Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

“It’s taken care of already. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“What? Seriously? How is that even possible?” Izzy’s face lit up. “It’s end of day.”

“Rocket is a contractor.”

Rocket, who was just emerging from the house with a heavy-duty trash bag full of broken glass slung over his shoulder, must have heard his name. “What’s up, brother? You need me?” He stopped a few feet from them. “Hey, Iz, sorry about all this shit.”

They all called her Iz and freaking loved her and accepted her as one of the crew. It was a slippery slope.

“Thanks, Rocket. It sucks”—she shrugged—“but it is what it is. I appreciate you guys dropping everything to take care of this for me.”

“I was just telling her about the windows.” Jig tightened his hold across her shoulders and tucked her to his side. She gave him a curious look, and Rocket chuckled. Shit, he was acting like a lovesick moron, trying to hide her from every male in town.

“Oh, yeah.” Rocket adjusted the hold of the bag. “Let me throw this heavy fucker away first.” He strode toward the dumpster and deposited the load, then jogged back over. “I gave my glass guy a call as soon as I got here and took some measurements. He’s gonna be able to get them to me tomorrow. It’ll probably be pretty late in the day so we may not get them installed until the next day.” He shrugged. “Still pretty good turnover.”

“Pretty good? That’s amazing. I thought I’d be windowless for weeks.” She broke free from Jig’s hold and threw her arms around Rocket. “Thank you so much for doing that.”

Rocket shot Jig a shit-eating grin that had him itching to rearrange his brother’s face. Holding her just a little too tight for a little too long, Rocket said, “Nothing more than a few phone calls, babe.”

And that was about enough of that. Jig snagged her by the elbow and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened in his hold before letting herself settle against him.

“Give us an hour, and we’ll have most of the glass cleaned up, and the guys will get out of our hair,” Jig said against her ear. The short hairs on the shaved side of her head tickled his face.

“Our hair?”

“Yeah, I know you’re gonna hate the fuck out of this, but I’m not leaving you alone tonight. A boarded-up house is just an invitation for trouble.”

She sighed, and he knew she was battling it out internally. Her need for independence, fear of accepting help and friendship, versus an intelligent idea. Izzy wasn’t stupid and would know she shouldn’t be alone. She might be a kick-ass fighter, but as she’d learned the other night, three men on one woman wasn’t ever good odds. “You’re right. I do hate it.”

He chuckled. Guess that was her way of agreeing without actually having to agree. “How about we order some pizza? You’ve gotta be starving. Then we can watch a movie and fuck like rabbits. Might take some of the sting out of having an unwanted houseguest.”

Izzy’s body shook in his arms as she laughed, that pert little ass rubbing all over his cock. He focused on one of his brother’s whacking a nail into the plywood over and over, trying to will his cock down.

“You find me a pizza place that delivers all the way out here, and you got yourself a deal, bubba.”

Jig gave her a squeeze and rubbed his scarred cheek against the smoothness of her face. She giggled and squirmed as his facial hair tickled her skin. “What the hell do you think prospects are for, woman?”

“You’re gonna make LJ go get us pizza?”

Jig snorted. “Damn straight.” It was the least that flirting asshole deserved.

“You’ll order enough for him, right?” She peered up at him, eyes dancing. “We could invite him to join us. I was a bit of a jerk to him earlier.”

Okay, now she was just fucking with him. “Fuck no! He’s off shift after he gets us some grub. Another prospect will take his place. LJ can go eat all the pizza he damn well pleases after that.”

Four hours, one large pepperoni pizza, and one hundred and sixteen minutes of action-packed superheroes later, the credits rolled across Izzy’s large-screen television. After the guys left, she and Jig got along like they’d known each other for years, eating and teasing. He’d regaled her with stories of stupid shit his brothers had done throughout the years and she spoke about the most ridiculous tattoos she’d ever worked on.

It was the most Jig had spoken to a woman in one stretch for years. And he found he liked it.

Izzy reached for the remote and killed the tv, plunging the den into darkness. Without the moonlight streaming through the windows, the place was like a tomb. “Shit,” she said as she flicked on a tableside lamp. “Never realized how much light those windows let in. Even at night.”