Chapter Nineteen
Tiffany checked the oven. Spotting the meatloaf nearly done, she lowered the temperature, straightened, and stirred the mashed potatoes in the pot. She then glanced at her watch for the fifth time. Near six-thirty, Thomas still wasn’t home. Unusual. He arrived home or at her home by five-thirty the latest.
Over the course of the last month, they’d gotten into a pattern of sorts, an amazing, out-of-this-world pattern. With the exception of when he or she was at work, Thomas spent every waking moment with her. Friday nights, they stayed at the compound, but the rest of the week, they spent at her place. Though they were practically living together, technically, he hadn’t moved in because, for one, he hadn’t moved stuff in. He had clothes and shoes in her closet, of which he’d brought little by little over the course of more than a month and left scattered in her room, bathroom, or living room. She’d been the one to wash, dry, and hang his clothes in her closet. Second and most importantly, he never said he wanted to move in, so technically though they were practically living together, they weren’t, officially.
She wasn’t complaining though, not about the mess he left in every room, not that she cooked four to five nights a week, not that she did his laundry and maintained his room at the compound clean too. She wouldn’t complain about anything relating to Thomas, ever. In all honesty, she didn’t have anything to complain about. Even on her worst days, those days when she had it rough at work, needed a break, and didn’t have the energy to clean up after a grown man, he made it worth it.
The moment Thomas saw her, he knew, and he made it better, made her better. He’d wrap his arms around her and hold her tight for several long moments. Then he’d cup her face and kiss her softly. By the time, he did this, she’d already forgotten her not-so-great-day. Still, he’d take her out to dinner or order in to ease her load. So simple, so effortless, and it meant the world to her he wanted to make her day better and took the time to do it.
She thought she loved him before, and she supposed she had. It had been unrequited, the worst kind of love, one-sided, loving from a distance without truly knowing the object of your affection. But then, they became friends, she grew to know him, the real him: his character, his mannerisms and expressions. Her love grew and evolved, though still unrequited, she knew with certainty she’d been right to have loved him from a distance for so long. Now, she knew him, all of him. Knowing him completely, she knew she was madly, undeniably, and irreversibly in love with him.
Because she loved him so much, because they’d been inseparable for weeks, she could barely focus, checking her watch every minute, waiting for him to arrive. He called around five and told her he’d be late, and still, she was impatient.
Needing to distract herself, she strode into the living room and turned on the television. Flipping through the channels, a picture of a man flashed across the screen. She paused and read the words written under the image: Man Found Beaten to Death. She raised the volume, listening intently, and trying to remember why the man looked so familiar, dirty blonde hair, ripped, and tatted.
It hit her, and when it did, the breath rushed out of her.
He looked familiar because she’d met him. The dead man was one of the bikers she and Thomas had a run-in with weeks ago, the biker who made those crude comments.
Her gaze glued to the television, she dropped the remote when the reporter on the scene, a mile outside of Wadden, stated the body had been found that morning, but police believed he’d been killed last night. Last night, she’d made Thomas dinner, and then, he left on a run.
Could it have been Thomas? Because of the things the biker said to her?
What I do know, he hurts you, nothing can stop me from putting him in the ground, so I can’t promise you.
Her stomach turned. Shit. What the hell was she supposed to do? She loved him! She couldn’t imagine walking away from him, from them. The real question, if Thomas had killed him, would she?
Bile rose in the back of her throat. She swallowed it down, leaned back against the couch, finally tearing her gaze from the television. Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head, her mind scrambling, trying to find a reasonable explanation. There had to be one. She knew deep down the man she loved couldn’t beat a man to death, come home to her, lie in bed with her, make love to her then fall asleep holding her close.
He just couldn’t.
He wasn’t capable of it.
He was Thomas, the man who held her every night, all night, the man she loved for years, and he was finally hers.
The sound of the deadbolt turning drew her attention to the front door. Thomas strode in, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
One look at her, and the smile died on his lips. Nothing got past him. Then again, she was probably whiter than snow. It wouldn’t be so hard to guess.
“What’s…” His words trailed off, his stare shooting to the television screen.
Police have no leads into the death of the biker from the motorcycle gang, Chained Disciples…
His whole body stiffened, muscles clenched. “Fuck,” he cursed to no one. Not a moment later, he met her gaze and plucked his phone out of his pocket. “Get whatever you need. We’re leaving.”
He then spared a glance at his phone, hit the screen, and brought it to his ear. “Seen the news?” He paused listening to the other end. “Yeah, be there in a few.”
He dropped his phone into his pocket. “Tiff, up. Now. Let’s go.”
Why? She wanted to ask. Instead, she sat there staring at him, feeling nothing but the heaviness in her chest.
He took three menacing steps toward her. “Tiffany, no time for this right now. Get whatever you need. Let’s go.”
Should she go? With him? Why did they have to go? Because he’d killed the biker? It looked it. It looked like he planned on taking her with him, too. Where would he take her?
“W-why?”
Grabbing her hand, he dragged her off the couch, tugged her out of the living room into the hallway leading into her bedroom. “Ain’t safe.”
They entered her room. He released her hand and headed straight for one of the nightstands. Reaching behind it, he pulled out a gun. Turning to her, he lifted his shirt and tucked the gun in his waistband.
Her eyes widened, jaw dropped, her mind running wild wondering too many things, overloaded with questions.
Why did he have a gun in her apartment? Why hadn’t he told her he left a gun behind a nightstand in her room? For God’s sake! She slept feet away!
“Baby girl, got no time. Let’s. Go.”
Tiffany fisted her hands, so they’d stop shaking and decided she wouldn’t go anywhere until Thomas explained. She needed all the facts before she made a decision that could affect the rest of her life. A future without him would be bleak. Right then, she didn’t know what she’d choose. One thing she knew, if they were going to last, he couldn’t keep things from her, not as important as this.
Her breaths coming out in gasps, she shook her head.
The next instant, he stood an inch away, leaning into her. “Tiff—” He grabbed her elbows.
She tore herself away. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”
He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing to slits. “It’s not safe, Tiff.” He slammed the palm of his hand against his chest. “I gotta keep you safe.”
“What you have to do right now is tell me what’s going on. I can handle a lot. I can deal with you being bossy and domineering because the positives far outweigh the negatives, but this is where I draw the line. You either tell me what’s going on or you leave.”
He exhaled nosily. “Don’t you recognize him?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes.”
His brows furrowed. Then something shifted, not just in his eyes but in his whole body. Anger, she could take, but this wasn’t that. Not at all. This, she couldn’t take.
Eyes pained, body so still, barely breathing. Hurt. She hurt him. And in doing so, she hurt. Heart clenching, her throat so dry she could barely swallow.
“You think I killed him.” His voice hollow.
“I-I…” All she managed. She couldn’t say anything else looking into his wounded stare. She looked away, trying to erase that look on his face from her mind, trying to gather her thoughts.
In truth, she didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know what to think. Was Thomas capable of killing someone? She didn’t want to believe it, but he’d said he could.
“I-I don’t know…” She met his stare. Anguish, in his eyes, his face, his body, and she had no choice but to hold his gaze.
“I’d have killed him, I’d have made sure there’d been no blowback. I’d have made sure none of it touched you.”
Relief swept through her. She released a breath, not knowing why it made her feel so warm inside. Because he hadn’t killed the biker or because had he killed the biker, he would’ve made sure she’d been safe. Not wanting to think of the implications of the latter, she hoped it was the former.
But if he wasn’t guilty, why act guilty by running?
He jerked his head side to side. “I didn’t do it. The club had nothing to do with it either. But he’s dead, Tiff, and I had beef with him not too long ago. It means his club’s gonna come looking for me, for the club. They’re involved in dirty shit, so I don’t know what they’d do to me or to you, so like I said, it isn’t safe here.”
Thomas was in danger because of her. A blow, a physical one. She shut her eyes, feeling nothing but the burning in the pit of her stomach. A rush of tears hit her eyes. Her gaze fell from his, she hoped before he could notice. With her heart lodged in her throat, she walked past him, grabbed a duffle bag from her closet, packed several necessities then headed into the kitchen. Once there, she turned off the stove and oven, placing the pot of mashed potatoes in the refrigerator as well as the meatloaf. She then let him lead her out.
****
Cuss couldn’t catch a break. He didn’t know why this shit happened, why to him, to her, to them.
He hadn’t killed the biker from Chained MC. He’d wanted to. At the time, he thought the bastard deserved nothing less for disrespecting his girl. He fought him one-on-one, kicked his ass then forgot it. When he saw her that afternoon, he’d been glad he hadn’t killed the bastard. A look at Tiff and he remembered all that really mattered—her. Her beauty, the type of beauty you didn’t taint. A good, kind woman, she deserved the best and made him want to be a better man, so he tried to forget the incident as best as he could.
Much to his surprise, weeks later, the biker would end up dead. Chained MC would be looking for revenge, out for blood, and they’d come for him. He didn’t know what they’d do, but Chained MC was dirty. He couldn’t imagine they’d be opposed to going after his girl. He had to protect her, and with his dying breath, he would.
He and the club had to deal with this. Hopefully, they’d figure out a way to end it without spilling blood. They didn’t need another war with Chained MC. Hell Ryders was clean now, and the last war with the rival club had been bloody and lasted more than a year.
Cuss needed to focus. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He had a slew of other shit to worry about, but he couldn’t help it. Out of sorts and scared shitless. Not about what he should be, a war between the clubs, but about what this mess would do to them, Tiff and him. Just another fucked situation to make her reconsider being with him, another reason they shouldn’t be together. After only a few weeks of bliss, he was close to losing her, again. A few short weeks enjoying all she was and he couldn’t imagine not seeing her smile first thing in the morning, couldn’t imagine coming home to an empty room at the compound. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
She thought he’d killed the biker. It stung. No, it gutted him. For a moment there, she looked terrified, of him. He couldn’t blame her for thinking it considering he’d been gone last night, and it looked like he was running. He was, in some respects, with her, to the club though. Situations like this called for a lockdown. For protection, family, relatives, friends of Hell Ryders stayed at the compound. It’s where they were headed now. She’d be safe there while he and the club dealt with Chained MC.
At a stoplight, he spared a glance her way, caught a glimpse of her profile, and held his breath. So beautiful. Even with worry lines marring her face.
He wished he knew what she was thinking at that very moment. She hadn’t said a word since he explained why they had to go, not even to ask where he’d take her. Though he had a good idea, she was probably kicking herself for getting involved with him, for ever being stupid enough to think they could last, two people from two very different worlds.
Arriving at the compound, he parked in the back lot then grabbed her bag and walked to the other side of the car to open her door. She did before he could, so he grasped her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and led her through the back entrance.
“Gonna be a full house. Stay in my room,” he said without looking her way.
“A-aren’t you coming—”
He shook his head. “Gotta deal with…”
She stopped abruptly and snatched her hand away.
He faced her.
Brows drawn, tears welled in her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
She probably hated him for getting her into this mess, probably didn’t want him touching her, so he clenched his jaw to stop himself from reaching for her, comforting her like he needed to.
“Club has to handle this, so we can go back to our lives.”
Her eyes widened. “How is the club—”
He jerked his chin side to side. “Don’t know yet, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you. It’s club business.”
Tears trekked down her face. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it.
“Gotta meet with the brothers.”
The light went out of her eyes. The worst thing he’d ever seen. His gut clenched, an ache seared its way up his chest.
She nodded, took her bag from his shoulder, and headed down the hall and up the stairs. He watched her until she was out of sight.
Ignoring the guilt swarming him and ignoring that insufferable need to chase after her, he strode into the conference room where they held club meetings.
The large room was plain, white walls, only a massive, long, rectangular table sat in the middle, chairs surrounding it. Few ever used them. Most of the brothers stood around the table, some leaning against the walls, others standing behind the chairs.
Cuss met Prez’s gaze.
“Chip’s agreed to a sit-down. He’s asked permission to come into Wadden,” Prez announced.
“Don’t sound like a good idea to me.”
All gazes shot to Mellow.
“What happens if his plan is to attack on our turf? What the fuck are we gonna do then?”
Stone, usually quiet, jumped in. “Wadden or outside of it, it’d be a blood bath either way.”
“Why not just attack us then? They know wherever we meet, we’re gonna be on high alert and packing heat. If they’re out for blood, a surprise attack would’ve been better than this,” Army stated.
Several brothers nodded in agreement.
Hash ran his fingers through his beard. “We wanna settle this. Don’t think we have much choice but to go. We don’t go, we look guilty.”
“Gotta be smart about this.” Trig, standing beside Army at the far end of the room, crossed his arms over his chest. “Few of us at the sit-down. Few more watching from a distance, and a few more behind.”
“We need a few here, too,” Dodge piped in. “Got my kid here. Some of you got your old ladies and sisters here. Can’t leave them unprotected.”
“The prospects—”
“I’m not betting shit on the prospects.” Dodge’s voice rose. “They’re fuckin’ prospects. They don’t know shit. We need brothers here. I’m sure anyone who’s got a woman here feels the same.”
“He’s right.” Cuss fisted his hands. “We don’t know what to expect. Don’t know if we get there, they’ll attack. Don’t know if it’s a ruse to get us away from our women. Don’t know shit. We gotta be smart ‘bout this. Think of all the ways we could be fucked and expect it.”
Prez nodded. “Chip says it’ll be him and the officers. Six of them. Think we should do the same. Five officers and Cuss.” His gaze panned out landing on Cuss. “They need to hear it from you.”
He lifted his chin.
Dash, the VP, cut in, “So officers and Cuss group one. The rest of us divide into three groups. Army, Trig, the rest of you with military experience, need you as the watchout for officers and Cuss. The second group’ll be back-up, and the third stays here. Officers and Cuss, we’ll ride out on our bikes. Groups in cages.”
On agreement, they rode out. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the meeting place, a couple of miles outside Wadden, an empty lot where there’d been a big shopping center that went out of business years ago. As agreed, Chip and the five officers sat astride their bikes, waiting for them.
Prez, Dash, VP; Ripper, Sergeant in Arms; Blaze, Secretary/Treasurer; Bud, Road Captain, and he parked side by side in front of Chained MC. Prez and Dash in the middle directly in front of Chip and his VP, Tracker. Blaze and Bud to their left, and he and Ripper on their right. Cuss scanned the entirety of the lot, looking for threats. When they turned off their bikes simultaneously, a deadening silence filled the air.
“Sorry ‘bout your loss,” Prez spoke first. “Reached out to you ’cause we wanted to tell you in person. Also wanted you to know my club had nothing to do with it.”
Silence stretched for a long moment, the tension deafening.
Then Prez continued, “Know Cuss and your boy had it out not too long ago, but we said it’d end there, and that’s where it ended. He was on a patrol run last night with Blaze and Bud. They corroborate he had nothing to do with it.”
Another long silence. Cuss took his chance to speak, ignoring the stiffness lining his shoulders and body. “You need to hear it from me, I’ll tell you. I had nothing to do with it. He disrespected my girl. I beat his ass. It was done. Not me or the club had anything to do with it.”
Chip met Cuss’s gaze. “Know you didn’t have anythin’ to do with it. Know ’cause don’t think you’d be stupid enough to dump his body so close to home.”
Chip twisted his neck and looked at Prez. “Hell Ryders never got pleasure from beatin’ anyone to death.” He shrugged, grabbed the cigarette he had resting on his ear, lit it, and inhaled. “Sure shit’s changed since then, but can’t imagine a club that fought so hard to get clean would fuck it up now, not to mention, start a war.” As he spoke, smoke filed out of his mouth.
Cuss released a loaded breath, thanking his lucky stars. His girl was safe.
“So I know none of you were responsible, especially ’cause I know who it was. When shit like this happens, makes me wish we’d gotten clean long before now.”
Thank God. More proof it wasn’t him or his club. No one would come looking for his girl. She was safe. Still, his chest tightened making it near impossible to breathe, wondering what’d be waiting for him when he got back. Would she take one look at him and tell him it was over? Would she take the first chance she got to run in the opposite direction without even saying the words?
“The street gang, Falcons,” Prez said.
Cuss’s thoughts shifted to the present. The Falcons, a street gang, had once permeated Wadden. After Hell Ryders dropped out of the dealing business and after Chained MC left town, the Falcons took over. Hell Ryders MC assumed Chained had a piece of the profits, but they’d never known for sure and hadn’t cared to know either. All they wanted—dealing off Wadden’s streets. They accomplished it by collaborating with the local PD a couple of months after the blowout with Chained. Twenty arrests had been made. The Falcons knew Hell Ryders was behind it and hadn’t retaliated, probably because they’d suffered a big loss that night, or because Hell Ryders continued their runs, making it difficult for them to do so. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Chip lifted a brow. “Keepin’ tabs on us?”
Prez chuckled. “Couldn’t think of anyone else who could’ve done it. Figured after we went our separate ways, you’d deal with them instead. Guess I was right.”
Chip nodded. “Appreciate you comin’. I’ve said it already, but I’ll say it again. Appreciate you gettin’ me the PI’s number. Man’s a fuckin’ genius.”
Cuss caught sight of Ripper tensing beside him. Not hard to guess why. Chip hinted the PI found something on Emelia, Ripper’s former flame.
Chip’s gaze shot to Ripper, giving him a knowing look. “Would love to stay and chat, but gotta funeral to plan.”
With those final words, Chained MC rode out. They followed suit, riding in the opposite direction to the compound. The closer he got, the tighter the knot in his chest.
Arriving, he parked out front but made no move inside. He sat astride his bike, staring at the gauges, stalling the inevitable.
“Thomas!”
Hearing the sound of his name, he turned and spotted Tiffany rushing him. Brows drawn, tears in her too pretty green eyes. He hopped off his bike then spun and took a step before her body collided with his. Her arms circled him tightly, his went around her.
Shit, she was shaking. There was a nip to the air that time of year at night, but he knew it had nothing to do with that.
“Thomas…” she whispered, her voice choked.
His arms tightened around her. He dug his face in her hair and breathed deep. “Yeah, baby.”
She lifted her head, her lips seeking and finding his. Her tongue darted into his mouth a second later, kissing him deep and desperate like it’d be the last.
Grasping the back of her head, he kissed her with that same need. It wouldn’t be the last. He’d do whatever it took to get her back.
The kiss didn’t last long. She planted her hands on his chest and shoved him. Not expecting it, he lost hold of her and stumbled backward. She took several steps away. He reached for her. Her eyes narrowed, her hand shot up. He froze.
“Baby—”
Cheeks heating, her stance tense. “Don’t ‘baby girl’ me!”
Hot to cold in a spilt second, and she was pissed, angry in a way he’d never seen, in a way he’d never thought she could be. He lost his temper plenty, especially if it had anything to do with her, but no matter how furious he got, she kept her cool, always.
Playing it safe, he kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to vent. If that’s what she needed to do, he’d let her.
“I can’t believe you did that to me. Me.” Her hand went up to her chest. “I mean I know the club has its secrets, and I’m a woman and not entitled to know anything, but…” Her eyes watered, chin quivered. “How could you?”
Yeah, all of it—his fault. He knew, but he couldn’t have helped it. He had to protect her and protecting her got him in this mess. Not her fault. No one would’ve predicted the same biker who disrespected her would’ve ended up dead weeks later. “You gotta know I never meant for this shit to go down. All I was trying to do was protect you.”
Her eyes widened, tears instantly dried. “So what? So then you can hurt me?”
Hurt her? He’d never hurt her. All he ever did was love her.
He gritted his teeth. “I’ve never hurt you.”
Her brows rose. “No?” Sarcasm laced her tone. Something else he’d never seen her do. “What about when you shut me out!”
His eyes widened, body flinched. Bringing that shit up now? What the fuck?
He fisted his hands. “I shut you out ’cause I left my club on a Friday to be with you, and you weren’t home. Waited for you outside your place, waited for hours.”
Her brows furrowed, a look of confusion marring her face.
“Then I saw you kiss college boy who thought I was trash. I was a dick ’cause I was sick with craving you, craving you for years, and you were kissing him.”
Her lips parted, her whole body locked. Stunned still, it would be a shock to her. He’d never told her this, never meant to, but she brought it up.
Because she was still frozen, he kept going. “All I’ve ever done is protect you, like I did tonight, like I did with that biker, with your stalker, with that asshole who spiked your drink, with Miles. Protecting you is the only thing I’ve done my whole life that makes any sense, that makes any difference, that means any-fucking-thing.”
Her jaw dropped. She tore her gaze from his. Then her hand went to her chest, fingers clutching herself. The tension lining her body melted, anger fading, but it was replaced with something else, something he didn’t like one bit.
After several moments, she met his stare. Then he saw it, the tears shining in her eyes. “You’re right, Thomas. I need too much saving, and you always do it, but I don’t want to be saved anymore, not if it means I lose you.” She blinked, and those tears flowed out of her eyes and down her cheeks.
His breaths slowed. Was she out of her mind? She’d never lose him. No chance in hell he’d ever let her go.
“Maybe I don’t have a reason to be mad because it’s my fault. I’m a radar for shit men, you said it. I’m the reason any of this is happening.”
No. This wasn’t her fault. Nothing was her fault. Shaking his head, he took a step in her direction. “No, it’s not your—”
She nodded, tears continued to flow down her cheeks. “It is, and you, because you’re you, because you always do, went to fix it. Someone could’ve been hurt. You could’ve been hurt, and you didn’t even say goodbye…”
She wiped her face. “What if something happened to you because of me? I wouldn’t’ve even had a last kiss.”
His chest tightened, a pain too deep to seem real seared him. He finally understood what he couldn’t before. This wasn’t about her leaving him. This was about her being worried about him, about him not giving her a goodbye before he left. He’d been too stuck in his own head, believing his own fears to stop and realize his fears weren’t hers. His fears were stupid and unfounded.
Still, she’d been pissed, lost her cool and because he’d never said goodbye? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. She’d acted like…like…
There it was again, that look, that fucking look that said so much, that made him want to rip out his heart and hand it to her.
Now, he finally knew what it meant.
She loved him.
Shit.
She loved him.
Not just him doing the loving anymore. They loved each other. They could last. They could make it work.
As long as he didn’t fuck it up, he’d have her.
He released a loaded breath. “Didn’t think you wanted a kiss, didn’t even think you wanted to see me.”
Eyes widening, she wiped more tears. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“’Cause of this fucked mess, Tiff. ’Cause this is more proof you don’t belong in my world.”
“Right, because my parents have money?” Her voice dripped in sarcasm.
His arm shot out. “Hell yeah, and ’cause you don’t deserve to be dealing with this shit.” He looked at his feet and ran his fingers through his hair.
She closed the distance between them and pressed her hand against his heart. Lifting his head, he met her gaze.
“I belong with you, Thomas. I can deal with anything as long as you’re with me.”
Shit.
She did love him.
His heart stopped dead then kick-started, pounding loud and hard, heating him.
Basking in that, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare straight at her.
Her brows drew together. She tilted her head to the side. “Thomas?”
He grinned. She smiled that smile that made the world fade.
He had the urge to tell her then just how much he loved her. Instead, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her deep, thinking he didn’t have to say what was clear as day.