Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

A huge sigh heaved Copper’s chest, and he tugged at his red beard before saying, “We need to end this shit before someone we love is hurt…again. And before Lefty gets his hand on any more women. I want to know his schedule, who he associates with. I want his life turned inside and out. We won’t be leaving any loose ends. I’d like to avoid a bloody war if possible. We’re gonna start small, fuck up his drug deals, try to turn guys against him. That doesn’t work, we’ll step it up, but let’s see if we can do this without too much bloodshed.”

The men murmured their agreement. Part of Jig wanted to argue. Lefty needed to be stopped and stopped permanently, as in six-feet-under, but he got it. War meant loss of life on both sides. Jailing of club members, women left without their men, and maybe even harmed themselves.

War would be a last resort.

Copper rose from his chair. “Zach, you’re with me in The Box. Fifteen minutes.”

The Box was a basement room, probably originally meant as a storm shelter of some kind. Basically, a boxy room the Handlers used for…sensitive matters. Like extracting information from enemies hellbent on destroying the MC. Jig didn’t envy the man waiting on Copper and Zach’s company.

“Looking forward to it, Cop.” Zach may be a fun brother with pretty-boy good looks who was head over heels in love with his woman, but he could be the meanest sonofabitch when crossed. And Copper? Well, within Copper lay a beast no one wanted to let out. Ninety-five percent of the time he kept his wild temper under control but, fuck, that five percent stuck with a man after he’d seen it in action.

“All right, we’re done here. I want all you fuckers safe. Got me?”

“Got it,” chorused the group.

Jig left the chapel and headed for his office, a small room next to Copper’s office where he managed the club’s finances and ran the loan shark business. Since his focus had been on assisting with the clubhouse security the past few weeks, he’d lagged on the bookkeeping. It took him all fucking day, but he updated, balanced, and organized everything he’d been putting off. Really, he didn’t mind. Numbers made sense. Numbers were logical. A puzzle he could easily solve. And it kept him distracted from any messy emotions or thoughts of sexy tattoo artists.

By the time he finished, it was almost seven, an hour until he was set to meet up with Izzy.

With no reason to head to his house and no reason to hang around, he made his way toward his bike. The air was no longer chilly, but downright cold. Time to put away the bike and roll the truck out of the garage. Always a sad time of year.

As he was walking out the door, rapid footsteps came flying up behind him. “Uncle Jig! Uncle Jig!” Beth, Shel’s three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, flung herself at him with a high-pitched, “Catch me!”

Automatically his arms reached out and captured the energetic bundle, but not before his heart clenched with the force of a vise, as it did every time he laid eyes on the adorable strawberry-headed kid.

“Sorry, Jig,” Shell said as she rushed toward them. “Beth, get down. Don’t bother Uncle Jig. He doesn’t really like you hanging around. Oh, I mean, sorry that was rude.” For a second, her eyes grew glassy then she cleared her throat and all seemed normal. “I’m just frazzled. We’re late getting to Mama V’s and I have to work.”

Jig blinked and stared at Shell. “No, it’s okay. I’m, uh, glad she didn’t fall. Glad I was there.” His heart pounded so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. Though the little kid couldn’t weigh more than twenty-five pounds, the weight of her in his arms felt astronomical. Sweat broke out along his hairline. If he didn’t get her out of his arms, he was going to have a panic attack and probably traumatize Beth for life.

“Oh, you don’t mind?” Shell stopped trying to pry the boa constrictor grip Beth had from around Jig’s neck.

Beth fit in his arms just as he remembered a three-year-old fitting. And it hurt so bad he couldn’t draw in a full breath. Beth beamed at him, and somehow he found the strength not to lose his shit. It wasn’t fair to take out his issues in front of the kid. She had no idea what monsters lurked in Jig’s past.

“Mind keeping a hold of her for a minute while I find my keys?”

“You got a brother going with you?” Jig asked, focusing on Shell rather than the wiggling bundle in his arms. Hell would freeze over before Copper let Shell drive anywhere alone.

“I’m going ten minutes away, Jig. Nothing to worry about.” She probably had no idea of the increased danger. Copper should have told her. Even though it wasn’t true and might never be true, most of the guys considered Shell Copper’s woman. They steered clear of her and differed to him when it came to her safety. What was he thinking not setting her up with a shadow?