Joy (Hell's Handlers MC 7)

He rubbed at his beard. It’d be easy to lie to her, tell her nothing was wrong, and set up protection behind her back, but that’s not how they worked. “We’re not totally sure yet, sugar.” Holly fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “So far, all they’ve done is show up where they aren’t wanted and throw some words around. No clue if they’ve got the stones to back them up. But we aren’t taking any chances, so when you and your girls are out or when you aren’t with me, someone will be on you. Okay?”

Face solemn, she nodded. “Yeah.”

At a time like this, she probably wished her father was still in her life, but the version of the man who she missed didn’t exist. It’d been an illusion to cover up for a dirty cop who planted evidence and sent innocent men to prison. Still, LJ’s efforts to keep Holly from falling into a pit of despair had been working. If this fucker Crank sent her on a downward spiral, he’d kill the guy for that alone.

“Don’t want you worrying though, sugar. You’ll be covered. Safe. All I want you to worry about is making more of these cookies for your man and enjoying the holidays with our family.”

Holly snorted out a laugh. “I see what you did there.”

Just as he went to dive back in for another taste of her lips, the doorbell rang.

Holly yipped and ducked under his arm. “I’m not dressed! Don’t get it until I’m out of sight.” She scurried down the hallway toward their bedroom.

LJ was still chuckling as he pulled the door open. “Welcome to the Sugar Shack! How can we—fuck me running.”

Standing on the opposite side of the open door was a man he’d recognize anywhere but had never actually met. A man who Holly had admitted to thinking about numerous times over the past few months. The man she’d been dying to meet again, yet terrified to come in contact with. His story had made national news just months ago.

“Holly Lane live here?” The raspy, somewhat ruined voice didn’t match the look of the man. LJ’s gaze immediately landed on the thin pink line rimming the man’s neck like a short necklace, only it was a scar indicating a brutal strangulation attempt.

Self-inflicted while in prison? Or perhaps an attack.

“You hear me?” he asked again.

LJ shook himself out of his head. “Sorry, man, yeah, this is her place. Sugar!” he called out.

“I’m coming,” Holly yelled back followed by the sound of her bare feet hitting the wood floor as she ran toward the door. “Who is it?” She’d covered her lower half in a pair of ass-hugging jeans. LJ’s favorite pair, to be precise.

LJ kept his body in the doorway. This guy may have been cleared of his crime and released from prison, but that meant shit as far as his intentions toward Holly.

“Uh, babe, I can’t see through your giant body.” Holly tried to wedge herself between him and the door with an unsuccessful hip-check. “Seriously, scoot that muscled ass over and let me see who it—oh, my God,” she said as she finally caught a glimpse of the man on their doorstep. “Curly.” His name was uttered in a barely audible whisper.

She couldn’t possibly have a great view of him since LJ still blocked the doorway, but Holly had managed to peek around him. Most likely, Curly’s image was burned into her brain, even if it’d been more than a decade since she’d laid eyes on the biker.

Curly snorted. “Ain’t been called that a in long time.” He pointed to his buzz cut salt and pepper hair. Back when Holly had met him, he’d had long, curly hair, hence the handle. “Mostly go by my given name now, Travis.”

He couldn’t help it, LJ had to throw a little intimidation Curly—Travis’s way. He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at the man who was no slouch at around six-feet, but still quite a few inches shorter than LJ’s six-and-a-half feet. His body was hard, honed by hours in the prison yard, no doubt, but without the bulk LJ had. He’d guess the guy to be in his mid to upper forties. Maybe even early forties. It was difficult to tell. Doing hard-time aged a man before his years.

Did that little growl come from him? Whatever, this fucker knew the world, knew the game better than LJ did. He’d expect some skepticism strutting into another MC’s town, calling on an ol’ lady.

“LJ, what the hell is wrong with you?” Holly said. She finally managed to worm her way in front of him. “Please ignore his guard dog routine. Especially since the actual guard dog can’t seem to be bothered to come to the door.” Her laugh sounded forced, strained.