Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (24 page)

"You, son of a bitch." Pack shoved Graves. "No, Cam had no idea we were storing everything here. We've been careful."

"There's no such thing as careful." Jeremy reached out and grabbed Graves by the throat. "What's the club's cut?"

"I...I...don't know...whatchu mean." Graves danced on his tiptoes struggling to ease the pressure on his windpipe.

"What fucking cut does Moroad get from your sales?" Jeremy walked him backward until Graves's back slammed against the wall.

"N-nothing." Graves groaned, his eyes bulging.

Jeremy let go of him. Graves doubled over, coughing up a lung.

"We'll get the supplies off the property once it gets dark, Prez." Pack looked him in the eyes.

"And, the cut?" Jeremy asked quietly.

Pack gazed at each of his MC brothers and said, "Ten percent?"

"Twenty-five, and if I find out you're not sharing with the club on your next job, every one of you motherfuckers will be put down. You wear a patch. Whatever the fuck you do, you do it for the club." Jeremy waited for the nod of understanding and walked between Pack and Rebar and out the room.

The members of Moroad would test him as their president, and they'd learn quickly he doesn't give second chances or allow mistakes when it comes to everyone's freedom. His MC brothers needed rules, respect, and trust, or they'd find themselves sitting in the electric chair. Each of them lived life only relying on themselves, and wearing the patch meant sacrifices were made for others. Considering when they all swore into Moroad Motorcycle club they understood the oath, death was the only way out of the club.

To let his members get the upper hand, control any part of the club, and think they had any kind of say in how Moroad worked would be a life sentence for everyone involved. Moroad would lose the control on the inside without Moroad keeping things alive on the outside.

He needed everything to balance. One tip of the scale in favor of one of the other gangs and all hell would break loose.

Sweet, soft laughter stopped him at the corner of the building. His gut tightened. He recognized that sound from long ago and been waiting for Tiff to share her love of life with him again.

Tiff wrapped her arm around Katie's back, and together both women leaned toward each other in enjoyment. He slid his hand into his pocket and braced against the motel wall. The day started out shitty, went to hell at his dad's, and improved over lunch.

He expected Tiff to go off in one of her moods while at the motel, and instead she gave him laughter. If he got nothing else today, he'd be satisfied.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jerked around, his hand coming out of his pocket.

"Hey, it's only me." Merk held up his hands, palms out. "I thought you heard me walk up."

"Nah." He motioned his chin toward the women. "There's lots of squealing going on over there."

Merk rocked back onto the heels of his boots and shouted, "Desi, let's go."

Desiree smiled at the women and jogged over to Merk, then spotted Jeremy. "Hi, Jeremy."

"Hey, Desiree." He lifted his chin. "We're going to take off, too. Tiff needs to work."

"Talk to you later, man." Merk walked off with his woman tucked against his side and held under his arm.

Tiff spotted Jeremy and walked straight to him and put her hands on him. "Business over?"

"Yep."

"Do you have five minutes?" she asked, her hands working their way under his vest and spanning his stomach.

He glanced down at her breasts moving in closer to his body. "I got all the time in the world, but you need to get back to the Sterling Building."

Her whole face broke into a grin. She grabbed his hand and led him past the walkway between the buildings.

The tall grass behind the one-story motel on the other side brushed his jeans. He stepped over a broken tree branch and followed her around the corner. Only more trees, brush, and weeds covered the area.

For all he knew, there was nothing behind that part of the motel but undeveloped forestry land.

She came to a sudden stop, turned, and pushed against him. He stayed in place.

Soft laughter floated around him. "You're bigger and heavier than you used to be. Can you lean against the wall?"

"What for?"

Her brows lowered. "Don't you remember?"

Hell, he remembered every detail about their time together. He unbuckled his belt. She loved to sneak off at club parties and blow him off before he'd gone to prison. If there were a wall out of view of the others and the moon shining bright, she'd drop to her knees faster than he could undo his jeans.

Her eyelids fluttered. His balls tightened.

The fucking moon wasn't even in sight, and the sun gave him a clear view of a beautiful woman dropping to her knees in front of him.

While looking up at him, she braced her hands on his thighs. He cupped her cheek, satisfied to have her gazing up at him, trusting him, aroused, and open to him. A primal need came over him as she leaned into his touch.

"I remember," he whispered roughly, yanking his jeans past his hips.

Her hand, smooth and soft, wrapped around the root of his dick. His hips surged forward, pressing into her grasp. She wet her lips. His chest expanded.

Then her sweet tongue came out and touched the tip of his cock. He locked his knees as she licked the precum off the end of him. For whatever reason, she'd made the first move, and he'd hold back, letting her set the pace.

For all he cared, he'd stand here all day and let her pay attention to his dick.

She slid her fingers along his length, circling her tongue around the head of his cock. He brought his hand around and outlined her lips with his thumb while she took him in her mouth.

Fucking sexier than fuck. "Suck me."

She opened her mouth wider. Her wet warmth embraced him. He tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her head.

Forward. Back. Forward.

He rocked on his boots and pitched his hips. A shudder crawled down his spine and settled between his legs.

He pulled her hair with enough pressure to bring her to her feet. Her open-mouthed pout over the loss of his cock in her mouth almost had him shooting his load.

"Take your jeans off."

She lowered her chin and concentrated on kicking off her shoes, undoing her belt, her jeans, and shimmying her panties down the sexiest pair of legs he'd ever seen. He took out a condom, rolled it on, and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and sank down on his cock. He stared into her eyes and sucked in a breath.

Her pussy squeezed him, and he exhaled a groan, allowing him to feel her bare legs wrapped around him. Her ass in his hands. Her nails dug into the vest on his shoulders. She'd walked right back into their past, grabbed him by the balls, and reminded him of why he'd fought and loved and ached for her for all the years he was locked up in prison.

"I've missed you." She tightened her hold on him and put her mouth at the base of his ear. "I've missed being wild with you."

He braced his hands behind her back to protect her from the rough surface of the wall, leaned her back against the building, and showed her how much he missed her, too. He showed her how many times he'd laid in a cot and thought about fucking her out in the open. He also showed her how much he appreciated her meeting him halfway today.

She moaned with each thrust. He grunted with each stroke.

"Give it to me, baby." His knees weakened.

She ground down on him, then lifted her hips. He pounded into her. Holding a live wire, he braced her as she came down hard and fast, taking him with her.

Her mouth opened on a scream, and he captured her lips, suffocating the sound to a muffled moan. Her orgasm squeezed him, and he thrust once and came.

His knees locked after a few minutes of pressing her against the building, and he chuckled. Hell yes, he remembered.

He stroked the rounded slopes of her ass, her lower back, and then slid his hands under her armpits and lifted her off him. She leaned into him, gaining her balance. He tipped her head and kissed her softly.

"You're going to be late for work." He squeezed her ass.

"Oh, God." She whirled around, shook out her jeans, and slipped them on. "We need to hurry. Marci won't open the door without me there."

A few minutes later, dressed and feeling good, Jeremy led her out from behind the building. The others lifted their beer, whistled, and smiled in appreciation. He ignored them all, shielding Tiff from the praise they were receiving.

In the parking lot, he sat on his bike and caught sight of Lola standing in the doorway of her motel room. He lifted his chin, turned the Harley, and rode toward town. He wasn't going to let anyone or anything take away from the good day he had with Tiff.

S
oft music played in the upstairs hallway of the Sterling Building, covering the sounds of sex coming from all of the rooms, except the Yellow Room. Tiff hurried into the main kitchen, set the last timer for the night, and threw herself at Jeremy's mercy.

"I've got a problem," she said.

Jeremy's body tightened. "What?"

"I can't leave, and Marci is out helping the dancers with some last minute costume changes."

"What's going on?"

"Hannah is in pain, it's bad, and she needs to see the doctor." She swyped her contact list up on her phone. "I'm going to call and see if Dr. Brandof will meet her at the office instead of coming here. Can you walk her down the block? He's only three doors down."

Hannah entered the room, shuffling her feet, bent at the waist, holding her stomach. "It's getting worse."

"Hold on, honey." Tiff put the phone to her ear. "Hi, Doctor Brandof, this is Tiff Carter."

She covered the bottom half of the phone and spoke to Jeremy. "Hannah knows where to go. She only needs an escort."

"What can I do for you?" Doctor Brandof's voice came over the phone.

She removed her hand. "I'm sorry to call after hours and on short notice by one of the ladies staying at the Sterling Building is having severe stomach pain. I think she needs to be seen, and I'd prefer you to look at her first before I take her to the emergency room."

The sheriff brought Doctor Brandof into the equation to help protect the women who worked for her and always kept things quiet. In his late seventies, the doctor was around when the last bordello was in business.

"Bring her in. I'll be at the office in five minutes to open the door," said Doctor Brandof.

"Thank you so much. Bye." She disconnected the call and turned to Hannah. "Are you going to be able to walk that far."

Hannah moaned and nodded. "I think so, but it's getting worse."

"The chick is probably knocked up," said Jeremy.

Tiff jerked her gaze toward him and put her arm around Hannah, supporting her weight. "She's not pregnant. The ladies are protected. Please, help her get to the doctor. I'll try to get ahold of Marci in the meantime and see if she can meet you there. She's got a car and can bring Hannah home."

Jeremy's mouth firmed, and he stroked his beard studying Hannah. "Can you walk?"

Hannah hesitated and closed her eyes, close to tears. Jeremy growled, stepped over, and picked Hannah up. "Get on the phone now. Find Marci."

"I will. Thank you." Tiff kissed Jeremy's bushy-bearded cheek and quickly kissed Hannah's head and said, "You're going to be okay. The doctor will find out what is going on."

"Okay." Hannah's body folded in on itself, and she moaned. "I want..."

"What do you want, honey?" Tiff smoothed back Hannah's hair.

Hannah's face scrunched. "My mom."

Tiffany met Jeremy's gaze. Each woman came to Red Light to work because for one reason or another; they cut ties with their family. She had no idea how to get in touch with Hannah's mom or if the woman would come to her daughter.

"Let's just get you to the doctor and then we'll see what we can do." Tiff nodded at Jeremy to go. "Use the back door."

The first timer buzzed. Tiff shut it off and hurried to the Red Room. Keely's eyes bugged out behind her customer's back, inquiring about Hannah. Tiff discreetly shook her head and followed the gentleman down the hall.

"Thank you for visiting, Red Light. Please come again." She smiled as Mr. Yarbor nodded, and she closed the door behind him.

She hurried to the kitchen, caught the next timer before it buzzed and went through the routine two more times. When the last customer was gone, the door locked and the alarm set, she faced Tahleena, Keely, and Amanda's concerned faces in the hallway.

"Hannah's with the doctor now." Tiff pushed back her hair. "I haven't heard what is wrong with her, but I'll let you know as soon as Hannah tells me it's okay to share the news. When she gets back, I want you all to give her room. She really wasn't feeling well when she left, and until we know what is wrong, you all need to give her space."

Tahleena wrapped her silk robe tighter around her body. "She wasn't feeling that hot earlier. She didn't eat lunch and said she felt achy."

"I heard her getting sick in the bathroom." Amanda wrinkled her nose. "What are we going to do if she can't work?"

Tiff held up her hand. "Let's not worry about that until we hear what is going on."

The second-floor landing door swung open, and Marci stepped inside and shut off the alarm. "Are the customers gone?"

"Yeah," said Keely.

Marci hurried forward. "I got your message and hurried back. You said Hannah got sick?"

"She's in pain." Tiff grabbed Marci by the shoulders to calm her down. "I need you to drive your car to Doctor Brandof's office, so you can bring Hannah back to the Sterling Building when he's done checking her out. Jeremy's with her now, but she needs a woman with her."

"Okay." Marci handed Tiff a plastic bag. "Here's the clips the dancers need for their blue halter dresses. Tell them only to catch the material on the ends or when they undress, it'll rip. The clips are tighter than I wanted, but it was all I could find on short notice."

"It'll be fine. If not, they can wear a different costume." Tiff stepped out of the way. "Call me as soon as you find out what is wrong with Hannah."