Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)
And no amount of chemistry was worth that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IZZY CONCENTRATED ON slowing her inhalations and filling her lungs. Damn, it felt good. She’d hit three miles easily today and without an ounce of pain. Parts of her were still a little discolored, but the discomfort had all but disappeared. Only a slight amount of a.m. stiffness remained.
Now, it was time to get back the endurance she’d lost over the past week or so and get back to her pre-beatdown ten miles per day. Thankfully, Zach was still willing to keep the gym open an hour or two after closing for her and Jig. Tonight, one of Jig’s newer brothers, Screw, had joined them. The guy was hilarious. A total screwball, hence the name.
Wiping a stream of sweat from her cheek, she attempted to clear her mind of the muscle fatigue and focus on something else. All that accomplished was a return to her obsessive thoughts about Jig. He’d been in the forefront of her mind since she’d spilled her guts all over the bar the prior night.
Why the hell had she done that?
Alcohol. It had to be the alcohol, an uncharacteristic feeling of loneliness, and the proximity to the anniversary of her mother’s death. In just a few weeks, the thirteenth anniversary would be upon her. That had to be some kind of bad omen, right? Thirteenth anniversary of a horrific death?
A shiver ran down Izzy’s spine. Shit, she was getting maudlin. She never thought she’d say it, but obsessing over Jig was far better than ruminating over the dead and buried past.
It seemed they were now friends. He didn’t even scowl at her when she came into the gym. Sure, he didn’t run over and give her a kiss on the cheek like Zach did, but a non-scowl from Jig was pretty much the equivalent of a bear hug from any of the other guys.
It was what it was. The MC had adopted her, and she’d just have to deal. She had plenty of practice keeping herself from disappointment and hurt. She could do it again and have some fun with her new social circle.
A band of outlaw bikers. The thought made her snort out a laugh which had her sucking a quick breath and coughing. “Shit!” She hacked and tried to breathe as she lowered the treadmill speed to a fast walk. Oh, look at that, four point two miles.
She’d hit the target.
“You know, it’s a lot easier to run if you’re actually breathing.” Jig sauntered over in all his sexy, sweaty glory, and folded his way too muscly arms across the top of the treadmill.
Her breath caught in her lungs at the sight of him glistening with sweat and wearing a royal blue T-shirt that molded to every ridge in his chest and abs.
She swallowed around a suddenly very dry throat and focused on his statement instead of his drool-worthy physique.
Things were progressing quickly. From non-scowl to teasing in one evening. Izzy flashed him a smile. He could mess with her all he wanted. She was queen ballbuster, and he’d be eating those words in a matter of minutes. “Sorry, saw your brother, Screw, doing some squats, and it stole my breath. That man’s got one helluvan ass.” She winked and lowered the speed even further.
Jig’s jaw ticked, and she must have been speaking louder than she realized because Screw yelled, “Damn straight, baby,” from across the room. He bent forward a little and slapped his own ass. “Any time you wanna cop a feel, sweet thang, you just say the word.”
A laugh bubbled out of Izzy. Even Jig’s lips quirked. Screw was ridiculous, but always good for a fun time.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Jig practically growled at her. He tapped his knuckles on the top of the treadmill then made his way back to the weight rack he’d been lifting. Izzy was helpless to do anything other than stare at the flex and release of his calves, thighs, and ass as he moved like a powerful animal. When he was halfway to his destination, he peeked over his shoulder and threw her a wink. “Ain’t Screw’s ass you’re drooling over now, is it?”
A normal woman would probably be embarrassed, but, hell, Jig was one sexy man, and he damn well knew it. No point in caring she got busted gawking. Any sane woman would.
Screw hooted out a laugh and clapped his hands. “Jig with the jokes. Who the fuck knew? You just might have to marry him, Iz.”
And like a bucket of ice-cold water had been upended on them all, the fire was doused instantly. Jig stiffened so fast she thought he might snap right in half. Then came the first scowl of the day. With a sigh, Izzy jumped her feet to the outer frame of the treadmill and hit the off button. It was just a stupid comment, one she could let roll off her shoulders, but then she’d never been married before. And never planned to marry. A front row seat to the tanking of five marriages throughout her childhood was enough, thank you very much. But Jig had been married, and it had been destroyed by something vicious and out of his control. The pain of that had to be extraordinary, and both her heart and stomach clenched at the thought of his suffering. Something about the thought of him in agony tormented her deep inside.