Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

“Thanks, Cop. I’m good.” Jig slid from the truck and fell in step with his prez, the two hurrying toward the ER entrance in silence.

Silence until Copper said. “You got something going with her?”

“Not fuckin’ her, Cop. Helping her train, end of story.”

“Hmm.” He stroked his beard. “I like her. She’s no drama, no BS, does fantastic fucking ink—”

“She worked on you?” She inked Copper? That was new to him.

“Uh huh.”

The twist in his gut had to be nerves over her wellbeing. There was no other reason. Especially not jealousy over her performing a professional service on a man who had no interest in her because he was secretly not-so-secretly in love with someone else. “What’d you have done?”

“Ain’t your fucking business.” Copper shot him a dark look. “As I was saying, she’s tough, definitely not a piece of fluff to hang off a man’s arm. Not a woman to hang around the club and take it from any brother. Good stock.”

Jig half-coughed, half-laughed as he tried to imagine Izzy as one of the Honeys. “Good stock? You running a breeding program now?”

“Just trying to tell you if you ever get your head out of your ass and decide to let a woman at more than your cock, she’d be a good one.”

Jig’s jaw tightened with the force of his bite. “All due respect, Prez,” Jig said as Copper snorted because they both knew “all due respect” was code for “fuck off.” “Don’t think you’re the best one to be playing doc-fucking-Phil, do you?”

Copper’s features hardened as they reached the sliding double door entrance, and the conversation was dropped. Prez could go fuck himself if he thought he had relationship advice to give. With the way things were going in his life, his dick was going to shrivel up and die before it ever got sucked again. He hadn’t touched a woman since Shell returned to town almost a year ago.

“This way,” Copper said, turning left down a busy hallway. Doctors, nurses, and aides bustled around, weaving in and around the visitors and dragging equipment along. It wasn’t long before Copper stopped outside a curtained-off area. “I’ll give you a few. Gotta talk to her about the attack, though.”

Jig nodded as he gripped the curtain. “Sure. Whenever you want.”

With a smirk, Copper moseyed on down the hallway. Jig knew what that smirk was. It was an “I told you so” smirk. Jig hadn’t even stepped in the room yet, and he was acting as gatekeeper. Screw that, he’d do the same for any women hurt because of their association with the club. Hell, he carried Mav’s woman out of a basement of horrors just a few months ago. Just because he wasn’t the friendliest and didn’t want to hang out with them all day long didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his life for any one of his brothers or their women.

With a grunt, he pulled the curtain back and stepped into the small triage room. Her eyes closed, Izzy was reclining with the head of the bed elevated slightly. Next to her, Zach was sprawled out in a high-back chair with his giant feet propped on her bed.

“You raised in a barn, asshole?” Jig asked as he shoved Zach’s feet to the floor. His brother jumped then grinned.

“Told you,” he said to Izzy. “Teasing.” Patting her on the shoulder, he rose. “Gonna grab a cup of coffee and give Toni a call. I had to tell the prospect to sit on her so she wouldn’t come here. Need to make sure the poor schmuck’s still got both balls.”

“Zach,” Izzy said in an exasperated tone as though she’d been saying the same thing a hundred times. “Go home to her. I’ll get a ride or call an Uber.” Something was wrong with her voice. It was raspy, gravelly, and she scrunched up her nose as if talking hurt.

“I’ll take her home.” Jig stood at the foot of her bed and crossed his arms over his chest. An Uber? That wasn’t happening. “Go be with Toni, Z.”

“You sure?” Zach asked, looking between Jig and Izzy.

“Yes! Go!” they both answered at the same time. Izzy chuckled, and Jig cleared his throat to disguise his own amusement.

Once Zach was gone and the privacy curtain was back in place, Jig studied Izzy. Her neck was dotted with at least eight purple circles. Someone had squeezed her so hard they damaged her voice. His fists curled and his body tensed. Give him five minutes alone with the men who dared to touch her. He’d snap their fucking necks with a giant smile on his face.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Izzy winced. “Or sounds.” Some hair had slipped loose from her always-perfect braid, giving her a mussed, almost post-fucked look. Perfect time for his dick to join the party, when a woman was bruised and in pain.