Screw

by Atlas, Lilly

  But that job fell to him. The fucking enforcer.

  “10-4,” Mav replied followed with confirmation from the other two-man teams.

  Since the day after the CDMC, they’d had eyes on the trucking company the CDMC used to transport weapons. Not only did Rocket commandeer comm units, he’d also procured a high-tech drone complete with hi-res imaging capabilities. And Christ if that didn’t make surveillance a fucking breeze.

  In fact, this entire operation had gone smoothly thus far. Starting with LJ getting hired as a security guard. The initial plan had been to have someone apply for a driver position. They’d gone so far as to have Tex take an interview. During a tour of the yard, the manager mentioned how they were in desperate need of a nighttime security guard. Theirs had up and quit right before Christmas, forcing them to hire a contract security company which cost a shit load of cash. After learning that, Copper sent LJ in. He was hired on the spot. No background check, no references, not a goddammed thing. They put him on shift that night probably based on his size alone.

  Mistake for them. Big fucking win for Screw and his brothers.

  Now, not only did they have daytime footage from the drone, they had a fucking security guard inside. After days of surveillance, they basically knew every detail of how this company ran their trucks, exactly which ones the guns would be on, and—thanks to Gumby—the fastest and most effective way to disable them.

  “Cameras out in five…four…three…two…one. Move,” Screw said, as he darted across the yard to the truck he and Gumby had been assigned to. Plan was to sabotage the trucks making it impossible for the weapons to be delivered on time. Gun running wasn’t the kind of business where deliveries could be rescheduled, or second chances were given. Whoever waited on the other end would be fucking furious and drop the CDMC no questions asked.

  As much as Screw wanted to swipe the actual weapons, they couldn’t take that risk. First place Crank and his fuckhead club would look was the Handlers. Here, the blame could lie squarely on the trucking company who’d had a break in one night.

  When Screw reached the truck he and Gumby had been assigned to, he planted his hand on the side of the trailer and tried to control his breathing.

  Though this operation was relatively low risk, his heart pounded with the force of a stampede, making him lightheaded and queasy. Jesus, he’d never had a panic attack in his fucking life, yet he felt seconds from completely flipping the fuck out.

  “Hey,” Gumby appeared next to him looking calm, collected, and sexy as fuck in all black with a dark cap, comm unit, and his glasses in place. He reached out and muted Screw’s comm before doing the same to his own. “Breathe. This is a cake walk. We planned the fuck out of it and have about eighteen contingency plans for everything from a hurricane to a terrorist attack. We fucking got this.”

  “That’s not even…Oh, fuck.” He sucked in a breath that sounded strangely like a whistle being blown.

  “Shit,” Gumby glanced left then right before capturing Screw’s face between his hands. “You got this Luke. You’re a fucking badass enforcer. Your prez trusts you, your brothers trust you, I fucking trust you. You. Have. Got. This.” Then he kissed him hard and fast before picking up the gas can and getting to work.

  Christ that was exactly what he’d needed to hear. They’d planned well and each man there tonight knew their role. He trusted those men with his life. What he didn’t trust was himself. The weight of responsibility nearly ground him to dust.

  Letting down his club was not an option. But his club wasn’t the only concern here. Gumby could be hurt. Jazz could be hurt. No, he would not allow this operation to fail.

  “Hey, you gonna make me do all the work, slacker?” Gumby winked and the small gesture was the final kick he’d needed to get his ass in gear.

  “Fuck you,” Screw said without any heat.

  Gumby chuckled before laying on his back and worming his way under the truck. As he’d made the club practice at least fifteen times, he followed the gas line until he reached the anti-siphoning device. “Got it,” he called after disabling the device.

  As Gumby worked his way back out from under the truck, Screw got the tubing set up and began siphoning the diesel. They didn’t need to get it all, just enough to allow them to dump gasoline in the tank. It was the perfect solution. Ten miles out, the trucks would fail. The weapons wouldn’t reach their destination and by the time the company realized they’d been sabotaged, the CDMC’s deliveries would be fucked.

  “That’s good. Good, good, good. Come on,” Gumby said beckoning Screw with his hand.

  Screw tossed him the tubing which Gumby stowed in a black duffel then he grabbed the canister full of gasoline.

  “Jesus, motherfucking Christ,” Screw said as sweat ran down his face and into his eyes. “My hands are fucking shaking.”

  “Here, I got you. Done this a hundred times.” Gumby took over, inserting the canister into the gas tank.

  “Seriously? Hundreds of times.”

  With a laugh, Gumby looked over at him and winked. “What the fuck else do you do when you’re sixteen, bitter, and live in a sandy town that doesn’t even have a McDonalds?”

  “Apparently, you vandalize cars.”

  Gumby winked. “You got it, babe. Done.” He pulled the can out, kissed Screw then flipped both their comms back on. “Team one objective complete.”

  Screw stared after the confident man as he strode away, ass looking like every porn star’s goal. They made a good team. Gumby the ever-calm presence and Screw, his hyper self.

  “Team three objective complete.” The words spoken in his ear were followed almost immediately by team two.

  “Team four, check in,” Screw said.

  “Getting there. Having trouble with the fucking anti-siphon piece of shit,” Mav said. It was followed by some grumbling. “Fuck. Something ain’t right here.”

  Screw checked his watch. They had exactly ninety seconds until the alarm company would alert the cops. “Gumby,” he said into his comm device so Mav could hear.

  “On it.” As he watched Gumby jog over to where Mav was, his heart rate kicked up again.

  Thirty seconds passed.

  Forty-five.

  “Fuck, they fucking jerry-rigged his motherfucker. Any chance you can buy me an extra minute?” Gumby’s frustration bled through the ear piece.

  “No,” Screw answered honestly though it killed him to be unable to offer help. “Look if we have to abandon it, we still got three—”

  “No.” Gumby’s voice came through the comm. “Fuck that. I’m getting this bitch done.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “I’m telling Jazz you said that,” but he bit back his natural instinct to break the tension with humor. This wasn’t the fucking time. And high tension would keep Gumby working as fast as fucking possible.

  “Fuck.” LJ stuck his head out of the guard booth. “We got a problem. Alarm company called one minute early. Cops are on the way. Two minutes out.”

  “Shit. Fuck,” Screw bit out. “Let’s roll. Everyone out?”

  “Mav, Gumby, get the fuck out of there,” he called as he started for the exit. They had a truck idling down the street. If they sprinted like Olympic runners, they’d make it.

  “Right behind you,” Mav said in his ear.

  “Me too.”

  Screw breathed a huge fucking sigh of relief as Gumby’s voice crackled in his ear. He ran, legs pumping as fast as they could down the street to the waiting van. Rocket hung out the back with his hand on the open door. As the sound of a siren wailing registered, he yelled, “Like the ground’s on fucking fire, boys.”

  Screw picked up his pace. The sound of pounding feet behind him had him confident Mav and Gumby were only steps behind. He jumped into the back of the van and spun just in time to see Mav do the same. As Rocket went to pull the door closed, Screw shouted, “Wait! Where the fuck is Gumby?”

  Rocket’s eyes widened in shock as he seemed to do a
mental tally of who was in the van. “Shit! The crazy fucker stayed.”

  “Gumby?” Screw said into his comm. He was the only one still wearing the headset. “Motherfucker you better be running out of there right fucking now. Lights are coming down the street.”

  He held his breath until he heard, “Screw, I got it! Two seconds and I’ll have the gas in the truck.”

  “You don’t have two fucking seconds.” He spun away from his brothers and lowered his voice. “Please, get the fuck out of there.” Jesus Christ. What the hell was he going to tell Jazmine? That Gumby was arrested because of him? And what would he tell Copper? The CDMC would know what they’d done in mere hours. Retaliation would be swift and brutal.

  “Gumby?” he said with no response just as four police cars came screaming down the street, skidding to a stop in front of the truck yard.

  “Oh, fuck.” Screw collapsed forward with his hands on his knees trying to stave the nausea.

  “We can’t stay,” Rocket said as he pulled the door closed. “Drive, Jig.” A hand landed on Screw’s shoulder. “We won’t go far, and we’ll come back for him.”

  “He’ll be in fucking jail.”

  Christ, he’d just sent his man to jail. He was going to puke. What would he tell Jazz? How would he get through the day knowing Gumby was behind bars and possibly suffering? He and Jazz were the best parts of Screw’s day.

  Fuck, the best parts of his life.

  THE SIRENS GREW in intensity until it became obvious they were right outside the trucking yard, then they cut off.

  In his peripheral vision, Gumby could see flashing red and blue.

  He was pretty much fucked. If by some miracle the cops didn’t get him, Screw would have his ass for sure. And not in the way he’d promised would blow his mind, and his load.

  Jesus, he was spending too much time with Screw and his raunchy mind.

  “Come on, come on,” he whispered as the last of the gasoline poured into the tank.

  Yanking the canister out, he made to run…somewhere, when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt. “Get in the cab,” LJ whispered as he unlocked the door and practically tossed Gumby in. “Fold your big fucking body up and stay outta sight until I come get you.” He ripped the comm unit out of Gumby’s ear and stashed it in his pocket.

  LJ shut the door as soundlessly as possible while Gumby wedged his six-foot-four frame under the steering wheel. He might never be able to unwind, but if it kept him off the cops’ radar he’d happily live as a bent and crooked man.

  “Good evening, officers.” LJ’s booming voice sounded through the quiet yard. “I’m working security tonight.”

  “We got an emergency call from the alarm company. Cameras cut out. We’re gonna need you to let us search the premises, sir. And we’ll need to see your clearance paperwork.”

  “Sure, yes, of course,” LJ said as he used a jangling keychain to unlock the chain-link gate. Gumby could barely hear it rolling open on the squeaky tract over the blood rushing in his ears.

  “Here you go.” LJ said. “My company ID. Feel free to look around, but…uh…this was totally my fault. It’s only my third night and I fucked up with the cameras. Thought I had the hang of it, but…”

  The guy deserved an Oscar for the way he made himself sound so sheepish and embarrassed, Gumby could picture the mountain of a man rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the ground in defeat.

  Silence fell. Gumby held his breath as he waited to hear whether the cop bought LJ’s act. His knees and ankles began to ache from the kinked-up way he’d wedged himself beneath the steering wheel. Hopefully nothing a little Motrin and a hot shower couldn’t fix later on.

  Of course, if he ended up spending the night in a jail cell…

  “Look, buddy, we’re gonna scope the place out because we have to. Part of the protocol when the alarm company contacts us. If you fuck up again, just give them a call. They’ll either talk you through the problem or fix it from their end. Save us all a whole lot of trouble, yeah?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. I didn’t want my boss to think I couldn’t handle the job.”

  “Sure, whatever. We’ll look around then be out of your hair.”

  “Okay, thank you. Let me know if you need anything from me.”

  Footsteps sounded, but they were too light to be LJ’s. The big guy most likely stayed in the yard to see if his lies held up.

  “That guy’s a fucking idiot,” one of the cops mumbled way too close to Gumby for comfort.

  “Tell me about it. Fucking up our night cuz he’s too prideful to call the alarm company and ask for help. Let’s get this shit over with,” a deeper voice, the one who’d been talking to LJ said.

  “What do you want us to do? Look in all the trucks?”

  Sweat trickled down Gumby’s spine, causing a maddening itch. He bit his lower lip—hard. Maybe the pain would override the compelling urge to rub the irritation off his back. They’d discover him for sure and he’d be up shit’s creek.

  “Fuck, no. I ain’t wasting any more time on this nonsense than absolutely necessary. Check around and under the trucks. That’s it. Then we get the hell outta here.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Gumby’s eyes fell closed and he concentrated on slow, even, quiet breathing. Ignoring the discomfort in his joints grew harder by the second as the annoying ache progressed to an extreme burning sensation.

  He needed a distraction and he needed one fast, or he’d be thrashing around to scratch his back and stretch his long limbs. As he endured time crawling by slower than the drip of molasses, he pulled up his favorite go-to memory from the past week. The one where he’d walked into Jazz’s kitchen to find her bent over as she pulled something heavy from the oven. She’d been wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a skimpy pair of panties. Before he’d had a chance to move in for the kill, Screw had sidled up next to him and with a low wolf whistle, alerted Jazz to their presence. What had followed was hours of sensual play he’d forever use as go-to spank-bank fodder.

  Tonight, however hot the memories, he was safe from growing hard. Not only was he so scrunched up, there wasn’t any goddammed room for an erection to expand, his joints throbbed so bad, his lovers could be naked in the truck with him and he probably wouldn’t be able to get it up.

  Screw had to be losing his mind. Even if he hadn’t left his phone in the truck, he couldn’t risk making a sound to text and put Screw’s mind at ease.

  Finally, after what felt like hours of torture, the deeper voice rang out again. “All clear in here, buddy. You have yourself a good night and remember what I said about communicating with the alarm company.”

  Gumby blew out a silent breath as relief flowed through him. He fought his body’s need to unwind. Until LJ opened that door and set him free, they weren’t out of the woods. Sweat poured down his face as the seconds ticked by.

  Christ, what the hell was taking so long?

  It had to have been a solid ten minutes since the cops said they were leaving. Had it been some kind of trick? Had LJ been apprehended and taken in? Fuck. How the hell long was he supposed to wait there before he went to assess the situation?

  Another few minutes passed with an agonizing slowness. “Fuck it,” Gumby mouthed into the dark and empty truck cab.

  Just as he was about to maneuver out from under the steering wheel, the door opened, and fresh air flooded the car.

  “Fuck, sorry, man. They were fucking chatting more than the ol’ ladies when they get together. Couldn’t get rid of the fuckers. You all right?”

  With a snort, Gumby said, “Might need a wheelchair to get me out of here.”

  “Sure hope not. I ain’t pushing your ass around, lazy fucker.”

  They laughed then Gumby began the painstaking process of getting free from the truck. “Oh, fuck,” he said when his boots finally hit the ground. After a few minutes of tentative flexing and extending, his legs were ready to move. “I gotta get word to S
crew.”

  LJ nodded. “Already did. He knows you’re okay.”

  Gumby held out a fist. “Thanks, brother. Owe you a big fucking one.”

  “Fuck that,” LJ said as he bumped Gumby’s fist. “Pretty sure we still all owe you one. You didn’t have to risk yourself that way. We aren’t even your club.”

  After shrugging, Gumby lifted the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his face. “Did what had to be done. What’s the plan now?”

  “Now, we’re outta here. Soon as all the trucks start craping out tomorrow, they’ll know I was either involved or a piece of shit guard, so there’s no point in me sticking around. I made sure the security cameras never caught my face. Just gonna grab my file, even though it’s fake info, and we’ll be outta here.”

  “Are you in their computer system?”

  “My picture is for my badge. They hadn’t gotten around to entering me into payroll yet. I already deleted any files associated with me including my badge image.”

  “All right.” Gumby rolled his neck back and forth. He’d be sore as shit later. Worth it, but still no fucking fun.

  Together, they entered the office where LJ rummaged through the file cabinets until he found his name. “Ready?” LJ asked.

  “Ready to have Screw tear me a new one?” Gumby chuckled. “Not sure.”

  LJ winked. “I’ve heard the guy knows his way around an ass. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

  He coughed, saliva abrading his windpipe as he tripped and nearly face planted. Did LJ know? Did he sense something.

  Fuck.

  “Jesus, man I was just kidding. Screw is bisexual, but don’t worry, he’s got plenty of fish to choose from. He’s got no interest in turning you.” Then he laughed and walked off toward his parked truck, oblivious to Gumby’s internal freak-out. “Let’s roll,” he called over his shoulder. “Have a feeling there’s a little pixie who will be very glad to see you.”