by Lilly Atlas
Small town. Peaceful life. Easy to fade into the background and avoid people beyond working hours.
And here she was, four weeks after moving to Tennessee, letting people into her life. Giving them the opportunity to hurt her. No. Not this time. This time she’d keep the walls around her heart and mind. She could have a few drinks, blow off steam, chat with the girls, maybe even find someone to supplement her vibrator when the urge for some human flesh grew too strong.
The image of one particular scowling biker popped up in her mind, but she shoved it away. He was not for her in any way. No matter how he made her lady bits stand up and pant.
Didn’t really matter who she chose. No one would be allowed close enough to actually have an impact on her life or any power over her.
And that’s why she allowed herself to walk into a clubhouse full of bikers.
Oh, and whores. Yikes, the whores.
A lady—woman—wobbled by on what had to be six-inch heels, wearing an outfit she could have purchased in the children’s section. Izzy could rock sexy clothes with the best of them and was firmly a “to each his or her own” believer, but come on, something should be left to the imagination.
“Izzy!” Stephanie screeched, waving from a cluster of women huddled at the bar. At least this group had clothing on. “Get your champion ass over here, girl.” Five sets of eyes landed on her, a million questions in their gazes.
Again, what was she doing here?
Had nothing to do with the sexy, brooding man who made certain neglected parts of her body tingle.
Nothing.
With a deep breath, Izzy wove her way through the throng of bikers to the group. Thankfully, she recognized Shell from the diner as well as Stephanie. “Hey, Izzy,” Shell said. “Nice to see you again.” Her sunny smile matched her curly golden hair.
“Thanks, Shell. Good to see you, too.” Polite, formal.
“Heard you kicked some serious ass tonight,” Shell went on.
“Oh, my God, she so did!” Stephanie said, her eyes growing wide. “Let me introduce you. This is Toni,” Steph said of the brunette on her left. “Toni owns the diner and is Zach’s woman. Zach coached Izzy through her fight tonight, T.”
Toni held her hand out. “Nice to meet you. Zach told me you were amazing tonight. Glad he could help.”
“You own the diner? Guess that means I have you to blame for the tight fit of my jeans?” Izzy relaxed a bit when Toni threw back her head and laughed. So far, the women were awesome.
“I’d say sorry, but I wouldn’t mean it. The more you gals eat, the less I have to work out.” Toni rubbed her hands together and evil-laughed.
A groan left Izzy as she thought about the cinnamon roll waffles she’d finally succumbed to two days ago. “That’s just mean. And so smart. Hey, thanks for loaning your man out tonight. He knows his stuff.”
Shell snorted, and the others snickered.
Izzy looked at their laughing faces. “What’d I miss?”
With a roll of her eyes, Toni said, “Zach’s the club’s enforcer on top of owning the gym. He has a bit of experience in fighting, I guess you could say.”
“Got it.” Enforcer. Interesting. He came across as too…fun to be the enforcer. Somehow, she’d imagined an enforcer would wear a perpetual scowl and glare at everyone like he hated them. Hmm, Jig seemed to fit that bill.
Stephanie linked her arm through Izzy’s and turned to the other women. “This is Jasmine. She just moved here from Arizona. She’s managing Toni’s diner. You met Shell, and this is Mama V. She’s Viper’s ol’ lady,” Steph gestured to a graying woman with long wavy hair.
Izzy held up a hand. “Hey, everyone.”
A colossus of a man behind the bar wandered over their way. “This has to be the woman Mav was talking about. I was told to look out for a hot as fuck chick with a long braid, wicked nice tits, an ass you could bounce a quarter off, and who could kick my ass in under two minutes.”
“Oh, Maverick.” Stephanie dropped her forehead to her palm and shook her blond head back and forth while the others rolled their eyes. This was an intriguing group. In the past, if one of her friends’ boyfriends called her hot or commented on the state of her ass, they’d be jumping across the circle to claw her eyes out. These women seemed confident and secure in the knowledge that their men loved them even if they were surrounded by willing women.
Izzy smiled at the attractive bartender. She couldn’t stop her lips from curling in delight. Some of the party vibes in the air were rubbing off on her. Plus, what woman didn’t love compliments about their body? “Well, considering I did kick some serious ass tonight, and I am the proud owner of this…” She twisted her right hip forward and slapped her own ass while winking. “Looks like you found the right person.”
“Whooo!” All the women chorused while hooting and clapping.
“Shit, Izzy, you’re gonna fit in here just fine,” Toni said.
“Jesus,” the bartender muttered. “I’m LJ, and I’ve been instructed to keep your glass full of whatever you want all night. On the house. President’s orders. Apparently, Zach bet on you for him, and you won him a decent chunk of change.”
Well, far be it for her to buck the president’s order. “Thank you. Bourbon, please. The good stuff.”
LJ sent her a panty-scorching grin. “Nice choice.” He grabbed a bottle off the shelf and poured her a double. “Holler if you need anything, babe,” he said before moving down the bar.
“So when did you move here, Izzy?” Toni asked.
The bourbon slid its way to her stomach in a perfect combination of burn and soothe. She took a quick second sip then addressed Toni’s question. Gave her something to do besides scan the room for Jig. Before she arrived, she made herself a promise she would not seek him out. “About four weeks ago. Moved from New Orleans. Just looking for a slower paced life.”
Toni laughed. “So you came to a Handlers’ party?”
“Seriously,” said the woman named Jazz. She had chin-length, shiny black hair with pink streaks hiding throughout the bottom layer. She seemed a little quieter, more reserved than the others. Maybe for the fact she was new in town as well. What did these ladies do, adopt all the newcomers?
Izzy pointed at Stephanie and mock scowled. “Yeah, I tried to go home, but Steph wasn’t having it.”
Steph just shrugged. Whatever tension she’d sensed between Shell and Stephanie seemed to be gone tonight, or at least put on hold. Or at least drowned out by the free-flowing alcohol.
“Is it true you’re the new tattoo artist Rip hired?” Toni asked.
“That’s me,” Izzy said. “He trained me years and years ago and has been trying to get me to move here ever since. I finally had enough of city life and took him up on the offer.”
“I’ve wanted a tattoo for a while, and I know exactly what I want,” Shell said. “Maybe I’ll book an appointment with you.”
Izzy swallowed another healthy sip of her drink. Already, the smooth bourbon was loosening her muscles, putting her at ease around all her new-found friends…errr, acquaintances, she meant. Friends had the power to hurt you, acquaintances did not. “Why haven’t you done it yet?”
Shell’s face pinked, and Toni burst out laughing. “Because she happened to mention it in front of Copper, and he flipped his shit. Told her there was no way in hell Rip was touching any part of her body.”
Staring down at her beer bottle like she could somehow disappear down the neck, Shell waved her hand. “You guys know him. He’s just overprotective about stuff.”
Izzy’s forehead scrunched. “Wait, are you two—” A sharp elbow to her side had her huffing out a breath. “Shit, Steph, you hit harder than The Razor did.”
“Damn straight.” Steph chuckled then gave a quick shake of her head.
Message received. Talk of Copper and Shell was off limits. Toni changed the subject, bringing up some changes they were implementing at the diner now that Jazz was on staff and taking over many o
f the managerial duties.
Izzy followed the conversation until heat bloomed across the back of her neck. All the little hairs rose to attention and a shiver so in contrast to the warmth coursed through her. For about thirty seconds, she ignored it, until the sensation grew too intense to dismiss. As subtly as she could manage, she peeked to her right and locked gazes. He sat across the room, alone at a table, nursing a drink and staring at her with laser focus.
She felt the weight of that stare in her bones. In her nipples. In her long-neglected pussy. Damn, the man was potent. He had this whole pissed off, don’t-fuck-with-me, I-hate-the-world vibe, and for some insane reason, her body wanted all that angry passion directed her way.
Typically, she went after easygoing guys, guys she could boss around, pushovers. In bed, Izzy had no problem directing the show. She’d tell them what she wanted, get hers, and send them on their way. A dominant man wouldn’t put up with that. A dominant man might try to get under her skin or into her life. No chance of that with a man who took a back seat to her control.
But, for some reason, ever since she’d met Jig, she had this fantasy of him on top of her, holding her hands down, teasing her and denying her the one thing she wanted until she was begging for it.
Crazy. Because if there was one thing Izzy didn’t do when it came to men, it was begging. She gave the orders, and if they couldn’t be filled, then bye-bye, buddy. Plenty of others out there, and there was always her vast collection of self-love toys to get the job done.
“Damn, girl, that man is looking at you like you’re the last steak on earth and he’s starving,” Toni said in a low voice that startled Izzy.
“What? Jig? No,” she chuckled a shaky laugh. “I’m pretty sure he can’t stand me. He just glares and tries to turn me to dust with his eyes.”
Steph snorted. “He’s not trying to kill you, Izzy. He’s eye-fucking you.”
It was Izzy’s turn to snort. “No way.” Shit, did someone turn up the heat? She fanned herself.
“Oh, my God, you’re getting all flushed. You want his cock!” Steph rubbed her hands together in glee.
“Okay, if you’re all gonna start talking about my boys’ body parts, I’m out of here,” Mama V said with a wave.
“Hmm,” Toni said after she drained her glass. “This is the first time I’ve seen him stray from his type. Know what I mean, Shell?”
Shell nodded. “I know. I think it’s great. You should totally go for it, Izzy. I think you’d be good for him.”
Okay, someone needed to pull the emergency brake on this freaking runaway train. “Go for what? There’s nothing to go for. He has a type?” Whoops, that sounded way too interested.
All four of the girls laughed.
“I’ve been here six weeks, and even I have his type pegged,” Jazz said as she adjusted her slinky black top. “Tiny, blond, blue eyes, delicate, non-assertive, timid…am I right?”
Izzy’s jaw dropped, and she almost spilled her drink as she lifted her hand. “What? Seriously? And you guys think he’s interested in me?” She barked out a laugh. “Uhh, hello?” Izzy grabbed the end of her braid. “Black hair, tall, dark eyes, snarky as shit, and not a delicate bone in my body. You girls are nuts.”
“Hey,” Toni said with a shrug. “I just call it like I see it.”
“Well, let’s be real here,” Steph said then turned to the bar. “Another Mic Ultra, LJ,” she called out. Two seconds later, LJ handed her a bottle, mumbling something about her fake beer. “Are those girls really his type, or is he just trying to replace—?” Her mouth flapped open and shut as though she hadn’t meant to say so much. “Never mind, I’ll shut up now.”
Izzy wagged her finger back and forth. “No, no, no, you can’t do that. Replace what? Or who?”
A heavy sigh came from Shell. “All right, I’ve been part of the club since long before Jig came around. Most of what I know about him is rumors and gossip. But I know he was married and had a kid and a job working for NASA. I don’t know the details, but his family was killed. Rumor has it, he went a little crazy after that before he connected with the club.” A sad smile crossed her face. “His wife was a short, tiny, gentle, blond woman, or so I’ve heard. Rumor also has it his, uh, tastes run toward the darker, rougher side, and a lot of the guys think he’s working his way through all the delicate blond women in America to punish himself or his wife for dying. I don’t know. What I do know is that the women never come back for a second round.”
Flicking a discrete glance in his direction, Izzy asked, “Think he hurts them? Or just kicks them out?”
“No, I don’t think he hurts them,” Toni piped in. “He steers clear of friendships with us for the most part, but he’s quietly protective, even more than most of these guys. I think, well, I’m guessing he scares them away with his intensity.”
Intensity, huh? She must be crazy because hearing that Jig was scaring women away with his rough, angry rage-fucking had her pussy clenching with need.
So much for tonight’s fight settling her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER PRESENCE WAS like a tight-fitting shoe, slowly rubbing the skin off the back of his heel one painful step at a time. Whenever he looked up, there she was, laughing, smiling, fucking flirting with LJ.
The women sure seemed to love her, dragging her straight into the fold. Who the fuck knew what they were talking about? More than a few times, their gazes drifted in his direction. Was he the hot topic of conversation?
Jesus, why the fuck did he care? Izzy was not his type. He liked his women reserved, almost shy. There was something about seeing the wide-eyed shock on their faces when he shoved them against a wall, pulled their head back by their hair, or slapped his palm across their ass. He wasn’t a jerk, wasn’t trying to hurt or scare the women he fucked, but there was a small part of him that got a thrill from seeing a spark of uncertainty in their eyes.
Shit, he probably needed years of therapy. He knew he was fucked up, so that had to count for something, right?
“Good fight?” Rocket asked as he took an empty seat at Jig’s table. Rocket wasn’t much of a talker, which had always been a positive in Jig’s view. Unless the man was blitzed, then his tongue loosened. Like tonight, apparently.
“Not bad. Won before the second round was over.” Jig sipped his drink and tried to keep his focus on Rocket instead of stealing glances at the warrior woman fucking with his head.
“Good deal. What the fuck you doing sitting over here like some loser at a high school dance drooling over the prom queen?”
An innocent enough question, but Rocket had no idea how it sliced into Jig’s gut. His wife had been prom queen. And he’d been prom king. Lifetimes ago, it had been the most perfect night of his life. He’d taken her virginity, given her his, and thought she’d be the only woman he’d ever sleep with. She’d be fucking disgusted if she had any idea how many women he’d fucked and didn’t give a single shit about. The him of years ago would be just as disgusted, but now, dead inside, he didn’t give a shit.
“Fuck off, Rocket.”
“That’s all you got? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”
“What’s up with you? You’ve been in a shit mood for weeks. Ever since you pulled that chick from the motel and brought her to the hospital.” A few weeks ago, Rocket had rescued a woman Lefty kidnapped and planned to sell to the highest bidder. She’d been in piss-poor shape when Rocket found her, and something had been off with him ever since.
“I’m fine. Worry about your own shit, Jigsaw. Like why you can’t seem to get off your ass and go after that sexy as fuck woman who has your dick all twisted up.”
Jig drained his glass and grunted. Fuck, he needed a few more drinks to properly dull his mind. “If I wanted her, I’d go after her. Not interested.”
“Here”—Rocket slid his nearly full glass across the table—“I’m done for the night. Don’t want her, huh? So you good with all the puppy-dog looks LJ’s sending her way?”
<
br /> Fuck. So, it hadn’t been his imagination. LJ had a hard-on for the sexy tattoo artist. “LJ’s a fuckin’ child. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
Rocket’s lips quirked. “He may be young, but gossip around the club is he’s swinging ten inches at the ladies.”
“How the fuck do you know that? He’s a prospect. Honeys are off limits to him.” Handlers’ Honeys were the girls who hung around the club, offering their vast services to the members. Club whores for lack of a more accurate description. Only full patched members were allowed a crack at them.
“Didn’t hear it from a Honey. He can go after whoever he wants as long as it’s not a Honey.” Rocket lifted a hand. “All chicks talk.”
After running a hand through his hair, Jig downed Rocket’s drink in three gulps. “You wanna tell me why we’re sitting here talking about a prospect’s dick?”
With a shrug, Rocket smirked. “Because I figure you’d rather talk about that than why you’re only interested in punishment-fucking women who resemble your dead wife.”
Despite the pulsing music and partying crowd, the silence that descended between the two men seemed to overtake the room. Jig sent his brother a cold, deadly stare. Rocket had some balls on him, that was for sure. No one, not even Copper, ever broached the subject of Jig’s family. It was off limits, untouchable unless someone wanted a trip to the local ER.
But Rocket, the fucker, didn’t know the definition of fear. Nothing intimidated him, and he said whatever the fuck he wanted. Apparently, tonight he wanted to rake Jig over burning hot coals.
“Leave it, brother,” Jig said, his voice like ice.
Another shrug was the only reaction he got in return. “Tired of everybody pussy-footing around the subject. You ain’t the only one with shit in your past. You ain’t even the only one with seriously fucked-up shit in your past. But you are the only one letting that woman slip through your fingers.” He pointed to Izzy who was now dancing with the rest of the women.
