Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

He wouldn’t find any angels in here.

Copper turned a surprised look on Jig.

“Head would have been too fucking fast,” Jig said.

Scratching his beard, Copper nodded. Then all four Handlers folded their arms across their chests, leaned against the walls of The Box, and watched the life drain from a piece of scum.

When it was over, Jig took a deep breath. He’d sleep like a fucking baby knowing girls were safer in his part of the world tonight.

And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow he’d work on getting his woman back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

IZZY INHALED, LETTING the pungent odor of sweat, triumph, and adrenaline flood her system.

God, she’d needed this.

The only thing that would make the night better was if she was actually fighting. But her instinct had been right on, just attending the underground fight was already quieting the demons that had been attacking her soul the past two weeks.

That’s right, two weeks.

Two weeks since she pushed Jig away.

Two weeks since she’d admitted to herself she was in love with him.

Two weeks of bone deep loneliness she’d never experienced before.

And two weeks of ignoring daily calls, texts, even a few door-knocks from Jig, his brothers, and the girls.

Why?

Who the fuck even knew anymore?

She was turning out to be a shitty friend and an even shitter solo companion. Izzy was so sick of herself and her moping she’d called and begged the man who ran the fights to find an opponent willing to go against her. Unfortunately, there weren’t any women up for a match that night. She’d even offered to fight a dude. Mac flat-out refused.

Pussy.

As she wove her way through the rowdy crowd, Izzy couldn’t help but wish Jig was with her. It’d been that way the last fourteen days, and she’d come to the surprising conclusion she was nothing more than a coward when it came to love.

A coward was the last thing she’d ever considered herself.

But the cold, hard evidence was right in front of her face. She’d shoved him away and run like a scared little mouse, terrified of the prospect of admitting out loud she loved him, only to have him reject her. Or worse yet, getting back together only to end up alone again five years from now.

As though her current heartbreak was somehow better than the other options. She didn’t think it was actually possible to feel worse than she had over the past two weeks.

“Ugh,” she mumbled. These thoughts needed to jump out of her head. The obsessive thinking was why she’d driven almost two hours away to watch fights she wasn’t even invested in.

As she drew closer to the ring, someone slammed her from behind. “What the fuck?” she said, spinning around in time to catch a glimpse of the jerk who’d jarred her walking away. Dressed in boxing shorts and no top, he was clearly fighting tonight.

Her breath stilled in her lungs. She might not have a full-on view, but she’d recognize that cocky attitude and smug face anywhere.

He was the piece of shit who delivered the message to her at Zach’s gym. The message that had left her bruised and out of commission for a week. A smile curled her lips. This guy was fighting tonight, all right. He just had no idea who his opponent was going to be.

Shoving her way back through the crowd, Izzy rose on her tip toes and searched for the man who ran the whole damn show. Mac, a smarmy dude who loved the power these events bestowed on him.

“Hey, Mac,” she said when she reached him.

He was in a crowd with his bookie, collecting money and bets out the wazoo.

“Izzy,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Dressed in an expensive, custom-tailored suit, he stood out among the rough and unruly crowd. “I told you about ten times I don’t have another bitch for you to fight tonight. Move along.” He waved his hands as though shooing a child before turning away from her.

She clenched her teeth and swallowed the urge to punch him in the face for both the dismissal and calling her a bitch. “I don’t want to fight a bitch,” she managed to grind out. “I want to fight that lean guy with the muddy hair, neon blue shorts, and dragon tat on his back.”

“Slick?” Mac asked with a laugh. “You bitches are all crazy. Told you, you weren’t fighting any men, bitch.” He tried to turn away, but Izzy grabbed his arm.

“I can beat him. Swear on my fucking life. You can keep my winnings. I don’t want the money.” She just wanted to show that fucker he wasn’t man enough to take her down without his two goons holding her back.

“Stop wasting my time, Izzy. Ain’t gonna happen.”

Her mind raced. What could she offer him to change his mind? “You can keep any of my future winnings, too.” None of this had ever been about the money for her. It was her therapy.