Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

She was sick and tired of people being unreliable. Such a shame because, at her core, she wanted social connections. Enjoyed interacting with others, playing, having fun, but the pain of desertion and neglect far outweighed the pleasure of other’s company. Never once had someone been willing to put her above themselves. So she’d closed herself off emotionally, and when Rip offered her the job, for the tenth time in three years, she’d jumped at the chance to separate herself physically.

Small town. Peaceful life. Easy to fade into the background and avoid people beyond working hours.

And here she was, four weeks after moving to Tennessee, letting people into her life. Giving them the opportunity to hurt her. No. Not this time. This time she’d keep the walls around her heart and mind. She could have a few drinks, blow off steam, chat with the girls, maybe even find someone to supplement her vibrator when the urge for some human flesh grew too strong.

The image of one particular scowling biker popped up in her mind, but she shoved it away. He was not for her in any way. No matter how he made her lady bits stand up and pant.

Didn’t really matter who she chose. No one would be allowed close enough to actually have an impact on her life or any power over her.

And that’s why she allowed herself to walk into a clubhouse full of bikers.

Oh, and whores. Yikes, the whores.

A lady—woman—wobbled by on what had to be six-inch heels, wearing an outfit she could have purchased in the children’s section. Izzy could rock sexy clothes with the best of them and was firmly a “to each his or her own” believer, but come on, something should be left to the imagination.

“Izzy!” Stephanie screeched, waving from a cluster of women huddled at the bar. At least this group had clothing on. “Get your champion ass over here, girl.” Five sets of eyes landed on her, a million questions in their gazes.

Again, what was she doing here?

Had nothing to do with the sexy, brooding man who made certain neglected parts of her body tingle.

Nothing.

With a deep breath, Izzy wove her way through the throng of bikers to the group. Thankfully, she recognized Shell from the diner as well as Stephanie. “Hey, Izzy,” Shell said. “Nice to see you again.” Her sunny smile matched her curly golden hair.

“Thanks, Shell. Good to see you, too.” Polite, formal.

“Heard you kicked some serious ass tonight,” Shell went on.

“Oh, my God, she so did!” Stephanie said, her eyes growing wide. “Let me introduce you. This is Toni,” Steph said of the brunette on her left. “Toni owns the diner and is Zach’s woman. Zach coached Izzy through her fight tonight, T.”

Toni held her hand out. “Nice to meet you. Zach told me you were amazing tonight. Glad he could help.”

“You own the diner? Guess that means I have you to blame for the tight fit of my jeans?” Izzy relaxed a bit when Toni threw back her head and laughed. So far, the women were awesome.

“I’d say sorry, but I wouldn’t mean it. The more you gals eat, the less I have to work out.” Toni rubbed her hands together and evil-laughed.

A groan left Izzy as she thought about the cinnamon roll waffles she’d finally succumbed to two days ago. “That’s just mean. And so smart. Hey, thanks for loaning your man out tonight. He knows his stuff.”

Shell snorted, and the others snickered.

Izzy looked at their laughing faces. “What’d I miss?”

With a roll of her eyes, Toni said, “Zach’s the club’s enforcer on top of owning the gym. He has a bit of experience in fighting, I guess you could say.”

“Got it.” Enforcer. Interesting. He came across as too…fun to be the enforcer. Somehow, she’d imagined an enforcer would wear a perpetual scowl and glare at everyone like he hated them. Hmm, Jig seemed to fit that bill.

Stephanie linked her arm through Izzy’s and turned to the other women. “This is Jasmine. She just moved here from Arizona. She’s managing Toni’s diner. You met Shell, and this is Mama V. She’s Viper’s ol’ lady,” Steph gestured to a graying woman with long wavy hair.

Izzy held up a hand. “Hey, everyone.”

A colossus of a man behind the bar wandered over their way. “This has to be the woman Mav was talking about. I was told to look out for a hot as fuck chick with a long braid, wicked nice tits, an ass you could bounce a quarter off, and who could kick my ass in under two minutes.”

“Oh, Maverick.” Stephanie dropped her forehead to her palm and shook her blond head back and forth while the others rolled their eyes. This was an intriguing group. In the past, if one of her friends’ boyfriends called her hot or commented on the state of her ass, they’d be jumping across the circle to claw her eyes out. These women seemed confident and secure in the knowledge that their men loved them even if they were surrounded by willing women.