Little Jack (Hell's Handlers MC 6)

“Oh, my God, Holly, are you okay?” The portly man who sported the same greasy combover all four times she’d met him took a step toward her.

Holly held a hand up between them. As best she could with the intact side of her face, she gave him a half-smile. Pain shot up her cheek, nearly bringing her to her knees. “Hi, Mr. Tanner. I apologize for the shock. Had an accident in my self-defense class.” With a weak chuckle, she pointed to the mess of her cheek. “Took a hard elbow to the face. Guess I need a few more lessons.”

The attempt at levity fell as flat as Mr. Tanner’s compressed lips. The pity in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying a single second of her pathetic cover story.

“Do you need medical attention?”

Did she? Maybe. All she knew was she hurt. Bad. And wanted nothing more than to crawl between her sheets and sleep the disaster of this night away. Preferably with LJ’s strong body wrapping her in a protective cocoon of strength. But, of course, that was about as likely to happen as a herd of zebras stampeding out of Tanner’s ass.

“No, sir, I’m, really okay. Please don’t give it a second thought.”

He opened his mouth as though to protest, then he shook his head. “All right. If you’re sure. I’d get some ice on that as soon as possible though.”

Ya think? Holly nodded and hummed her agreement. “Thank you, Mr. Tanner. You have a nice evening.”

How long did she have before he was on the phone calling her father? Five minutes? Fewer? Maybe as few as two.

“You try to have a good one, too,” Tanner said with a nod before turning toward the gas station’s convenience store.

Once out of earshot, Holly let out a furious curse. Her legs started to tremble. Time to go before she went into full-on freak out mode.

She scrambled back into the car and peeled out of the gas station as fast as possible. The pain continued to intensify, almost faster than she could tolerate. With a swimming head, she white-knuckled the steering wheel and forced herself to remain focused on the road.

Fifteen core-rattling minutes later, Holly pulled into the apartment complex’s lot. LJ’s bike sat in its usual spot.

Shit.

Seven pm. What the hell was he doing home? Poker night should have lasted until ten at the earliest followed by drinking and general craziness. No way should he be home already.

Her phone chimed. Holly grabbed it from her purse.

Mom: Have a great time, honey. Text us when you’re home.

With a harsh laugh, Holly jammed the phone back in her purse and left the car.

On the very tips of her toes, she climbed the steps to the second floor. Three goals dominated her mind. Ice, ibuprofen, and sleep.

Outside her door, she held her breath while trying to insert the key in the lock with quivering fingers and fucked up vision. If LJ heard her, it’d be game over. She needed the next few hours to fortify herself to face his inevitable fury. And to think of a way to keep him from committing murder.

The click of nails on the vinyl floor came from behind her closed door. Her furry welcome wagon. Since she couldn’t fall asleep in LJ’s arms, cuddling with her other man would have to do.

Biscuit whined.

“Shh, boy,” Holly whispered as she missed again with the key. At the sound of her voice, Biscuit let out a deep woof. Followed by another. And another. “Shit, shit, shit! It’s okay, buddy. I’m coming. Please be quiet.”

Since the universe really seemed to have it in for her tonight, LJ’s door opened, and he appeared. She couldn’t see him since he was on her busted side, and she was staring at the ground.

“Sugar? What the hell are you doing home?”

“Uhh,” Holly said, keeping her head down and quickly pulling her hair over her shoulder. “Not feeling well. Just gonna lie down. Don’t come too close in case I’m contagious.”

“Fuck that,” he said, coming up behind her. His huge hands went to her shoulders, massaging until she wanted to purr despite the excruciating pain in her face. “Your hands are shaking, let me help.”

As he reached around her with his left hand to take the key, he used his right to sweep her hair back over her shoulder.

Holly’s heart stopped.

LJ’s hand went to her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”

She couldn’t stem the flinch as his fingertips grazed her cheek.

“What the…” LJ took a step back. “Holly, turn the fuck around.” If his voice grew any frostier, icicles would dangle from his tongue.

Slowly, as though she was about to face her executioner—even though she had full confidence LJ would never hurt her—Holly turned. Knowing how the sight of her face would upset him gut her.

Once she faced him, she took a breath then lifted her head.