d be on top of it.”
Jazzy chuckled. “There’s one in your statement too. He must be rubbing off on us.”
Their gazes met, then they burst out laughing.
“Thank you,” Jazzy said, snuggling closer. “You knew just what to do to make me feel better.”
Her arm banded across his waist and he gave her a squeeze. The way she fit there, so snug and warm in his arms was just…well it was perfect.
From across the room, Screw caught his eye. The other man paused mid-conversation and sent Gumby a tentative smile. Screw struggled so much to recognize his worth. To accept his ability not only to be just what his club needed, but also what Jazz and Gumby needed.
It was a goddammed shame, and something Gumby vowed to make right. Before he left, he’d make sure Screw knew just how incredible he was.
Before he left…
Suddenly Gumby had a flash of the future. Of sitting there, just as he was with Jazz nestled into his arms. She’d always do that, reach to him for comfort in times of need, but also for celebration in times of joy.
As would Screw. It might take the man some time to get on board, but he was in the vision too. A strong force, making every day sunnier and bright. Making sure they enjoyed their lives to the fullest.
The fantasy was, well, just that. A fantasy. Something to think about and mourn once he was back in Arizona with his own club.
Screw wandered over as his brothers began to file out. Some went to the back yard, while others through the front. “Okay,” he said, running a hand across his mouth. He stood, feet apart, hands braced on his hips. “Mav scouted around outside Jeremy’s house. No cameras there. None in or around your shed. He’s a stupid fuck, but that’s good news for us. Means it may take him a while to figure out we moved his shit.”
“You’re getting rid of them?” Jazz asked, straightening.
Screw nodded. “Yeah, there are risks seeing as how the CDMC will know it was us, but we can’t leave them. If their plan is to frame you or one of us, Jeremy could call the cops to come raid you here at any point in time. Even if you swear up down and back that you didn’t know the weapons were there, the cops will make your life a fucking nightmare until you can prove it.”