Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

“Not sure I want the full story. It’s nightmare shit. Known him almost five years, and he’s always been a loner. Trust him with my life. Hell, I trust him with Toni’s life, which is saying something. I know he’s a brother through and through, but he’s always been one step removed from all of us. Hardly smiles, laughs maybe twice a year, doesn’t argue, doesn’t come here and work out with anyone else. He fights and he works. Wanna know why?”

Izzy straightened and slung her duffle over her shoulder. “Why?”

Zach pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them. “Because he doesn’t give a shit about anything beyond his role in the club and surviving the fucking demons in his mind.”

“He trains with me. And he argues with me. All the time.”

“Exactly.” Zach bopped her on the nose like she was a child who just learned her ABCs. “You have to care to argue. You have to give a shit to be willing to help someone train.”

“You’re trying to tell me he cares about me?” Nausea churned through her gut. Caring wasn’t in the cards. Caring meant feelings. And feelings led to commitments, promises, and eventual soul-crushing disappointment.

“Not claiming to read the man’s mind. Just telling you, he’s changing. Acting differently than he was two weeks ago. That’s all.”

Jig emerged from the locker room and walked straight toward the exit without so much as a glance in their direction. “Night, brother,” he called over his shoulder. Then he paused at the door and turned, snaring Izzy in his gaze. “Tomorrow?”

She swallowed. Getting close enough to let anyone in wasn’t part of her plan. Still, hearing that she might be helping a man who’d suffered warmed her heart. How many times over the years had she wished someone would put her first, help her through her trials, and support her? She could do those things for him and keep her ten-inch steel walls intact. “Same bat time, same bat place,” she said.

Jig rolled his eyes, and a ghost of a smile appeared. “Dork,” he said before pushing through the door.

Zach’s shoulder bumped hers. “See? That’s not Jig. At least not the Jig I’ve known for years. Smiling? Fucking teasing?” He started toward his office. “Keep casting whatever spell your ass is casting, Iz. And get the hell out of my gym so I can close up and go fuck my woman.”

Izzy laughed. “I’m going. Tell Toni I said hi. But make sure your clothes are on when you do. I do not want my name crossing your lips while you’re nekked.”

The final thing she saw as Zach disappeared into his office was his middle finger wiggling in her direction. Chuckling, Izzy gathered the last of her equipment and headed for the parking lot.

As she stepped outside, the chilled air blew across her perspiration-soaked skin. “Shee-it,” she muttered as she dug through her bag for a sweatshirt while still booking it toward her car. Zach’s truck was the only other vehicle parked on the opposite side of the lot. He liked to give his patrons the close spots, so he always parked the farthest from the door.

“Gotcha,” she said as she pulled the soft fleece from her bag. Just as she freed the hoodie, strong hands gripped her upper arms and slammed her face-first against the side of her ten-year-old Accord.

“What the fuck?” She struggled in vain against two bulky men trapping her against her car. Her fight or flight response kicked in immediately, jacking up her heartrate, tunneling her vision, and causing a tremor to run through her. But there were no thoughts of flight. She’d fight her way out or die trying.

“Turn her around,” a third man said, and she was wrenched away from the car only to have her spine crunch against the metal two seconds later.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” she asked as she used her training to control her breathing. Accustomed to quick thinking when under attack, Izzy did a millisecond survey of the situation, and it wasn’t good.

Three men on one woman? Sure, she was a badass in the ring and had whooped a few men in her day, but three on one was never good odds. Her arms were completely immobilized by the large thugs on either side of her, and her body was pinned to the car. Still…

She inhaled a slow, deep breath, then struck out on the exhale, slamming her right foot into the knee of one of her attackers.

“Fuck!” he screamed, catching himself just before the joint that gave out took him to the ground.

“You two assholes can’t get one woman under control.” The man in front of her drew his arm back and rammed it into Izzy’s stomach. She knew how to absorb a punch, but honestly hadn’t seen it coming, distracted by the men restraining her. The metal of her car crushed her spine again as her stomach and diaphragm spasmed in misery.