Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

He moved with purpose, grabbing Screw and hauling the man into his crushing embrace. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, even as the club watched, agog. “I know this is killing you, Luke,” he whispered, “but you gotta stay strong. I need you to be strong. Jazz needs you to be strong. We’re gonna find the fucker who took her, get her back, and make sure she knows how much we fucking love her. You hear me?”

Screw nodded his head into the crook of Gumby’s neck.

He dropped his voice. “And we’ll make that motherfucker beg for death.” Jeremy, or whoever took Jazz, didn’t really matter which asshole he’d been referring to. Anyone involved would pray for death by the time he and Screw were done with them.

Rocket popped his head in the building. “They’re here.”

Screw ripped out of Gumby’s hold and charged toward the exit.

“Fuck!” Copper yelled. “Screw, wait!”

At that moment, Gumby didn’t give a shit what the president or anyone else wanted. There were two people he cared about in the world right them. One was missing and one was gutted. He rushed after Screw, bursting out into the parking lot in time to see Screw yank Jeremy from Thunder’s truck and slam him against the side of the vehicle.

“Where the fuck is she?” Screw screamed, spittle flying in Jeremy’s face.

“Jesus, Screw. Not fucking here. We’re in broad daylight,” Copper said, glancing around as though cops were gonna pop outta the bushes.

The asshole must have been stupider than Gumby realized because instead of cowering in fear, he fucking smirked.

“Something fucking funny?” Gumby asked, coming up next to Screw.

“Lose someone?” he asked.

Before Jeremy’s lips had the chance to quirk up again, Screw’s fist slammed into the bastard’s face with a satisfying crunch.

A rush of elation surged through Gumby as blood poured from Jeremy’s nose and mouth. He smiled again. He wasn’t gonna tell them shit.

Time to mix shit up. He shoved aside his fear for Jazz, concern for Screw, and anxiety over this entire clusterfuck and focused on making Jeremy mad enough to fuck up.

“You know,” Gumby said, winking at Screw before he brought his focus back to Jeremy. “I thought you had a hard-on for Jazz. But you don’t, do you? Fuck, maybe you do, but you want him too, huh?” He inclined his head in Screw’s direction.

“Oh, shit!” Screw said, smart enough to get on board immediately. “That true, Jeremy? That why you fucked with me all through school? Did you have a little crush you were afraid someone would find out about?” He held Jeremy against the truck with a strong forearm across his chest.

Jeremy spat on the ground. The blood tinged wad landed inches from Gumby’s boot. “Fuck you. Don’t want no fucking dick. I ain’t a fucking queer.”

Gumby hummed. “Oh, but I think you are. I think you want him. Think you’ve wanted him a long time. Was he why you tried so hard to prospect with the Handlers? So you could be close to him? Shit, I bet it killed you to know he voted against you every time. Oh…shit, did you not know that?” he asked with mock innocence.

Jeremy’s face grew redder with each word from Gumby’s lips until it was near purple. “Fuck. You.”

“Nah, you ain’t my type. Apparently, we have the same type.” He winked and Jeremy lunged uselessly.

Screw knocked him back against the truck without breaking a sweat. “Where the fuck you think you’re going?”

Jeremy seethed, breathing through clenched teeth. Drops of blood and spit sprayed from his mouth with every exhale. His body vibrated with bubbling rage.

And then he snapped, struggling against Screw’s unbreakable hold. “I hope he destroys her,” he screamed at Gumby. “Hope he fucking kills her for being a dirty fucking slut. She’s disgusting. I hope he carves her up until there’s nothing left this time.”

Gumby froze until Screw whispered, “Paul.” He shook Jeremy—hard. The man’s head banged against the truck with enough force to have him groaning. “Is it fucking Paul?”

The twitch of Jeremy’s lips was all the confirmation they needed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Screw whispered. “You’re a goddammed monster.” He yanked Paul from the truck and passed him off to Jigsaw. “Put him in the box. I’ll deal with him later.”

Gumby was already pulling up a number on his contacts when Screw faced him. “How the fuck do we find him? He’s got way too much of a lead on us.” Screw asked running his hand through his hair.

Gumby grabbed Screw’s fingers and pried them away from the strands before he balded himself. “I’m on it. I’ve got a guy back home.” He pressed a kiss to Screw’s knuckles as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hey, G! Hear you’ve been a busy man,” Acer said in greeting.

“I need your help. Right fucking now,” he barked into the phone, aware of the near hysterical thread to his voice.