Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

And, three days ago, they found out why. “Yeah, shit, Viper, I’m sorry, brother. Can’t believe Cassie has cancer. How is she feeling?”

Viper sighed and ran a hand down his face. The defeated sound held the weight of the world “Pretty wrecked right now. She had chemo yesterday and it fucks her up for a few days.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Goes without saying, anything—”

Viper held up a hand. “Know it, brother. Thank you.”

Screw meant it. Every word of it. Any damn thing Viper or Cassie needed, he’d make it happen. The three of them fell quiet for a moment. It was a heavy thing, a loved one having cancer. Through the silence, Screw studied his vice president. Most wouldn’t recognize the anguish flowing just below the surface, but to those who considered him a brother, his torment was obvious in the sunken cheeks, smudges under his eyes, and missing smile.

True and deep despair over the suffering of the woman he loved. What was that like? Loving another person with such ferocity, their illness and potential death affected every aspect of your own life? Screw couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine letting someone touch him on an emotional level. Touch him physically, fuck yes, he would and did seek that out as often as possible. But nothing fucking more than that.

His thoughts drifted to one little pixie-haired beauty. The one who’d eluded him for nearly a year. Never before had he worked so hard to get a woman in his bed. Never had he worked at all, but stubborn Jazmine turned him down at every pass.

It only made him want her more.

He’d get her. And her eventual surrender would be sweet as fuck.

But even that, all the effort he put into bedding her, it was just sex. Nothing more and certainly nothing less.

“Anyway,” Viper finally said with a shake of his head as though trying to shed the sadness for a few moments of business. “I need to step down as VP. It ain’t fair for me to keep the position when I’m unable to give the club as much attention as needed right now.”

Well, shit. That sure as fuck wasn’t what Screw had expected walking in the door. “Fuck, Viper.” He shifted his attention to Copper. “You ask this of him?”

One of Copper’s rust-colored eyebrows rose.

Okay, yeah, questioning his president wasn’t the smartest move. “Sorry, prez, that news fucking threw me.”

For a moment, Copper’s scowl had nerves hopping around in Screw’s stomach. Was he about to be tossed from the office on his ass? He’d deserve it for speaking to his president that way.

Instead of ripping him a new one, Copper scratched his beard. “It’s all right, brother. Viper and Cass came to me with this. Fucking threw me too,” he said with a small smile for Viper. “But it’s the right decision for them, so we’ll make it right with the club.”

A glance at the relief on Viper’s face had Screw nodding. He may not understand that kind of commitment to one person, but he understood loyalty to his brothers and if this was what his VP needed, he’d have Screw at his back.

“What do you need from me?”

“Glad you asked, brother,” Copper said as he leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, tapping the pads together a few times. “About thirty minutes ago, I asked Zach to step into the role of vice president. He agreed, which leaves me without an enforcer.”

Holy shit.

Screw’s palms grew damp and his tongue dried right up.

Zach would be assuming the role of VP.

The club needed an enforcer. Since he’d patched in, Screw had been working with Zach. Learning the role, basically operating as Zach’s number two. Did that mean…?

“You okay there, brother? You hear me?”

“What? Huh?” Fuck. Screw blinked, clearing his vision and returning him to the present. “Sorry, I thought the surprises were done for the day.”

Viper chuckled. “Hope you’re ready for one more.”

The out of control pounding in his chest almost made him miss the next words from Copper’s mouth. “Think you’re up for filling Zach’s shoes?”

When Screw did nothing but stare, both men chuckled. “Hello?” Viper asked, knocking on the top of Screw’s head. “Anyone in there? Think you might have exploded his brain, Cop.”

“You’re asking if I…”

With a nod Copper said, “Yes, Screw, we’d like you to become the club’s enforcer. I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t have high hopes for you when you prospected. Your name alone gave me pause, Screwball. You lived up to it at first, never taking shit seriously, always fucking around, but you’ve proven me wrong. Zach raves about you and basically demanded you take over for him. From what I’ve witnessed and from his endorsement, I don’t think there’s anyone better for the role.”

Jesus, there he was being asked to take on the baddest role in the club, and all Screw could do was sit there with his mouth hanging open like some kind of living flytrap.