Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (6 page)

Jacko blew smoke up into the air, swung his gaze toward Amy, and continued. "You'll let me worry about that."

He disconnected the call. The Moroad men tightened their circle around the fire. Amy stood, stretching her legs, and worked the ache out of her knees. She'd heard enough.

Jacko approached her. "Momma?"

She reached for his hand, needing the connection and comfort. She'd survived her house burnt down, her car stolen, and living on the street. It wasn't until she'd seen a group of grown, hardened bikers stand up and take notice of the trouble coming after her that she realized Jacko couldn't fix her problem.

"This is too much for you to handle," she whispered. "I think I need to go to a safe house for women or some kind of shelter. Someone should know how they can help me get my identification, so I can get my money out of the bank and go somewhere away from you."

Jacko cupped her face in his hands. "It's too late for that. They'll find you, and I've taken responsibility for you in front of the club. Give me one month, Momma. Let me take care of you, so you never have to worry about anyone coming after you again."

"But, Sarah never—"

"She never stood a chance against them but this time, I know who is after you. I can stop them." He stroked her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb.

She leaned her head into his touch, closed her eyes, and nodded. "I'll kill myself if they get me. I won't let them hurt me the way they did Sarah. I won't—"

"Sarah's dead. Nobody can hurt her anymore, and nobody is going to hurt you. Understand?" Jacko leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and straightened. "Come and sit by the fire and warm up. You're shaking."

She walked with Jacko and sat on a piece of wood standing on end. Johnson handed her a Styrofoam cup. She wrapped her fingers around its warmth and brought the coffee to her mouth. The liquid scalded her tongue, but even the pain couldn't stop her from filling the emptiness inside of her.

Hollow and detached, she struggled to keep hold of her emotions. It seemed easier to let it all go and pretend a gang wasn't after her and wanting to ship her to Mexico to end up in the same fate as her dead sister.

Jacko sat across from her, half blocked by the flames of the fire. He rocked back and forth, staring into the flames. A tear wet a path down her cheek. What was she doing?

These bikers committed crimes and killed people. They were no better than the gang after her. She relied on a man who somehow had lost his sanity in the five years since Sarah's death. And yet, something kept her from wanting to leave. Whether there was safety in numbers, or she'd reached the end of her ideas on how to save herself, she'd put her trust in a man who couldn't even take care of himself.

A
my startled awake. Jacko woke at her movements and found his head nestled between her large breasts, the only soft spot on her.

He couldn't move.

He wouldn't move.

He wanted to stay where his head was laying.

Instead, he pretended to sleep. Hell, he was sleeping hard before she'd jolted and cried out in her sleep. He couldn't even remember closing his eyes late last night after the party. One second he stared up at the ceiling on his side of the bed thinking he better go out and attend to his business and the next, he cushioned his cheek against the nicest feeling in the world.

Amy panted, holding perfectly still. He kept his eyes closed, afraid she'd sense his eyelashes blinking against her bare skin.

Fuck him.

He lay against her bare breasts.

She had no clothes on.

She'd gone to sleep wearing a short nightgown. Nothing sexy about the outfit. The material covered her clear to her knees, had long sleeves, and hung off her slim body. Hell, the shirt was three sizes too big for her. He'd caught a glimpse of her scurrying out of the bathroom after a quick shower, and the unsexy outfit had his dick hard and the blood rushing through his head.

Somehow, he'd managed to maneuver the material off her and taken advantage of the natural plush cushion made for a man's head. He tried to imagine the whole act of how he'd achieved the lucky position in his head, wishing he could remember touching her and if she'd turned and sought him out.

Amy swallowed. The gulp permeated his thoughts. Any second she'd make him move and for once, he wanted to stay in bed. He had no desire to get up, wander outside, and try to forget.

"Jacko," she whispered.

He ignored her.

She inhaled a deep breath. Her breast pushed against his cheek, and her nipple grazed his lip.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

Faced with the impossible, he couldn't stop himself from taking what was literally right in front of his face. He nuzzled against her, trailing his lips across her hardened nipple.

She softly moaned and trembled. He opened his lips, seizing her tit and groaned. Damn, he had no idea she had bigger breasts than most women he'd been with since released from prison.

He licked.

She gasped. The action pushed her nipple into his mouth. He took the offer, latching on and drawing her body into his mouth. His mouth performed in a way that came naturally to him.

Suck, draw, stroke, suck, draw, stroke.

His cock, nestled against her leg, pounded. He moaned in satisfaction.

"Jacko!" She pushed against him, ripping her nipple out of his mouth.

He sat up with the pulse of her breast still beating on his lips. "What?"

"What do you think you're doing?" She tugged viciously at the material of her top shoved up under her armpits, scrambling to get away from him, and tripped herself in the blanket tangled around her legs.

Standing at the side of the bed, she faced him. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath. He ogled her chest and wanted her warmth and his mouth back on her body.

"Stop staring at me." She picked up the pillow and threw it at him. "Shit. I can't believe you touched me. You can't do that."

He snatched the offending object out of the air and glared at her. Her shock irritated him. He hadn't raped her. Hell, he'd barely call what they'd done cuddling.

Already dressed, he stood, adjusted his aching cock, and headed toward the door. Fuck, he had better things to do than stand here and listen to her bitch about him touching her tits.

"Wait." She tugged on his arm, keeping him from leaving the room. "Just stop for a second and stop running away from me all the time when I'm trying to talk to you."

He turned and faced her. "I'm not running."

"What do you call it then? For the last three nights, you've left the room as if being around me makes you physically sick. I've heard your motorcycle leave, so you're going somewhere else at night."

"It's none of your business where I go," he said.

"Are you going out on club business?"

He shrugged.

"Do you go alone?"

He gazed at her without answering.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Jesus," he muttered.

"That's it," she whispered. "You don't want me to find out that there's someone else in your life. It's no big deal. I never expected you to give up on finding love again."

"There's nobody in my life."

Her brows lowered. "So, you leave to get away from me."

"It's not you," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jacko. You can come up with a better excuse than that one. Every man uses that same lie when they don't want to tell the truth."

"Damn it, Amy. We don't have a relationship."

"Exactly, so stop treating me like you can't stand to be in the same room as I'm in." She flung her arm out to her side. "And, stop whatever you were trying in bed with me. I've heard how you go after every woman you meet. Don't try that shit with me. You loved my sister. It's...wrong."

"Sarah's dead," he muttered.

"Yeah." She softened her voice. "But, I'm not, and I remember how it was between you two. For you to touch me or try to...ugh, just don't go there."

"I'm done talking about this." He grabbed his vest and shoved his arms in the holes. "What happened in bed won't happen again."

"Good." She rubbed her arm and glanced at the covered window. "It's already daylight."

No fucking way. He whistled as he exhaled, surprised he'd slept six hours without waking up. The last time he remembered a dreamless sleep was before he'd lost Sarah and began another stint in prison.

"You might as well get dressed. We're meeting everyone out at Cam's house early today."

"Why?"

He walked over to the bed and reached under his pillow for his pistol. Disgusted with himself for forgetting. She'd got him worked up, and if she hadn't stopped him from leaving, he would've walked outside without his weapon.

"Because I need to be with the club and you need to be seen with me around Federal." He slipped the gun into the inner pocket of his vest and kept his back to her. "Christina, Cam's woman, will feed you a real breakfast when we get there. Make sure you eat."

The sound of a zipper filled the air between them. "I thought you wanted me to stay hidden."

"Change of plans." He glanced over his shoulder, eyed her chest under her nightgown, and looked away again. "The only way for me to stop Los Li from wanting you to join their little bandwagon of women is to draw them to me. Their members stay in California and Arizona. Since I'm one of the few who can step over the state line, I'd be going alone and facing a firing squad. Los Li would shoot me before I even made it to California."

"If they're..." Her muffled words mixed with the ruffling of material. "You can turn around now."

He looked at her. She stood with a lavender shirt on with her jeans.

"If this Los Li gang isn't in Idaho, then who is after me?"

"Reds."

She huffed. "Why aren't you worried about them?"

"Moroad has power over Reds."

"But the club doesn't have any over Los Li?"

His mouth tightened. "Only on those who live in the states. We have no control over those south of the border, and they're the ones who want you. They have Reds doing their dirty work, but hopefully my threat to their leader will end their relationship with Los Li."

"I don't get any of this. What made them come after Sarah in the first place?"

He snatched up his keys. "Me."

"Then what is the reason they're after me?" She pursed her lips. "It can't be because of you. I haven't seen you in five years. Our lives don't even meet in the middle. I lived in Montana, and you were in prison most of the time, right?"

He nodded.

"Do they really think I'll take my sister's place in their sick business?"

His heart raced, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Los Li would never get their hands on Amy. They'd never strip her life away the way they had with Sarah.

"I don't know what their plan is with you. I can only assume what they want going by the note they left you. I need them here in Federal to put a stop to any threats against you. Until then, you stick beside me, and we'll both have the club's protection."

"How will you stop them?"

"God damn." He bent over grabbing his head. "There are things you don't need to know."

"Jacko?"

He pulled at his hair and hummed. The pressure inside his head threatened to split his forehead wide open. "No more questions."

"Okay. Okay. I'll drop the subject for now." She put her hand on his arm and rubbed up and down, soothing him. "Stand up and look at me."

He sputtered out his breath, counting the number of spurts until his lungs depleted of oxygen. Then he straightened, grinned, and gave her what everyone else received from him. He gave her the most fucked-up, insulted response to a serious situation.

She frowned. "Are you okay to ride your motorcycle?"

"Of course." He rolled his eyes, laughed on a snort, and opened the door. "After you, Miss O'Harris."

She squeezed out the door, careful not to touch any part of his body. "You need to knock off the crazy behavior."

"Everyone else is crazy." He walked beside her, searching the area. "I'm about as sane as you can get."

"Right," she muttered, glancing at him.

He winked. "Admit it. You kind of like a little crazy."

She stopped and stared. He laughed, grabbed her wrist, and led her to the back of the motel. "Come on, Momma. Let's see if you can straddle my Harley."

He handed her his helmet. While she busied herself fastening the strap through the D-ring, he watched her breasts strain against her shirt. Her nipples, hard and visible through the material, almost had him swallowing his tongue.

She stilled. "You're doing it again."

He jerked his gaze off the front of her shirt and sat on the motorcycle. "Get behind me and hold on. At least that way you can't blame me for looking."

She stepped on the foot peg, slid in behind him, and pressed against him. He expelled his breath in short bursts and counted down until he had no oxygen left. Then he inhaled deeply, started the engine, and rode away from the motel.

Nothing helped his condition.

Jiggling his leg failed.

Humming failed.

Hell, even riding with one hand and thumping the gas tank with his thumb failed.

Nothing could get his mind off the soft warmth snuggled against his back or the memory of her nipple in his mouth.

T
he bright red house hugged by a pristine white deck sat against the foothills of the Bitterroot Mountains. The meticulously well-kept lawn welcomed Amy to the president of Moroad Motorcycle Club's house.

She absolutely loved the fixed up old farm house.

If someone asked her what her dream house looked like, it would be exactly like Cam's house. Free of neighbors, but close enough to town she could walk the whole way without getting winded.

Jacko led her up to the porch. Amy slowed her steps at the sight of a group of women gathered near a picnic table.

"Jacko, wait. I don't belong here," Amy whispered.

Jacko reached for her hand and squeezed. "You do now."

She had no time to think over his reply when a beautiful woman with wavy brown hair stepped away from the group and smiled at her.