Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

by Debra Kayn

  At least her old normal before she escaped Montana.

  She stopped at the door and turned around. "Do you have any clothes I can borrow?"

  "Clothes?" Jacko gazed around the living room. "You want clothes?"

  "Why are you acting as if you don't understand what I'm saying?" She tugged at her sweatshirt, impatient to strip down and get rid of the filth hanging on her. "I'll wear anything of yours that's clean. I can't stand the thought of putting these clothes back on after I shower."

  He pulled out his phone, and she noticed even more tattoos than she'd originally seen in the pre-dawn by the river. She swallowed. Even his light brown hair hung longer, past his broad shoulders. His whiskers, a little darker than his hair, weren't neatly trimmed, but wild and longer than how most guys wore their goatee.

  His gaze snapped to her. "I'll get you clothes."

  "Thank you." She shut the door, caught herself from sagging in relief, and peeled off her sweatshirt, bra, and jeans.

  After her third day on the run, she'd stood at the edge of the river and watched her favorite pair of panties float downstream. It took too long for them to dry after hand washing them and she hadn't worked up the bravery to ask the Silver Valley Community Center for new underwear. The volunteers were kind enough to give her bread and peanut butter to keep her from starving.

  The water pipes along the ceiling groaned when she turned the faucet. She pressed her hand against her stomach, surprised when her ribs hit her thumb. Glancing in the mirror, she wanted to cry at the tired bags under her eyes, the snarled hair, and the film of dirt dusting her face. No wonder Jacko acted as if he hadn't recognized her.

  A skeleton of her former self, even her breasts seemed to sag from her weight loss. She stepped into the shower. Instant pleasure swept through her, and her legs trembled. She reached out for the wall and held herself steady, letting the beads of water pound against her neglected skin.

  Exhaustion hit her fast. She forced her eyes open and found the bar of Irish Spring soap. The potent scent so unlike her, she inhaled deeply through her nose. Different was good. Hopefully, once she was clean and explained the situation to Jacko, he'd help her figure a way to get back on her feet again.

  Scrubbed until her skin reddened and every bit of stench off the street was gone, she wrapped a rough and well-used towel around her body. Even with all the weight she'd lost, the material failed to go clear around her. Not that she expected Jacko to have big, plush towels, but nobody bought mid-sized hand towels.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and found Jacko sitting in the extra-large bay window hanging over the sidewalk of Main Street. With his attention directed outside, she took the time to study the man who had loved her sister five years ago. Emotions clogged her throat every time she thought of Sarah.

  Only twenty-two years old at the time of her kidnapping, Sarah had left the house to go see Jacko, excited and happy. Young, beautiful, and carefree, her sister had found Jacko exciting, dangerous, and irresistible at first. But, her age got the better of her, and she lived to have fun. If her sister had stopped to listen for a moment to Jacko's warnings, Amy's lectures, and paid attention to her surroundings, she might still be alive.

  Before her life had a chance to start, Sarah's beautiful soul was snuffed out by cruel and evil men.

  Amy cleared her throat. "Jacko?"

  He turned. She held the towel tighter, shielding her from the unexplained fury aimed at her. She placed her barefoot on top of her other foot. Right in front of her, his face changed to disinterest.

  "You said you'd find some clothes I could borrow." She lifted her right shoulder, hurrying the water drip running down her skin from her wet hair.

  Jacko left his perch in the window, picked up a sack on the couch and approached her. She eyed the bag.

  "Clothes," he said, thrusting it in her direction.

  The warmth from the shower wore off. She grabbed the sack and peered inside, juggling to keep hold of her towel.

  "What's all this?" She raised her gaze. "I only needed a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt."

  "Katie brought it over."

  "Oh?" She hid her surprise. Of course, he'd move on from losing Sarah. She never expected him to stop living, and five years had passed since she'd seen him.

  Jacko stared at her left shoulder. She held the bag higher, wanting to hide. He'd changed since she'd moved to Montana, and the difference wasn't only in the number of tattoos he wore on his skin. The last time she'd heard anything about Jacko the president of Moroad MC contacted her by phone, telling her Jacko was back in prison, and then she was contacted again almost a year ago when Jacko got released. That's why she'd come to Federal looking for him. He was the only one who could help her.

  "Katie's one of the Moroad MC women. The clothes are yours now." Jacko walked across the room and opened a door off the living room. "You should get some rest and we'll talk later. Go ahead and sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

  "I can sleep in here." She stepped back into the doorway of the bathroom. "Soon as I get dressed, I want to tell you what's going on."

  Jacko stretched his six foot two body out on the couch, covered his eyes with his broad forearm and propped his black, leather boots on the arm of the couch. "Not right now. You need sleep, and I need you to shut yourself in the bedroom and get out of my sight."

  Her head snapped to attention, but he already turned away and ignored her. She walked to the bedroom door and stopped.

  "Thanks, Jacko," she whispered.

  She stepped inside the room and reached for the door handle. Before the latch caught, she stilled.

  "Sleep, Momma," Jacko said.

  She quietly shut the door, dropped her towel, and moved to the bed. Every stiff muscle in her body moaned in approval when she stretched out on the lumpy mattress. The wonderful cushion on her weary body beat the backseat of strangers' cars. She snuggled down, pulling the blanket up to her neck. Inhaling deeply, she couldn't even muster any disgust at the less than clean scent clinging to the bed.

  She closed her eyes. Her body shook from fatigue. Asleep before her mind shut off, she smiled against the pillow. He'd called her momma.

  For a moment, he took her back to five years ago when she had her sister in her life. After her mom had passed away, she continued living in the house, working in the office of the Mining Supply Company, while helping Sarah finish her senior year of high school.

  Because of her overprotectiveness of Sarah every time her sister wanted to attend a party or go out on Jacko's motorcycle, he'd call her momma, because of her need to mother Sarah. She and Sarah's relationship spanned and exceeded sisterhood. Only two years apart, she'd cooked, bathed, and looked after Amy to make sure she stayed out of trouble while growing up. Her mom worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads, and they relied on each other. A heart attack took her mom on a Sunday when Amy was nineteen years old. From the day her mom died until Sarah was killed, she'd taken care of her sister, stepped into the role of mother, including working all the time to keep a roof over her head and food in the refrigerator.

  Chapter Three

  Curled on the bed, only her mess of red hair visible from the doorway, Amy slept. Jacko glanced over his shoulder looking for any excuse not to wake her. To shut the door on his memories and pretend he hadn't found her under a bush, in Federal, running from a man, claiming she'd slept in strangers' cars for two weeks.

  If he were lucky, Cam would show up immediately and keep him from having to talk to Amy by himself. He grimaced and lifted his hand to punch the door, stopping the swing of his arm before he hit the wood. She reminded him of everything good before his life went to shit. Acid burned in his gut knowing he was the one responsible for bringing crime to her doorstep.

  He'd finish his job of killing everyone who had a hand in Sarah's death. He owed her that much and more.

  "Hey, get up." He stepped into the room and kicked the end of the bed. "You've slept all day. You need to get u
p."

  She shot out of bed naked and stood in front of him. His cock noticed her breasts first and responded in appreciation before he could check himself. He dragged his gaze up to her face and rubbed his eyes. Angered over Amy jumping up nude in his room, he had a wild urge to walk out of the apartment and have the club get her out of here.

  "Get your ass dressed and come out to the living room," he said, slamming the bedroom door. "Jesus Christ, motherfucker, son of a bitch."

  The ache of pleasure in his cock pissed him off. He adjusted the front of his jeans and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. Cam had better get his ass over here, because Amy needed to leave.

  The cold drink stuck in his chest. He set the bottle on the counter and coughed. Hell, he needed a smoke and not a legal one. He'd waited all fucking day for Amy to wake up. Paced the living room, drank some beer, and talked to himself, until he finally admitted he had no fucking clue how to handle Amy being in Federal and called Cam to help. He couldn't keep her here. She needed to go back home or somewhere safe.

  Amy walked out into the living room. He glanced at her, relieved she'd put on the clothes Katie had gathered together and dropped off earlier for her.

  He took in her pale skin covered in small, faint freckles. Her breasts, ones he couldn't get the image of out of his head, hung loose, free, tempting.

  "You're skinny," he said.

  In jeans that hung low on her hips and an off the shoulder shirt, she barely filled out Katie's clothes— the only Moroad woman skinny enough to give Amy hand-me-downs. He inhaled, becoming more agitated.

  Amy crossed her arms. "I've never been very big."

  "Well, you sure in the hell were bigger than that. You look sick." Jacko grabbed his vest off the couch and shoved his arms through the holes.

  "Why are you yelling at me?" Amy walked over and leaned her hip against the back of the couch.

  Anger flowed out of him, refusing to stay hidden. "I need to get you out of here."

  "But, I came to talk—"

  "Talk?" He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. "You weren't supposed to fucking see me ever again. I put you in a house to keep your ass away from me, from Federal, and from Moroad."

  "I understand all that, but you—"

  "No." He lit the cigarette, even though there was a no-smoking rule in the apartment building, and walked over and opened the screen-less window overlooking the street. Blowing out the smoke, he continued. "Every minute you're here, you risk your life. Do you want the same thing to happen to you as it did your—"

  "That's what I need to tell you." Her voice shook with anger. "Do you think I came here because I missed you or I got a wild hair to leave my job and live like a homeless person?"

  "I don't care why you came." He sucked hard on the cigarette, needing to know if Los Li had found her. "Who was the man chasing you before I pulled you away from the river?"

  She shrugged and shook her head. "I was telling the truth. He's a nobody. His name's Nathan Plusho if you really need to know. He lives out on River Road. He works graveyard at the mine. Lucky for me, he carpools with another guy and often forgets to lock his car. I found out who he was when I went through his glove box and read his registration for his vehicle. Last night, for some reason, he came back early and caught me inside his car."

  "That answered one question, except why the fuck would you be in a stranger's car in Federal when I told you never to come back?" He walked over to the sink, stuck his smoke under the faucet, and tossed the butt in the garbage.

  She sat down on the edge of the couch. "I need your help."

  "Jesus Christ. That's why I gave you a phone when you were delivered to Montana." He pulled the chain at his hip and reached into his wallet. "Take this. I'll get you more cash once I talk with Cam and can get more out of my account with the club."

  She stared at his handful of cash. "Jacko, you need to listen and stop interrupting me."

  "No, I need you out of here." He picked up her hand and placed the money in her grasp. "The threats against the club never go away. Blues, Reds, Los Li, they're all quiet right now. That doesn't mean they're not working on something or—"

  "Jacko, please, you need to listen to me?" she said.

  He rocked back on his heels. Tension tightened the muscles in his back. He held his hand up, fingers twitching, fighting to make a fist. He couldn't handle any more information.

  Los Li already took everything from him. He wasn't going to let them win. His throat spasmed, and he chuckled to keep breathing. He continued to laugh, pacing the room. They wouldn't get Amy too.

  "Jacko?"

  He moaned loud, bounced on his feet, and ignored her. Her curiosity, confusion, and unspoken questions filled the room. He bobbed his head, stopping the wave of fog invading his head. Three, two, one. One, two, three.

  He needed to stay alert.

  He needed to stay out of prison.

  He needed to go after Flores.

  He needed Amy gone.

  Somewhere far away where she could rebuild her life.

  He raised his arm, aimed his elbow back, and swung, punching the air.

  "What is wrong with you?" said Amy.

  He shook his head. There was fucking nothing wrong with him, except he'd pretended for too long. Everyone questioned his sanity. Fuck, he questioned his stability. He'd saved his ass many times blocking everyone out, letting himself go off in his mind until he could hear the screams, could see the blood, could feel the hearts stop.

  The door swung open. Cam stepped into the room, followed by Stache, his MC brother. Jacko threw his hands up in the air and grinned. His club arrived. He no longer shouldered the responsibility of taking care of another person. One of the Moroad members could take Amy away, and he could head out and look for Flores to put a stop to Los Li coming after her.

  "What's going on?" Cam gazed back and forth between Amy and Jacko.

  Jacko walked over and jumped onto the counter and sat far away from her. "Cam...Amy."

  "That doesn't tell me shit," Cam muttered.

  "Sarah's Amy."

  Cam's expression never changed. "I'll need more."

  "My Sarah's sister."

  Stache walked across the room interested in the conversation and remaining quiet while he leaned against the wall and waited. Cam nodded understanding the situation. Jacko kicked his boot heel against the cabinet underneath him.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  And again, one, two, three.

  Each one of them in the room, minus Amy, understood what he wasn't saying. He'd spent the last five years inside the prison going after those who'd dirtied their hands by their involvement with Sarah's abduction. The first two years, he'd barely survived. He'd taken Sarah's loss and risked his life any chance he could to keep reality away.

  Amy walked over to Jacko and whispered, "I'll go in your bedroom until you're finished with business."

  "My business involves getting you out of here, so you'll stay and listen." Jacko hopped down off the counter and faced Cam. "I need someone to take her back to Montana."

  Cam nodded. "I'll call Bear."

  "As soon as possible." Jacko ran his fingers through his goatee. "Give her a month of my wages and—"

  "They burnt my house down," Amy blurted.

  Her gasp for breath filled the room. Jacko tilted his head, absorbing the information. Far as he knew, she'd never came into contact with any Reds member or Los Li. He'd kept her safe.

  "The house I set you up in is gone?" he asked.

  She nodded. "They burned me out when I was sleeping.

  He took two steps toward her and stopped. "Did you talk to anyone?"

  She shook her head. "Only the police. The neighbor saw the fire first and called 911. They believe it was arson. The fire started in the mudroom at the back of the house. They're investigating. I-I told them I'd be at the Haugen Hotel."

  "Why are you here then?" He crossed his arms to keep from shak
ing her.

  "The first night at the hotel, I was delivered a message." Amy shivered. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

  "What message?"

  "I can show you. I kept the paper after the desk clerk delivered it to my room." She stood straighter and looked around the room. "Where are my jeans?"

  Jacko stalked over to the cabinet under the sink, opened the door, and pulled out her dirty clothes she'd changed out of earlier.

  "You threw away my only clothes?"

  Jacko returned to her and thrust the pants in her hands. "They stink."

  Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze to the jeans. He rocked side to side. A pang of regret kept him moving. The first thing he'd noticed on Sarah was the way she blushed. Fuck, he used to love to tease her and get her riled only to make her blush.

  "Here." Amy handed over a well-worn folded paper.

  He opened up the note and read.

  Let's see if you'll work harder for us than your sister, God rest her soul.

  The back of his head throbbed, and his top lip twitched in an erratic spasm. He crumbled the note.

  "Los Li?" Cam asked.

  Jacko nodded and cleared his throat, buying him a few seconds to grasp the magnitude of what he'd brought to Amy's doorstep. "They're aiming to have Amy replace Sarah in Mexico."

  Amy sucked in her breath and held her reaction close. He studied her carefully. The others were blind to the fear he witnessed in her eyes. That fear pushed him into action.

  "I need to get her out of here. I've been out of prison for almost ten months. I imagine both Reds and Los Li knows where to find me. I haven't made my location a secret and everyone involved knows I've committed the crimes and red-flagged them to come after me." Jacko stayed close to Amy.

  Her gaze bounced from Cam to him. She never asked to have her life interrupted, her sister taken away, and put into danger. Because of her connection with him, she had no choice.

  "Are you going to take her out of Federal?" Stache ran his finger down the long length of his mustache. "You'll have more protection if you stay near the club."

  Amy stepped closer to him. He wanted to assure her nothing would happen, but he'd already failed to protect her sister.