Chapter Nine
Tiffany’s doorbell rang, odd since no one besides Thomas showed-up uninvited. And it wasn’t Thomas. Thomas never rang the doorbell. He knocked.
She headed for it. Looking through the peephole, her mother and father stood at the other side. This was odd too. Her parents always called before coming over. She parted the door, her gaze slid from her mother to her father. No smiles, no warm greeting, an unplanned visit, they had something on their minds, something they needed to talk to her about, immediately. This unsettled her because it could be anything.
She broke the silence. “Um…hi.”
“May we come in?” Her mother, always polite, growing up from wealth, she’d been taught to be. She also always dressed the part of a wealthy businessman’s wife. Today, she wore an olive green dress with a fitted bodice and heels.
Many people said Tiffany looked just like her, a replica, short, small frame, and thin with long, dark hair. Except for her eyes, Tiffany inherited the green color from her father.
Her father was tall, fit for his age, and dressed well. A green polo and gray slacks, not exactly casual, but more suited for a Saturday visit to his daughter.
“Of course.” She stood aside and allowed them in.
Once they stepped inside, she closed the door behind them and headed for her small dining room table instead of the living room couch. Her parents took seats, and the silence stretched.
She frowned. Forgetting her manners, namely asking whether they wanted anything to drink, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
Her father met her stare. “Benjamin phoned us last night.”
Benjamin? The forlorn expressions were about Benjamin? It hadn’t worked out with the judgmental Benjamin, so what? Seriously, they couldn’t assume because she agreed to go on a date with him something more would come of them. She understood their need to push bachelors her way. They wanted her settled and happy. She wanted that too, but at twenty-one, she had plenty of time to meet someone.
Steeling herself, she took a seat on the chair opposite her father, her mother to her right, and waited patiently for him to continue.
Her mother met her gaze. “He told us you’ve become friends with a…biker.”
Okay, so Benjamin told her parents about Thomas. And?
It hit her then. Their expressions, the unplanned visit… She should’ve picked up on it sooner considering the way her mother said “biker” like it was foul.
Bile rose in the back of her throat. She swallowed it down. “He’s not just a biker, and I’ve known him for years. Both of you have, too. It’s Thomas.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Remember Thomas Layne? We went to high school together. He was there the night…”
She swallowed. “The night I had my first date, the night…”
The night she’d never forget…
Her first date, a date with Miles Murphy, quarterback of their high school football team, a senior to her sophomore. She didn’t want to go on that date, not with Miles anyway. Her friends insisted she go. After all, Miles Murphy, football player, handsome, and popular, came from a respectable family, meaning the moment she told her mother, her mother bought her a new dress. Her father had been less thrilled, partly because his only daughter, only child, would date even though he approved of Miles. Miles being exactly the type of guy she should be interested in, she hoped despite the fact she’d been crushing on another guy for two years, once she grew to know Miles better, she’d like him. Still, never in her wildest dreams did she think the date, her very first, would end the way it did.
Closing her eyes, the memory flooded her.
Miles took her to the drive-in theater, barely saying a word and parked at the very end, secluded from other cars. This bothered her, but it was her first date. Inexperienced, she pushed the worry aside. The previews started. He began getting close, too close. She shifted in her seat, unease crawling up her spine. When the movie started, she released a breath. Finally, concentrating on the movie would put an end to the uncomfortable silence, take her mind off the fact he kept inching closer.
Just as she thought that, he threw his arm over her shoulders, encroaching her space. If she knew him better, if she liked him, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but she didn’t know him. She knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was, but she’d only spoken to him at school once, when he asked her out.
Every second he leaned closer, she clutched her purse tighter, tilting away. Didn’t work, he shifted closer. Then he angled his face toward her, allowing her to feel his breaths at her cheek. She tried to ignore this, ignore that with every second her heart pounded louder, harder, faster. After several minutes, during which she couldn’t focus on the movie, she summoned the courage to tell him to move away. She slanted her face to his but didn’t get the chance.
He grasped the back of her head, hauled her toward him then his lips hit hers. Panic clawing her, she placed both hands on his chest and shoved, hard. Didn’t help.
He leaned toward her, over her until her upper back lay flat against the passenger side door. His body covering hers, one hand grasped her hip tightly, the other still at the back of her head.
She pushed harder, again and again. No matter how hard she shoved, he didn’t let up. He needed to. She needed to make him because she couldn’t breathe.
Turning her face, she gasped for breath. “Stop! Please…stop!”
She didn’t recognize the sound of her voice, shaky, terrified, desperate, and still, he didn’t stop, didn’t let her go. His fingers dug into her hip painfully. Then his hand trailed up her stomach and settled on her breast. He squeezed her roughly, yanked the fabric of her dress down, exposing her bra.
Her heart beat faster, harder, thundering in her chest. She struggled, pushing harder, as hard as she could. “Please, stop! Miles! Please…”
The car door swung open. The breath whooshed out of her, she closed her eyes tightly, letting out a small, startled gasp. Falling back, she braced to hit the ground. A pair of arms caught her around the back and waist.
She parted her lids and met a set of eyes, a striking sapphire blue in color, a color she knew so well.
Thomas.
His arms tightened around her upper back and waist before he dragged her out of the car and set her on her feet. He did this so fast, she wobbled. He turned, reached into the SUV, grabbed Miles by the shirt, yanked him out through the passenger side door, and dropped him on the ground. A thud echoed. Eyes widening, she reared back, taking several steps away.
“What the fuck?” Miles shouted.
Thomas didn’t respond with words. He pulled his arm back. Miles lifted his hands to block the punch then groaned when struck. Thomas punched him again, then again. Each blow struck Miles’ face. Each time Thomas lifted his fist, more blood.
Thomas, eyes hard, gaze narrowed, straightened, hovering over Miles. Then she noticed it, how his body pulsed. Rage so strong, it seemed to radiate out of him.
“Do you know what stop means?” Voice deep, filled with fury.
When Miles didn’t respond, he kicked him. Miles wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned, blood leaking out of his nose and mouth.
“It means you stop. It means she doesn’t want you touching her. You fuckin’ piece of shit.”
Then Thomas took a deep breath and straightened. His chest rising and falling at a furious pace, he turned and met her gaze. In an instant, all that anger, rage, fury seeped out of his body.
A chill shot through her. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t even if she’d tried, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore, not staring into Thomas’s sapphire eyes, eyes that softened the moment they met hers, so all she felt—safe, safe and relieved beyond words.
She shivered.
His brows furrowed, face softened. He removed his jacket, held it out to her, and took a hesitant step toward her. “Are you okay, Tiffany?” His voice so soft, tender even.
Her mother grabbed her shoulder, shook her then released her. “Are you listening, Tiffany?”
Good, God. Just like that, she relived it. No, she hadn’t been listening. She shook her head, forcing the memory to fade, hating it was still so vivid in her mind. Parting her eyes, she looked down at her hands. Shaking. She folded them into each other and turned her gaze to her father.
He released a loaded breath. “We know who he is.”
“You’re a woman of privilege. He’s a biker. He’s…”
Her jaw dropped. Wow. Really? This was the gratitude her parents gave the man who was arrested for saving her? The parents who knew what Thomas did for her all those years ago? The same parents who hired him to take care of her stalker?
Her mother extended her hand and placed it over her arm softly. “He’s…not a man you should be friends with, darling.”
She drew away. “You’re kidding, right?”
Her mother blanched. She would, considering Tiffany had never raised her voice at her mother nor her father. He didn’t have the same reaction. His jaw clamped tight. She did not let this stop her from speaking her mind.
“Because he’s a biker, he’s not a man I should be friends with even after what he did for me years ago? Even after you paid him, and his biker friends to fly to LA and deal with my problem?”
Her mother frowned, slanted her head, and looked at her father.
Wow. He hadn’t told her mother? Maybe he never thought she’d find out. Maybe he never thought Thomas would tell her.
Her eyes widened. “You never told her?”
Ever the perfect and polite wife, her mother waited until her father addressed her.
Her father looked at her mother. “There was no need to tell you, sweetheart. I paid the biker club to deal with—”
“You’re leaving out you went to Thomas directly.”
He turned his head, gaze pinned her and flared. “Tiffany, I’ll ask you to treat us with respect.”
“With all due respect, Dad, you aren’t showing me any respect coming to my home uninvited telling me who I should and shouldn’t be friends with.”
He slammed his hand on the table. A deep thud resonated and echoed around the room. “Tiffany Hamilton, you will treat us with respect. We are your parents, and we are concerned.”
“What exactly are you concerned about? That I’m friends with a man who’s saved me on multiple occasions?”
“He stepped in once, an honorable thing he did. But he landed himself in jail. No one told him to beat up that boy. Bailing him out was the decent thing to do considering what he did for you. But that’s it.”
No, Thomas hadn’t landed himself in jail. The fact her father believed that angered her because her first date could’ve gone much, much worse. Miles deserved what he got.
She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her cool.
“The second, I paid him to do it. He didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart.”
Right, well, her parents didn’t know about the spiked drink incident, and this wasn’t the time to tell them. “He didn’t take any of your money.”
“I paid the club more than two million dollars. You think he didn’t get his cut?”
Two million dollars? God, her father must’ve been worried out of his mind to pay that kind of money. Proof how much he loved her.
The tension lining her shoulders, body melted. “What exactly did you pay him to do?” Her voice softer now.
“Take care of your stalker.”
Her father hadn’t paid him to stay with her and watch her in LA. Thomas hadn’t lied. It explained why he stayed out of sight during her graduation, why she thought he hadn’t shown.
She couldn’t be sure whether Thomas took his cut. She only had his word. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became Thomas didn’t take the money. He wouldn’t lie to her, had no reason to anyway.
Even if he had taken the money, what difference did it make? Her father paid the club for a service, a service Thomas provided. He had every right to his cut. It didn’t diminish or tarnish the friendship they’d built since.
“He did that, so even if he took the money, it doesn’t make a difference. We’re friends.”
“You’re confusing hero-worship for friendship—”
Hero-worship. A word her therapist had often used. After her disastrous first date, her father and mother insisted she go to counseling. Tiffany agreed and went weekly for a year. She didn’t just talk about the incident. She talked about a lot of things, including Thomas. Therapy and all, it took longer to accept another date.
“He’s my friend. We talk, and we laugh and—”
“You’re a privileged woman,” her mother whispered, staring at her hands clasped and resting on the table.
They weren’t listening, not even a tiny bit. Infuriating, but she kept her cool, not raising her voice as she said, “What you mean is that my parents are multi-millionaires, and his aren’t.”
Her brows drew together. “According to you, this means I can’t be friends with him?”
Her mother met her stare but didn’t respond.
Her father’s jaw tightened. “A man isn’t friends with a woman unless he wants something more.”
If only it were true. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she parted them, she met her father’s green gaze. “I’ve heard a man wants a woman, he makes it happen.”
Her father’s dark brows furrowed. “Trust me, Tiffany. I’m a man. I’m your father. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m telling you a man isn’t friends with a woman unless he wants something more.”
Her eyes softened. She leaned into the table. “I’ve known him for more than seven years, Dad. He wanted something more, he would’ve made a move by now.”
Her mother shook her head. “We should’ve never let you go to that public school. You should’ve been with children of your own background and—”
“Because Miles was such a catch, kissing and touching me after I was screaming for him to stop? Or wait, was Brad? Who’d boss me into submission?
“No, I bet you like Benjamin, the judgmental jerk who thinks he’s superior to a biker who saved me multiple times.”
“Mark is handsome and sweet, and he loves you so much.”
Yes, she knew. They loved Mark. They hated she broke up with him, but she didn’t love him, not the way she should.
“I didn’t love him.”
She dropped her head, released a breath, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. After a moment, she met their gazes. “I’m twenty-one. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, both of you. I love and respect you, but I’m an adult. I’m making my own money, paying my own way. I’m entitled to choose my friends. I chose Thomas.”
She stood.
Her parents took the hint. They said their goodbyes and left.
****
Cuss hopped off his sleek, black Mustang Cobra grabbing the new helmet he purchased on his way. Smiling wide, he climbed the stairs in Tiffany’s building and knocked on her door.
Waiting anxiously, his gaze gravitated to the helmet, what he hoped would be the first of many gifts he bought for his girl.
Cuss had been a dick to her. He should’ve never cut her out. The guilt ate at him every time he thought about it, and he thought about it a lot over the last week. He hadn’t done it to hurt her. He’d been so torn up seeing her with another man, a man who didn’t care about her half as much as he did. The jealously and anger didn’t fade, not during the week he cut her out, not even now as he thought about it. Seeing and knowing the college boy was worth her had been too much to bear. Having to hear her talk about the man would’ve been torture, salt on his wounds. He’d been selfish, didn’t think about how it’d hurt her. He should’ve thought about her instead of himself. What if she needed him?
Fate, luckily, intervened when they happened to be at the same bar, when she waved at him even though he cut her out, when the dick said some fucked shit about him, and she defended him even after what he’d done.
His girl was something else. He knew this, had always known it, but he hadn’t given her the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t stick around because of his own jealously and insecurities. No way he’d make the same mistake twice.
The more he got to know her, the more he hoped. Not only did she do shit like defend him when he didn’t deserve it, she loved his bike. It thrilled him beyond reason. He never expected it, not from a rich girl with class like her. She was the only woman who’d ever ridden it, and if he had it his way, she’d be the only one.
It’s why he bought her the helmet. If she rode on his bike, she needed one, her own, and he hoped she’d be riding his bike a lot. He knew she shouldn’t, not until she was officially his. Bikers didn’t put women on their bikes unless they were claimed, but she wanted to ride. She liked to ride, so he would give her rides, plenty of them, the perfect excuse to spend an entire day with her. He could drive out to the beach or a park or anywhere. The longer the ride, the better. She’d be close, tucked against his back, and he’d get to enjoy her much longer.
Even as guilt continued to eat at him, he doubled his efforts to get things back to where they’d been before. He showed up at her place, called her twice a day now, mornings and evenings, and he texted her in between. She always answered her door and phone and always responded to his texts in minutes. Doing that had been hard, since over the last two weeks, he’d been busy.
Miracle’s, aka Allie, ex-fiancé showed up at her work and hit her in broad daylight. The club voted to take care of him. Now, the brothers watched Allie twenty-four/seven. Her ex-fiancé was a hotshot attorney in New York with friends in high places and loaded, which meant there could be blowback. Cuss was one of the brothers who volunteered to watch Allie, and it proved great considering it meant he got to see Tiffany sometimes during the day or after work since Allie worked with Tiff at the daycare. With the hours he worked at the garage, club runs, watching Allie, and spending as much time as he could with Tiff, he hadn’t had the chance to buy her helmet until that day though he’d been meaning to for the last week.
Tiffany parted the door, wearing a pair of black, slim, fitted yoga pants and a white tank top. She hardly ever wore shorts when lounging around anymore, probably because he made that comment about the effect they had on him. He seriously fucked that up though the pants worked just as well. Fitted and tight around her hips and ass, and she had a beautiful, round, plump ass.
“Hey, Thomas.”
He grinned. “Baby girl.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. The glint in her eyes told him she was mocking anger.
He chuckled, strode inside then waited for her to close and lock the door. “Got you a present.”
Her eyes widened. “W-why?”
He handed her the helmet. Black and had some flowery design on it he thought she’d like.
She took it, eyes still wide, grazing one hand over it outlining the design. She did this while turning it. After what seemed like minutes, she met his gaze. Hers shone with emotion, saying so much and nothing at all. She’d given him that look more than once, and still, he couldn’t figure out what it meant.
“W-why?”
“’Cause you said you loved my bike and liked riding it.”
“Yeah, but…um…” She shook her head. “You didn’t have to get me a helmet… I mean it’s not like I’m going to be riding it or—”
“Yeah, you will.” He smiled. “I’m gonna take you on rides. You don’t have a helmet and need one, so I got you one. You don’t like it, I can exchange it.” He reached for it.
She took a step away, clutching it to her chest. Finally, she smiled in that way that lit up her face. “Thanks, Thomas. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
“I’m making steaks tonight. Did you bring your appetite?”
He often showed uninvited, but she always cooked for him. He loved that.
Grinning wide, he relished the warmth settling in his chest. “Yeah.”
****
Movie wasn’t halfway done, and his girl had already passed out. Head on his shoulder, legs on the couch to her other side.
Cuss started to think maybe she found the movies he picked boring. In his defense, he asked her to pick movies, but she refused.
Smiling, he took a breath. Her head on his shoulder slipped lower. He wrapped an arm around her, turning toward her slightly until her head lay on his chest. Either he’d gotten good at doing that or she was a heavy sleeper. Probably the latter, not once when he carried her to bed had she woken.
She let out a small sigh and burrowed into him.
He loved that. She did it a lot, and every time she did it, it made him feel like he had the world in the palm of his hands. Maybe not his hands, but he definitely had the world sleeping against his chest.
His gaze slid from her face to her hair. He threaded his fingers through it. So soft. So thick. He spared a glance at the television and realized he’d missed an important plot point. Now, he was lost. Nothing new. He never paid much attention to the movie once she dozed off. He just sat there and watched her sleep. Often, he ran his hand through her hair like he was then. Every once in a while, he looked to the screen. And when he did, he remembered the movie would be over soon, and then, he’d have to force himself to stop staring at her, carry her to bed, and head home.
Worst part of the night, heading home.
He hated it, hated leaving her.
And still, it had to be done.