Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Well fuck, he had Handler’s shit all over his phone. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine as he began to lift the device.

“Actually, scratch that. Just gimmie your number and I’ll text you the address. Tell ’em Squirt sent you.”

“Squirt?”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Youngest prospect. Hoping to change that shitty name once I patch in. Come on, I got shit to do. Your number?”

Screw rattled off the number and seconds later a text from Squirt buzzed through.

“Sweet, man. See you Saturday. Sure as fuck hope you ain’t a prude,” he said with a laugh as he strode toward the driver’s door once again. “I can promise you a pick of women who’ll do shit you’ve only dreamed of.”

“Not a prude,” Screw said, but it was pretty much to himself as Squirt slid into his truck. Any other day, even being an intensely stupid reaction given the danger, he’d have gotten hard at the thought of those club whores ready and willing for whatever he could drum up. And when it came to fucking, his imagination was off the charts. Today, however, he couldn’t even muster a flicker of interest. Whether it was the memory of Gumby’s groans as he shot his load down Screw’s throat or the disgust in Jazz’s eyes as she left him to his Honey last night, didn’t matter. His dick was deader than Kurt Cobain.

After watching Jazz and Gumby leave the clubhouse hand in hand, he’d sent the Honey on her way with a few caustic words the poor girl didn’t deserve. She couldn’t be blamed for Screw’s shitty mood. How the hell was she supposed to know he couldn’t get it up for anyone but Jazz lately—well, Jazz and apparently Gumby, because he was sure as fuck hard after blowing the man.

The truck roared to life, causing Screw to jolt and hop out of the vehicle’s path. Fuck, he needed to be more alert than that, especially if he planned to hit the Chrome Disciples party this weekend. There, he’d need to be at the top of his game, ready for a potential ambush.

Twenty minutes later he sat in a booth at the diner across from a scowling Copper. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Copper roared despite the complete lack of privacy.

A hush fell over the diner as all eyes turned their way. Being eleven-thirty in the morning, the place was bustling with the early lunch crowd.

A wide-eyed Toni glared daggers their way.

As Screw turned his gaze back to Copper, he caught sight of Jazz emerging from her office with a worried expression. She avoided looking at him—no surprise there—instead focusing on Copper.

With a wince, Copper lifted a hand Toni’s way. She just rolled her eyes and resumed refilling coffee cups to her counter customers. Within seconds, the dull roar of happily munching and chatting patrons kicked up once again.

Copper leaned in. “Look, Screw, I get you want to take the initiative and be proactive here. And I appreciate you taking this shit seriously, but there’s no fucking way I can allow this. It’s just too goddammed risky. Crank’s been one step ahead of us, so we have to assume this is a trap.” He’d dropped his voice so low, Screw had to lean in to hear him.

“What the fuck has you two looking so serious?” Zach said from the side of the table. Standing next to him with a frown on her make-up free face was Lindsay, the-thirteen-year-old girl he and Toni had recently taken in.

“Hey, sweetie,” Screw said giving her a chin lift.

She blushed an adorable shade of pink, casting her eyes to the ground. The guys had been teasing him about her schoolgirl crush on him, so he tried to be sensitive of her feelings. Fuck if he didn’t know how rough it could be being a teenager, and how it scarred a person for life. This girl had already been through so much having been used as a pawn by the Chrome Disciples MC.

“Hi, Screw. Hi, Copper,” she said before glancing up at Zach. “I’m gonna go help Toni.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

She gave Zach a quick hug before jetting off, which had a goofy grin appearing on the new VP’s face.

“She seems to be settling in well,” Copper said as Zach slipped into the booth next to him.

Z’s gaze tracked the girl where she got to work behind the counter, taking over Toni’s task of refilling coffees. “Yeah, all things considered she’s holding up. The nightmares break Toni’s heart, but hopefully we can move past those once she really starts to believe she’s safe.”

“Nightmares?” Screw also watched the girl who’d seen way more than any thirteen-year-old should. He knew the feeling. Maybe he could pick her brain about the new Chrome Disciples clubhouse. She’d most likely been there a time or two.