Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

Jig pressed his lips together and gave her a quick shake of his head. Her steps faltered. She looked between him and Copper, then nodded and made her way to another of her tables.

“Shit, prez, keep your panties on. I only meant shit might have to get a little bloody.”

Copper blew out a breath and slammed his heavy fist down on the table, making all the platters and silverware jump then clatter back down. For a second, the diner went totally silent as every eye in the place landed on the table full of bikers.

Not exactly ideal.

“You good, prez?” Jig asked in a low voice.

“Fuck, yeah, sorry. This shit’s like having my skin peeled off with a rusty knife.” Copper bowed his head for a beat then lifted it. His eyes were sharper, deadlier. “We’ve fucked up six of Lefty’s drug transfers over the past week. Fucked them out of about thirty K.”

Jig cleared his throat. Taking their money was great, but it wasn’t enough. They’d attacked a Handlers’ woman at a business owned by a Handler. Stealing money was child’s play. Jig wanted blood. “Been thinking about something, boss. We keep grabbing their drug money, they’re gonna need to make up for the losses somewhere. Might up their trafficking game to recoup their cash. That could be good, or it could be a total fucking nightmare for the girls.”

Mav dropped his fork midbite. Jig knew the feeling; his appetite fled as well. “Goddamnit, Jig,” Mav said. “Why you always gotta be the voice of mother fucking reason?”

Rocket snorted. “Let him finish, Mav.”

Before he went on, Jig lifted his mug. Damn, empty. It’d have to wait until he’d said his piece. He couldn’t call Shell or Toni over and risk them catching wind of the conversation. “If they’re feeling the pressure to up their game, they might get sloppy, grab a girl with family. Someone from town. If we get eyes on them, we might catch something.”

Back to stroking his beard, Copper nodded. “Makes sense. And the flip side?”

“They just turn up the heat on the girls they already got. Out of the fire, into the frying pan kinda shit. They’ve already shown they’re willing to touch a woman associated with us. They’re ballsy and willing to make bold moves.” It was times like this that Jig was damn glad not to be driving the ship. Copper listened to the advice of his executive board, considered everyone’s opinion and judgment, but in the end, the final decision fell to him. His shoulders might be broad as fuck, but they could still crumble.

“Okay, Rocket, you’re in charge of the watch on Lefty. I want eyes on him and his crew twenty-four seven. We can’t just take the fucker out because there’s a stash of girls out there, and we gotta find them first. Finding them is number two priority after protecting the clubhouse and family. Use whatever resources you need to make that happen. I know we’re stretched thin as fuck right now, but it needs to happen.”

“On it, boss,” said Rocket. He slipped out of the booth. “Gonna head out and get working.”

“Thanks, brother,” Copper said, grabbing the hand Rocket extended. With his left, he snagged Rocket’s forearm, and they held for a second. Brothers working hard to protect their family.

“I want to continue hijacking their drug deals until they wise up and get more discrete, but start taking his guys out of commission, too. The guy we had in The Box was clueless about the human trafficking side of business, and I assume most of these lower level dealers will be as well, but it can’t hurt to put a little pressure on them and see if they know anything. No deaths yet, just break some fucking kneecaps.” He looked at Zach on his left. “You good with that?”

“Fuckin’ great with that. Louie was robbed of action last night. He’s itching for a little revenge.” Zach rubbed his hands together then dug back into his food. Mav did as well. Jig’s stomach growled. Seemed like a little talk of offense had everyone’s appetite flaring to life again.

Mav paused in the shoveling of cinnamon roll waffles into his trap. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

And, here it comes.

“Speaking of last night, heard you took the sexy fighter chick home and disappeared into her house for about an hour. Anything you wanna tell us, brother?” Mav stuffed the overflowing fork into his mouth. The man ate those waffles at least four times a week, yet remained lean as a whip.

“What is this, fucking study hall?” Jig said as he stared into his coffee cup. Last thing he needed was his asshole brothers finding out he ate the fuck out of Izzy last night. And, Christ, she was sweeter than those damn waffles…