Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Fuck it. He trusted Gumby. Stupid perhaps, but true.

“I got invited to a party at the Chrome Disciples clubhouse tomorrow night.”

Wide-eyed, Gumby straightened. “What the fuck? That’s the club Jazz and I ran into at the gas station, right? The fuckers who almost kidnapped your president’s ol’ lady.”

Screw raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“This shit affects Jazz. Fuck yeah, I’m paying attention. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going against Copper’s wishes.”

“Fair enough. Look, they don’t know who I am. I ran into a prospect and chatted him up. He thinks I’m some businessman who has a hard-on for bikes. Guy told me about the party. This is the perfect fucking way to get inside and see what the fuck their operation is, how big they are, how serious they are about fucking our shit up.”

“And Copper shot you down.”

“Copper blew me out of the fucking sky.”

Stroking his face, which looked like it hadn’t been shaven in a day or two, Gumby stared Screw straight in the eye. “You’re going anyway?”

“Thinking about it.” He ran his hand over the enticing stubble. Rough against his palm, he’d love to feel it on the ultra-sensitive skin of his balls. Too bad that would probably never happen. Usually men who were terrified to admit they liked cock weren’t sucking it every other day.

“Fuck.”

“You ain’t gonna try to talk me out of it?” He gave Gumby a half smile.

Gumby shook his head with a smirk. “Pretty sure it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, I agree with you. It’s your club’s best chance at getting some serious intel.”

“Okay, so you’ll keep Jazz company tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “Actually, she’s got a thing with her girls. I forgot about it when I made the offer to hang.”

Excellent, that would keep him off her radar. “Good, that’s good. Just make sure you get her there and take her home.”

Another headshake. “They’re meeting here. And I’m coming with you, so we’ll need to make sure the girls are covered by your club.”

“What? No, Gumby—”

He lifted a hand. “Shut the fuck up, Screw. No way in hell are you walking into enemy territory on your own and without the backing of your club. Have you considered you might be walking into a trap?”

There they were talking while he sat on Gumby’s lap, their dicks still out, lying limp and sated between them. The scene was entirely too comfortable, entirely too…relationshipy. If Screw hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Gumby actually cared about him. “Of course I’ve considered it’s a trap. We need to move on these guys before they get another chance to fuck with us, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Gumby’s chest rose and fell as he sighed. Too bad it was winter and freezing. Screw would have loved to peel Gumby out of his clothing and lick the man all over. All those long, lean, ropy muscles.

“Then it’s a risk we take together.”

“Why? This isn’t your club. Isn’t your problem. I know you care about Jazz, but—.”

“This isn’t just about Jazz. It’s about you, Luke. You need someone at your back. You know it. Don’t be stupid. Let me be that man. I mean, let me be your backup at the party. Two sets of eyes are always better than one,” he rushed on, but it was too late, Screw hadn’t missed the emotion in Gumby’s voice.

Let me be that man.

The words touched a part of Screw he kept hidden under a heavy pile of jokes and sarcasm. Just when he needed that part of himself the most, to keep from letting Gumby’s words worm their way into his heart, it failed him. Instead of making some shitty comment, he fucking kissed Gumby.

“Couldn’t think of a better man for the job.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

GUMBY NAVIGATED THE increasingly familiar roads, racking his brain for something to say. Unfortunately, all he could do was recall the two mind-blowing sexual encounters of the previous night, and it certainly wasn’t the time for that discussion. He didn’t even know how he felt about what happened between the three of them and then between him and Screw on the porch. Shit, just the memory of it had him at half chub. Clearly his body knew where it stood. His brain on the other hand…yeah, a big fucking mess.

Then there was his heart. The damn confounding organ that had suffered with each word of Jazz’s story only to be soothed and mended by Screw. Now, his heart clenched with a warm yet terrifying feeling whenever he thought of either of his two lovers.

Not the time.

Instead of coming up with anything profound to break the tension, he risked a quick glance at the man seated beside him in the cab of the truck. Though the truck belonged to Screw, one glance at the man when he’d arrived had been all it took for Gumby to realize he’d need to drive.