Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Maybe because she’d vanished the day after they were supposed to go on a date. The day after he’d canceled their date last minute.

But she’d understood, or so she’d claimed. Canceling the date had been unavoidable. Club business interfered, and he was required to put his MC first. Jazz knew that. Jazz understood that. Hell, she’d been working as the receptionist in the garage owned by the club for years.

Why then, had she vanished without a trace the following morning?

The club had been stumped and fucking worried as shit. Hell, when she hadn’t shown for work, his prez, Shiv, had been ready to send out a fucking search party. And then Lila, his VP’s ol’ lady, had finally admitted to receiving a text from Jazz. Three fucking sentences that had everyone scratching their heads but calling off the blood hounds.

Everyone except Gumby, who couldn’t let it go.

I needed to leave. I’m fine. Please, please, do not let them look for me.

They hadn’t been a thing. Hadn’t so much as kissed. But he’d liked her. And she’d liked him, or so she’d said when she agreed to a date. Every time he’d laid eyes on her, his dick hardened to the point of painful. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d spilled on his shower floor with her name rushing from his lips. Jazz was fun, edgy, kind, spunky, sexy…

Okay, maybe it was more than like on his part. He’d been pretty much infatuated with her for a while but had never taken any steps to make her his.

There were things about him she didn’t know. Things very few knew, and he feared no woman would understand. Hell, he didn’t understand it.

So he hadn’t made a move.

Not until the day he walked into the lobby of the garage and found some forty-five-year-old accountant drooling all over her.

That was the day he’d lost his mind and practically ordered her on a date. He’d never forget the look on her face that day. Her short hair had been studded with pink highlights that matched the pink on her lips. God, they’d looked so fucking delicious. To this day, he got hard recalling the way they’d quirked up into a smirk. Then there was that mesmerizing sparkle in her dark eyes. She’d been on to him. Known he’d finally asked her on a date because of the asshole leaving a puddle of slobber on her desk.

They’d been planning to keep it casual. Dinner, drinks at a local bar, maybe some dancing, and if he was lucky, headboard-banging sex to top off the night.

But fucking club business had derailed the plans. And no one from the MC had seen Jazz since.

Finally, after more than a year, he had a way to contact her. She’d changed her cell number and her email addresses as well. The few messages he’d sent were kicked back immediately. Would she speak to him if he called her at this diner or would she slam the phone down?

Had her feelings for him been stronger than he realized?

Did his canceling the date hurt her that much?

Was he the catalyst that made her run from Crystal Rock? From her friends, from her family?

His stomach churned as his most pressing fear pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

Had she discovered his secret and been crushed? Shocked? Revolted?

There was only one way to find out and a phone call wouldn’t cut it.

With a sigh, Gumby pulled out his cell and swiped the screen, ignoring the streak of grease he spread across the surface. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gunked up the thing.

Three minutes later, he was booked on a flight that would have him in Tennessee by six o’clock in the evening in less than one week.

Jazz very well might throw him out on his ass the second she laid eyes on him, but he wouldn’t be leaving until he got some answers.

CHAPTER TWO

JAZMINE – 2001 - ARIZONA

“Jazzy, I’m going to work. Your dad will be home in an hour. You sure you’re okay here by yourself?” Jazz’s mother called from near the front door.

Jazz rolled her eyes. She was thirteen, not three. “Yes, mom,” she yelled back. “Pretty sure I can survive by myself for a whole sixty minutes.” Especially when all she was doing was the stupid essay, she’d put off for the past few days. Three pages on Greek mythology.

Yuck.

“Watch that sass, missy.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“You know not to open the door for anyone, right?”

“I know.” Jazz set her pen down and stared at the open door to her room, waiting for the next order. Always the same.

“No friends over.”

“I know.”

“Especially not boys.”

Jazz giggled as her gaze shifted to her favorite poster. The five guys in the popular boy band beamed at her with their perfect hair, white teeth, and adorable faces. “I know!”