Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

“Go get him, baby,” Jig called out, clapping his hands together fiercely.

As Izzy slipped through the ropes and jogged into the center of the ring, Jig took the position in her corner.

Slick paid her no attention, screaming like a madman at the announcer, no doubt shocked by the turn of events. Finally, after the announcer told him to shut the fuck up, Slick turned his furious gaze on Izzy. Slowly, like she was unveiling a fantastic surprise, she lowered her hood.

God damn, Jig wished he’d had his phone out at that moment. Slick’s mouth flapped like a fish out of the fucking water. His eyes bugged, and his arms hung limply at his side.

“Hey, fucker,” Izzy said. “Remember me?”

Slick’s eyes narrowed at that, and his mouth finally closed, curling up in a grin. “I sure do, sweet tits. I remember how I left you bruised and crying on the floor.”

Jig snorted. He knew for a damn fact Izzy did not cry. And the “sweet tits” comment would earn Slick a private visit from Jig soon. Right about the time he healed from the beating Izzy was about to dish out. Only he might walk away from that meeting with one less appendage.

Izzy smiled right back at Slick. “Took three of you douchcanoes to get the job done, though. Let’s see how you do with a little one on one.”

“Bring it, bitch.”

Izzy ignored the comment, tossed her hoodie to Jig, and went straight into the zone. He could tell because her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a firm line, and she held herself ready to attack at full force.

The announcer reviewed the very few rules, and the fight began. Slick came at her, balls out in a lightning-quick attack. Jig’s breath stilled as the man exploded forward and caught his woman with a jab to the face.

Izzy’s head snapped back, and when it bounced forward again, there was a trickle of blood running from her nose, but a huge fucking grin on her face. She was a skilled and smart fighter. Slick hadn’t caught her off guard; he’d played right into her hands. She took another shot, this time to the ribs, making Jig wince.

It’d been a few weeks since she was injured, but that couldn’t have felt good. Slick said something Jig couldn’t hear, but it had Izzy’s eyes narrowing more. It was then Jig caught on to her game. Reel him in, throw him off guard, and—

Slick got cocky, gave Izzy his back while the crowd cheered for him. It was only for a split second, but enough for his girl to spring into action.

She took him the fuck down.

The surprise on Slick’s face as his feet left the mat and his body crashed down was another Kodak moment Jig wished he could have captured. Before Slick had time to realize what happened, Izzy mounted him and went to town with a good old-fashion ground and pound. Fists flying, she hit his face, chest, sides in a rapid pattern of misery for ol’ Slick.

Eventually, she let up and leaned over a weakly struggling Slick. “Give up?” she asked.

“Fuck you, bitch,” he said.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.” As Slick failed in attempt after attempt to get up, Izzy moved quick as a fox, flipped Slick around and got behind him in a lethal choke hold.

Stubborn enough to resist tapping out, Slick twitched and clawed at Izzy’s arm for about twenty seconds before the lack of oxygen took him out. The moment he slumped, the match was called, and Izzy released him. He came to within seconds, red-faced and spitting like a wet cat.

Jig’s brothers and their women went nuts once again, screaming for her and losing their shit. Izzy rose, exhaustion clear on her face, and Jig had a feeling it was as much emotional as physical. Pride surged in him as he looked at her happy face. He was damn proud of her and damn proud to have a woman like her at his side.

He ran to the center of the ring, grabbed her by her ass, and hoisted her into his arms. “Feel good, baby?”

“Sooo good. You have no idea,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Ready to feel better? Think I made you a promise I’m dying to keep.”

“Hell, yes!” Izzy said right before she kissed him. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and she gripped him tight as she subtly ground against him.

“Shit, Iz, got a little post-fight horniness going on?” His dick was about two seconds away from throwing a revolution and busting straight through his zipper. Neither of them seemed to realize they were still standing in the middle of the ring.

“A little bit. Mostly I’m wet because the man I love told me he was gonna eat me out if I kicked this guy’s ass.” She winked and rubbed her spandex covered pussy over his crotch. Shit, it would be pretty fucking embarrassing if he busted a nut in the middle of a boxing ring with a hundred people around.