by Debra Kayn
"How do you like staying in the Sterling Building?" Christina reached out and touched Jeremy's arm. "Do you have everything you need?"
Tiff chewed the inside of her lip to keep from announcing that she'd done the best she could under the circumstances to make sure Jeremy felt at home with her in the amount of time she'd had. Sure, they struggled and would continue to struggle, especially if Jeremy refused to put her first in his life, but it wasn't his dad and stepmom's job to make sure he was happy.
"I've got more than enough." Jeremy leaned back in his chair, unblocking Christina from his parents' view.
"How about clothes?" Christina patted Jeremy's bicep. "The shirts I bought you are a little small. I went off what size Cam wears."
"They stretch." Jeremy shifted away from her touch.
"Nonsense." Christina grabbed for his arm.
Jeremy flinched, standing up quickly. "The shirts are fine."
Cam stood. "Let's go for a walk, kid. I feel like a smoke."
The two men moved off into the yard and strolled toward Cam's motorcycle parked off the side of the porch. At a loss for what to do, Tiff twirled her thumb ring. She understood why Christina hovered and wanted to help Jeremy adjust to living on the outside.
"I pushed him too fast." Christina looked away, dabbing at her eyes. "Cam said I needed to take it slow, and I kept talking."
"He'll be okay." Tiff leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees. "He's adjusting better than I imagined he would, and he's sleeping okay. In the beginning, he paced the motel room, but living with me has helped, I think."
"I'm so glad you're there for him." Christina shook her head. "It was different when Cam came home from prison. Maybe not the other times, but the last time when we were together. He only spent eighteen months locked up. Jeremy spent fifteen years. I can't even wrap my head around what that must've been like for him to live that many days inside a cell. He was just a boy when it happened. If he didn't look like the very picture of Cam, I never would've spotted him in a crowd. He's so big. I don't know what he likes to eat or if he enjoys listening to music still. I feel like I've held on to a person that no longer exists, and it hurts..."
Tiff closed her eyes and willed herself to hold it together. Christina hit on so many of the problems she faced. She longed for the young man who put her up on a pedestal and made sure she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was wanted and loved.
"He hasn't mentioned he loves me," Tiff whispered. "He walked out of prison and refused to take no for an answer and thinks I belong to him. He treats me as if I owe him, and yet he hasn't given me anything. My life has been turned inside out and upside down, and I'm supposed to trust him without knowing how he expects our relationship to grow. I walk around waiting for him to take my job away from me or make demands."
Christina's usually soft face twisted with anger. "He's done everything for you. What kind of demands are you putting on him?"
"You don't understand." Tiff caught her temper over having to defend herself and her feelings. "It would be nice if he, at least, said the words I need to hear."
"Have you told him you love him since he returned?" snapped Christina.
Tiff sniffed and looked out at Jeremy. "I swore never to let him or anyone close to me once I bought the Sterling Building and tried to get over the pain of losing him."
"You, selfish bitch. Jeremy has catered to your every whim since high school. He killed someone in prison when he was twenty years old so that he could stay and earn his way to becoming president because he understood that was the only way to advance in the club and not have the men look upon him as Cam's son. Whatever he's done, he's done for you. You think he's controlling and wanting to jump into that closeness that you two once shared. Don't you understand that every day for fifteen years all he's thought about is you? He never left your life, even though he couldn't be beside you." Christina almost came out of her chair and perched on the edge, tapping her temple. "You were in his head every second. He protected, loved, and planned his future with you in it. You can't blame him for walking out of prison, believing he can pick right up to how it used to be, because to him he never left you."
"He hasn't—"
"What have you done for fifteen years?" Christina pushed back in her chair and lowered her voice. "While you were maturing, you pulled away and concentrated on your life. Well, listen up, chick. If you want to keep that man out in the yard who is barely holding it together because he feels more at ease with bars between him and everyone else, you better put him first in your life, or you're going to lose him back to the system."
Tiff's jaw trembled. She clamped her teeth together, feeling her control over her emotions slip. Christina's words hit deep. She never allowed anyone to talk to her that way, and yet she recognized the truth in Christina's lecture.
"Shit," Christina muttered. "I never asked Jeremy to bring you over here, so I could rip you apart. My anger isn't at you, Tiff. It's this damn lifestyle. You either live your life around it, or it'll slowly kill you."
Tiff's chest fluttered, and she lowered her chin to her chest. "I've always loved him," she whispered.
Christina reached over and squeezed her hand. "I know you have, sweetheart."
"I don't know what to do." She looked at Christina, begging her for advice. "I love having him back, but when I'm dealing with him, something snaps and I fall back into my old ways of dealing with my problems. We're old now, and everything is more difficult. I can't fuck him into being nice."
She had no one to talk to about Jeremy. Christina had Jeremy's best interest at heart, and she understood the mechanics of the club. Desperate to climb out of the habits she'd formed, she needed someone to tell her how to handle all her problems before she made the biggest mistake of her life.
"First thing you need to do is forget everything and put him first." Christina stood. "Let's do something normal and act like everything is okay. We can take some burgers out of the freezer and start the barbecue. Jeremy always loved his hamburgers."
For the next half hour, Jeremy and Cam continued to stand out by the motorcycles. First looking at Cam's bike, then moving over to Jeremy's Harley. Once in a while, one of them leaned over and fiddled with something on the motorcycle, but mostly they talked.
The identical stances, the serious expression half-hidden behind full beards that hadn't seen a trim in years, nobody would question their blood relationship now. Jeremy even walked like Cam, except without a limp.
Christina opened the lid of the barbecue. "Go ahead and grab the plate, and we'll dress their burgers for them."
Tiff held out the paper plate. "Who's idea was it for Jeremy to become the president of Moroad?"
"Both, but Jeremy set out to prove himself while in prison. Cam noticed, watched him, and when he felt Jeremy was ready, he approached him with the idea." Christina shut off the gas supply to the grill.
Back when they were together, she never would've imagined Jeremy leading the club. He loved belonging, but so much of being a member revolved around hero worshipping Cam and wanting to bond with his father. Cam had thrust Jeremy into a group of hardened felons who partied and came out of prison with stories that made their stay seem like an excuse to get out of responsibilities.
"Does it scare you?" Christina passed a jar of pickles to Tiff. "I mean, Jeremy being the president."
Tiff nodded. "Not in the way you think. I've always known he'd belong to Moroad. He admired Cam and the other men. I guessed what they did on runs or when they disappeared without telling anyone. I thought things would be different, and Jeremy would always be the youngest in the club. I don't know how all this fits in with my life, and the dynamics are different than I imagined."
The sandwiches made, Christina straightened from the table. "You're overthinking the changes. Desiree owned and ran a bar when she got together with Merk. Amy holds a full-time job while Jacko prefers the free time with the club. Jeremy always knew that you were going to have a career."
"Maybe," she said.
Christina walked to the edge of the porch. "Lunch is ready."
Cam and Jeremy walked through the yard and came up to the house. She picked up his plate and handed it to him, casting glances up at him to make sure he was okay.
"Thanks." Jeremy picked up the hamburger in one hand and inspected the inside. "Sweet pickles?"
"I don't know." She looked to Christina and found her smiling at Jeremy. "I think so."
"Grab your plate. Let's eat." He sat down at the table, pulling out the chair for her to sit beside him.
Conversation slowed as they all enjoyed their food. Jeremy kept one hand on Tiff's thigh, balancing his plate on his lap and eating with his free hand. It wasn't as if they had some heavy duty public display of affection going on, but his touch meant a lot when she remembered Christina's lecture.
She had no idea the depth Jeremy went to in prison to gain control of the other gangs or how he stayed focused on her when they were physically apart and emotionally absent from each other's lives. But, she needed to step up and be there for him, and maybe when he relaxed enough, he'd let her in more.
Jeremy finished eating first and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, brushing out the crumbs caught in his beard. "That was real good, Christina."
"You two can come over anytime. You don't need to call or wait for an invitation, just show up." Christina leaned against Cam's arm. "Right, honey?"
Cam grunted. Jeremy nodded. Tiff finished the rest of her hamburger and noticed Christina barely ate a bite. She was too busy watching Jeremy. For the first time, she realized how devastated Christina was losing her family to prison. Like her, she'd heard that Cam refused Christina's plea to visit Jeremy during his incarceration, and half a lifetime had passed since she'd seen him.
"I'd like that," said Tiff softly, reaching down and holding Jeremy's hand.
Taking Christina's advice to heart, she moved forward, past the anger, and concentrated on the right now. Jeremy needed his family. She would never stand between them, no matter how many glares Cam shot her way.
"Thanks for the food." Jeremy stood, taking Christina's plate and tossing the trash in the garbage can nearby. "We need to head out. Tiff works later, and I promised her a day away from the Sterling Building."
"The club could always use some time with you." Cam leaned back in his chair. "Let the women entertain themselves, and you can bullshit with the men."
"We're not going to the motel. The men can wait." Jeremy leaned across the table and kissed Christina's forehead. "Thanks for feeding us."
Tiff waved to Christina and mouthed, "Thank you."
Together, they walked to Jeremy's motorcycle. She stopped him from getting on and leaned into his body. "You know what?"
"Huh?"
She shrugged. "Let's go to the motel. We only have a couple of hours before I have to be back and run Red Light. You can hang with your club."
He tilted his head. "You sure?"
"Positive." She smiled, feeling good about putting him first. "I can visit with Katie if she's there."
He kissed her hard, obviously pleased. Her stomach warmed, and she smiled. They could both compromise, and before too long, she'd hear more about Jeremy's plans and he'd open up about his feelings more. She only had to be patient.
Chapter Twenty Five
Pack, Graves, Monty, and Rebar opened the last motel room and stood back from the door. Jeremy walked into the dark room and flipped the light switch. At least a dozen boxes sat stacked in the corner.
Tearing the top off the first box he came to, he peered inside and grabbed one of the football-sized packages. He removed the knife from his pocket, flipped the blade open, and tore through the brown paper, cutting the tape. Coffee beans spilled out to reveal at least a pound of pressed and wrapped marijuana.
He wondered if Cam understood what was going on in a Moroad owned motel and that's why his dad suggested hanging out with the club or if Jeremy had stumbled upon a conversation meant to test his reaction by his members.
"I want the boxes exported off the property tonight." He tossed the pot back in the box.
"Where will we put them?" Rebar removed his baseball cap and scratched his head.
Jeremy had spent eight of his fifteen years with Rebar in the pen. Big as hell and dumber than shit. If someone wasn't holding his hand, he'd get lost in a ten by ten cell. And, from the looks of it, the newest group of men to gain their freedom had lost their ability to think.
Jeremy faced the other men, ignoring Rebar. "Who's idea was it to get a shipment of pot?"
Pack stepped forward. "I have a connection with the dealer who supplies the stores in Washington. We sell it on the street through a couple of guys who are local."
"If you're not making enough profit to find storage away from Moroad, then you better hike your ass through the Bitterroot Mountains and find an abandoned mine or hell, an outcropping of rocks to store your goods." Jeremy shoved the knife back in his pocket. "If for some reason the sheriff or the Feds come knocking, and your dirty dealings are found in the motel, I'll kill you."
"Nobody said a word to us about not using the room, man." Graves chest came out, and his chin went up to make up for his five-foot-seven-inch body.
"Are you telling me Cam let you run your business at the motel?" Jeremy spoke slowly, making sure they understood he'd only let them answer once before he acted.
"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.
&nb
sp; 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.
