by Atlas, Lilly
Would she mind going out to the shed where she’d last seen a snake?
Uh, yeah, she minded. She minded a whole lot.
“No, Mrs. Collier, I don’t mind at all.” She’d have one of the guys do it for her later today. “When is he thinking of coming by?”
“Probably around nine this morning. If you don’t mind just leaving it on the porch before you go to work, he won’t need to get in your hair at all.”
Well crap. Gumby had left with Screw just five minutes ago. He planned to work out while Screw opened Zach’s gym. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Mrs. Sampson if her son could just go into the shed and retrieve it himself. But she bit the words back. She was an adult for crying out loud. So she saw a small snake once. Didn’t mean the place was infested. It was winter anyway. Didn’t that mean the snakes had migrated somewhere warm?
Like the inside of the shed.
Even as she shuddered in revulsion, she forced the words, “Sure, I’ll run out there right now,” past her lips.
“Thank you, honey. You’re such a sweetheart. You have a good day.”
“You too, Mrs. Sampson.” Jazz groaned the second she hit the end button.
It was then she remembered Thunder had pulled up right before the guys left. He’d get it for her. He’d also tease her until her dying day.
No, it was time to pull up her big girl panties and go out to the shed. Grumbling, Jazz slipped into her heavy winter coat and stuffed her feet into her unlaced boots. As though walking to her doom, she trudged across the backyard to the large light blue shed in the back-left corner.
She stared at the farmhouse style door for a good thirty seconds before rolling her eyes. “You big baby,” she muttered before yanking the door open. It opened easier than she remembered the last time she’d been brave enough to venture out there, but then, it’d been well over a year so who knew if her memory was accurate.
“Okay,” she murmured as she reached out to pull the string attached to a single light bulb. “If I were a sewing machine, I’d b—oh, fuck.”
Jazz stopped dead in her tracks as she gazed around the contents of the shed. Not snakes. God, how she wished it’d been full of snakes.
Never had she thought she’d be wishing for the slithering reptiles but even a shed full of the most venomous of serpents was preferable to what she found in her shed.
Hundreds of big angry assault rifles.
SCREW LET OUT a low whistle as he watched Gumby work the speed bag. “Looking good there, baby,” he said as he propped his shoulder against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. “Sexy as fuck. Who knew you were so good with little hanging sacks?”
Even as he snorted out a laugh, Gumby scanned their surrounding as though worried someone would overhear their flirty banter. He chose to ignore the pang of discomfort at the thought the man might never be able to own his sexuality and claim Screw in public because, well, he didn’t want Gumby to claim him in public.
He didn’t want anyone to claim him in public.
How the hell would he get new tits and ass if people thought he was locked down?
Not that he had even a passing interest in anyone but Jazz and Gumby these days…
After the epic night the three of them spent together, his heart and body were on Team Relationship while his head remained stubbornly on Team Never Gonna Happen. He’d never felt closer to two people, and it freaked him the fuck out. He didn’t want closeness or emotion, or that goddammed R word. He also chose to ignore the inner voice telling him he was full of shit.
As soon as Gumby saw they were alone he said, “Zach didn’t have any shirts in your size?”
Screw barked out a laugh. “He did, but this one draws in more customers.” He winked as he flexed. Sure enough the tight polo stretched across his chest and nearly popped at the sleeves. Truth be told, he hated the damn thing. Way too uncomfortable, but as Z said, it did draw lots of stares.
Gumby’s included. “Mm-hmm,” he said as he faltered and missed the bag.
Screw snickered. “Careful there. Don’t wanna drop your guard and have someone mess up that pretty face. Your girlfriend might protest.” His phone rang. “Speaking of,” he said, as Jazz’s name flashed across the screen. “Hey, sexy lady, I was just talking about y—
“Screw, I’m out in the shed in my backyard and it’s full of guns.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Big nasty action movie type of guns. Assault rifles or whatever they are called.”
He shoved his hand into his hair, gripping the strands hard. “You’re fucking kidding me. Please tell me this is your idea of a bad fucking joke.”
Gumby went on alert, dropping his arms and stepping closer.
“No. Not a joke at all. I don’t know what to do. What do I do? I’m totally freaking out over here.” Her voice bordered on hysterical.
“Okay, babe, calm down. Breathe, you hear me?”
He listened as she sucked in a few deep breaths then released them. “Y-yeah. Okay. I’m okay.”
“Listen to me, Jazz. Gumby and I are on our way. I want you to go back in the house. I’m going to call Thunder and have him go in to sit with you until we arrive. Do not go back outside for any reason. Do you understand?”
“Um, yeah. Okay.”
In the background, he heard the sounds of her closing the shed and hopefully returning to the relative safety of her house.
Without even knowing what the issue was, Gumby had ditched his hand wraps and began stowing his gear in his duffle. At this hour, only a few members were working out, but it wasn’t as though Screw could leave them in the gym unsupervised.
Gumby pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Zach,” he said as though reading Screw’s mind. He’d exchanged numbers with most of the club before their raid on the trucking company.
Screw nodded to the other man. Damn, not only was Gumby an eager and skilled lover, he was a loyal team player who’d shown Screw without words how much he trusted him over these past few days. His blind acceptance of a problem and action to solve it proved that.
“I’m inside,” Jazz said through the phone.
Screw kept his gaze on Gumby who paced away while updating Zach.
“Lock the door. Did you see Jeremy at all while you were out there? Do you know if he’s home?”
“Jeremy? Why—oh, my God. Do you think this was him?”
Who else would it be? Had to be fucking Jeremy. As a prospect for the CDMC with easy access to Jazz’s backyard, and a strong aversion to all things Hell’s Handlers, he was the prime and only suspect. But to what end? To set Jazzy up? Maybe to set the MC up? Or was it legitimate storage of his club’s weapons in a place no one would ever think to look?
Everyone knew Jazz was too skittish of snakes to venture out to the shed a second time. Hell, it’d been a running joke at the clubhouse. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to think she mentioned—
“Oh, shit,” she said as though talking to herself. “A few weeks ago, I told him about my snake encounter. Oh, I’m so stupid.”
He heard a slap as though she’d palmed her own forehead.
“I told him I’d rather die than go in that shed again. Why did I do that?” she said with a groan.
Gumby hustled over. “Zach will be here in five,” he mouthed holding up five fingers. He stayed close, but didn’t touch Screw at all, as if he needed the nearness but couldn’t allow himself that last final link. At least not in public.
It sucked, but there were more pressing matters at hand. “Jazzy, baby, stop. Why on earth would you have thought twice about telling him? At the time, he was just your helpful neighbor.” A neighbor who wanted in her pants, but it probably wasn’t the time to mention that particular detail. “Sit tight. Gumby and I are leaving as soon as Zach gets here. Five minutes tops. I’ll call Thunder as soon as I hang up.”
“Okay. Careful driving over here. Precious cargo in that truck.”
Despite the thrum of ange
r and fear pumping through his veins, he smiled. “Will do.” Jazz cared and she’d worked her way into his heart, bringing life to the organ in a way no one else had been able to.
Well, maybe one other. Shit, he couldn’t stop from wanting both Jazz and Gumby even at the worst times.
“Zach just parked,” Gumby announced as Screw hung up.
“Okay, let’s roll,” he said before bringing the phone back to his ear, this time with Thunder’s cell ringing on the other end.
“Hey, Screwball, what’s up?”
“Need you to get in Jazzy’s house ASAP. She found weapons in her shed.”
“Fuck,” Thunder murmured. The sound of his car door slamming alerted Screw to how serious the prospect took this task. He’d make a great brother and sooner rather than later. “The fucking prick next door?”
“It’s gotta be.” He held the door for Gumby, who jogged through then out to the driver’s side of the truck. Screw tossed him the keys and slipped in the passenger seat while Gumby fired up the truck.
They worked well together. In sync almost as if with one mind.
“I haven’t seen him at all the past few days. If he’s coming and going, he’s doing it when Jazzy isn’t home.”
“Yeah.” Fucking asshole.
Another door slammed in the background. “I’m inside with her.”
“Thanks, Thunder. Gumby and I are on our way. Zach probably called Copper so others may show up before us.”
“No worries, man. You and Gumby are all good, I’ll take good care of your girl,” he said in a knowing tone. As though the three of them weren’t fooling anyone. Guess if someone was gonna figure it out, it’d be Thunder. Not only was the guy more open minded than anyone Screw knew when it came to sex—probably from his years-long career as a go-go dancer—he’d been tailing Jazzy more often than not over the past few weeks.
“All right. See you in a few.”
He hung up but didn’t stow his phone, instead, tapped it against his thigh in a nervous rhythm. The idea of Jazz being so close to this, being caught between two warring MCs was the perfect kindling for a raging wildfire.
“Hey.”
Screw startled at Gumby’s voice, not that he’d forgotten the other man was there, but he’d started getting sucked into the quicksand of anxiety. This wasn’t him. This stressed out, angry, fucking emo…mess. He was the guy who laughed shit off, cracked others up, and walked through life with a who-gives-a-fuck attitude.
And now? Now he was wishing more than anything that the man next to him would what…comfort him as he worried over the woman who had come to mean just as much to him as this man?
Enough of all this. Time to straighten out his shit and get back to who he was before he lost himself.
“Screw? You coming?”
He blinked. Shit, when had they pulled into Jazz’s driveway? Another example of how he was unraveling. He turned to see Gumby still in the driver’s seat, door open. His concerned gaze fell on Screw.
“Coming?” Screw grunted. “Fuck, not yet, but if you wanna suck me off before we go in there, I’m down. Or…we could up our game. Ask Thunder to join us.” He winked. “There’s not much that guy hasn’t seen and done.” God, the thought of Thunder so much as touching either Jazz or Gumby had Screw wanting to crawl out of his own skin.
Gumby didn’t react. Not a laugh, not a disgusted eye roll, which was the reaction Screw deserved. Nope, he just reached out and interlaced their fingers. The simple gesture was exactly what he’d been both hoping for and dreading like he dreaded fucking gonorrhea.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m an assh—”
Gumby’s lips landed on his in a soft kiss. “I get it, Luke. I. Get. It.”
Screw opened his eyes and what he saw had him swallowing a lump in his throat. Gumby did get it. The reason behind the jokes, the confusion, the unfamiliar emotions. He got it all and that settled Screw more than anything could have. He wasn’t alone. Not in dealing with the CDMC. Not in keeping Jazz safe.
Not in the complex but real relationship they had fallen into.
“Come on,” Gumby said. “Let’s go help our girl.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what they’d do. And afterward? The three of them would cocoon themselves away from the rest of the world for the night as they’d done every night recently.
And he secretly hoped they’d do for many nights to come.
Maybe even…forever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HALF AN HOUR later, Jazz’s house was abuzz with at least seven Hell’s Handlers all voicing loud views on the motivation for Jeremy stashing the guns in her shed and what should be done with them.
Gumby’s head had been throbbing for the past twenty minutes, he could only imagine what Jazz was feeling as her home was invaded by loud-mouthed, opinionated bikers.
She sat on her couch, where she’d parked after getting everyone coffee and answering at least a hundred questions.
Once it appeared he could sneak away, Gumby lowered onto the couch next to Jazz. “How you holding up, Jazzy?”
She tipped to the side until her head rested against his arm, which he then slipped around her, pulling her into his side.
“I feel so stupid and guilty. Like I did something wrong. Something I need to apologize for even though the logical part of my brain knows I didn’t.” As she spoke, she picked at a small fray in the knee of his jeans. “I mean how the hell was I supposed to know Jeremy would prospect with the CDMC? And how would I know he’d use my yard to hide his…contraband.”
His lips quirked. “Contraband?”
“I don’t want to say guns. I’m sick of saying guns. It’s making me sick to think one of those things could be used in a school shooting or something equally horrifying.”
“I know, baby.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You stole my speech though.”
She shifted, gazing up at him. “Your speech.”
“Yup,” he answered with a nod. “I was all prepared to give you the there’s-no-way-you-could-have-known-what-he-was-planning speech, but you gave it to yourself.”
With a huff she resumed toying with his pants. “I’ve given it to myself at least fifty times.”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere. If I were Screw, I’d be on top of it.”
Jazzy chuckled. “There’s one in your statement too. He must be rubbing off on us.”
Their gazes met, then they burst out laughing.
“Thank you,” Jazzy said, snuggling closer. “You knew just what to do to make me feel better.”
Her arm banded across his waist and he gave her a squeeze. The way she fit there, so snug and warm in his arms was just…well it was perfect.
From across the room, Screw caught his eye. The other man paused mid-conversation and sent Gumby a tentative smile. Screw struggled so much to recognize his worth. To accept his ability not only to be just what his club needed, but also what Jazz and Gumby needed.
It was a goddammed shame, and something Gumby vowed to make right. Before he left, he’d make sure Screw knew just how incredible he was.
Before he left…
Suddenly Gumby had a flash of the future. Of sitting there, just as he was with Jazz nestled into his arms. She’d always do that, reach to him for comfort in times of need, but also for celebration in times of joy.
As would Screw. It might take the man some time to get on board, but he was in the vision too. A strong force, making every day sunnier and bright. Making sure they enjoyed their lives to the fullest.
The fantasy was, well, just that. A fantasy. Something to think about and mourn once he was back in Arizona with his own club.
Screw wandered over as his brothers began to file out. Some went to the back yard, while others through the front. “Okay,” he said, running a hand across his mouth. He stood, feet apart, hands braced on his hips. “Mav scouted around outside Jeremy’s house. No cameras there. None in or around your shed. He’s a
stupid fuck, but that’s good news for us. Means it may take him a while to figure out we moved his shit.”
“You’re getting rid of them?” Jazz asked, straightening.
Screw nodded. “Yeah, there are risks seeing as how the CDMC will know it was us, but we can’t leave them. If their plan is to frame you or one of us, Jeremy could call the cops to come raid you here at any point in time. Even if you swear up down and back that you didn’t know the weapons were there, the cops will make your life a fucking nightmare until you can prove it.”
Gumby agreed wholeheartedly. The cops finding out had disaster written all over it.
“LJ is backing the club’s van up to your fence right now. We’ll load the guns up and get out of here without you neighbors being aware of what we removed. Tell ’em it was lawn equipment if they ask.”
Jazz shuddered. “Good. I’ll tell them anything you want, I just want those guns out of here.”
Screw sat on the other side of Jazz, pulling her in for a kiss on her temple. His mouth was set in an uncharacteristic hard line and his eyes held what looked like regret.
Something else was coming, something she wouldn’t like.
He gave her a somber look. “You can’t stay here, Jazzy. Not until we’re sure they won’t retaliate against you.”
There it was.
She let out a defeated sigh as she sagged against Gumby. “I figured.” She glanced over her shoulder at him then looked up at Screw again. “You got room for two strays?”
“I sure do,” Screw said, pinching Jazz’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tipped her head up and whispered, “We need to get outside and help. You’re handling this like a rock star,” before kissing her.
Jazz reached her hand out for him, so Gumby scooted close. He draped his arm across the back of the couch, hand landing on Screw’s shoulder. When Screw ended his kiss with Jazz, he leaned in a little.
Gumby swallowed. Outside, Screw’s club brothers milled around moving a shed full of weapons. Sure, they were alone in the house, but would someone walk in?
He’s eyes met Screw’s. When he saw the patience there, the understanding, he knew it was safe to…take a leap. As his lips met Screws, and Jazzy let out a blissful sigh, a zing of happiness shot through him.