Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,35
I’ll take your hands on me, and your time any way I can get them.”
Gumby’s eyes softened, and he grabbed the front of Screw’s cut, yanking the man in for a less-than-chaste kiss.
Thunder didn’t bother to look away. Instead, he studied the two lovers and tried to process the strange twisting in his gut.
What the hell did it mean? It was happening with more frequency lately when he witnessed his new brothers with their woman. An uncomfortable coil looped low in his stomach. One that had him both wanting to stare and turn away at the same time.
Thunder had had his fair share of threesomes in the past. Two girls, two guys, hell, he didn’t care. He’d even been sucked off by a guy a time or two, and while it felt good—hell, it was a mouth on his dick—the fact it was attached to a dude didn’t do much for him. His cock got hard for tits and pussy, and that was just the way nature had crafted him.
So, it wasn’t the combination of Gumby and Screw getting to him, it was something else. And damned if he knew what the fuck that was.
“Need a favor,” Screw said, when they finally broke apart and after Shell had poured coffee for Gumby and refilled Thunder’s. Screw waved her away when she tried to fill his mug.
“Anything,” Thunder responded. It wasn’t an empty promise, either. He’d do any damn thing his new brothers asked of him.
“You know the CDMC has been quiet lately. They took a huge financial hit after…” Screw lowered his voice. “After one of their shipments didn’t make it to its destination. And ever since Jeremy tossed a grenade through the window of this place, the cops have been lodged so far up the CDMC’s ass, they’ve been shitting gold shields.”
His heart rate kicked up as did his guilt any time someone mentioned the day Viper died. He’d wanted to think of something other than Makenna, but this only brought on more discomfort and remorse.
Six weeks or so ago, the Handlers had gotten some sweet intel regarding where, when, and how the CDMC shipped weapons up and down the east coast. Screw had organized a swift and effective operation to fuck with the shipping company they used for transport. The effort was wildly successful, making the CDMC miss critical deliveries and lose tens, maybe even hundreds of thousands of dollars revenue. Only a few days later, Jeremy, a CDMC prospect who happened to live next door to Jazz and had mad hatred for the Handlers, tossed a grenade through the window of Toni’s Diner.
The restaurant had been left in shambles.
And Viper had died.
He rubbed his chest as though it would relieve the ache Viper’s absence created.
As Screw waited for Thunder to process what he’d said, he kept an arm across Gumby’s shoulders. Every few seconds, Screw unconsciously played with the hair at the nape of Gumby’s neck.
Once again, Thunder’s stomach clenched, and this time, his chest constricted as well.
Maybe he did need to see a fucking doctor. Did heart disease run in his family? Fuck if he knew. STDs sure ran in his family, but those came from being whores, not genetics.
“Yeah,” he said, flattening his palms on the table instead of giving in to the urge to press a fist to his chest. “I’m up on all that. What of it?” Suddenly, his omelet looked like one deadly hardened artery on a plate, so he shoved it to the center of the table.
“Well, we got word that the cops closed the case—straight-up lack of evidence. No one can find Jeremy. Looks like the fucker took off after he blew this place up,” Screw said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Chicken shit.”
“Yep.”
The day came back to him in a rush. The way Viper had told him he’d keep Jazz safe and that Thunder should chase down Jeremy. The way Viper had failed to mention he planned to throw his body over Jazz’s right there in the diner, saving her, but getting his heroic fucking ass mortally wounded in the process.
Fuck, his chest couldn’t take many more of these twinges.
He’d successfully caught up to Jeremy about a quarter mile from the diner as the fucker fled for his life. Damn, it would have been sweet to be in the room when Screw pulled the trigger on that guy. He owed that to Viper at the very least. If only he’d been patched in at the time.