Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (4 page)

The anger he held against her kept him alive for fifteen years. He breathed in slowly, exhaled fast, trying to combat the way his body rebelled in an unsecured crowd.

All he wanted to do was grab Tiff, take her outside, and beat her ass for the chances she took risking her life. If he found out she was spreading her legs, he'd put a stop to her activities and the hell with his freedom. He'd go back to prison for life if it kept other men away from Tiff.

Men crowded the main room. He looked over their heads, scanning the area, looking for the blonde that never failed to get his blood roaring. He wanted answers.

She'd promised him everything, and the second the cops hauled him away, she wanted nothing to do with him. That bullshit wasn't going to fly with him. He'd gone through life never getting answers for shit that happened in his life.

Why had his mom overdosed?

Why were drugs more important than him?

Why had Cam claimed him as his son?

If Tiff had a reason to go back on her word, he wanted to hear what she had to say, because her actions made no sense to him. She never had a problem telling him what she thought in the past. She owed him that much.

Gunner, Johnson, and Bear stood along the back wall. Jeremy stayed in the doorway, the hallway at his back, the room to his front. The dancers ignored, he studied the crowd. Unfamiliar faces pressed in on him, their gazes never strayed from the stage.

Young women carried trays of beer to the tables. Miners stood in groups, recognized by the black, dust-covered boots, the baseball caps, the flannels rolled to their elbows. Businessmen in suits, their tie loosened at their neck, leaned back in the chairs, heads nodding to the music. Jeremy's head pounded. He couldn't focus. The distractions too much, he stepped backward, needing to leave.

A body nudged his arm. "Aldridge?"

He whipped his gaze to the man beside him. His body, hard and alert, ready for an attack.

"I heard you got out of the pen." The man stayed close and continued. "Kurt Ramchett, President of Bantorus Motorcycle Club."

Jeremy dropped his gaze to Ramchett's leather vest and remained silent. He remembered.

Kurt folded his arms across his chest. "Your dad's probably filled you in on the changes. While Silver Girls is no longer owned by Bantorus, the club is still involved. The same way Moroad is involved. We protect the women."

Jeremy widened his stance. He never took to anyone telling him how to run his life before prison. He wasn't going to start giving a damn now.

"I'd hate to think you were threatening me." Jeremy remained in position. "I'm Moroad. I don't touch Bantorus girls."

"I want no problems between us." Kurt faced Jeremy. "Ink and Lilly think a lot of Tiff. She's—"

"Is Bantorus claiming ownership over her?" Jeremy dipped his chin.

Kurt shook his head. "Business only."

"Then I'd suggest you find someone else to talk to because I'm not interested in whatever you have to say." Jeremy paused. "As far as I'm concerned, Moroad will continue whatever agreement they have with your club, but understand that what I do with Tiff isn't any of your fucking business."

"You've been gone a long time," said Kurt.

"Yeah, and I'm back." Jeremy caught a flash of blonde hair behind Kurt and never took his gaze from the president of Bantorus. "Looks like the show is almost over. I'd like to look at some pussy before I need to head out of town, so if we're done here..."

Kurt nodded and walked away.

The area Jeremy spotted the blonde hair now empty, he turned back to the crowd. He found Tiff without trying, his gaze locked on to the woman he'd spent a lifetime wanting.

Tiff stood with her back toward him, and he'd recognize her anywhere. He took in the proud, bare shoulders. The slight tilt of her hip encased in red. The straight blonde hair skimming the curve of her ass. He swallowed a groan. She'd kept her long hair.

Turn around.

He held his breath.

Fucking turn around.

He had to see her face.

The arched brows that raised and lowered with her mood. The full mouth that smiled with everything she failed to contain or the smirk with attitude she'd throw at him when he disappointed her. He wanted it all. Every small memory kept locked in his head, untouched by anyone else.

The music stopped. The crowd clapped, cheered, and stood. He lost his view of Tiff and slipped out of the room, taking the wide carpeted stairs to the second floor. He'd always known he'd return to Tiff, to Federal, to his club. It was time Tiff learned he was back.

He turned the door handle at the top of the stairs. "Fuck."

The door, locked and secured from the inside, kept him out. He studied the casing on the door, the deadbolt, the almost concealed wire running along the edge, over the door, and to the high ceiling. She had the place secured with an alarm.

He walked down the steps. The dancers hurried past him toward the room at the end of the hallway. Unfamiliar women who gave him a second glance and grabbed on to each other, fear etched on their faces and curiosity in their eyes. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment not to raise any alarm and have them scream for help.

Katie strolled into the hallway, recognized him, and opened her mouth. He gave a short shake of his head, silencing her.

"Jeremy," she said on an exhale, stepping in front of him. "W-welcome back."

"Hey." He lowered his voice. "I need a favor."

Katie moistened her lips and glanced over her shoulder, then moved him farther away from the entrance of the main room. "Moroad members aren't allowed back here with the women when the show is over. We need to change out of our costumes."

He gazed over her head, watching for Tiff. "I need you to get me upstairs."

"I can't do that." Katie frowned. "Even if it wasn't against the rules, the building is locked up tight. Tiff has women who rent the rooms upstairs. Their area is totally off limits to everyone."

Moroad women obeyed members. He would get upstairs. "I need to talk to Tiff, and I'm not going to do that down here. Get me up there."

"Shit," Katie mumbled. "It's going to take me a few minutes. There's only one other person who has a key to the door, and she's not going to let you in."

"Do what you have to do." Jeremy stepped back and put his boot on the bottom step.

Katie's shoulders slumped forward. "Go up there and wait. Hide or something. If anyone catches you, they'll alert Tiff, who'll call the sheriff, and I'll get fired."

He jogged up the steps, taking the stairs three at a time. On the landing, he looked around for somewhere to stand out of the view of anyone coming upstairs. A chair and a fake indoor tree near the recessed window were his only options. Neither one big enough to shield his body from view.

He moved the chair to the middle of the floor and stepped up on the seat to unscrew the light bulb, casting the landing in darkness. After putting the furniture back, he leaned against the wall and kicked the potted tree out in front of him. If no one suspected him lurking in the dark, he'd go unnoticed.

"Why don't you give the shirt to Tiff downstairs?" said a feminine voice.

"She's busy, and I want to get out of here and get home before one of the men try to convince me otherwise," said Katie.

Jeremy squinted into the dark, catching the shadows of the two women and then seeing them move toward the locked door. He pressed his back against the wall and held still. Behind the other woman's back, Katie held up her hand to him. He had no idea what she planned.

The keys rattled, and the door swung open. The other woman turned off the alarm and Katie stepped inside. "Thank you. I can't wait to get home and get off my feet. Tonight was—"

"Sh. The women are sleeping, and we shouldn't disturb them." The woman with Katie tugged her inside, leaving the door wide open.

Jeremy stepped away from the wall, glanced down the stairs and when the coast was clear he peeked inside the door. The women were gone, and the first door on his left was open. He grimaced. The straight hallway gave him no coverage. He strode to the end and took the chance Katie would distract the woman from looking in his direction.

Katie stepped into the hallway, caught sight of him and turned. "I'll get the door. It sticks."

"I forgot you used to rent a room upstairs." The woman stepped around Katie, keeping her back toward Jeremy.

"Yeah. Ages ago." Katie closed the door. "I was working here when Lilly and Ink took over the place from Risa. I loved staying here."

The two women walked to the end of the hallway. Katie glanced over her shoulder at the doorway and smiled, giving him a thumb up. Once the door latched, he walked back to the room they'd exited. He put his hand on the knob and chuckled when his hand turned, and the door swung open. Katie had left Tiff's room unlocked for him.

The aroma inside the suite stopped him. He inhaled deeply. A quiver rocked his upper body, and he braced. He could smell her.

Spicy, yet smelled like grapes.

Almost overpowering hypnotic. The same perfume she ordered off the internet fifteen years ago, because her favorite store stopped carrying it. His skin crawled. He could almost imagine her touching him, rubbing against him, dancing in front of him.

He locked the front door to keep Tiff from becoming alarmed and leaving before he had a chance to talk. Then, he walked into the living room to the bedroom. Lightheaded, he refused to stop inhaling, taking her scent into his body.

A bra hung from the door handle of her closet. He caressed the silky material between his thumb and finger, wishing it was still warm from her body, wanting to be the one who took the bra off her before he laid her down on the bed.

Tonight, she wore a red dress. Short, tight, hiding none of her curves. Though all he wanted to see were her eyes. Her eyes
on
him.

He sat down on the unmade full-size bed, braced his elbows on his thighs and let his chin fall to his chest. He had two choices.

Stay and talk to Tiff.

Go and return to Lola at the motel.

The door opened. He lifted his head and remained on the bed. His pulse raced. He'd waited forever to demand answers from her, to ask her why she never contacted him. He suspected she'd changed her phone number after he wasted his weekly call for several months to see if she'd answer. She never had.

Pissed off, he never asked Cam about Tiff, never wanting to give that weakness to his president, his father. Lola refused to speak Tiff's name after informing him in prison that Tiff moved on with her life.

The
click
of heels grew louder on the hardwood floor. For a split second, he viewed her in the hallway, lit by the light. He strained to see her eyes, but she kept her head down, her hands up near one side of her head.

She turned on the bedroom light. He blinked, adjusting his vision.

Tiff put a pair of earrings on the dresser, looked up, and spotted him in the reflection of the mirror and gasped.

"Don't scream," he said.

She turned around. He couldn't take his gaze off her. She looked better than ever. The full lips he remembered. High, sexy cheekbones replaced the round softness of her teenage years. The slim slope of her neck, so fucking sex, he watched the beat of her pulse at the base. She appeared stronger than she used to, yet more vulnerable.

Blue eyes roamed his face, his body, and back up to his eyes desperately taking in the changes in him, making her stiff body and clenched fists a lie. She wasn't immune to seeing him again.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Did you think a locked door and an alarm system would keep me out?" He inhaled deeply, the ache in his chest settled lower and deeper in his gut. "Damn, you look good, Tiff."

She shook her head. "Don't go there, Jeremy. I want you to leave."

"You probably do." He stood and tilted his head to the side. "But, I'm not going anywhere."

The changes in her fascinated him. All the years locked up, he believed he'd return and find the same excitement she had for him when they rarely went twenty-four hours without seeing each other.

Tiff kept her distance.

Instead of the weight of her body crashing into him, her legs wrapped around his hips, her mouth plastered on his lips, she held herself back in total control. He walked over to the window and drew back the drapes opening his view to the night.

"What do you want?" she whispered behind him.

Anger curled around him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. Every idea he had on how things would be with Tiff shot all to hell. It wasn't enough that she looked better than he remembered or how his cock pulsed wanting to fuck her.

He wanted more. He wanted everything. He wanted a different reaction from her. The one she held back in an attempt to hurt him.

The strong woman who stood in the room was not the girl he wanted. He wanted the fire inside of her to come alive. He wanted her riled. He wanted her to hit him. He wanted her to take the pistol he knew she carried on her sweet thigh to show itself and blow his head off.

"It's been fifteen years." He turned around, ran his tongue along his lower lip, and said, "I thought I'd come over here and get some pussy, seeing as how you're selling it."

Her eyes widened before she could hide her disgust. She cleared her throat. "The girls are off work for the night. We open the doors to pre-approved customers at five in the evening and close at nine at night. If you want a certain room, you'll have to—"

"I'm not paying for something I've already had." He stepped toward her and stopped when his boots landed in front of her sexy heels.

"I'm not—"

He cupped the back of her head and captured her upturned mouth. Desperate, he thrust his tongue between her lips and slowly stroked, overdosing on the taste of her. His senses vibrated, needing more. He wrapped his arm around her slim body, palmed her ass, and jerked her against him, molding her body against his to remind her of where she belonged.

She moaned into his mouth, wiggling her shoulders back and forth. He held on tighter, not giving her an inch. Her lips softened, widened, and he took advantage and deepened the kiss, growling in approval.