Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2)

by J. L. Sheppard

  His phone vibrated. He plucked it out of his pocket, answered it, and brought it to his ear. “Cuss.”

  Mellow gave him the first good news he heard all night. Cops got a lead. A tip was called in about a black SUV spotted outside an abandoned warehouse in Santa Rosa. Somehow, Mellow had the address and gave it to him.

  He glanced at Blaze and told him the news. They hopped in the car and drove to the location, Blaze making calls along the way.

  They hadn’t been far, but it still took fifteen minutes to get there, arriving at the same time as Army and Trick. He spotted the black SUV and Trig’s car. The four of them exited their cars, pulled their guns, and ran inside.

  Mellow, arm out and extended, aiming his 9 millimeter at three men, one of them he recognized, Wyatt. Army lifted his gun and pointed it at Wyatt. Cuss lifted his and aimed it at one of the others, a taller man with dark hair.

  His gaze gravitated toward Trig, kneeling, hovering over a woman lying sprawled on the floor, Allie.

  He twisted, now aiming his gun at Wyatt. His finger on the trigger twitched, itching to pull. He just needed to hear Trig roar. Then he’d know Allie was gone, and he could blow the bastard’s brains.

  Trig lifted her, turned, and whispered something.

  Cuss released a loaded breath.

  Alive.

  Allie was alive.

  Army dropped his gun, strode toward Trig, his body tensing for a second. He then lifted his head and spoke to Trig, his voice tight. “She’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna survive this. She’s gonna move on.”

  The rest was a blur. Cops arrived, handcuffed and arrested Wyatt and the two others, and took statements from most of them. He bailed as soon as he could. It’d been close to ten hours, and he missed Tiff, missed her so much his chest ached.

  The drive from Santa Rosa to Wadden, a thirty-minute drive, he sped and made it back in twenty. He parked, ran inside, up the stairs, and into his room. Dark, but light shined in from the bathroom. His girl lay on her side on the foot of his bed, her knees tucked close to her chest, her dark hair sprawled around her. She still wore the same clothes from the night before, a pair of dark wash jeans and a pink blouse, her high-heeled shoes on the floor in front of her.

  Cold like always at the compound, and she hadn’t bothered to cover herself with a blanket. He strode toward her, sat on the edge of his bed, and grazed his fingers across her cheek. Ice cold.

  Her eyes snapped open, landed on him, and widened. He didn’t get the chance to say anything. The next instant, she shot up. Her arms hooked around his neck, her chest slamming against his. She held him tight against her, burrowing in, like she was afraid to let go, like she didn’t ever want to let go. “Oh, God, Thomas,” she whispered against his neck, sounding on the verge of tears.

  She’d been scared, worried. She hadn’t listened, hadn’t stopped worrying. He wrapped his arms around her back and waist and breathed in her scent laced with his then ran his hand down her back. “I’m here, baby girl. Everything’s fine, like I promised.”

  She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze. “Allie?”

  He couldn’t lie. “Little banged up, but she’s gonna be fine.”

  She buried her face in his neck then released a heavy breath. For several moments, they sat there holding each other. Finally, she drew away. Face pale, black circles beneath her eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  “Past six.”

  Unlocking her arms from around his neck, she scooted away.

  He grabbed her wrist, holding her still. “Tiff.”

  “I have to get to work. I’m going to be late. I have to get home and shower and dress and—”

  “You’re exhausted. You barely slept. You should call out—”

  “I can’t. Allie won’t be there.”

  Damn it. She was too much of a good person to call out and leave her boss and another employee with the full burden of watching all those kids. She’d put in a full day of work, exhausted. Nothing he could do to stop her. “I’ll drive you.”

  “Thanks, but you should get some rest—”

  He leaned into her, a breath away from her lips. “I drive you home. I drive you to work. I pick you up and take you home. Then I’m gonna order us some food, and we’re gonna watch some TV.”

  She wanted to disagree. He knew it like he also knew she was too tired to and nodded instead.

  Cuss drove to her apartment, waited while she showered and dressed. Then he drove her to work. After watching her head inside, he took off, drove to the compound, strode into his room, and switched on the light. His gaze scanned his room. Unbelievable. So clean, it sparkled. His laundry in the basket, his dresser and nightstands cleared of bottles, cans, and trash, his clothes folded and put away.

  His girl cleaned his room, and he hadn’t noticed until now. He hadn’t thanked her.

  He showered then set his alarm to wake him in several hours. Drifting to sleep easily, he woke when his alarm sounded at 11:45 a.m. Without even bothering to comb his hair, he hopped in his car, bought takeout from Anthony’s, Tiffany’s favorite Italian restaurant, and headed to her work. He parked, grabbed the carryout bags, and strode into the daycare.

  Noise bombarded him. Place was bigger than it looked from the outside. Drawings plastered all over the walls and hanging from strings off the ceiling. The far wall stacked with shelves, books and toys stored in them. To the far left, just in front of those shelves, a group of kids sat on a rug. A teacher faced them, book in hand, reading. To the far right, another group of kids, toys scattered around them. Closer to him and in the middle of the room, the last group of kids sat at a table, plates of food in front of them.

  Once the door shut behind him with a small thud, all those kids turned to him, their little eyes widening. Ignoring their gazes, he scanned the room and spotted Tiff coming out of a door at the far end, a baby situated on her hip. She wiped the baby’s face with a wipe. His little hand extended toward her, grabbed a hold of her hair and tugged. She just smiled, looking so comfortable, so natural with a baby and so beautiful.

  “Can I help you?”

  His head snapped toward the sound of the voice and met the curious gaze of an older woman, had to be Betty, Tiff’s boss. She stood behind a counter right in front of the entrance to the daycare. He didn’t know how he’d missed seeing her before now, except to think he’d been too focused on finding Tiff. “Came to bring my girl lunch.”

  The older woman smiled then shifted in Tiffany’s direction. He followed her gaze. Tiff, eyes wide, strode toward him avoiding running into kids as she did, the baby still on her hip.

  He smiled, closed the distance between them, and leaned into kiss her forehead. “Hey, baby girl.”

  “Thomas.” She forced a smile. “W-what are you doing here?”

  He lifted the takeout bag in his hand in way of explanation.

  “You brought me lunch?” She shook her head. “You didn’t… You shouldn’t have. I’m—”

  “I did. You barely slept. You need food.”

  “Well, you didn’t sleep either. You should be—”

  “I’m doing what I need to be doing, which is taking care of my girl.” He grinned. “Stop arguing.”

  Betty neared and extended her arms to reach for the baby. “Tiffany, why don’t you take your lunch break with this young man?” The baby jumped off Tiff and into Betty’s arms.

  He took Tiffany’s hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. “Where to?”

  “Follow me.” She led him toward the back of the daycare, a hallway with several doors. She parted one. Inside, he spotted a small kitchen/dining area with refrigerator, microwave, sink, table, and a couple of chairs. He took a seat and began unpacking food.

  “Got you that thin pasta you like.”

  She took a seat in front of him. “Angel hair.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, with shrimp, and I got the calamari appetizer ’cause I know you like that, too.”

  “And you orde
red pizza, mushrooms and peperoni.”

  Grinning, he nodded. He handed her her lunch, and they dug in.

  “You cleaned my room.”

  Her head shot up. She swallowed the food in her mouth then nodded.

  He smiled to assure her he didn’t mind. “Always taking care of me.”

  She laughed. “You’re the one who takes care of me.”

  He quirked a brow. “Yeah? How do you figure? You cook for me, clean up after me, worry about me.” The last meant the most. He took a bite of pizza and chewed.

  “You do more.” She twirled the pasta in her fork. “You take care of stalkers and not so nice men I’ve dated. You fix my car, and you carry me to bed when I fall asleep on the couch.”

  Not equal. She did more for him than he did for her on a weekly basis. He would make some changes.

  Before he knew it, it was time for him to go. He asked her when she’d be out. After she responded, he kissed her forehead and left.

  He returned at five on the dot. She argued with him about going to see Allie. He insisted she wouldn’t go to the hospital tonight. She was exhausted and needed to eat and rest. No one was more disappointed than him since it also meant his plans for them would have to wait. He needed her well-rested before he told her exactly how he felt, how their relationship would change. Still, she argued the entire way home. When they arrived at her place, he told her to call Allie instead. She argued some more. Tired of this exchange because he was exhausted too, he did the only thing he could.

  After he closed and locked the door, he gripped the back of her neck, hauled her against him, and leaned into her. Her lips millimeters from his. “Baby girl, I’m tired. You’re tired. I said we’re not gonna go to the hospital now ’cause no way in hell my girl’s gonna go to the hospital when she looks like she should be in the hospital from exhaustion. You’re gonna eat, and then, you’re gonna sleep. Stop fuckin’ arguing with me.”

  Her piercing green eyes shone, saying so much and nothing at all because he still couldn’t figure out what she meant to say with that look. Before he could ask, her eyes watered, and the words froze in the back of his throat.

  Nothing like making her cry to make him feel like the biggest SOB on the face of the planet.

  He released her, looked down at his feet, grabbed the back of his neck, and squeezed. Then he snaked his arm around her waist and dragged her against his chest. “What’d I say? Tell me what I did to make you start crying?”

  She shook her head or attempted to. Cheek against his chest, she couldn’t manage moving it much.

  “Tell me, Tiff.”

  She drew away. The warmth of her now gone, and it sucked, so he hauled her back against him. She then slanted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m just tired.”

  “You’re crying ’cause you’re tired, but you’re arguing with me about going to the hospital? Doesn’t make any sense.”

  Tears streaming down her face, she whispered, “I’m tired, okay? Can you let me go?”

  His jaw clamped shut. “Let you go?” Some of his anger leaked into his voice. “No, I’m not letting you go.”

  “Please…” She pressed her forehead against his chest. “Just…I can’t…”

  Shit. What was she trying to say? She couldn’t what? He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth, held his breath, and waited.

  “I just…” She looked away, wiped her face then met his stare. “I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep.”

  He nodded. “’Kay.”

  “You know where the spare key is. Lock the door on your way out.”

  Yeah, he knew where the spare key was. He used it once when she’d fallen asleep, and he had to go on a run. That same day, he made a copy, so he didn’t need the spare, but since he never told her he made a copy, when he left while she was asleep, he took it.

  It didn’t mean he’d use either copy tonight. He’d let her go to bed, and he’d stay. First thing tomorrow, he’d tell her what he should’ve told her long before now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tiffany never slept better. She hadn’t woken throughout the night, not once. Her norm, she woke at least twice. Either she was cold or hot or thirsty or a slew of other reasons.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She moved just slightly and noticed it. The heat at her back and around her waist. Her head snapped down. A tattooed arm circled her waist, a large hand resting on her ribcage under her breast. She knew that tattoo, that arm, that hand.

  Thomas. The warmth soothing her—his. He held her from behind, his breath at her neck, his chest against her back, and his leg tangled in hers.

  She stilled, holding her breath. Why the hell had Thomas laid in bed with her?

  “Shh…” His fingers grazed her stomach over her silk nighty in a soft caress. “It’s me. Relax.”

  She knew. The tattooed arm, clue enough, not to mention, the smell of him everywhere. She wasn’t freaked about that. She was freaked because she woke in his arms, and it felt so good she knew every morning she woke without him, she’d remember how good it felt to wake with him. Further freaking her out, she didn’t know what possessed him to get into bed with her and hold her seemingly all night. They were friends, just friends, and they’d been that for months. Sleeping next to one another, cuddled so close, definitely crossed the friend line.

  He buried his face in her neck and breathed deep. “Baby girl?”

  “Y-yes?”

  His hand at her stomach slid down and gripped her hip. He dislodged his jean-clad leg from in between hers and flipped her. Facing him, his sleep-hazed, sapphire gaze met hers. He grinned wide. “Mornin’, baby girl. How’d you sleep?”

  She swallowed. “Fine.” A lie. A big, fat lie. She’d never slept better.

  He slid a hand across her cheek. His eyes darkened. “You look beautiful in the morning.”

  No, she didn’t. Thomas, though, had never looked more handsome. His midnight black hair a mess, eyes half-mast, a five o’clock shadow marring his chin and cheeks but so relaxed and seemingly content lying next to her, holding her close. All that made him look even more striking.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  His smile faded. “Hate it when you do that.”

  Her brows drew together. “Do what?”

  “I compliment you, and you either ignore it or deny it.”

  “I…” She did do that, meaning he made a valid point. He always made valid points. It didn’t change the fact she did it for a reason. She couldn’t allow herself to think those compliments meant more than they did.

  He tugged her closer, pushing her pelvis against his, the hard length of him pressing against her. She let out a small startled gasp. He leaned in and feathered a kiss on her forehead.

  Before she could put more thought into it, he drew away, turned, threw his feet over the edge of the bed, stood, and walked out of her room. “I’ll make coffee.”

  Tiffany stared at her open bedroom door, feeling like an idiot. She hadn’t asked why he climbed into bed with her, hadn’t explained why he couldn’t and shouldn’t do that. At least, he’d stayed partially clothed, wearing his jeans. Still, she should be outraged, and she wasn’t.

  She never knew why Thomas did what he did. Hard to tell. She knew Thomas though. He was a biker, a lady’s man despite what Mia and Lynn claimed. He wasn’t the relationship type. His hard-on was nothing more than the need to use the bathroom that early in the morning. Even if he wanted her, they’d never be more than casual sex. She had to confront him. If she let him do things like that, she’d fall more deeply and start believing he felt the same.

  She threw the covers off herself, pulled her silk robe over her red, silk, lace teddy, and strode into the kitchen. Thomas had already poured two cups of coffee. Taking this in, she sat on a stool in front of her counter.

  Thomas spared a glance at her and smiled. “Perfect timing.” He handed her a mug with sugar and cream, the perfect shade, more cream than coffee, exactly how she took it. Then he leaned his hi
p against her counter and took a sip of his. No doubt, it was black, no sugar.

  She stared into her perfect shade of coffee, a reminder he knew her well. She loved that. She loved everything about him. Releasing a breath, she whispered, “Thomas…we need to talk.”

  He placed his mug on the counter with a thud. Her head shot up, gaze meeting his.

  Jaw hard, gaze narrowed, he crossed his arms over his bare chest and lifted his chin. “Yeah, what about?”

  She swallowed. “Y-you can’t…” Her gaze trailed to his broad chest, down his sculpted abs. Damn. She was losing her nerve staring at him. Who could blame her? Shirtless, tatted, and even looking peeved, he was hot. Not to mention, she was in love with him.

  She shook her head to rid herself of the thought. She had to focus, couldn’t let herself fall deeper in love with a man who’d never be hers. “You can’t get in bed with me.”

  He walked around the counter, gripped the side of her stool, and turned it. Face to face, he rested his weight on his hands, leaning into her and forcing her to tilt back. “I can, and I will.”

  Great. Bossy, hardheaded Thomas. “Thomas—”

  “Don’t want any lip, baby girl. Though love it when you give it to me, it’s too early. Haven’t had much coffee or a decent meal, so I’m gonna say this real quick.”

  He looked down at her lips, slid his thumb along them then caught her gaze again. “Things are gonna change between you and me. We’re good the way we are now, but I know we’ll be better as more, so I’m taking us there. It means I will get in bed with you. It means I will touch you, hold you, and kiss you. It means you’re off limits to everyone but me.”

  She heard him, all of everything he said but couldn’t for the life of her grasp it. “W-what?”

  “Been taking care of you for a while now, Tiff, biding my time, waiting ’cause I wanted you to trust me. Seems to me, I’ve waited too long for nothing ’cause you still don’t believe shit when I tell you. Should’ve gotten into bed with you that first night in LA, so you’d know how good it felt to be held by me then should’ve kissed you at that lounge, claimed you in front of everyone. Maybe then, you would’ve believed me.”