Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC Book 3)

by Lilly Atlas

  Mav dropped his fork midbite. Jig knew the feeling; his appetite fled as well. “Goddamnit, Jig,” Mav said. “Why you always gotta be the voice of mother fucking reason?”

  Rocket snorted. “Let him finish, Mav.”

  Before he went on, Jig lifted his mug. Damn, empty. It’d have to wait until he’d said his piece. He couldn’t call Shell or Toni over and risk them catching wind of the conversation. “If they’re feeling the pressure to up their game, they might get sloppy, grab a girl with family. Someone from town. If we get eyes on them, we might catch something.”

  Back to stroking his beard, Copper nodded. “Makes sense. And the flip side?”

  “They just turn up the heat on the girls they already got. Out of the fire, into the frying pan kinda shit. They’ve already shown they’re willing to touch a woman associated with us. They’re ballsy and willing to make bold moves.” It was times like this that Jig was damn glad not to be driving the ship. Copper listened to the advice of his executive board, considered everyone’s opinion and judgment, but in the end, the final decision fell to him. His shoulders might be broad as fuck, but they could still crumble.

  “Okay, Rocket, you’re in charge of the watch on Lefty. I want eyes on him and his crew twenty-four seven. We can’t just take the fucker out because there’s a stash of girls out there, and we gotta find them first. Finding them is number two priority after protecting the clubhouse and family. Use whatever resources you need to make that happen. I know we’re stretched thin as fuck right now, but it needs to happen.”

  “On it, boss,” said Rocket. He slipped out of the booth. “Gonna head out and get working.”

  “Thanks, brother,” Copper said, grabbing the hand Rocket extended. With his left, he snagged Rocket’s forearm, and they held for a second. Brothers working hard to protect their family.

  “I want to continue hijacking their drug deals until they wise up and get more discrete, but start taking his guys out of commission, too. The guy we had in The Box was clueless about the human trafficking side of business, and I assume most of these lower level dealers will be as well, but it can’t hurt to put a little pressure on them and see if they know anything. No deaths yet, just break some fucking kneecaps.” He looked at Zach on his left. “You good with that?”

  “Fuckin’ great with that. Louie was robbed of action last night. He’s itching for a little revenge.” Zach rubbed his hands together then dug back into his food. Mav did as well. Jig’s stomach growled. Seemed like a little talk of offense had everyone’s appetite flaring to life again.

  Mav paused in the shoveling of cinnamon roll waffles into his trap. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

  And, here it comes.

  “Speaking of last night, heard you took the sexy fighter chick home and disappeared into her house for about an hour. Anything you wanna tell us, brother?” Mav stuffed the overflowing fork into his mouth. The man ate those waffles at least four times a week, yet remained lean as a whip.

  “What is this, fucking study hall?” Jig said as he stared into his coffee cup. Last thing he needed was his asshole brothers finding out he ate the fuck out of Izzy last night. And, Christ, she was sweeter than those damn waffles…

  “Oh, ho, ho.” Zach laughed, and even Copper grinned like a red-bearded loon.

  The jangle of bells rang out, indicating someone had entered the diner. At that moment, Jig would have sworn he was fucking Spiderman because his sixth sense went wild.

  “And speak of the she-devil,” Mav said, his evil grin so big it nearly split his cheeks.

  Jig couldn’t help it; it was as though he’d been invaded by a body controlling alien. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the woman in question step into the diner. He was struck with an instant hard-on. Let’s face it, he’d never entirely lost it, even after two colossal self-induced orgasms, but the sight of her had his balls aching with renewed need for release. But not from his fucking hand. No, he wanted that sassy, snarky mouth all over his dick.

  For the first time, he was getting a glimpse of her with her hair down—literally—and it stirred his blood in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. Black as night, thick, glossy, and long, long, long, it tumbled midway down her back. She looked hot with it in the braid, fierce, warrior-like, but now she revealed a feminine softness he’d yet to witness.

  And if he thought he’d wanted her before, he’d been sadly mistaken. Now, he fucking wanted her.

  As though she sensed attention on her, she turned and met his gaze. Her eyes flared then narrowed in his favorite pissed-off look. She hadn’t known he’d be there. Probably wouldn’t have come if she had. Damn, the woman was prickly. He winked then felt a tapping on his shoulder.

  “Here, brother,” Mav said.

  He twisted forward, back to his table and the laughing eyes of his brothers. “What?”

  Mav held a napkin out. “Gotta wipe up that drool. Slobber does not impress the ladies.”

  “Funny.” He grabbed the napkin, balled it up, and shot it into Mav’s face, then took another quick peek over his shoulder. Izzy had turned away and was walking to meet her girls at the counter—walking stiffly as though in pain.

  Well, Jesus, of course, she was in pain. What the fuck was the woman thinking, coming out just hours after she’d been attacked? Jig started to rise from the table but caught Shell’s eye. Much as he’d done to her, she gave him a quick head shake followed by a wink, and he sat back down. Those women were thick as thieves and a damn nuisance.

  The rest of the guys laughed, and conversation moved from business to general bullshit.

  And all the while, Jig sat there with a pipe in his pants, fully aware of the woman who caused it just twenty feet away.

  COME HAVE BREAKFAST, they said. The boys are busy with business, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

  Dirty, rotten, lying bitches.

  Izzy tore her gaze away from the man who made her come like a supernova less than eight hours ago. As she gingerly made her way to the counter where Shell and Toni promised to have breakfast with her, she bristled with frustration.

  Granted, they had no idea that just a few hours ago Jig had buried his face between her legs. Maybe she should cut them some slack. Hopefully, they’d attribute her foul mood to the pain and stress of being attacked the previous night and not the frustration of wanting a man with her body but not wanting that same man with her brain.

  Almost to the counter, she ran a hand through her hair. Shit! The only reason she’d left it down was that she’d assumed the guys would be at the clubhouse talking business and not in Toni’s diner. Well, that, and it hurt like a mofo to raise her arms and braid it. She’d given up after about ten seconds of trying.

  The braid was kind of her shield. With the shaved bottom layer of hair, it made her look fierce, intimidating. And she needed that right now to ward off the very sexy man who muddled her mind. Especially since she was running on four hours sleep, Percocet, and not one cup of coffee.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Shell said as Izzy made it to the counter. Her new friend’s face was full of concern. “How are you?”

  “Coffee. Must have coffee.”

  “Yeah.” Shell smiled and grabbed the pot. “I can see that. You want me to just stick a straw in this thing?” Her eyes twinkled, and it actually made Izzy smile.

  She appreciated the fact that while Shell seemed concerned for her wellbeing, she wasn’t in freak-out mode, trying to do everything for Izzy. It was important she be able to take care of herself, bruises and all. “Not a bad idea, sister.”

  “Hey, Shell—” Toni burst through the metallic door leading to the kitchen. “Oh, Izzy! Shit, girl, how you feeling? Zach stole my phone and fucked me into a coma last night so I wouldn’t bother you, but I’ve been super worried.”

  That had Izzy laughing a genuine laugh that felt good emotionally but terrible physically. “Ow, girl, don’t make me laugh.” Leave it to this group of women to get her out of the funk she’d been in since she
woke up. “And if he gave it to you that good, getting my ass beat might just have been worth it.”

  With a snort, Toni took the stool next to her. “Please, he does not need an excuse to curl my toes.” Then she sobered. “Seriously, though, you okay?”

  With a nod, Izzy wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug and inhaled the heaven-sent aroma. “I’m all right. Sore as fuck, but it’s all just bruising. And this raspy voice. No permanent damage done.”

  “All right then,” Shell said. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess you don’t want us to harp on it, so we’ll just trust you know you can ask us for help with anything anytime. Now that we know you’re okay, we’ll drop it, yes?”

  Fuck yes. These women rocked. “That’s perfect.”

  “’Kay, let me have Ernesto make you a cinnamon roll waffle. I’ll be right back,” Shell said as she dropped the bowl of cream and sugar packets in front of Izzy.

  “No, I’ll have—”

  “Nu-uh.” Toni shook her head and pointed a slightly scary finger in Izzy’s face. “No egg white nonsense today. Fat, sugar, and calories for you, missy. And I better not hear you went to the gym. In fact, I told Zach not to let you in the door.”

  What the hell? “I was just gonna go later for a little while. Do a slow jog for a few miles. It’s getting too cold to run outside.”

  Jazz emerged from the kitchen, and Toni waved her over to the group before she spoke to Izzy. “Sorry, girl, not happening. You hear me? I’ll tell Jig on you. Let him spank your ass.”

  “What?” Her sex clenched at Toni’s words. She’d never had a flicker of interest in a man’s palm cracking across her ass, but the thought of Jig’s large hand landing there with force had her blood heating. Shit, maybe the pharmacist mixed some mind-altering drugs in with the Percocet. “Jesus, Toni. That is not something that will happen. Ever. Ever, ever.”

  “Wow,” Jazz said as she slid onto the stool on the other side of Izzy. “Someone’s protesting a little much, isn’t she?” With a wink, she reached over the counter and grabbed herself a coffee mug. As Shell came back out, Jazz held up her cup. She smiled as the dark liquid flowed into it. “Is it bad that this is my third cup of the day already?”

  “Nope,” Izzy said. “It’s not bad. What’s bad is you bitches thinking something is going on with Jig and me.”

  “Well,” Toni said. “The man has looked over here about every thirty seconds since you walked in the place. If nothing’s going on, what’s that all about? Hmm?” Her smug eyebrow raise had Izzy laughing.

  “It’s probably about him having to cart my busted ass home last night. Hello? You’re with one of those guys. I can’t imagine you missed how overprotective they are.”

  “Only of people they care about,” Shell fired back. “Ha! Gotcha there.”

  Blowing a raspberry, Izzy rolled her eyes. “Just go check on my waffle, wench.”

  They all laughed together, and Izzy realized she was feeling pretty damn good. She liked these women, really liked them. It would be hard to keep them at arm’s length, but something she’d have to work on. Because clearly, they were pulling her into the fold. That was okay. She could keep herself hard so when it eventually petered out, she wouldn’t end up filleted once again.

  “There a reason you all invited me here? A reason beyond torturing me?”

  “Yes!” Shell bounced on the balls of her feet, her blond curls springing around her radiant face. “Copper’s fortieth birthday is in three months, and I want it to be epic, so I want to start planning now.”

  “Oh, yes!” Toni said, slapping her palms on the countertop. “Let’s do it.”

  With a frown, Izzy said. “What did you need me for?”

  “I’ll refrain from smacking the injured woman, but are you stupid? You’re one of us now. So you get to help.” Shell smiled.

  “You could just get a bunch of skanky strippers and call it a day,” Jazz said on a giggle.

  “I don’t think so.” Shell swatted her with her order pad. Then she shrugged. “They’ll probably do that after, but we’re throwing a party we can all attend first.”

  Izzy studied the other woman, so excited over planning a party for a man who wasn’t hers and who’d never be hers if chatter was true.

  “What?” Shell asked. “You’re looking at me funny.”

  Busted. “Oh, sorry, just thinking.” She sipped her coffee and shifted her focus to a table of teenagers across the diner.

  “I don’t think so. You got something to say, say it.”

  After swallowing the liquid fuel, Izzy said. “Fair enough. I just, I guess I’m wondering why you’re doing this. For Copper, I mean.”

  Toni’s eyes widened, and she busied herself straightening a stack of napkins while Jazz pretended to find something fascinating in her coffee mug.

  “Ah.” Shell heaved a heavy sigh. “Our past is complicated.” Her small laugh was humorless. “More complicated than even Copper knows. But he’s important to me. Has been for most of my life. And the club is my family. They’re in my blood. So, I may be a fool, but I’m a fool with my eyes open. I won’t let myself get hurt.”

  Toni reached out and squeezed Shell’s hand. If Shell thought that explanation would make sense to Izzy, she was dead wrong. Never having a family she could count on, Izzy had no idea what that kind of blind loyalty felt like. Envy, ugly and dark, twisted deep in her soul, but she shoved it away. Part of her wanted to warn Shell how foolish her thinking was. How she was most certainly setting herself up to be hurt, disappointed, crushed. But she didn’t do it. Shell’s faith in her family kept her moving forward despite difficult circumstances. Who was Izzy to steal that away from her?

  She’d learn in time that people couldn’t be depended upon.

  After Shell returned with their plates, the four women got down to business, planning an epic blowout for Copper. Jig and his brothers stayed for a while, never interrupting their girl time. As he was leaving, his gaze met Izzy’s again, and she nearly combusted from the heat wafting her way. He didn’t come over to speak with her, only turned her to dust with the lusty stare.

  Shit, she was in trouble. It was only a matter of time before she was alone with him again and she feared there wasn’t a firehose with enough pressure to douse the flame he ignited in her.

  At some point, she was bound to make a monstrous mistake.

  The only comfort was that it would be one helluva pleasurable mistake.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JIG EXITED HIS office and turned straight into Copper’s. The door was open, so he rapped on the frame. “Hey, boss.”

  “What’s up, Jig?” Copper snubbed out his cigarette and folded his forearms on the desk. “Come on in.”

  “Just need you for a minute,” Jig said as he entered the room, holding out a thick envelope full of cash. “Another ten thousand, straight off one of Lefty’s guys. These idiots need a better system. No one should be walking around with this much coin.”

  Stretching his long arms over his head, Copper said, “Don’t question it. It’s easy money for us. They get any intel off the guy?”

  “Nope, kid was fifteen. Fucking wet himself and practically threw the money at Screw. He blabbed every single thing he knew, which was jack.” Screw was spending quite a bit of time with Zach. As enforcer, Zach needed guys he could trust as backup and extra muscle. Screw was motivated, a tad bloodthirsty, and a fast learner. Perfect for the role.

  Copper chuckled then shook his head. “Fifteen fucking years old. Christ.” He held out his hand for the money, and Jig tossed him the envelope. “It’ll be in the safe.”

  “Got it.”

  “Shut that door behind you. I’m expecting a call from Rusty.” Rusty, Copper’s brother, was in a federal prison out west. He’d been there for the past four and a half years. Aggravated assault. Guy was beaten so badly he’d be spending the rest of his life breathing through a tube. And Rusty was given a dime behind bars.

  Despite the conviction, Coppe
r was adamant about his brother’s innocence. Jig wasn’t stupid enough to contradict his prez over such a personal matter, but he’d never been Rusty’s biggest fan. Something about the guy was off. Like burning animal carcasses in the woods off.

  “Give him hell for me,” Jig said, and Copper grinned. Prez lived for the weekly phone calls from his brother.

  “Will do.”

  After quietly closing Copper’s door behind him, Jig made his way to the bar. It was around six in the evening and bizarrely calm in the clubhouse. Between Copper’s edict of no Honeys, the closed bar, and all manpower on Lefty-watch, the place had been a ghost town over the past week. Jig couldn’t quite get used to it.

  Shaking off the odd feeling, he made his way behind the bar, poured some whiskey, and downed it. As the liquid warmed its way to his bloodstream, the door swung open and Izzy stepped in, glancing around the empty room. It was the first time he’d seen her since the diner, and her customary tight braid and makeup were back in place. She was also moving with a fluidity that showed what a fast healer she was. The bruises on her neck had faded considerably, though even the pale sight of them made him want to tear Lefty apart.

  He cleared his throat, and she jumped, snapping her head in his direction.

  “Oh, hey,” she said, voice almost at full capacity, just an octave lower than usual, huskier. Sexier. Heels on, she walked toward him, those hips swaying in that unconscious sensual way she had. Strong, sure, and confident, yet now he knew some softness lie beneath her armor. He’d glimpsed it in her un-made-up face at the diner.

  “What’s up, Izzy? What are you doing here?” He poured himself another drink. It was the least he’d need to survive this encounter without tossing her on the bar, messing up that flawless hair, and fucking her hard. Good thing Copper was still in the building and could emerge from his office at any moment, or Jig might not have the willpower to keep himself in check.

  Izzy reached the bar and held up a manila envelope. “Have something to give to Steph. She was supposed to meet me here, but just texted to say she’s running about twenty minutes late, so she told me to come in, hang with the guys, and have a drink.” She made a dramatic point of looking around. “No guys.”