Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

“Yeah,” Thunder whispered with a snort. “Don’t envy you there, brother.” Of all the women, Izzy was the most kick-ass by far and had the hardest time accepting club protection.

Everyone voiced their agreement, and Copper rapped his meaty fist on the table. “Okay. Dismissed. Get the fuck outta here.”

“Wanna grab a drink?” Jig asked, as Thunder stood.

He side-eyed his brother. “You afraid to go home, man?”

With a laugh, Jig stretched his arms overhead. “Nah, man. Izzy and the nugget are hanging with Chloe at the shop. Something about some new ink for Chloe. A surprise for Rocket’s birthday, so don’t fucking blab it.” As he lowered his arms, his shoulder let out a bone-chilling crack. “Shit, getting too fucking old, brother.”

“Seriously, you’re what? Sixty-one? Two?”

“You’re a funny fucker.” Jig took a swipe at him but missed when Thunder jumped back, laughing.

“Appreciate the offer, but I gotta split.”

Of course, that was the moment Screw wandered over. “You heading out to your girl’s place?”

Jig raised an eyebrow. “You got a girl?”

With a roll of his eyes, Thunder said, “No. Just checking on Makenna since she’s alone.”

Jig’s face turned serious, and he nodded, but not fucking Screw. No, that joker said, “Well, aren’t you a selfless little fucker?”

After sitting through a long-ass church while fighting his mind to stay present, Thunder had no patience for this shit. “Yeah, yeah. We done here? I gotta roll.”

With a slap to Thunder’s back, Jig said, “Yeah, brother. Catch ya tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” He turned and started toward the exit at a near jog. Shit, when the hell had he ever been this fucking eager to see a woman?

“Hey!” Screw yelled just as Thunder had one foot out the door. “Make sure you wrap your shit up. She may be your queen, but that don’t mean she’s clean!” His voice lowered. “See what I did there?” he said, probably to his poor lover, Gumby.

Thunder didn’t bother turning back around. He just lifted his hands and gave Screw the double bird. Classic and on point.

Laughter followed him out the door, and his own continued until he reached his bike. Bunch of crazy motherfuckers, but, damn, he loved his brothers.

Forty-five minutes later, armed with three different gallons of ice cream and a crap-ton of sugary toppings, Thunder cruised to a stop in front of Makenna’s place. No, he had no intentions of downing that much dessert between the two of them, but there were a lot of kiddos in this house, and who knew how often Mak was able to splurge on a treat for them? Shelling out a few bucks for extra ice cream wouldn’t put him in the poor house, and it might bring a smile to that cute face of Emmie’s or the other kids to return home to a freezer full of ice cream.

As he dug the dessert out of his saddlebags, a loudly shouted, “No!” rent the night air.

He froze. “What the fuck…” Did that come from Mak’s place?

Another shout followed by what could only be called a tortured moan had him racing toward the front door.

Christ, that was Mak, for sure. What the hell had they been thinking, leaving her alone? Had the CDMC seen through their bullshit story? Did they know Makenna had ties to the Handlers? Were they in there fucking torturing her right now?

The smart thing would be to call this into Screw, but another of those moans had him charging the front door without backup.

Of course, she’d left the goddammed thing unlocked.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he entered the house. He dropped the bags at the door and sprinted down the hallway toward the one room with a strip of light shining at the bottom. Backup wouldn’t be necessary. He’d tear apart whoever was in there, hurting Makenna with his bare hands.

“Makenna!” Without bothering to announce his presence, he rammed into the door, busting through the flimsy lock only to come to a complete stop.

“What the fuck?” His dick hardened before his brain processed what his eyes were seeing.

Splayed out on the bed, in the most erotic picture he’d ever seen, lay Makenna. A totally naked, mid-masturbation, clearly loving it Makenna.

She squeaked and even that had his dick twitching.

He should leave. Hell, at the very least, he should offer to leave, but he couldn’t fucking move. His dick throbbed and probably fucking leaked in his jeans.

Her body was flushed pink with exertion, and a light sheen of perspiration made her silky-smooth skin fucking glow. Her chest heaved, and her tight little nipples pointed out as though reaching for him. Her lower lip was red from where she’d no doubt been biting it, and her eyes had that pleasure-drunk look that meant one thing.

She’d been close.

She was so damn sexy, he could have come from the tight fit of his jeans against his still growing erection.