Screw Page 9

  “It’s all good, sugar. Just got some extra energy,” he said, then chuckled when LJ scowled. Sugar was the nickname the big guy used for his pastry making goddess of an ol’ lady and he got his fucking panties in a wad whenever anyone else called her by his name. Especially Screw.

  So, of course he called her sugar almost exclusively.

  With a roll of her eyes, Holly patted LJ’s giant bicep in a mostly patronizing gesture as she said, “It’s okay, baby. You’re the only man for me.”

  LJ turned his scowl on his woman, only she didn’t seem to notice because she was still fixated on Screw. “Is it the enforcer thing? Are you nervous about it?”

  Seriously? He turned his attention back to LJ, who now wore a smirk and had an arm across Holly’s shoulders. “This what it’s like having an ol’ lady? Always asking you shit you don’t want to talk about.”

  LJ opened his mouth, but Holly beat him to it. “Yes,” she said, completely unaffected by his insult. “Now stop being a dick and tell Auntie Holly what’s wrong with you.”

  LJ coughed to cover up his laugh, earning him a swat from his woman. Ever since Izzy had a baby and named her after Holly’s deceased sister, Joy, she’d been calling herself Auntie Holly.

  “Auntie Holly, huh? Isn’t there a porn star called Auntie Holly?” He grinned at LJ who was back to scowling. “You know the one I mean?” Screw held his arms out in front of his chest. Huge ti—”

  “Okay, buddy, how about this,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “You haven’t gotten laid since before Christmas. That’s more than fifteen sex-free days. Probably a record for you. By now, you’d normally have slept with a dozen people. You’re cranky, fidgety, and annoying the hell outta me. So what gives?”

  Screw felt like he was naked, and not in the good way. Not in the about-to-get-sucked way, but in the bug-under-a-microscope way, as though Holly could see through the thick layers he had surrounding his soft core.

  “Well, shit, sugar, you’re keeping pretty close track of where my cock’s landing. The big guy not satisfying you these days?” He clucked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Hear that’s what happens when you get monogamitis.”

  Holly didn’t take the bait, though LJ sure did. He grunted and began to rise, but Holly stopped him with a squeeze to his clenched fist.

  Okay, yeah, he was being a first-rate jerk, but fuck if he was gonna let anyone see under the hood. Even his best friend’s girl.

  “Make whatever jokes you need to, Screwball,” she said with a sad, almost pitying smile. “Doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t had sex in fifteen days.”

  Actually, it was seventeen. Seventeen long days and nights where his dick wouldn’t perk for anyone but the one woman who didn’t want him.

  “So I figure,” Holly went on. “Either you got dick rot, or something’s weighing on that twisted maze of a thing you call a mind.”

  Screw scratched his chin. “I’m sorry, did you just say dick rot?”

  “I did. And you’re still avoiding the issue. God, a therapist would have a field day with you.”

  She had no idea.

  Just as he was about to tell her exactly what he’d do with said therapist, the door opened causing a rush of frigid air to blow through the club house.

  A bunch of the guys and their women had stuck around after church, drinking and hanging out. A few Honeys mingled around with the single guys, lining up their nighttime plans. Usually the first one claiming a girl, Screw had hung back, choosing to chat with LJ and Dr. Freud.

  Clearly, he’d made the wrong choice.

  He shivered, “Jesus, Thunder, close the fucking door already,” he yelled. Thunder had gone out to unload a few cases of beer from his truck a few moments ago.

  “Uhh, not Thunder,” Holly said, pointing over Screw’s shoulder.

  He turned and nearly fell off the stool at the sight of a pink-cheeked Jazz holding the hand of the fucking light-haired Clark Kent lookalike.

  The room went quiet as Jazz squeaked, “Uh, hey, guys.” When her gaze landed on Screw, she dropped Gumby’s hand immediately, but the guy scooped it right back up, smug eyes on Screw.

  Motherfucker.

  Screw hid his mounting distress behind a wink, and he swore interest flared in Gumby’s eyes. In response, Screw’s dick twitched. What a sight it would be to have the guy on his knees, mouth full of his cock as he stared up at Screw through those sexy lenses. Fuck, he clenched his fists, allowing his short nails to dig into the skin of his palms to keep his hips from punching forward as though being pleasured by Gumby.

  A few of the ol’ ladies, Holly in particular, appeared ready to bust out of her skin as she was forced to hold back the millions of questions she no doubt had for her friend.

  Who was the guy?

  Why was he holding her hand?

  Were they in a relationship?

  Had he fucked her?

  Would he fuck Screw?

  Even better, would he fuck Screw while Screw fucked Jazz?

  Damn that was a fantasy.

  Okay, maybe those last few questions wouldn’t fall from Holly’s lips but came from Screw’s own kinky fantasies.

  As everyone sat there surrounded by a thick cloud of awkward, Copper stepped out of his office, a smiling Shell plastered to his side. Her eyes went wide as all heads swiveled her way and she immediately began smoothing her hair down.

  Screw snorted. If they hadn’t all picked up on the fact their prez was fucking his ol’ lady in his office before, the quick ’n dirty hair fix was a dead giveaway. On a normal night, Screw would have been the first one in there with a quip about joining in or position recommendations. Especially since Mav was away on an impromptu honeymoon. But tonight, he just couldn’t conjure enough energy to give a shit about shocking them with a crude joke.

  “Uh, I forgot to tell you Jazz was coming by,” Shell said, face cherry red.

  Jazz stepped forward. “Yeah, I need to talk to you about something, Copper.”

  If he’d been a dog, this was where Screw’s ears would have perked up. Over the past few months, he’d become somewhat of a Jazz expert as far as her mannerisms, moods, and emotions. Came from staring at her so goddamn much. He pretty much had each of her facial expressions nailed down.

  All except her O face, of course.

  Something in the tone of her voice had him and from the looks of his brothers, most of the gang going on high alert.

  “This a conversation for my ears only?” Copper asked as he rubbed thick fingers through his beard.

  “Uh, no,” Jazz said with a shake of her head. “I mean, I’m not sure you’ll want everyone to hear it, but it’s something the club needs to know. It’s important.”

  Basically, club shit that wasn’t for the motherfucker’s ears.

  With a muttered, “Fuck,” Copper waved Jazz his way. “Come on into the chapel. I’ll have the guys join us if you don’t mind.”

  The way her eyes bugged at the invitation into the chapel should have had Screw laughing, but his stomach had already begun to cramp with anticipation of what he just knew was about to be bad news. Five minutes into being the enforcer, hell, they hadn’t even gotten him his patch yet, and his gut was screaming. He was about to be tested.

  As the ol’ ladies climbed off their men’s laps and gathered together at the bar, Jazz whispered something in Gumby’s ear. He shook his head and spoke back to her, deep grooves forming between his eyes as he frowned. Screw had the strangest urge to press his lips to that very spot.

  Shit, his head was fucked tonight.

  Jazz shook her head, also frowning, then started to turn, but Gumby grabbed her and hauled her back.

  She pushed against his stomach and Screw jumped to his feet.

  Did she not want the fucker’s hands on her?

  Before he had a chance to barrel that way, Gumby’s gaze met his. A fuck-you smirk tilted his lips exactly one second before those goddammed things landed on Jazz’s. She allowed it fo
r a second, but quickly pulled her head back with a shake. When she turned this time, her eyes immediately landed on Screw and the guilt was clear.

  Interesting.

  She ducked her head and preceded him into the chapel.

  Any other time, Screw would have taken a seat next to Jazz and flirted her ears off. Tonight, with the sour taste in his mouth and too much shit bouncing around in his head, he found himself not in the mood to banter with her for the first time since he’d met her. So instead of sitting at her side, he chose a spot opposite her. Not only would he not have to smell the motherfucker on her, but he had a clear view of every emotion that crossed her face.

  Like now, with her rigid shoulders and wringing hands, she was nervous as fuck.

  Screw sighed. “Hey,” he said across the table.

  Her head snapped in his direction.

  “Take a breath and sit. It’s just us.”

  As though he’d given her permission to finally exhale, air whooshed out of her lungs. Then she nodded and slid into the seat.

  “All right, Jazzy,” Copper said, keeping his tone light and friendly. Though rough, gruff, and often impatient, Copper was a damn good leader who know how to put people at ease when necessary. “What’s up?”

  Which was now for sure.

  “All right.” She drew in a breath as though fortifying her courage. “About half an hour ago we were getting gas—”

  The word we hit him like sandpaper scraping across his skin, but he bit back the caustic and snarky comment on the tip of his tongue.

  “—I went inside to grab coffee and while I was there, a group of bikers came in. They were wearing Chrome Disciples jackets.”

  “Fuuuck,” Zach muttered, as he shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Motherfucking shit,” Jigsaw murmured.

  Then there was Rocket, who in rare outburst slammed his palm against the table as he bit out a curse.

  Copper lifted a hand, effectively ending the eruptions. “As much as it sucks,” he said, “none of this is a surprise. We knew they’d be back and to be honest, I’m surprised they stayed away this long.”

  Screw froze as the implications bombarded him. As enforcer, much of this would fall to him. Not alone, of course, as the club functioned as a team first and foremost, but alongside Copper, he’d be expected to not only carryout his president’s orders, but help devise a plan to keep the club safe.

  Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

  He glanced up to find Jazz’s gaze on him. She gave him a small smile and a nod and damn if it didn’t bolster his confidence. Was it meant to? Was she silently lending her support and belief in his ability to keep his brothers and their women safe?

  Jesus, why the fuck did he even care?

  He’d worked his entire life to not give a shit what anyone thought about him.

  “Thanks for letting us know, Jazz,” Copper said. “We’re gonna talk for a few, then we’ll be out, okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t move to get up. “Uhh, there’s actually more.”

  “Of course there’s more,” Jigsaw said, slumping back in his chair.

  “Okay, let’s have it.” Copper folded his arms across his massive chest.

  “They spoke to me, well one in particular.”

  Once again, Screw felt like a hound on the trail of a scent.

  “I assumed they wouldn’t know who I was, so I’d planned to just buy my coffee then get the fuck out of there, but Crank stopped me and told me to tell you he’d be seeing you soon.”

  Copper’s chest rose and fell with the force of his sigh. “Anything else?”

  Jazz shook her head with a snort. “No, just your standard inappropriate sexual comments and a near groping.”

  As though her words were the crack of a whip against his flank, Screw shot to his feet and leaned across the table. “They fucking touched you?” Suddenly leading an attack on the Chrome Disciples seemed like the perfect way to spend his time.

  Mouth in an O, Jazz leaned back in her chair. Her head moved back and forth in a rapid clip. “Uh, no, not really. It was nothing. I’m fine, Screw.”

  “No and not really aren’t the same thing, Jazmine. We’ll be chatting about this later.” He stared straight into her flared eyes as he spoke.

  If the guys were surprised by the intensity of his reaction, none showed it.

  “Okay,” Copper said. He sounded heavy, as though the weight of leading the club bled out through his voice, “Let’s do this. Collect your women and head home for the night. Tomorrow I want you all here for church at nine. Bring the women. We’ll meet, then have breakfast.”

  After some goodbyes and fist bumps, his brothers filed out of the room leaving him and Jazz alone at the table. For a few charged seconds, they stared at each other until Jazz rose then came to sit by him.

  “Can I talk to you about something quickly?”

  “Sure, after you convince me nothing more happened at the gas station.”

  “Screw they just made some crude comments. Nothing I or any woman hasn’t heard before. Sure, it skeeved me out, but I’m fine. Promise.” She shrugged, and he tried to see through her skull to determine if she was as fine as promised.

  With a slow nod, he finally relaxed. “All right. What’d you want to talk about?”

  Jazz sighed then took one of his hands in hers. As always, a surge of electricity shot up his arm at the contact. If the quick dilation of her pupils was any indication, she felt it too.

  “We’ve had fun, Screw, playing our little cat and mouse flirting game.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Where the fuck was she going with this?

  “I need to ask you to back off a little…actually a lot. This isn’t me being coy or playing the game. This is me seriously asking you to stop trying to get me in your bed. I know we kissed a couple times, and it was hot, but we can’t do it again. I’m not going to sleep with you. It isn’t going to happen.”

  When she was done speaking, she released his hand and folded hers in her lap, watching him expectantly.

  As her words registered, each one seemed to prick his skin with a sharp pain. “So you and the tall guy, huh?”

  “What? No.” She shook her head. “We’re friends.” With a shrug, she bit her lower lip. “That’s not the point. The point is that this game between us needs to stop. I’m not trying to be a bitch here, Screw, but I need to ask you to respect my decision.”

  “Hmm.” He tilted his head and stroked over his bottom lip. “You know, the best way to keep me from flirting with you is to keep my mouth occupied. So, if you’re not gonna make use of him, maybe you could gag me with that tall drink of water out there. Bet he’s got a niiice cock.” He waggled his eyebrows while licking his lips. Though the taunt was meant to get under her skin, just the thought of sucking on Gumby’s cock had Screw’s own cock throbbing.

  Jazz’s face fell, causing an odd twist in his gut. Maybe he needed to eat something. Or get some sleep. His stomach had been fucking ridiculous all day. Probably just the stress of using nothing more than his hand to get off for the past few weeks.

  A situation he needed to remedy immediately if he was going to be forced to watch Gumby and Jazz slobber all over each other. Friends. Yeah, fucking right. This was clearly the I’m-interested-in-someone-else brush off.

  She rose, sending him a look of pity that rankled like nothing else. “You just can’t do it, can you?”

  He frowned, his boner deflating somewhat, until she put her hands on her slim hips, pulling the material of her fitted shirt, tight over her small breasts. Then he came back to life quick. “Can’t do what?”

  “Can’t take anything thing seriously. Can’t give me five seconds of respect and actual consideration. If it doesn’t benefit your dick,” she said waving a hand wildly toward his cock, “then you just don’t give a shit about it. And that right there is why you never stood a chance with me.”

  Screw’s skin seemed to shrink around his muscles, nearly suffocatin
g him in his own body. She thought he didn’t give a shit about her? Christ, she had him losing his fucking mind. He hadn’t fucked anyone in weeks. He thought about her morning, noon, and night. “Jazz—”

  “No!” She held up a hand, eyes shooting fire. “I don’t give a shit how many people you’ve fucked, Screw. I don’t care if they’re women, or men, or any combination of the two. I care that you forget the name of each and every one of them the second you come. I care that it’s nothing more to you than masturbating with a flesh and blood body. This is done! Today.” She slashed an arm through the air, then stormed out of the chapel.

  Screw stared after her, his gut churning. The things she’d said…well she’d hit the nail way too close to its goddammed head.

  A light knock had his head swiveling toward the open door. “You all right, brother?” LJ asked.

  “Pssh, of course I’m all right.” He winked then waved a hand up and down his body. “She’ll be back. Who the fuck could resist all this? It’s a fucking masterpiece.”

  As LJ backed out of the room, Screw’s head fell back against the seat.

  Fuck.

  She was motherfucking wrong. He took shit seriously. Just chose to enjoy his life and laugh his way through it. What was he supposed to do? Cry into his whiskey because Jazz didn’t want him? That the kind of man she was looking for?

  No Jazz didn’t want weak. Apparently, she didn’t want him though, either.

  Christ, it was all too much. Jazz, this Gumby fucker, the Chrome Disciples. How the fuck was he supposed to manage this shit coming at him from all angles? And she wanted serious? He’d fucking combust if he didn’t have humor as his outlet.

  The looming issue with the Chrome Disciples pressed down heavy on his soul. Some things he couldn’t joke or tease his way through. Those things he tended to fuck up.

  Like his shot with Jazz, apparently.

  Would he fuck up his club the same way?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HIS SECOND PARTY at the Hell’s Handlers’ clubhouse. This time as an invited guest. And maybe he’d even get to stick around for more than fifteen minutes. Though with the way it’d been going so far, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.