Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2)

by J. L. Sheppard

  Fridays, the guys hung out at the compound, drinking and partying. He’d never invite her over on a Friday. Taps ran rampant on the grounds. His brothers picked one or two, fucked them then shared, and often, they did this in plain sight. Not her scene. Plus, if she saw one of his brothers fucking a tap, she’d think he did it, too. He had before, too often, but he hadn’t for a while, not since before LA. The old ladies and Allie, Army’s sister, were often at the compound on Fridays, but it was different. They were officially protected by the club. If he and Tiff ever got together, she’d experience Fridays at the compound, but before then, he hesitated having her around.

  Besides Fridays, one Sunday a month, the club held a cookout. Taps didn’t go to the cookout, only old ladies and relatives like Allie, Army’s sister, Tina and Della, Trig’s sister and niece, did. Women not to be fucked with, women off limits. Tiff would be safe.

  Even so, as he looked at her now from across the back lot at the compound, the sun bearing down on him making his eyes sting and sweat bead on his brow, down his back and chest, he couldn’t help but wonder if he made a mistake inviting her. Some of his brothers knew she was spoken for but not all of them. The more he stared at her standing by Tina talking, the sun shining against that dark, thick hair of hers, the more he thought it had been a mistake to bring her. Maybe she’d find a brother, one of his brothers, she’d like better than him. The thought made him want to take his nine-millimeter, shove it in his mouth, and blow the trigger.

  Shit.

  He was fucked in the head.

  He had it bad.

  He’d had it bad for a long time.

  More than seven years.

  Fuck. Was this love? Did he love her?

  Cuss rubbed his chest trying to assuage the deep pang he felt there, realizing he did love her. He didn’t know when he started, when it grew to this excruciating extent, but he loved her with everything he had.

  Sitting on a picnic table gazing straight at her, lost in that thought, he didn’t realize anyone came near until someone sat beside him.

  He spared a glance and spotted Allie, beer in hand, who the brothers named “Classy” since she was all rich girl with class. She and Army’s dad was loaded, like Tiff’s parents. She’d lived in New York City, worked for her father’s company for a while. He didn’t know the whole story, but she left that life one day a little more than a month ago and moved to Wadden with Army. A thin brunette with subtle curves and hazel eyes, Allie was sweet to the bone and could cook a nice meal. For a while, she cooked for Army every night, and she made extra for them. A week into her stay, she mentioned she hadn’t yet found a job. He smiled and called Tiff, glad for the excuse to call her midday. Tiff had mentioned several times they were understaffed, so she’d been more than happy to get Allie an interview. Tiff’s boss hired Allie on the spot the next day. Allie had been so stoked she offered to make him meals for a week. He took her up on the offer.

  “Hey, Classy. How you been?”

  She shrugged. “Good, and you?”

  Like he couldn’t help it, his gaze darted back to Tiff. “Good.”

  After a long moment of silence, a moment where all he did was stare straight at his girl, pray to God none of his brothers got close because if they did, he’d lose his mind, probably fuck shit up with his brothers, fuck shit up with Tiff, he heard, “All you have to do is look at her.”

  Come again? Eyes widening, he turned his head and met Allie’s gaze. “What?”

  “Tiffany. All you have to do is look at her.”

  His jaw dropped, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even know what to say. How she’d know?

  She smiled. “Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled, humorlessly. “No, I don’t.”

  She lifted a brow. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

  Giving her a level stare, he smiled. “Really don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, Classy.”

  “Okay, well… All you have to do is look at her. If she’s looking at your eyes, she won’t be able to look away.”

  He drew away slightly, gaze scanning her face. Then he smiled. “Can’t believe you just said that.”

  She lifted her beer to her lips and took a sip. “I’m not telling you anything you shouldn’t already know.”

  She was right. He could get women with one look, but he didn’t want those women. He wanted his girl, and his girl was more complicated.

  His gaze darkened. “Bikers got reps, and she’s like you. She—”

  Brows furrowing, she wiped the smile off her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s class like you. Her parents got money. She went to college, graduated top of her class. I barely graduated from high school, didn’t go to college, and I got a record. I ain’t worth two looks from her. She dates clean-cut, pretty boys with college degrees who don’t fuckin’ curse.”

  “Cuss…” The way she said his name, he knew she understood. She looked away.

  He did too, gaze scanning the back lot. A big lot, most of it grass. Toward the back, a basketball court the brothers built a couple of years back. A grill to the left, a few picnic tables scattered throughout. He tried to focus on Della, smiling and laughing, on Strike and Rip chugging beers, on Dodge and Cullen on the basketball court. When he couldn’t fight it anymore, his gaze slid to Tiffany.

  His stomach knotted.

  “All a woman wants is to be loved, truly loved.”

  He turned his head, meeting Allie’s eyes dead-on.

  “If you think you can love her, treat her with respect, and not cheat, she’d be a fool not to take you up on the offer.”

  He couldn’t believe she said that. So nice especially coming from a girl like her. Like he said, she was sweet, as sweet as sugar.

  He shook his head. “You’re something else, Classy. Don’t even wanna call you Classy. Feel like it should’ve been something else, something that meant more ’cause, babe, you ain’t nothing like what you appear to be.” No truer words. Allie could have any man she wanted. Pretty, smart, hard-working, a great cook, and sweet.

  She smiled.

  “It’s a fuckin’ sweet thing to say. The sweetest thing a woman like you can say to a man like me, but I don’t believe that shit for a second.”

  He looked away, fought not to look Tiff’s way then went to pull the beer in his grip to his lips. She stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. He lowered it and met her stare.

  “I didn’t say it because it’s sweet, Cuss. I said it because it’s the truth. I’m not going to lie to you. Yes, there are women who want a man with a college degree, money, and whatever else. Just like there are women who’ll spread their legs just because you’re wearing a cut. I won’t pretend I know Tiffany well because I don’t, but from what I know about her…the way she acts and talks…the fact she works at a daycare and is here means she’s not one of those women.

  “There’s also a reason she’s single, why it hasn’t worked out with any of those college pretty boys. Are you going to let the fact you think she’s class get in the way?”

  He swallowed, holding her stare. “You don’t know the whole story. It’s fuckin’ complicated.” It was. Years of being there, saving her, yet not having her. Years of living empty, thinking he’d never have her.

  “You’re right. I don’t, but I saw you looking at her. The way you looked at her, every woman wants to be looked at like that.”

  His jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. “Fuck.” Was it that obvious? If Classy noticed it, it meant Tiff probably knew, meant Tiff didn’t want him the way he wanted her. Probably just his friend because he’d saved her, because she felt bad for him.

  She jerked her hand away from his arm. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “Fuck, Classy.”

  She began to shift away. “I’m sorry—”

  He grabbed her wrist, holding her still. She said what she sai
d. She could not back down now. He needed her to explain. “How was I lookin’ at her?”

  She swallowed. “It may make you angrier.”

  He didn’t care. “Tell me.”

  “You were looking at her like…like the sun rises and sets on her.”

  Shit. “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw it—”

  Without losing hold of her gaze, he shook his head. “How do you know every woman wants to be looked at like that?”

  She hesitated. Looking away, she whispered, “Because that’s how I want to be looked at.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Cuss? What the fuck?”

  His head snapped to that voice. Army, her brother, and he was pissed. An easy-going guy but when Army got in a temper, he lost his shit and used his fists. Once he got in a mood like that, it could last days. He was also seriously overprotective of his sister, everything relating to her pissed him off. Army had already broken Ripper’s nose for claiming dibs. Cuss had been touching her, so there was a chance he’d have a broken nose next.

  He released her and stood. “Nothing, brother. Just talkin’.”

  “We were having a conversation, Ty,” she said simultaneously.

  Army fisted his hands. Then his gaze sliced to his sister. “Yeah? Why you look like someone killed your puppy?”

  She glared, stood, and closed the distance between her and her brother. “Never had a puppy, Ty.”

  This made Army angrier, so feral looking Cuss had been seconds from hauling her behind him. Not that Army would hurt his sister, but still. Not wise to stand too close to anyone about to flip his lid.

  “Cuss has been nothing but nice to me, so if you pick a fight with him, I’m not talking to you.”

  Then something happened, something he’d never seen during the five long years he’d known Army. He’d never seen it because nothing got Army out of a bad mood.

  Army’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. He then gave up and chuckled. “You can’t go a week without talking to me, Allie. Stop fooling yourself.”

  She smirked. “Try me.”

  “I’ll try not to. Now, go get food.”

  She smiled and strode away.

  “Miracle,” he said before he thought it through. The perfect name for her. It took a miracle to get Army out of one of his moods, and she did it.

  She faced him and lifted a brow in question.

  “That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

  Her smile widened.

  ****

  Friday nights lost their luster. Hanging out with his brothers at the compound, drinking with half-dressed taps striding around trying to get him to fuck them, he was over it. Had been over it since LA. Fact of the matter, he rather be with Tiff even if they were just shooting the breeze, talking, or watching TV.

  Cuss realized this a while ago, but he hadn’t done anything about it. Tonight without thinking, he drove to her apartment, hopped off his bike, and headed for her door. He took a deep breath, ignored the humid heat making him break into a sweat, and knocked twice. No answer. He waited thinking maybe she was in the bathroom or showering or whatever. Ten minutes later, he knocked again. No answer. He headed back to the parking lot and found her car, a black BMW M3, parked in her spot. He walked back upstairs and knocked again, a little harder. Still, no answer.

  Leaning against her door, he plucked his phone out of his pocket and dialed her cell. She didn’t answer.

  “Shit.” He dragged his hand through his hair.

  Where was his girl?

  He came unannounced but not the first time he did it. He swung by her place uninvited often, every time he was headed out on a run, every time he drove by, at least two or three times a week. She never seemed to care he didn’t call ahead. She’d open the door, look at him, and smile that smile that lit up her whole face. She was always home, always. He supposed his luck of finding her home every time ran out. She could be with Allie or Tina shopping or anywhere, except why wouldn’t she answer her phone?

  It hit him then.

  She wasn’t shopping with friends. She was on a date. Back in LA, she said she wanted to start dating and hadn’t been yet. A Friday night, date night, and she wasn’t answering her phone. She always answered.

  He clenched his jaw and swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat then strode to his bike and sat astride it. He stayed there, stayed there long enough he’d gotten several calls from his brothers asking where he was, long enough his ass got numb.

  Finally, a red Mercedes drove into the lot and parked in a guest space. He watched a pretty college boy hop out of the car, walk around to the passenger side, open the door, and extend his hand. A woman’s slender hand gripped the pretty college boy’s. He watched his girl come out of that fancy ass car wearing a black tight dress and five-inch heels. He watched the pretty college boy lead her up the stairs.

  By then, his chest tightened so much he couldn’t breathe.

  He should look away, rev his bike, and drive off regardless of the fact she’d know he was there, but he couldn’t find the strength to do any of it. Instead, he hopped off his bike, headed around the building toward the other set of stairs and climbed two at a time, stopping midway up the last staircase. Staying out of sight, he could see the pretty college boy and his girl. He watched the pretty college boy wrap his arm around his girl’s waist. He watched her place her hands on his chest, watched the pretty college boy lean in and kiss his girl, that bastard kissed his beautiful girl, the girl who got more beautiful every day.

  He swore his heart exploded inside his chest. It throbbed and ached so bad he had to grip the railing to stay on his feet.

  The kiss brief and closed-mouth but seemed to last forever. Finally, he watched his girl walk inside her apartment and close the door behind her. Only then did he force his eyes shut, trying to erase what he forced himself to see.

  He didn’t remember going down the stairs, didn’t remember walking toward his bike. He knew he did it because before he realized it, he was sitting astride his bike, driving too fast, taking out his frustration on the road. He rode for hours with his mind in shambles. When he finally stopped, he pulled into the compound, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, ignoring his brothers, a few of them who called his name, and headed straight to his room. There, he drank until he passed out.

  The following morning, he realized she’d called, five times.

  He didn’t call her back until two days later.

  Chapter Eight

  Tiffany didn’t want to go out. She wanted to stay home and watch a movie with Thomas, but Thomas had been distant over the last week. No, not distant, he’d shut her out, and it hurt. Worse, she didn’t know why. Worse than that, she couldn’t blame him. He probably knew how deep her feelings ran, probably the reason he shut her out. Still, alpha male, biker Thomas should’ve told her his reason.

  Last Friday after her date dropped her off, she heard the familiar roar of a bike. She thought Thomas had dropped by for a visit since he often showed up unexpectedly. He never came to her door. When she pulled her phone out of her clutch, she realized she had a missed call from him. She called him. He didn’t answer. He always answered. Naturally, she worried. She called again and again, five times in total. She texted him, too. All went unanswered. Two days later, he returned her call, and it had been the briefest phone call known to man. He didn’t ask about her day, didn’t share his. From the sound of his voice alone, she sensed it; something was wrong. He hadn’t called her Monday or Tuesday either, further worrying her. He called her every night, texted in between calls, and he showed up at her place unexpectedly often. None of which he’d done. Wednesday, she called him. He answered and been brief again.

  It became crystal clear. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He shut her out. She hadn’t called him again, and she wouldn’t.

  Now, it had been more than a week since she’d seen him, more than a week since they had a conversation, and more than a week without her be
st friend—exactly what he turned out to be.

  All of it led her to accept a date with Benjamin, a guy she dated once last week and decided after one date, she wouldn’t see again. But she’d been desperate, desperate to get out of her apartment even for a split second, desperate to get her mind off Thomas.

  Benjamin, one of the bachelors her parents continued to introduce her to, was an accountant for a large corporate company. As guilty as it made her feel to admit, she only agreed to the original date because he reminded her of Thomas. Tall, a couple of inches under Thomas’s stature, with dark hair and light eyes, though he didn’t fit into his clothes as nicely as Thomas did, he was sweet. She didn’t feel any sparks, not even after he kissed her, and it made her feel guiltier for using him.

  A knock sounded on her door. She headed for it, parted it, and met Benjamin’s sky blue gaze, a blue she could look away from.

  “Hi, Tiffany.”

  She forced a smile. “Hi, Benjamin.”

  He led her downstairs into his car and drove to the bar. They decided on keeping it casual tonight, drinks at the local pub. She dressed accordingly, wearing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a red strapless blouse with a sweetheart neckline, and matching heels. He hadn’t, wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sports coat.

  The bar, a big place considering the small town of Wadden, could and did get crowded on weekends. Decked out in beer bottles, domestic, imports, none of which she’d tasted. She drank beer a handful of times in her life and preferred wine. The bar lay in the center of the room and wrapped around, circled by high-top tables, with the exception of a section to the right where there was a dance floor. Booths lined each wall.

  Benjamin led her to one. They sat, ordered a couple of drinks, and got to talking. Well, he talked. He talked a lot, about work. Thanks to a couple of business accounting courses she took, she understood but was utterly bored. Seriously? Why would a man ask out a woman and spend the entire time talking about work? On a Saturday for cripes sake!

  Nodding politely, she smiled her fake smile. Then she caught a flash of movement, shifted her head slightly, and spotted the only man who could make her heart pound a thousand miles a minute—Thomas.