Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (2 page)

"Your bike is at the house." Cam stepped back toward the truck. "You can ride with me."

Jeremy followed his dad to the truck and sat on the passenger side. He let his hands fall between his thighs and gazed out the window. The window blocked too much, he rolled down the glass and leaned to the side, letting the air hit his face.

When they escaped the prison property and entered the long stretch of interstate ahead of them on their trip back home, his chest compressed on his lungs and sweat broke out on his forehead. He closed his eyes as his stomach churned, revolting no matter how hard he shoved everything to the back of his mind.

Where did he fit in?

What waited for him back in Federal?

Why the fuck hadn't Tiff answered his letters in the last fifteen years?

The flick of a lighter filled the cab of the truck. His dad exhaled loudly. "There's chew and a pack of smokes in the glovebox. Christina tucked a sandwich in there, too."

Jeremy stayed quiet, knowing if he opened his mouth; he'd hurl the oatmeal he had for breakfast at his feet. For fifteen years, he never once let any weakness show. Ten minutes after walking out of prison, his body rejected him.

"Slow your breathing down, kid. It'll help you get your balance." Cam cleared his throat. "One fucking day at a time, you'll make it."

Jeremy lifted his arm and wiped his hand across his bearded jaw. Hell, he was shaking.

Thirty-five years old. Fuck, thirty-six years old and he relied on Cam to calm him down. Nothing seemed familiar, except the man who sat beside him and visited him once a month during his incarceration. In that time, he'd watched, learned, and grew into a man.

He gathered spit in his dry mouth and hocked out the window. "Where are you taking me?"

He wasn't a twenty-year-old kid who could go back to his bedroom upstairs at his dad's place. As much as he wanted to gain structure in his life and prove his position now that he was free, he refused to hide under the reach of his father's power.

"Remember me telling you about the motel the club bought on the outskirts of town?" Cam asked.

He blinked extra-long and pulled at the front of his tight shirt. "Yeah. I was still around when..."

"Jacko," said Cam, finishing Jeremy's thought.

He nodded, remembering. Crazy Jacko landed his woman's sister, settled his revenge on Los Li, and at the same time Jeremy had the bright idea to become a lifer with the creds to back him up in Moroad by spending time in prison.

"Newly released members spend time at the motel while they get their feet under them. I figured you'd want some time to yourself." Cam beat his thumb against the steering wheel. "I sent a message to Lola. She'll be waiting in your room."

He focused his gaze out the window, further than the immediate area of the cab of the pickup, where there were trees, grass, and movement. Warmth washed over him, easing the tension knotting his body. For the first time since he walked out of the Cyclone fence, he caught a bit of strength inside of him knowing Lola waited for him.

Lola had stood by and supported him before he was a Moroad member, during his incarceration, and now waited for him to return.

Unlike Tiff, who'd backed away from him the second the handcuffs were slapped on his wrist.

C
am parked in front of the Moroad Motel and shut off the engine of the truck. Jeremy scanned the crowd of twenty-so men from his position in the passenger seat, picking out his MC brothers he recognized at first glance.

Gunner, Moroad's Vice President, stood holding a beer, still wearing his T-shirts with the sleeves cut off. Though age deflated the muscles Gunner had been proud of fifteen years ago.

Johnson stood behind an unknown woman, his arms wrapped around her waist, and grinned in Jeremy's direction.

Stache leaned against the building, rubbing his handlebar mustache and glared at Meese, who shook his shaved head, pointing in the direction of town.

Jeremy swung his gaze off to the shade at the junction of where the two single-story motel buildings met and found the Moroad women. Katie held her hand up to her forehead and squinted against the glare of the sun. Jeremy moistened his dry lips. The bubbly young woman he expected now stood patiently. Her hair no longer held a stripe of pink, but hung straight down at the sides, all one color—brown, covering her breasts.

Tina and Jessie stood in the middle of a half dozen women who were strangers to him. He rubbed his thumb against the jean material covering his thigh. Every single one of the original Moroad women had aged. While still good-looking women, he could see the hard-life lines that make-up couldn't hide around their eyes and mouths. The depletion of energy they'd used up in their twenties apparent and replaced with a calmer, more relaxed acceptance they found in their late thirties.

"Christina's in the room with Lola. She wants a moment alone with you before all hell breaks loose tonight in celebration of your release." Cam rubbed his bum knee and looked out at his men. "It's been a long time, kid. Give her that moment she needs."

Jeremy hid the pang of what time had done to every single one of them. His father was getting older. The men he'd looked up to and viewed as an adult were now his peers, hardened by life behind bars and the disappointments thrown at them. He wanted to go back to prison where everything stayed the same.

There was no way to prepare for the changes he'd see in Christina's face.

Under Cam's orders, Christina stayed away from Jeremy during his sentence. At first, he fed off his anger toward his dad for keeping her away. Then he'd realized his dad's choice kept Christina safe.

He had no idea what he'd walk into when he entered the motel room. At one time, Christina was his link to normalcy. She brought him comfort in a harsh environment. Strength as his social worker when his mom overdosed and died, then later when his dad got out of prison and took custody of him, and when he found out Merk was his uncle.

More than a step-mom, Christina watched out for him like an older sister.

He gazed back at Cam and opened the door. The former dump of a motel had new siding, a new roof, and remained fenceless, where Moroad men could come and go.

Despite his distraction at returning to Federal, he searched for Tiff in the crowd. He held no hope that she'd show up.

He was fucked up to believe his high school girlfriend, who changed her mind weekly about whether she wanted to be with him or not until at the age of twenty agreed to be his woman, would show up to welcome him home.

Through word from various club members, he learned Tiff went from working as the cleaning woman at Silver Girls—the only adult entertainment business in Federal—to one of the dancers and continued showing her ass to every man in the Silver Valley. He strode forward to the crowd. Tiff had wanted better for her life. He never thought she'd settle for stripping.

Johnson grinned and stretched his thin arms out to his sides. "Welcome home, kid."

Jeremy's muscles tensed for the human contact he hoped wouldn't come and held out his hand. "Good to see you, brother."

"You, too." Johnson squeezed his hand and let go when Jeremy pulled away. "Keep breathing, man. It'll get easier."

Meese slapped him on the shoulder. Gunner punched him in the chest. Jeremy braced his weight on the heel of his boot, not moving an inch. He never showed weakness, not physical or emotional. To do so would put him at risk. There were always men ready to jump on any vulnerability.

"Looking huge, man." Gunner curled his arm and flexed, holding the limb up for Jeremy's inspection. "What are you lifting?"

"Just my dick every morning to take a piss," said Jeremy.

The guys laughed and moved back, heading toward the walkway between the buildings. The tension left behind from reentering the club continued to torment Jeremy's body. It took all of his control to keep the effects from showing.

"They're in Room Three," said Cam.

The shouts and whoops from behind the motel floated in the air. Jeremy swept his gaze to the right, found the door keeping Christina and Lola away from him. He walked across the parking lot and swung the door open, staring into the room letting his vision adjust from the bright sunlight to a dim room.

A gasp reached his ears. He turned right and spotted an older version of Christina that he remembered. His gut tightened. Her familiar eyes shined back at him, sweeping over him head to boot. He focused on the concern and love aimed at him because he couldn't handle facing the truth.

He'd lost years of his life. Years he'd never get back.

"Jeremy," said Christina softly, holding out her arms.

He stepped forward and caught Christina, letting her hold him. He hardened himself to the comfort her embrace gave him. Christina's strength left him exhausted.

"My God, you've grown." Christina pulled back and ran her hands over his face. "Your beard. You finally..."

He moistened his lips. It seemed like another lifetime when he rode with Moroad, and his only goal in life was to grow a full facial beard like his dad. Hell, when he'd gone off to prison, he looked more like a dog with mange than a man.

"You look so much like your dad," whispered Christina, sucking in air. "How are you? Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

He gazed over Christina's head and found Lola standing beside the bed. The band around his chest loosened and allowed him to answer Christina. "I'm good."

Lola tilted her head to the side, and her eyes softened despite the heavily black-lined lashes. Jeremy took in every little detail. She looked good, even better than when he'd left. More relaxed and not as bitter.

Not knowing her exact age, he put Lola at forty-five though she was probably forty-one or two. She always seemed older and more mature than him. At first glance, Lola's slim figure, large breasts, and narrow waist made her appear younger than her age. She held herself with class and respect after spending her adult life with Moroad, servicing the men, taking whatever little attention anyone had left over for her.

"Let's let him have some space," said Cam, holding out his hand for Christina. "We'll catch you later at the pit, kid."

He nodded and stepped back, watching Christina and his dad leave the room. A part of him felt like the 'kid' Cam referenced. He walked over and shut the door and turned around to face Lola.

Her clutched hands came apart, and she dropped her arms to her sides. Out of all the others, Lola changed the least or maybe he was damn glad to see her, the differences remained unimportant.

Lola's streaked wavy hair, now shades of brown, blonde, and platinum, hung around her shoulders. Her shirt, lined with lace, hugged her curves. She stepped sideways and sat down on the bed. He lifted his chin, watching her every move.

She scooted farther onto the mattress until her back was against the headboard, never taking her gaze off him. He stayed by the door. He had many things to talk about with her and his tongue refused to work. His body refused to move. The room suffocated him.

Lola held out her hand. She had yet to say a word to him, and he welcomed her silence. He couldn't focus and had no desire to open his mouth.

He stepped forward and stretched out on the bed beside her, laying his head in her lap. Her fingers went to his hair, stroking, soothing, comforting. He closed his eyes, knowing whatever happened; Lola had his back. She'd taken care of him when Cam thrust him into Moroad without giving him the option of becoming a member. She'd listened to him bitch about the lies surrounding his life. She made him laugh when all he wanted to do was run away.

The other Moroad members believed his relationship with Lola centered around sex. He'd been a teenager with a constant chub, and let them believe what they wanted, and Lola never talked. Anything that happened between them stayed in the room. She anchored him to a life that he tried hard to understand, and their relationship went deeper than sex.

She smoothed his hair behind his shoulder, tracing her finger along his ear. "You'll be okay," she whispered. "When you're ready, you go out there and show the men who you've become. But, for now, let me take care of you."

His body shuddered. "Everything has changed."

"You knew it would." Her hand stroked his whiskered cheek. "Life's about change. You've been through hell and back a few times now. You'll find your place again."

He wrapped his arm around her thighs, held himself closer to her, and sighed. "Tell me what has stayed the same."

"Very little." Lola inhaled deeply. "The Moroad women you remember still belong to the club. I no longer comfort the men, but Cam lets me stay around to keep the women in line and protect them from information they have no business knowing."

"I saw new women standing at the edge of the crowd outside," he said.

She let out a breath in amusement. "Carbon copies of the others, except younger. You weren't the only one who aged. Katie, Jessie, and Tina are almost forty years old, and Moroad members needed more women who could keep up with the men who walked away from prison. Most of the new women came from Silver Girls like the ones before them. For whatever reason, women preferred Moroad over Bantorus Motorcycle Club, always going for the dangerous men. Bantorus no longer kept a running business in town and stayed in their clubhouse outside of Federal, but the dancers from both motorcycle clubs still work together at Silver Girls. That arrangement hasn't changed."

"Who owns Silver Girls?" he asked.

Lola's hand settled on his head. "I thought you wanted to hear about familiar things."

He settled his head deeper into the warmth of her thighs. "Answer my question."

After several seconds, Lola said, "Tiff bought the place from Ink and Lilly. She's been running the business for the last ten years by herself."

He opened his eyes. When he got hauled off to prison, Tiff's only goal was to get a good paying job and move far away from Federal. The last he'd heard, she was dancing. No one mentioned she owned Silver Girls

Why in the fuck hadn't she answered his God damn letters at the beginning?