Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

“Tell the ginger I’ll be seeing him,” he whispered.

A cold chill ran down her spine.

He knew who she was.

Jazz pushed forward, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. Crank didn’t move his hand. Instead he let it slide from her body and had she not been wearing a sweater and bulky coat, he’d have copped a good feel. As she walked past the checkout counter, the kid said, “On the house.”

Only then did Jazz look down at the coffee still in her hands. She’d completely forgotten. Stirring it hadn’t been necessary as her trembling hands shook it all up.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she hurried to the exit. One of the men opened the door for her, a leering grin on his face.

“Be seeing ya, sweetheart,” he said, slapping her on the ass as she walked by.

Jazz yelped, and one of the coffees flew out of her hand, landing with a steamy splatter across the sidewalk.

Gumby, who was halfway between the pumps and the market frowned and began to jog toward her. “Hey, what the fuck was that?” he yelled to the biker who’d hit her.

Chaos was seconds from ensuing.

Fuck the coffee.

Jazz dropped the remaining cup in the parking lot, jumping sideways to avoid the splatter. She ran toward Gumby, hooking her arm in his as she reached him.

“What the fuck was that?” he said as he tried to pull free. “He just hit your ass? You know him? That wasn’t a Handlers cut.”

“I know,” she said, tugging him with all her might. “We need to go. Now.”

“Wait, I can’t let that shit slide, babe,” he practically growled.

“Yes, you can. I’ll explain everything, but we need to get the fuck out of here, now.”

Finally, he relented and let her tow him to the car.

“Remember how to find the clubhouse?” she asked.

“Yeah…”

“Good.” She tossed him the keys, shaking too hard on the inside and outside to focus on the road. “We need to go straight there.” She fumbled through her purse as she spoke.

Gumby started the car and drove away from the gas station but pulled over on the side of the road only seconds later. “Jazz,” he said in a commanding tone she’d never heard from him.

Phone in hand, Jazz stared at him, mouth open.

“I need to know what the fuck is going on. We up shit’s creek here?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, no longer looking into the eyes of the guy who wanted her, but the dangerous biker he hid well beneath the often sweet exterior. “I promise to tell you everything that’s going on,” she said. “But I need to tell them first.”

Jaw ticking, Gumby nodded once then hit the gas, hard. He may not like it, but he got it and knew she wouldn’t betray the MC by spilling their business to anyone, even him. His hand curled around hers, tapping a nervous rhythm on her thigh.

Not only would he understand, he probably respected her for it.

Though she could tell by the hardening of his jaw and the severe frown that he hated the fuck out of it.

Jazz lifted her phone to her ear. “Shell?” she said when her friend answered.

“Hey, Jazzy! Where the hell have you been all day. We miss you.”

“I—” She cleared her throat. “I need to talk to Copper.”

Immediately, Shell went on full alert. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just need to talk to Copper.”

“I can put him on the phone if you need him right this second, otherwise, we’re all at the clubhouse.”

Shit. She didn’t want to do this in front of the whole club. Not with Gumby in tow. Too many questions she didn’t want to and couldn’t answer. But it looked like she had little choice. Gumby sure as hell wouldn’t wait out in the car.

“I’ll see you in ten.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“THE FUCK IS wrong with you, brother?” LJ asked as he watched Screw with a raised eyebrow.

Shit.

Fuck.

“Huh? What? Nothing. What do you mean?”

“Seriously, Screw, you’re all…agitated,” Holly said swiping her hand through the air in the direction of the pile of scraps he’d peeled off his bottle and left on the bar.

Agitated didn’t begin to describe it. Felt like his insides were trying to claw their way out of his body.

“My dick is agitated,” he said reaching between his legs. “You wanna help settle him down?”

“Ugh, Screw!” Holly covered her eyes with her forearm making him laugh. “Can you be serious for one second? You’re all jittery and weird.”

“It’s all good, sugar. Just got some extra energy,” he said, then chuckled when LJ scowled. Sugar was the nickname the big guy used for his pastry making goddess of an ol’ lady and he got his fucking panties in a wad whenever anyone else called her by his name. Especially Screw.

So, of course he called her sugar almost exclusively.

With a roll of her eyes, Holly patted LJ’s giant bicep in a mostly patronizing gesture as she said, “It’s okay, baby. You’re the only man for me.”