Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2)

by J. L. Sheppard

  His back faced her, but no doubt, it was him. He wore his usual, jeans, T-shirt, his cut, and looked so hot. Not alone, he was with Blaze, the biker she met years ago at the garage when her tire blew out, and a couple of others she recently met at the cookout.

  Just one look and her heart started pounding so loud, she thought Benjamin would notice.

  “Tiffany?”

  Shit. He had heard her heart pounding. Her gaze shot to Benjamin.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  Right. Yep, she knew. She felt the blood drain from her face.

  She smiled and nodded. He didn’t look convinced, so she took a sip of her wine. “I’m fine.”

  Whether he believed her or not, she didn’t know, but he dropped the subject and continued to ramble about work. She helplessly spared a glance at Thomas, now facing her. His jaw clenched, sapphire blue gaze snared hers and hardened.

  For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. And she didn’t know what to do. She should say hi, but he’d been avoiding her and obviously wasn’t too pleased to see her there.

  Her manners won out. She managed a shakily smile and a wave then refocused her attention on Benjamin, who noticed her smile and wave since the next instant, he shifted to look over his shoulder in Thomas’s direction.

  Turning back to her, his brows furrowed. “You know that guy?”

  “Yes, he’s…um…a friend.”

  Benjamin’s eyes widened. “A friend? That guy? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. Is it so hard to believe?”

  “Tiffany, you’re you. He’s a biker. He’s trash.”

  Her lips parted. Heat suffused her cheeks.

  Thomas was not trash! Maybe he grew up with little money. Maybe he still didn’t have millions and worked at a garage, and maybe he partook in questionable activities, which may not be completely legal. But Thomas was the man who didn’t know her and interfered when her first date came on to her, the man who picked her up at a house party when her drink had been spiked, the man who took care of her stalker, the man who until a week ago asked about her day and listened. Even if he had a change of heart about their friendship now, it didn’t change facts. Thomas was a good man, protective of her to a fault, and more man than Benjamin for judging him.

  She clasped her hands tightly. “He isn’t trash.” She always kept her cool, but right then, she couldn’t have kept her voice from rising.

  He lifted a brow. “How can you—”

  “How can you judge him if you don’t know him? That man interfered when some jerk felt me up. I was sixteen, and he didn’t even know me. That wasn’t the last time he did something for me—”

  He leaned into the table. “Of course, he did. He wanted to land the pretty, rich girl.”

  What? Oh God, was that all she meant to Thomas? Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She shook her head, hoping the thought would magically disappear.

  No, it couldn’t have been the case. He never showed that type of interest in her. Besides, it didn’t change the fact that Thomas was good to her, sweet, thoughtful, affectionate, or well, he had been until recently.

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, Benjamin. I’ve known him for more than seven years. We’ve always been friends.”

  Not totally true. They knew each other for more than seven years, but a part from him saving her multiple times, they’d been acquaintances. Still.

  “And you know what? I’m not discussing this with you because you’re a judgmental asshole.”

  Yes, she actually said this and did not care one bit. She didn’t want to have anything to do with this jerk, didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone who thought they were better than someone just because that someone didn’t come from money or have lots of money.

  She grabbed her purse, stood, and headed outside. Warm air hit her face, chest, and arms and did little to ease her anger. It pulsed so deep, her hands shook. Despite this, she managed to tug her clutch open and search for her phone. The door to the bar opened behind her.

  “Tiffany.”

  God, he followed her!

  She turned, phone in hand. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  He lifted his hands, palms out. “Calm down…”

  Both wooden doors leading inside the pub slammed open, the sound of them hitting the walls echoed around the parking lot. Her gaze flew to them then to him.

  Thomas, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, hands in fists at his sides, strode out. Blaze and another biker, Rake, flanked him. “Get the fuck away from my girl.”

  Benjamin shifted, turning toward Thomas briefly then faced her and smirked. “Like I said.”

  God, she couldn’t believe he was idiot enough to repeat that. Did he really want her to believe a man would only want her because she was rich, because no one would want her without her trust fund? It didn’t say good things about why he wanted to date her.

  “Asshole,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Thomas grabbed Benjamin by the back of his sports coat, hauled him toward the building, and slammed him against the wall, face first. Totally unnecessary, but again, it was Thomas, and he was angry in that way only he could get. What did she expect? It seemed he had the compulsion to protect her even after he shut her out. Benjamin deserved it, if not for what he implied about her then definitely for what he thought about Thomas.

  “What the—”

  Thomas gripped his coat, spun him, and grasped the front of his shirt. “Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again, or I’ll string you up by your balls. You hear me?” His voice scary, filled with fury.

  Benjamin, eyes hard, nodded. Thomas released him with a shove.

  She watched Benjamin walk away then met Thomas’s narrowed gaze. “I could’ve handled it.”

  He took five long menacing steps in her direction, stopping a fraction of an inch from her. She didn’t cower away. She never cowered away from him. Instead, she lifted her chin.

  He leaned toward her. “Sure you can.”

  Really? He was going to be an asshole, too? Well, again, considering shutting her out was real asshole of him. “Okay, Thomas.”

  “I’m pissed, so don’t get smart with me.”

  Pissed? What the hell for? He shut her out. And she just had the shortest date known to man.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her cool, speaking low and calmly. “Go to hell, Cuss. I don’t need saving especially from you.”

  The muscle in his jaw jumped. Breathing heavily, each of his breaths hit her face. “Want me to count all the times you needed me?”

  Would he? Even the thought sprung tears to her eyes. Truth, she didn’t know if he would. As good a man she knew him to be, he also shut her out of his life. She wouldn’t stand there and find out. She turned on her heel.

  He snaked his arm around her waist, tugged her to him until her back pressed against his chest. Then he lifted her off the ground.

  The warmth of his body consumed her. Her body, betraying her, molded against his. She forgot why she was angry, why she had every right to be.

  She had to focus, had to remember. “You want to let Blaze, Rake, and everyone who walks by know if it hadn’t been for you, I could’ve been raped, twice? Or no, three times, if you count my stalker.” Her voice trembled.

  His whole body tensed. If she hadn’t felt his heart pounding against her, she would’ve thought it’d stopped beating he was so still.

  “Fine. Be a dick. I needed you then…”

  His arm around her waist tightened, leaving her without breath. Simultaneously, he covered her mouth with the other, muffling her words. “Shut it, Tiff. Fuckin’ shut it before I lose my shit,” he whispered against her ear, voice low and laced in rage.

  The flood of tears she held back slid down her cheeks and onto his hand.

  He flinched. His hold on her loosened. Then he drew away from her neck and barked, “Inside.”

  The door opened and closed behind them. He uncovered her mouth. His hand slid to her wais
t, clutching her tighter against him. He dropped his head and rested his forehead against her shoulder then released a loaded breath. When he spoke, his voice had softened. “Why’d you say that?”

  “Y-you mean w-why’d I do what you threatened to?” More tears spilled. Her body bucked.

  “I wouldn’t’ve said it, even in anger, I wouldn’t’ve—” His voice hollow now.

  “Honest, I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore. A week ago, I didn’t think you could cut me out of your life with no explanation especially after you were the one to insist we stay friends, after you went to great lengths to make it happen. I guess I’m naïve or stupid or both because I should’ve known. Half the things you’ve done, I don’t know why you have.”

  He cursed. After a long moment, he rubbed his nose against her neck and inhaled. Her body erupted in goose bumps. She closed her eyes firmly fighting a shiver.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

  Tiffany hated when he called her that, but she missed it. She shouldn’t, but that instant, she forgave him.

  “Been through some shit.”

  Her tears dried instantly. What? His mom? His brothers? The club? She shouldn’t care. As her friend, he should’ve confided in her instead of shutting her out.

  “Yeah, and I couldn’t know about it? Your best friend? That’s what you said we’d be. I believed you, and I let myself think we were. Then you shut me out.”

  His arm around her waist squeezed her. “I’m sorry, baby girl, but I can’t take it back now. You gotta forgive me, so we can move on.”

  Swallowing, she hesitated. Too busy thinking about how her make-up must be smeared, she didn’t want him to see her like that.

  “Baby girl? You forgive me?”

  “Y-yes…”

  The moment she said it, his arms loosened around her.

  “Just let me go.”

  His arm around her waist, he clutched her, too tightly.

  “I-I need to call a cab.”

  He let her body slide down the length of his. Luckily, she bit back the urge to moan. She couldn’t help shuddering, but recovered quickly, wiping her face before she turned and met his gaze.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ll call a cab. You stay, and enjoy your night—”

  He snaked his arms around her waist and tugged her against him, chest to chest. “Rather be with you.” Shutting his eyes tightly, he angled his face and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Fuckin’ missed you.”

  She missed him too, so much, much more than she should, much more than a friend should miss another. Closing her eyes, feeling a burn deep in the center of her chest, she let her head fall against him.

  Tiffany wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t. He’d done it again, said something so sweet that with his actions could be romantic. Her hands at his chest, her clutch in one, she pulled away. “Where’s your car?”

  He grinned wide.

  She missed that, too. Damn.

  “On my bike.”

  She looked away and nodded.

  The last and first time she rode on his bike had been years ago when he’d picked her up at that party. She’d been drunk, but it didn’t mean she didn’t remember. What she remembered most from that night—what it felt like to hold him close with the wind blowing against them.

  Grabbing her hand, he squeezed and led her toward his bike. Though he drove his bike to her apartment often, she never stepped outside to see it, meaning she hadn’t seen it for years. It looked different, so different she wasn’t sure if it was the same bike or if he bought a new one. Black, but it had more chrome pipes and the wheels were wider and bigger. A thing of beauty.

  Just as she thought this, he swung his muscled thigh over it. Sitting astride, he shifted and held out his hand. She placed hers in his then put her high-heeled foot on the peg. He gripped her waist with his other hand and hefted her up, taking her weight, lifting her up and over, and settling her behind him.

  Head turned to her, over his shoulder, he smiled. “You like my bike, baby girl?”

  He noticed. Well, he didn’t miss much.

  She met his gaze, realizing it must’ve been obvious with her grinning like an idiot. “I loved it the first time I saw it even though I was wasted. Is this the same one?”

  He chuckled, the sound coming from deep inside his chest. “Yeah, changed a couple of things though. Assuming you liked riding it then?”

  Her smile widened. She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Could’ve told me you wanted a ride.”

  She could’ve and hadn’t on purpose. First, she didn’t know if he’d agree. Second, if he did, she’d get to hold him against her, and that meant the entire ride, she’d dream up fantasies, all pertaining to him. Not a good idea.

  She shrugged.

  “Anytime, anyplace, anywhere you want me to take you, I’ll take you on my bike.”

  Her heart clenched, warmth spreading through her chest. She hoped it hadn’t shown in her eyes, hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  He faced forward, gripping her hands and wrapping them around his waist. “Don’t gotta helmet tonight.”

  She tightened her arms around him, pressing her front to his back and laying her cheek against him. “It’s fine.”

  He revved the engine. Then they were off, riding. The wind in her face, the engine rumbling between her legs, her body snuggled against his.

  Perfect.

  He came to a slow stop at a red light. She trailed her hand up his stomach then grabbed his shoulder and tugged him so his ear drew close to her mouth. He leaned back, slouching.

  “You’re going really slow, biker.”

  He chuckled. She barely heard it over the bike’s engine but felt his abs tautening and his body moving as he did.

  Turning his head, he shouted over the echoing bike, “You with me, going slow. Don’t wanna put my girl in danger.”

  She stilled.

  My girl.

  God, those two words, she felt them pierce her chest and leave an ache there. Not the first time he’d said them, but the first time he said them to her.

  What did it mean? She knew what she wanted it to mean.

  If a man wants you, he makes it known, makes it happen. Yes, she knew. She just had to continue to remind herself because sometimes, when he was sweet, she forgot.

  Before she knew it, he parked in a guest space in her apartment building’s lot. He hopped off his bike, wrapped one arm around her waist, lifted her, and set her on her feet.

  Standing close and looking up to him, she said, “Um…you didn’t have to carry me.”

  He grinned. “I wanted to though.”

  Right. He wanted to. No choice but to ignore that.

  They headed upstairs into her apartment. Inside, he took off his cut and draped it over her couch. She removed her heels.

  “Want a beer?”

  He nodded.

  She walked into the kitchen, grabbed him a beer, a glass of wine for herself, and strode into her living room. Handing him his beer, she took a seat on the opposite end of the sectional facing him. One leg tucked under her, the other hanging off the side of the couch.

  He shifted toward her. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “You gonna tell me what that dick did to piss you off?”

  “Depends…” She shrugged. “Are you going to tell me why you shut me out?”

  Typical Thomas style, a stare down ensued.

  A tie. Maybe not, considering she spoke first.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I’m not going to push. In fact, I’m kind of glad you aren’t telling me. It means I’m within my rights not to tell you what Benjamin said to piss me off.”

  He quirked a brow. “How you figure?”

  “You can have secrets. I can have secrets.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a secret—”

  “You’re keeping something from me. For whatever reason, you think I don’t need to know, which means I, too, can deci
de whether you need to know something.”

  “You know if it’s club business I can’t—”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew about club business, but this was not that. “Don’t lie, Thomas.” She met his stare dead on. “You shut me out. It had nothing to do with club business.”

  Thomas clenched his jaw and took a sip of beer, his gaze never leaving hers. He didn’t deny it, so she knew what she felt in her heart to be true was.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you one day, baby girl.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you one day, biker.”

  He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “That all I am to you? A biker?”

  No. He meant much more. She knew him before he was a biker, and she couldn’t have helped how she felt, but he’d never know.

  She leaned forward, tucking her other leg under herself and laughed. Obviously, he didn’t like to be called a biker, the reason why though she didn’t know considering he was a biker. “You don’t like to be called, ‘biker?’”

  His eyes darkened. “Not by you.”

  “Well, I don’t like to be called, ‘baby girl.’”

  He leaned toward her, still too far away, several inches. His eyes hadn’t lost that dark look. “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you ‘bout that, too.”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she sipped her wine.

  “What’d he mean when he said ‘like I said?’”

  She looked away. “He’s an idiot.”

  “What’d he mean?”

  “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.”

  He exhaled. “Tiff.”

  She quirked a brow. “Thomas.”

  He set his beer on the coffee table, put a knee on the couch, took her wine glass, and set it down too. Then he grabbed her hips and hauled her to him. In one swift movement, she sat on his lap.

  She let out a startled gasp. Her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself. “Thom—”

  Jaw clenched, he sniped, “You gonna tell me or I’m gonna find creative ways to get it outta you.”

  She flushed. Forcing herself to concentrate on anything besides the feel of his muscled thighs beneath her. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me why you shut me out, and I’ll tell you what he said.”