Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (6 page)

The roar and wind rushed by her as Jeremy cut her off and stopped his bike in her path. She involuntarily stepped off the asphalted road to the gravel on the edge. She'd never make it the quarter of a mile to the gas station where she could seek safety and surround herself with other people not associated with Moroad.

Jeremy hitched his chin. "Get on."

"I'll walk."

"Get on." He revved the motor.

She glanced around for anyone traveling by car. She'd stick her thumb out and get a ride before she settled on the back of Jeremy's Harley. Except the early morning hour meant traffic was slow and even if she screamed for help, there was nobody around to hear her.

"I need to go back to Silver Girls and start work." She crossed her arms.

Jeremy reached down and pushed the foot peg out. "That's where I'm taking you."

Her confidence took a nose dive. She studied him and couldn't tell if he was lying to her or telling the truth. The loss of having the closeness with him where she understood his every expression and hung on his every word left her weak.

It wasn't lost on her how she stood in the road and was facing down a recent release from the state prison, a felon, a biker. There were times in the past when murderers, thieves, and drug lords surrounded her, and she still only saw Jeremy as the man she loved.

She no longer believed he'd keep her safe when he was the threat.

"I'm serious. I only have a few hours before the customers start coming by, and I have a lot to do." She raked her top teeth over her bottom lip. "The women are expecting me home."

"Get on," he said.

Against her better judgment, she slipped on the back of his motorcycle. The movement so natural, she sat close and wrapped her arms around his waist out of habit. A habit that continued to drive her insane all these years.

There were times she woke in the middle of the night after dreaming of riding. Any book on dream interpretations would tell her she was looking for an escape and needing to let go of the stress in her life.

It made sense, considering when she was younger, Jeremy would put her on his Harley and help her skip school, run away from her mom's drunken rages, and ignore the never-ending problems she faced being the daughter of the town's drunk.

Near the gas station and Federal Inn, she loosened her arms, relaxed on the seat, and hated herself for how quickly she let herself remember the good times with Jeremy when he solved all her problems. There were enough bad moments with him. She couldn't let herself pretend everything between them had been good times and forever moments.

The tears, fights, not to mention a fifteen-year prison sentence quickly reminded her she was better off without him. He was no longer the tall, lean young man, rebelling against life and clinging to her. He chose to leave her.

She used to love arguing with him, pushing him, testing him. He always catered to her moods, building her confidence, and proving he loved her by fighting so hard to keep her.

Looking back, her constant need for attention, whether positive or toxic to her life, meant she was loved. And God, Jeremy had wanted her with an intensity that swept her away.

Until Jeremy changed his mind, went to prison, clung to Lola, and her fear of love dying away came to life.

Jeremy stopped behind the Sterling Building. She hopped off and walked to the backdoor. Halfway there, she turned.

"For your information, I came to the motel to visit Katie, not you. Your dad forced me into your room. You can believe me or not. I don't care how you feel about me." She paused. "Thank you for the ride, but I'd appreciate it if you stay away from me and Silver Girls."

Without waiting for him to reply, she continued her way to the building and took the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Her lack of sleep last night coupled with the morning's drama exhausted her. Glad for the next three nights off from Silver Girls, she could concentrate on Red Light without any added worries.

Jeremy pulled the door out of her hand. She blocked his path. "You're not coming inside."

"Shut up, Tiff." He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her into the building, closing the door behind her. "If you have to work, you can talk to me afterward, or if you can't wait and want to start throwing words at me now, we'll talk inside. What's it going to be?"

"Neither one. You're turning around and leaving, or I'm calling the sheriff."

"There's a phone in your back pocket. Use it if you need it." He climbed the stairs, pushing her forward.

"You can't go up to the rooms." She stopped at the landing and planted her hands on his stomach.

The hard resistance she met never budged. She removed her hands and rubbed them on her thighs. Rubbing off the feel of him failed to work and instead soaked into her palms.

"Open the door." He turned her around. "If you want rid of me; you'll have to talk to me first."

She had no plans to say a word to him. "Fine, I'll let you in, and
you
can talk. Then I want you out of here before the women start work."

He grunted in reply. She keyed the lock and let him inside. The only place she felt safe with him was in the main kitchen with a table between them. She wanted to keep him far away from her living quarters and her bed.

Inside the room, she sat at the table and pointed to the farthest chair. "Sit. Talk. Then leave."

Surprising her, he sat at the other end and braced his elbows on the table. Away from him, she dug her fingernails into her thighs to keep from banging the table and screaming. He came back different, more demanding and stubborn. Well, she could prove how much she'd matured and had control of her temper.

Jeremy ran his hand across his jaw. She waited. Alert to his posture, she sat on guard ready for him to attack.

T
he last time Jeremy had chew between his lip and gum he'd spit the wad in the face of the Idaho State Patrol officer who cuffed his hands behind his back. He pushed his tongue behind his lip and watched Tiff. He never had the desire for chew in prison, and now he sat here across the table from Tiff and would kill a man for one dip.

He tapped the table with his fist. "You got any cigarettes or a joint in here?"

"Are you joking?" Her mouth tightened. "I don't do drugs or keep them in the building. I have enough things to worry about around here without adding drugs into the mix."

"Right," he mumbled.

Tiff pulled out her phone, checked the screen, and set the cell on the table. Her hands shook. Jeremy studied her closely. Her weakness could mean anything.

She was nervous about having a felon in the same room.

She was reluctant to say something wrong.

She was ready to cry.

All the unknowns surrounding Tiff angered him. He was supposed to know every detail about her, and he sat here not knowing how to get the answers he needed. Hell, she appeared ready to make a sprint for the door rather than be with him.

"You taking cock, too?" His legs tensed.

If she fucking answered yes, he'd walk out. Then he'd kill every man she'd had inside of her over the last fifteen years and smile during his execution.

"I don't think that's any of your business." Her hands disappeared underneath the table. "I run a bordello. There are rules. Everyone deserves to keep their activities confidential. I run a clean place. The women work for a living. Unlike how Moroad uses their women for their personal entertainment, I treat my employees better. If you came here to lecture me, forget it. I'm not the first woman to run a house of pleasure, and I won't be the last."

"Are
you
taking cock, too?" he repeated.

"Not. Your. Business." She stood. "Now if this is what you wanted to talk to me about, I'm done."

"Sit down, Tiff."

She sat and looked away from him.

"Answer my question," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't have to."

Adrenaline kicked in at her stubbornness. He sprawled his hand on the table. Had she snapped her reply?

"I can sit here all day." He pushed harder, wanting more of her attitude. Her lack of spirit and keeping her distance irritate the fuck out of him. He wouldn't believe she'd changed that much from the girl he remembered.

Her chin came up. "Did you ask Lola the same rude question when you returned?"

"Lola has nothing to do—"

"Oh, that's right. When you dumped me, Lola took a vow of abstinence with Moroad." She rolled her eyes. "Though at her age, maybe she dried up. Is that the case? Did you come back to Federal and find your fuck buddy past her prime?"

He scooted back his chair.

Her chair screeched against the floor as she hung onto the edge of the table, ready to flee.

Fear stared back at him.

She had a valid reason for being afraid of him. He forced himself to relax and sit back in the chair. Change took time.

When he'd had everything familiar ripped from his life, he'd adapted. He'd come back stronger.

"What I had and have with Lola never came between you and me." He leaned forward. "I went to prison, and that meant no contact with you. I wanted you safe and far away from those who would harm you to get to me. I explained that in my letter to you."

Her brows pinched above her nose. "I never received any letter."

"I'm not surprised." He ran his hand down his beard, pulling it straight. "Most of the guards were dirty. They'll take money from anyone. I wrote two or three times, and decided I couldn't take the chance anymore, in case they gave information about you to Reds, Blues, Los Li."

Tiff moistened her lips. He wanted to know what was going on in her head. She wasn't clueless about Moroad members spending time in prison.

She'd watched Christina handle Cam's eighteen-month sentence while they were together, and understood the rules. The Moroad women were the only ones used by the club to get information into the prison system and to Moroad members. All Tiff had to do was ask Cam to give him a message, and he'd hear what she had to tell him.

"The first couple of months I was incarcerated, I asked my dad every time he visited if he had a message from you, and he told me no. Are you telling me your messages were kept from me?" He trusted Cam with his life, but his dad came first in all things. Club came second. His family came third, but not last, and they were protected and wanted.

She shook her head. "I wanted nothing to do with Moroad after you were arrested."

"I had you set up, Tiff. I handed over money to you every month to go to school and put a roof over your head to get away from your mom." He leaned back in his chair. "Look what you've done with everything I gave you. You own your own business. Hell, you grew Silver Girls into a fucking whorehouse. I asked you a simple question, and I want a yes or no answer. Are men paying you for sex after everything I've done for you? Are men taking what is mine?"

Tiff scooted her chair back and rushed to stand. "Get out."

"I'm not going anywhere." He remained sitting.

"Get. Out," she screamed, picking up her phone. "Get out of my building."

He ducked. The phone sailed over his shoulder and smashed into the wall behind him. He raised his brows and stood. That temper taking control over common sense was a familiar and welcome sight. He could deal with anger and the woman aiming at him.

The woman who made his blood boil.

The woman who turned him on.

The woman who he owned.

The woman he wasn't giving up.

He stalked toward her. She stood her ground. He grasped her upper arms and lifted her to her toes. "I asked you a simple question."

"I hate you." She struggled in his hold.

He held on tighter. "You're mine."

"Lola's yours." She pitched her body forward, hitting him in the chest. "Ask her. Ask her how she acted after you got arrested. Ask your club brothers how they treated her. I walked away because I couldn't stand to see you claim her. Not one of them checked on me. No one had my back. You left me to survive on my own. One day you were my world, and then the next you were dead to me."

Her body heaved, gasping for breath. He shook her, angered by what she was telling him. Fucking, bullshit. Lola had nothing to do with his relationship with Tiff.

"Tiff?" a feminine voice spoke behind Jeremy. "Do you want me to hide the others and call the sheriff.

Confusion and anger colored Tiff's face and her eyes never strayed from Jeremy. He brought her closer. "What's the girl's name?"

Tiff's brows lowered even more. "Keely," she whispered, raw and broken.

"Keely?" He placed Tiff on the ground and kept hold of her, keeping his back to the woman in the doorway. "Stay right there and don't move. I need you to do something for me."

Keely gasped. Tiff slapped Jeremy's chest. He wasn't going anywhere and he sure in the hell wasn't going to let the sheriff haul him back to prison. The answer Tiff refused to give him was his for the taking.

"Keely?" he said. "Does Tiff fuck the men who come upstairs?

"God, no," Keely blurted.

Tiff, hidden behind his body, sagged in his hands. His chest swelled with pleasure. He'd received his answer.

"Give me a few minutes with Tiff, and then I'll leave. You can check in on her before you're due to start work. You'll find out she's okay." He loosened his hold, not that Tiff was going anywhere.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway until silence gripped him. He guided Tiff to the nearest chair and sat her down.

He squatted down in front of Tiff, needing her eyes on him now that he'd learned the truth. "Look at me."

Tiff lifted her chin. The attitude from earlier was completely missing, and she sat before him an emotional mess.

He gathered her cold hands in his. "I kept telling myself over the years that you'd be okay. That you'd hang strong as my woman. I get that you're pissed at me, and I'll make you happy. But, I'm not planning on going back to prison, and I expect you by my side."

Her lips trembled. He reached up and cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her bottom lip. "Fucking proud of you, baby, for holding strong."