Screw

by Atlas, Lilly

  Back in Arizona, she’d been different. Freer. While, she’d never been promiscuous or dressed in the slutty way many of the women involved with the club did, she’d had no problem showing some skin. Skimpy tank tops, short shorts, bikinis, sexy dresses. He’d been treated to the sight of her in all of them. Her hair, still in the pixie cut, had been streaked with colors she loved to change up. She’d been gorgeous and attracted scores of male attention like any beautiful woman did. Fuck, it used to drive him crazy to walk into the lobby of the autobody shop only to find some meathead slobbering all over her. And it happened plenty of times.

  But that was all before. Before her body had been scarred.

  Now, she dressed with the sole purpose of evading male attention.

  “I’ll take one,” he said, tagging her around the waist and yanking her flush against him. “But I’m pretty sure I already know what I want to eat.” God, those glossy lips just begged to be kissed. But this was her place of business, and he respected her enough to honor that. The lip-lock would have to wait.

  She shivered in his arms before glancing around. “Jesus, Gumby, way to get me all hot and bothered at work.”

  He snickered, snatched the menu out of her hands, and followed her to a booth.

  Across the room, Shell stood with an overflowing tray balanced on her hand and her jaw on the floor.

  Whoops. Guess that was one closet he no longer had the comfort of hiding in. He’d have to make sure Screw kept his role in all this on the down low. It wouldn’t do to have anyone calling Jazz a slut for sleeping around. And the last fucking thing on earth he wanted anyone finding out was the fact that the three of them were fucking around together.

  No matter how hot it was.

  “Sit. I’ll grab you some coffee while you decide what you want.”

  After slipping into the booth, he held the menu back out to her. “Surprise me. You know what I like.”

  Jazz paused before taking the menu and sauntering off.

  It was an intimate request, having her chose his meal. He shouldn’t be doing shit like that. With each day that passed, he observed just how well she’d settled into a life here in Tennessee. She loved her job, her friends, the MC. Even dropping hints to her about moving back to Arizona seemed like a wholly selfish move. He’d have to leave her here when his time was up. Leave her to Screw who they both knew would never claim her. Never claim anyone.

  He’d go back to fucking everything on two legs. Gumby would go back to the desert where he’d bury himself in the closet and go back to nameless, faceless fucks in the dark.

  And Jazz would be left cleaning up the mess of their short-lived kinky affair, wondering if they’d lied about how little her scars affected her beauty.

  Their futures were the picture of depressing. It’s not like he could stay…

  What? Stay?

  Shit, that was crazy thinking. Of course, he couldn’t stay. His life was in Arizona. His job. His club. His family. A man didn’t just leave an MC and move across the country for a woman. And he didn’t want to uproot. He loved his life in Arizona.

  After Jazz returned with his coffee, his phone buzzed against the table.

  The sight of the caller ID had his eyes widening. “Hello?”

  “Well, well, well, fucker. You are alive. Striker had me convinced you’d tumbled down the side of a goddammed mountain.”

  Shit, had the man known where Gumby’s disloyal thoughts had drifted? He pulled the cell from his ear and stared at it before returning to the conversation. “I’m sorry? I think you have the wrong number. Who are you looking for?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Gumby laughed. Damn, it was good to hear his brother’s voice. “Jester, how’s it going, man?”

  A grunt came through the phone. “Huh, I’m surprised you remember my name.”

  Gumby dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses. “All right. Message received. I’ve been shit at keeping in touch.”

  “Fuck, brother, you’ve all but up and disappeared.” Jester’s voice turned playful. “Guessing you found Jazmine and shit’s going real well. You gonna be able to convince that little pixie to get her sweet ass back here over the next week?”

  A week? Not likely. Ever? Well, that wasn’t looking good either.

  “That when Striker wants me back? A week?”

  “Yep. I’ve been officially assigned the task of telling you you’ve got seven days to wrap your shit up and get the fuck back to Arizona.”

  Fuck. “Look, Jest, there’s some shit going on here with the MC she’s hooked up with.”

  “She’s attached to a club? What the hell? She someone’s ol’ lady?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. She’s just gotten tight with a bunch of the ol’ ladies here. Manages a diner owned by one of ’em. She’s squarely under their protection.”

  “Huh. And they got trouble?”

  “Yeah, some shit with a rival club.” For a shameful second he almost entertained the thought of being grateful for the club drama. Gave him an excuse to stick around besides not being ready to stop fucking her.

  And Screw.

  “And you want to stick around until it’s cleared up?” Jester asked.

  “Um, yeah I think it’s for the best.” He stirred the coffee, watching the liquid swirl around the mug.

  “You don’t trust this club she’s hooked up with? Don’t think they can keep her safe?”

  “What? Nah, that’s not it. I’ve been helping a bit. Running protection on Jazzy so they don’t have to. Helping with some car shit.”

  With a chuckle Jester said, “Jazzy? The fuck?”

  “Oh, uh, shit. Sorry. Someone started calling her that here and apparently it stuck. Guess it’s rubbed off on me.”

  “Yeah, something’s rubbing on something, I’m sure. Or someone. You better not be getting too cozy out there in Tennessee, you hear me, fucker?”

  Gumby stared at the table for a moment. Had he heard Jester right? Jesus the man really had been inside his head. Guilt slammed into him. “Fuck, no, brother. Don’t be fucking insane.”

  Too cozy in Tennessee. With Jazz. And Screw.

  He needed to shove those thoughts away. Now.

  Yet… Jazz hovered behind the counter, laughing with a couple eating at the counter. Her smile lit her face, infectious and so gorgeous he found his mind drifting toward thoughts of seeing that smile more often. As in every day.

  No. He shook his head, and if he’d been alone, he’d have given himself a sharp slap to the cheek. Damn Jester for watering the seeds of lunacy in his mind.

  “Hey, you fucking listening?” Jester practically yelled into the phone.

  “What? Yeah, sorry, I’m in a diner. Got loud for a second. Say it again,” he said without taking his attention off Jazz. She caught him staring and winked before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Damn, she belonged right here.

  “Said I’ll run it up the chain. Let you know what Shiv thinks about you kicking it out east a little longer.”

  “Thanks, brother. Owe you one.”

  “Ha, pretty sure you’ll be owing me quite a few before this shit is all said and done.”

  The comment made no sense, but he had an odd feeling Jester wanted it that way. “Hey, before you go. How’s Em and that sweet kiddo she made?”

  “Hey, I made half that kid!”

  With a snort Gumby said, “That remains to be seen.”

  Jester laughed. “They’re great, fuck you very much. Em is hot as ever and—”

  Whatever else he said got lost in a buzzing in Gumby’s ears. A ripple of awareness coursed through him as though he’d picked up on some primal shift in the room’s energy field. Just as he was about to look over his shoulder, Screw slid into the booth opposite him.

  Jesus, was he that in tune to the other man? So much that he walked into the diner and Gumby grew aware of it?

  “Uh, yeah, brother, let me know what Shiv says and kiss your
fam for me.”

  He didn’t bother to wait for Jester to respond before hanging up. It would have been something about not kissing his woman for anyone but himself.

  “Hey,” Screw said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Club checking in?”

  God, he looked so…fuckable. That scruffy beard, the ponytail, the freaking T-shirt that barely contained his biceps. Biceps which were prominently on display due to the position of his arms.

  “Give me your phone. I’ll snap a selfie. This way you’ll have it whenever you need to unload your balls and I’m not around.” Screw smirked in that self-satisfied way that made Gumby want to punch him and fuck him at the same time.

  “Christ!” he said, glancing around. “Keep your fucking mouth down, huh?”

  “Oh, please.” Screw waved a hand. “No one’s listening. And even if they were, I’d say that to any of my brothers.” Then he leaned forward and dropped his tone. “Any of my brothers looking at me like they wanted to know what my cock tastes like.”

  Oh, fuck, he wanted that. He’d never. Never crossed the line from receiving to giving, but with Screw he found himself wanting everything he’d be fighting an internal battle against for the past twenty years.

  “Hey, Screw.” Jazzy appeared at the side of her table.

  When Gumby straightened and cleared his throat, she frowned, her head bouncing between the two of them. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep,” Screw said, popping the p as he lifted his mug. “Please, may I have some coffee, pretty lady?” His pout had Gumby rolling his eyes. For someone so sexual, he could play the adorable little boy damn well.

  With a snort, Jazz filled his cup. “I saw you come in and added your usual to the table’s order. Gumby, if you don’t mind waiting an extra minute, I’ll have it brought out at the same time.”

  Screw waggled his eyebrows. “What do you say man? Will you wait for me to eat? I’ll let you have a taste of my sausage?”

  “Oh, my God, are you thirteen?” Jazz asked with a laugh.

  He winked. “Pretty sure you’re both well aware nothing about me resembles a thirteen-year-old. If you need a refresher…” His hands dropped beneath the table.

  Jazz flushed before rolling her eyes and turning her back on them. Her face remained the cutest damn shade of pink as she checked in on a few other tables.

  “You gotta knock that shit off,” Gumby said.

  Screw’s hands went back behind his head as though he was lounging on a poolside chaise instead of waiting for an early lunch in a diner. “What shit?”

  “You know what shit. The implying things.” Gumby leaned in. “Between me and you, me and Jazz, you and Jazz. Someone’s gonna overhear and I don’t want anyone calling Jazz a slut.”

  Screw let out a loud snort that turned into genuine laughter. “What the fuck kinda prude club do you belong to? Pretty sure most of us know what a slut is. Jazz could fuck five of my brothers at once and not a single person I know would think that of her.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to broadcast it where she works.”

  With a scoff, Screw dropped his hands to the table, leaning in. “First of all, I didn’t broadcast shit. No one knows a fucking thing beyond this booth. I wouldn’t disrespect Jazz that way. Or you for fuck’s sake, but I’m glad to know you think I’m that much of an asshole.” He shoved to his feet then dug in his back pocket before tossing some bills on the table. “Jazzy,” he called to her. “I’m gonna need mine to go.” Then he turned back to Gumby. “Pretty sure you need to get shit right in your head. Because there’s only one person here who’s ashamed of what’s going on. And it ain’t me or Jazz, or anyone in my club.”

  “Screw—”

  He held up a hand. “Copper’s gonna be calling you to ask for your help with something. I was gonna fill you in, but I’m not in the mood.” He covered his hand with his mouth. “Ooops, I said ‘in the mood.’ Bet everyone in here heard that and now thinks we’re fucking.”

  With that, he stormed over to the counter where Lindsey was boxing up his order. When she handed it to him, he flashed her his most charming grin, leaving the thirteen-year-old with pink cheeks and a smile. But his walk from the counter to the exit was more of a stomp and the smile had morphed into an angry scowl.

  That did not go well.

  Gumby’s left hand throbbed, a stark reminder of why he hid.

  “What was that?” Jazz asked as she appeared with his food. After placing the plate in front of him, she took the seat Screw had vacated.

  “Thanks, hon.” He sighed. “That was me pissing him off.”

  She frowned as she watched Screw drive off through the front window of the diner. “What happened?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” His phone rang just as he took a bite of the perfectly seasoned hash browns. “Shit. That’ll be Copper. I gotta take this.”

  If it was even possible, her frown deepened, and a V formed between her eyes. “Copper? Why is he calling you?”

  “Fill you in later.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Copper, Screw told me to expect your call.”

  Jazz narrowed her eyes in that way women had of letting a man know he wasn’t even close to being off the hook.

  Now he owed an apology to Screw and an explanation to Jazz.

  Fuck my life.

  He chatted with Copper for a moment before agreeing to head over to the clubhouse once he’d finished his meal. After uncovering the mystery of what Copper needed, he’d find out where Screw lived and pay him a visit.

  An apology visit.

  Which would maybe lead to a round of make-up sex.

  Really? That’s where his mind decided to go? He shifted on the booth. His mind and his dick apparently.

  Seriously, fuck my life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  JAZZ WATCHED FROM behind the counter as Gumby spoke with Copper on his cell. Every sixth sense, red-flag-o-meter, and inner sage she possessed had gone on full alert the moment he’d taken that call.

  Copper would call Gumby for one reason and one reason only. Something was going down with the club and they needed his assistance. But why? What could Gumby offer as a club outsider that the MC itself couldn’t provide?

  As the handsome man nodded his head then pushed his glasses up his nose, she smiled. The move had always endeared her to him. Truth be told, Gumby was the least biker looking biker she knew. Sure, he wore leather, boots, a cut, plenty of metal and carried himself with the confidence of the bikers she knew, but strip it all away and he could easily play a handsome businessman or even a geeky gamer.

  Gumby kept his hair short, neat, and well styled. Only a few tattoos decorated his skin. As far as she’d seen he’d never even let his face get scruffy, and for a mechanic, his fingernails seemed to have much fewer permanent grease stains than all the other No Prisoners who worked in the garage. Even Acer, who’d been raised in a high society family, had more of a badass look to him. Gumby seriously gave off an extra-tall Clark Kent vibe, and she dug it. It ticked all her boxes. While he may not look the rugged, alpha biker, appearances could be deceiving, and Gumby could throw down with the best of them.

  He hung up, dropped his head, and his shoulders rose and fell before he quickly downed his meal. The urge to go to him and demand answers rode her hard, but the bell jangled, indicating a customer had arrived. When she saw it was Mama V and Viper, she darted over to greet the beloved couple.

  “Cassie,” she said, wrapping her arms around the thin woman. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  “Hello, my girl,” Mama V said, patting Jazz on the back.

  “Viper.” Jazz kissed the older man on his furry cheek. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see you two in here. Come sit.” She guided them to a booth, slipping in next to Mama V. “You must be feeling a little better if you’re out and about.”

  She’d been diagnosed with lymphoma not too long ago and was well into an intensive course of chemotherapy. One that had wrecked
her more than the disease. Or at least that’s how it seemed, watching her get sick after each treatment.

  “She woke up from a nap hungry as a horse,” Viper said, giving his wife of thirty some years a smile.

  Cassie captured Jazz’s hand in hers. “I’m feeling well today, yes. And tomorrow I have chemo which means a few days of misery, so I figured I’d take advantage of this good day and fill my belly with delicious food. Plus, I wanted to see my girls.”

  Jazz couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She’d been so worried for Cassie. “Can I come visit in a day or two? Give Viper a break from nurse duty?”

  “I’d love that, honey. Yes.”

  “How are the treatments going?”

  “Doc says she’s a dream patient,” Viper said with a proud smile. “They couldn’t be happier with the way it’s going. We are well on the way to remission.” He shot his ol’ lady a wink.

  Sweeter words had never been spoken. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

  Mama V’s eyes grew misty. “I’m a little afraid to be relieved, but yes, my oncologist says things couldn’t be progressing better than they are.”

  Jazz’s own eyes prickled. “God, that’s so good to hear. I don’t know what I would do without you two.” She gave Cassie a hug then shook her head to clear the tears. “That’s enough with the heavy stuff. What can I get you to eat?”

  After taking their order, she returned to fill their coffee cups. Halfway back to the kitchen, Gumby intercepted her.

  “Hey,” she said. “You on your way out?”

  “Yeah. You got a prospect here, right?”

  “Yep.” She nodded toward the end of the row of booths. “Monty is my babysitter extraordinaire. What did Copper want?”

  Way to play it cool, Jazmine. She could have kicked herself for blurting that out, but she had to try. Wondering what the club had gotten Gumby into would eat at her all day.

  He tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “You know the game, Jazzy. It’s club—”

  Oh, hell no.

  “If you tell me it’s club business, I’m gonna lose my shit. This isn’t your club, buddy. I’m already worried about Screw because he’s the fu—” She glanced around at the curious eyes of a few customers on her and dropped her voice as she dragged Gumby to the side. “He’s the friggin’ enforcer and gonna be smack in the middle of this CDMC war. Now I’ve gotta worry about you, too? I’m gonna lose my fu-friggin’ mind over here. You gotta give me something if you expect me to be able to sleep at night.”