Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

After swallowing the liquid fuel, Izzy said. “Fair enough. I just, I guess I’m wondering why you’re doing this. For Copper, I mean.”

Toni’s eyes widened, and she busied herself straightening a stack of napkins while Jazz pretended to find something fascinating in her coffee mug.

“Ah.” Shell heaved a heavy sigh. “Our past is complicated.” Her small laugh was humorless. “More complicated than even Copper knows. But he’s important to me. Has been for most of my life. And the club is my family. They’re in my blood. So, I may be a fool, but I’m a fool with my eyes open. I won’t let myself get hurt.”

Toni reached out and squeezed Shell’s hand. If Shell thought that explanation would make sense to Izzy, she was dead wrong. Never having a family she could count on, Izzy had no idea what that kind of blind loyalty felt like. Envy, ugly and dark, twisted deep in her soul, but she shoved it away. Part of her wanted to warn Shell how foolish her thinking was. How she was most certainly setting herself up to be hurt, disappointed, crushed. But she didn’t do it. Shell’s faith in her family kept her moving forward despite difficult circumstances. Who was Izzy to steal that away from her?

She’d learn in time that people couldn’t be depended upon.

After Shell returned with their plates, the four women got down to business, planning an epic blowout for Copper. Jig and his brothers stayed for a while, never interrupting their girl time. As he was leaving, his gaze met Izzy’s again, and she nearly combusted from the heat wafting her way. He didn’t come over to speak with her, only turned her to dust with the lusty stare.

Shit, she was in trouble. It was only a matter of time before she was alone with him again and she feared there wasn’t a firehose with enough pressure to douse the flame he ignited in her.

At some point, she was bound to make a monstrous mistake.

The only comfort was that it would be one helluva pleasurable mistake.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JIG EXITED HIS office and turned straight into Copper’s. The door was open, so he rapped on the frame. “Hey, boss.”

“What’s up, Jig?” Copper snubbed out his cigarette and folded his forearms on the desk. “Come on in.”

“Just need you for a minute,” Jig said as he entered the room, holding out a thick envelope full of cash. “Another ten thousand, straight off one of Lefty’s guys. These idiots need a better system. No one should be walking around with this much coin.”

Stretching his long arms over his head, Copper said, “Don’t question it. It’s easy money for us. They get any intel off the guy?”

“Nope, kid was fifteen. Fucking wet himself and practically threw the money at Screw. He blabbed every single thing he knew, which was jack.” Screw was spending quite a bit of time with Zach. As enforcer, Zach needed guys he could trust as backup and extra muscle. Screw was motivated, a tad bloodthirsty, and a fast learner. Perfect for the role.

Copper chuckled then shook his head. “Fifteen fucking years old. Christ.” He held out his hand for the money, and Jig tossed him the envelope. “It’ll be in the safe.”

“Got it.”

“Shut that door behind you. I’m expecting a call from Rusty.” Rusty, Copper’s brother, was in a federal prison out west. He’d been there for the past four and a half years. Aggravated assault. Guy was beaten so badly he’d be spending the rest of his life breathing through a tube. And Rusty was given a dime behind bars.

Despite the conviction, Copper was adamant about his brother’s innocence. Jig wasn’t stupid enough to contradict his prez over such a personal matter, but he’d never been Rusty’s biggest fan. Something about the guy was off. Like burning animal carcasses in the woods off.

“Give him hell for me,” Jig said, and Copper grinned. Prez lived for the weekly phone calls from his brother.

“Will do.”

After quietly closing Copper’s door behind him, Jig made his way to the bar. It was around six in the evening and bizarrely calm in the clubhouse. Between Copper’s edict of no Honeys, the closed bar, and all manpower on Lefty-watch, the place had been a ghost town over the past week. Jig couldn’t quite get used to it.

Shaking off the odd feeling, he made his way behind the bar, poured some whiskey, and downed it. As the liquid warmed its way to his bloodstream, the door swung open and Izzy stepped in, glancing around the empty room. It was the first time he’d seen her since the diner, and her customary tight braid and makeup were back in place. She was also moving with a fluidity that showed what a fast healer she was. The bruises on her neck had faded considerably, though even the pale sight of them made him want to tear Lefty apart.