Little Jack

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Little Jack Page 4

by Atlas, Lilly


  Even though it was ass-crack of dawn early, LJ couldn’t blame the fatigue on the hour. He’d been up since three when the familiar nightmare tossed him out of bed and onto his unforgiving wooden floor. The details were fuzzy, but he’d woken drenched in sweat and tangled in blankets on the floor with a bitch of a bruise on his hip.

  Nothing new, but a damned shit way to start what was going to be a demanding workweek.

  At the moment, LJ had four major projects running concurrently. Made for never-ending grueling days, but he found the work satisfying as hell. Not to mention the constant activity kept his mind occupied, and that was always a positive. His first destination of the day consisted of storm damage repairs on a multi-million-dollar home high in the mountains. The job was a rush because the owners were hosting a wedding in a few weeks. Once he’d checked on that site, he planned to pop in on the other three and make sure the crews were on task. Combine those chores with church scheduled for eight that evening and LJ would be hauling his tired self home with just enough time to catch a few Z’s before starting all over again.

  Vat of coffee in hand, he opened his front door and nearly stomped on a sizable white bakery box with his clown-size work boot. Written in a flowy script across the lid were the words Thank You followed by a smiley face. Man, if the contents of that box were half as delicious as Holly’s cheesecake, he’d be doing her favors every chance he got.

  Hopefully, a few of those favors would be of the sexual variety. Ever since meeting her, he hadn’t been able to scrub the image of her curvy as fuck body from his mind. Especially not once he’d jerked himself to completion over a fantasy of that soft body naked and spread out for him on his bed.

  LJ lifted the box and opened it to find an assortment of giant cookies. Immediately, the scent of chocolate and fresh-baked goodness tickled his senses and he inhaled a deeper hit. Some of the cookies were clearly chocolate chip, some smelled like peanut butter, others deep dark chocolate, and then…snickerdoodles. Oh man, somehow the sugar goddess next door knew his weakness. Cinnamon and sugar.

  Hell fucking yes.

  Was five in the morning too early to gorge on cookies?

  Fuck no, it wasn’t.

  After stuffing an entire cookie into his mouth, he moaned. God, that woman could bake. The box was filled to the brim. After devouring a few more, he carried what remained in the box to his work truck. Holly had made so many cookies, he could bring the container to church that evening and still have plenty to binge on. Sharing the goods might help kick her business off the ground because if there was one thing he knew about his brothers, they liked to eat. Especially if the food came from a pretty woman.

  Though he just might leave out how smokin’ hot Holly was. None of those assholes needed that information.

  Midway through a sweaty day, LJ tossed his hard hat in the bed of his truck before guzzling water straight from the gallon jug. With the bandana he wore under the protective helmet, he wiped his sweaty head. One job site down, three to go.

  “Heading out, boss?” Gary, one of the electricians he frequently contracted asked, opening his own large bottle of water.

  “Yeah, man. Gotta head over to the bank job. We hit a snag with the plumbing.” LJ rolled his eyes. This was the second time in a month his plumber had called with some bullshit issue he should have been able to solve. Might be time to look for a new one. “Kinda hate to leave though. Been loving working on this place.”

  “Tell me about it,” the shorter man said as he wiped his mouth. Gary’s long black hair was braided down his back, sticking out from the hard hat he hadn’t bothered to remove. “Always nice to work with an unlimited budget.”

  “Seriousl—” The loud blare of multiple sirens had both men’s heads whipping around.

  “What the fuck?” Gary muttered as three cop cars came tearing up the extended driveway in full showboat mode. Lights, sirens, screeching breaks, the works.

  “No fucking clue,” LJ returned, but the intense churning in his gut let him know this was gonna fuck up his day but good. “Oh, fuck,” he said as the door to the lead car opened and out stepped—or stomped—Sheriff’s Deputy Richard Schwartz, the biggest douche nozzle LJ had ever had the displeasure to meet.

  As though he had the authority of God, Schwartz marched his way over to where LJ and Gary stood with four other officers trailing behind him. Schwartz stopped about two feet from LJ. The gleeful smirk on his smug fucking face was as much a show of power as his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

  “Dick,” LJ said, working to school his own smirk.

  Schwartz’s face turned red, and he scowled so hard he was a risk of facial injury. Guy must not be much of a poker player.

  “You in charge here?” Schwartz was about six-foot with sandy hair and an overall pretty-boy look. Think boy band meets country bumpkin. He took his job as deputy sheriff in the small town of Townsend way too seriously and was one of the few cops the Handlers’ had never been able to bend to their will. Thankfully, the sheriff kept him in line ninety-nine percent of the time. Looked like today was going to be the one percent Sheriff Coleman couldn’t control.

  “Sure am. You want a tour? See how the other half lives? Can’t imagine you’ll ever make it to this type of life on a cop’s salary.”

  Eyes narrowed, Schwartz snorted. “You’re the hired help. Pretty sure dirty fucking bikers aren’t snapping up all the mansions.”

  Well, he had a point there. LJ certainly didn’t have the moola to own a ten-bedroom monstrosity, but he was pretty fucking satisfied with his life. With a frustrated sigh, he said, “The fuck you want, Dicky? I got too much shit to do to be standing around waiting to see if you’re gonna ask me on a date or if you just wanna suck me off.”

  Red darkened Schwartz’s cheeks, and his blue eyes practically shot sparks. Looked like the guy was about three seconds from losing his shit, and wouldn’t LJ love the fuck outta that? Twenty witnesses were all able to vouch that the deputy made the first move. Damn, it’d be fucking sweet. But instead, Schwartz shook off his pissed off expression and half of his mouth curved up into a shitty grin. “Got a call in about some concerning things going on out here.”

  “Concerning things?” LJ asked with a grunt. “Oh boy, Dicky. You’ve really got me shaking now.”

  “Operating without proper permits, not adhering to safety protocols,” Schwartz said as he pointed to LJ’s bare head.

  LJ couldn’t help but laugh. “First off, I’m well out of the bounds of the work zone. And second, who the fuck calls the cops over a hard hat issue? Nice try, Dicky. What else you got?”

  “Hiring undocumented workers.”

  Well shit. That one could shut down work for days. All of the men working for Rocket had their papers in order but hauling them all in to verify would eat up precious time he didn’t have to spare.

  “Seriously? What the fuck does the local sheriff’s office care about the citizenship of my employees? You ain’t ICE, Dicky. What’s the matter? You bored? Need some action? Donut shop not carrying your favorite flavor today?”

  Gary coughed in a failed attempt to disguise a laugh. When Schwartz’s gaze shifted to the electrician, Gary said. “Seriously, deputy, none of the things you mentioned are police matters. Besides, I’ve worked with LJ for years and he runs a tight fucking ship. Can’t say I’ve ever seen so much as a loose board to trip over.”

  Standing behind their superior like well-trained dogs, the rest of the officers shifted as though uneasy with the direction of this conversation. They should be uncomfortable. Most likely, they were led to believe this little power play was a legit matter instead of a bullshit call. Some kind of weird show of strength that made no sense. And it needed to end. LJ had places to be.

  “How about this?” he said. “I’ll have Rocket give Sheriff Coleman a call.” They can work out whatever shit needs to be addressed. Sound good?” Coleman wouldn’t risk the bank he made off the MC over a few imaginary safety violations or unjustifi
ed concerns over the citizens of Rocket’s company. Schwartz was already on thin ice with his boss if rumors were to be believed. The unspoken threat to Schwartz’s job had LJ flying high for about two seconds. Until a genuine smile curled Schwartz’s lips and he rocked back on his heels.

  “You know what? You do that, Jack. You go right ahead and do that.” Then the arrogant bastard laughed as he spun on his heel and started for his cruiser. “Have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around soon, Jack.”

  “What the hell was that load of horseshit?” Gary asked as the two men watched the officers drive off.

  “Fuck if I know,” LJ said. He rubbed a hand across his bald head. “But I don’t have time to deal with it now. I’ll bring it up to Rocket and Cop at church tonight. I need to roll.”

  “All right man. Have a good one.” Gary stuck his hand out, and LJ gave it a quick shake before sliding into his truck.

  After powering through a challenging fourteen-hour day, LJ dragged his exhausted and grimy ass through the clubhouse and into the chapel. Tonight was his first official church since patching in and, damn, did it feel good to finally be included in the closed-door meetings.

  Just as he stepped into the chapel, Maverick’s furious voice rang out. “It’s complete and utter bullshit, Copper.”

  LJ blinked as the room fell silent. A few of the guys were still filtering in, but everyone stopped and stared at Maverick. Ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time, Maverick was a laid-back jokester. Every other word out of the man’s mouth was rife with innuendo and snark. To hear him pissed as fuck was unusual, to say the least.

  “What’s up with him?” LJ whispered to Rocket as he slipped into a seat on his boss’s right.

  Without taking his gaze off the scene unfolding, Rocket shook his head. “Not sure. Mav followed Copper in here, ranting and raving. Don’t know what happened but the guy is fucked off.”

  Huh.

  “I hear you, Mav,” Copper said. “Settle down, and we’ll discuss it.” He glanced around the room. “Everyone in?”

  “We’re all here,” Viper, the club’s VP said from Copper’s right.

  “All right, Mav start it off.” Copper waved toward his road captain while taking his seat.

  After cracking his knuckles, Maverick blew out a breath. “Got pulled over by that fucking cocksucker, Schwartz, on my way over here.”

  Zach’s brows drew down. “Which one is he?” Z was the club’s enforcer, and not at all a fan of the local authorities.

  “Sheriff’s deputy. That douche with the fancy fucking haircut. Looks like an overgrown frat boy. Think he’s maybe late twenties. Walks like there’s a stick up his ass,” Mav said, his mouth twisting like he’d eaten something rotten.

  Nodding along, Zach held up his hand. “Enough said. I hate that fucker.”

  They weren’t the only ones.

  “He pulled me over for going sixty-six in a fifty-five.”

  “Seriously?” Zach said. “Thought Coleman had him on a tight leash?”

  Copper grunted. “Always has. Can’t remember the last time one of us got written up for speeding.”

  Coleman had been the town’s sheriff for a good twenty years. The club had a great relationship with the man. He looked the other way on the club’s loan sharking, gambling, and any other less than legal undertakings the Handlers might get involved with. In return, Copper kept the MC away from running drugs, guns, or girls. In fact, the club worked to keep the town free of those activities in general. And of course, they greased the old timer’s pockets.

  Generously.

  Everyone was a winner.

  Except Schwartz who’d fought the sheriff at every step of the way, constantly wanting up the MC’s ass.

  LJ cleared his throat. “I had a run-in with Dicky today, too.”

  “Fuck me,” Mav muttered.

  “What happened?” Copper asked, shooting Maverick a shut it glare.

  LJ regaled the room with the events of earlier. With each word he spoke, Rocket coiled tighter until he was practically vibrating with anger next to LJ. He’d worked damn hard to grow his contracting business, and any threat to it couldn’t be seen as anything but personal.

  “Shit.” Screw, a newer member who’d prospected alongside LJ for part of his time piped up. The two had become close during the months they’d spent taking shit from the patched brothers. “I got a speeding ticket from Schwartz last night too.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing one hand over his clenched fist. “Looks like we may be fucked, boys. And not in the way I normally like. You all know Coleman’s got pancreatic cancer. Came on fast and furious. Town board just voted in this new guy to fill the remaining three years on Coleman’s term. Schwartz was positively fuckin’ giddy as he told me how his new boss’s first order of business was us.”

  Copper frowned. “Coleman assured me his replacement wouldn’t be an issue for us,” he said as he stared Screw down.

  “Don’t know anything about that, prez. Just relaying what Schwartz told me. He seemed pretty fucking certain this guy was not a friendly.”

  The entire room fell eerily quiet until Copper finally said, “Fuck,” in a soft voice. He turned his piercing gaze on Screw. “He give you any more information?”

  Shaking his head, Screw said, “No, just that he’s got a new boss whose number one goal is to tear us a new asshole.”

  Copper let out a growl then leaned back in his chair, stroking his bearded chin. Every man in the club knew to give him a moment while he was thinking through shit. “Okay,” he said after a few minutes. “Shell was planning to head to the station in a few days. We need bodies for the charity run next month. Usually, Coleman is all about that. I’m gonna send her in there, have her make nice with the new sheriff. We’ll see what happens when she brings up the club and who her ol’ man is.”

  Mav started to laugh, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The smartass could never stay mad for long. “You’re gonna owe her a damn good fuck for sending her to the wolves, Prez.”

  Copper narrowed his eyes at Mav. “First of all, I always fuck my woman right.” A few men snickered while others whistled and whooped.

  Despite the initial seriousness of the meeting, LJ couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He’d been waiting to be included in this shit for so long. Felt incredible to finally be one of the brothers.

  “And you forget, that woman manages Copper without even trying,” Zach said. “A hard-ass sheriff will be a piece of cake. She’ll have him eating out of her palm in no time.”

  “His mouth better not get anywhere near her, not even her fucking hand,” Copper muttered. “But yeah, she’ll handle him just fine.”

  Still smirking, Mav lifted his hands in surrender. “You know her better than anyone.”

  “You’re fucking right, I do. Now, it’s LJ’s first church. Welcome, brother. This has been a long time coming,” Copper said with nod.

  As the rest of the guys nodded and offered their welcoming words, LJ ran a finger over the bandage on his left arm. The spot where the Hell’s Handlers official brand was healing. “Thanks.”

  “Whatcha got there, LJ?” Mav asked with a raised eyebrow. “Your mommy send you with some treats for your first scout meeting?”

  Beside him, Rocket coughed to hide his laugh. LJ didn’t mind. He was used to their ribbing for one, and so fucking glad to be there they could roast him all night long for all he cared. “Nah,” he said. “Got a new neighbor who’s a pastry chef. Helped her out with something, so she left this at my door.”

  “Helped her out, huh?” Mav said as he reached across the table and opened the box. “You help her by loaning her your dick?”

  I wish.

  “No, asshole, carried some shit into her apartment. Not all of us are fucking pigs.”

  With a mock hurt gasp, Mav bit into a peanut butter cookie. His eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Holy fuck,” he said. “I don’t care where you got these or what you had to do to get them, you need to get more. F
or me. Hundreds more. These are the shit.” He jammed the rest of the cookie into his mouth and let out a muffled groan as he reached for another.

  That one sound was all it took for the rest of the vultures to descend on the box. Cops forgotten, within minutes, only crumbs remained and every man in the room was alternately munching and groaning.

  “Shit,” Mav said when he’d finally polished off his third cookie. “Someone should record this. There’s gotta be cookie porn out there somewhere. With all this moaning and shit, we could make a lot of money. Anyone wanna take their shirt off?”

  LJ ground his teeth together. The thought of another man being even partially naked while eating Holly’s baked goods had him feeling somewhat murderous.

  Shit. Clearly, he needed sleep. And probably to get laid. It’d been a good two months, and he was losing his mind if he was worried about his brothers being clothed while eating cookies.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “HOLLY! WHAT A nice surprise. How are you, dear?”

  Holly smiled at the older woman who practically screamed grandmother. Apparently, she’d been running the front desk at the sheriff’s station since she was in her early twenties, nearly fifty years ago. Holly had only met her one other time, but the woman was just the welcoming type who felt comfortable from the first introduction.

  “I’m doing well, Mrs. B, how about yourself?”

  “Now, what did I tell you about calling me Marjorie?” She asked with a scowl that didn’t even come close to making her look anything but kind. With tight white curls that only came from weekly visits to the salon, and soft wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, not to mention the crystal dish of Werther’s atop her desk, Marjorie Beasley could have played a sitcom grandmother.

 

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