Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club) Read online

  Jeremy hid the pang of what time had done to every single one of them. His father was getting older. The men he'd looked up to and viewed as an adult were now his peers, hardened by life behind bars and the disappointments thrown at them. He wanted to go back to prison where everything stayed the same.

  There was no way to prepare for the changes he'd see in Christina's face.

  Under Cam's orders, Christina stayed away from Jeremy during his sentence. At first, he fed off his anger toward his dad for keeping her away. Then he'd realized his dad's choice kept Christina safe.

  He had no idea what he'd walk into when he entered the motel room. At one time, Christina was his link to normalcy. She brought him comfort in a harsh environment. Strength as his social worker when his mom overdosed and died, then later when his dad got out of prison and took custody of him, and when he found out Merk was his uncle.

  More than a step-mom, Christina watched out for him like an older sister.

  He gazed back at Cam and opened the door. The former dump of a motel had new siding, a new roof, and remained fenceless, where Moroad men could come and go.

  Despite his distraction at returning to Federal, he searched for Tiff in the crowd. He held no hope that she'd show up.

  He was fucked up to believe his high school girlfriend, who changed her mind weekly about whether she wanted to be with him or not until at the age of twenty agreed to be his woman, would show up to welcome him home.

  Through word from various club members, he learned Tiff went from working as the cleaning woman at Silver Girls—the only adult entertainment business in Federal—to one of the dancers and continued showing her ass to every man in the Silver Valley. He strode forward to the crowd. Tiff had wanted better for her life. He never thought she'd settle for stripping.

  Johnson grinned and stretched his thin arms out to his sides. "Welcome home, kid."

  Jeremy's muscles tensed for the human contact he hoped wouldn't come and held out his hand. "Good to see you, brother."

  "You, too." Johnson squeezed his hand and let go when Jeremy pulled away. "Keep breathing, man. It'll get easier."

  Meese slapped him on the shoulder. Gunner punched him in the chest. Jeremy braced his weight on the heel of his boot, not moving an inch. He never showed weakness, not physical or emotional. To do so would put him at risk. There were always men ready to jump on any vulnerability.

  "Looking huge, man." Gunner curled his arm and flexed, holding the limb up for Jeremy's inspection. "What are you lifting?"

  "Just my dick every morning to take a piss," said Jeremy.

  The guys laughed and moved back, heading toward the walkway between the buildings. The tension left behind from reentering the club continued to torment Jeremy's body. It took all of his control to keep the effects from showing.

  "They're in Room Three," said Cam.

  The shouts and whoops from behind the motel floated in the air. Jeremy swept his gaze to the right, found the door keeping Christina and Lola away from him. He walked across the parking lot and swung the door open, staring into the room letting his vision adjust from the bright sunlight to a dim room.

  A gasp reached his ears. He turned right and spotted an older version of Christina that he remembered. His gut tightened. Her familiar eyes shined back at him, sweeping over him head to boot. He focused on the concern and love aimed at him because he couldn't handle facing the truth.

  He'd lost years of his life. Years he'd never get back.

  "Jeremy," said Christina softly, holding out her arms.

  He stepped forward and caught Christina, letting her hold him. He hardened himself to the comfort her embrace gave him. Christina's strength left him exhausted.

  "My God, you've grown." Christina pulled back and ran her hands over his face. "Your beard. You finally..."

  He moistened his lips. It seemed like another lifetime when he rode with Moroad, and his only goal in life was to grow a full facial beard like his dad. Hell, when he'd gone off to prison, he looked more like a dog with mange than a man.

  "You look so much like your dad," whispered Christina, sucking in air. "How are you? Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

  He gazed over Christina's head and found Lola standing beside the bed. The band around his chest loosened and allowed him to answer Christina. "I'm good."

  Lola tilted her head to the side, and her eyes softened despite the heavily black-lined lashes. Jeremy took in every little detail. She looked good, even better than when he'd left. More relaxed and not as bitter.

  Not knowing her exact age, he put Lola at forty-five though she was probably forty-one or two. She always seemed older and more mature than him. At first glance, Lola's slim figure, large breasts, and narrow waist made her appear younger than her age. She held herself with class and respect after spending her adult life with Moroad, servicing the men, taking whatever little attention anyone had left over for her.

  "Let's let him have some space," said Cam, holding out his hand for Christina. "We'll catch you later at the pit, kid."

  He nodded and stepped back, watching Christina and his dad leave the room. A part of him felt like the 'kid' Cam referenced. He walked over and shut the door and turned around to face Lola.

  Her clutched hands came apart, and she dropped her arms to her sides. Out of all the others, Lola changed the least or maybe he was damn glad to see her, the differences remained unimportant.

  Lola's streaked wavy hair, now shades of brown, blonde, and platinum, hung around her shoulders. Her shirt, lined with lace, hugged her curves. She stepped sideways and sat down on the bed. He lifted his chin, watching her every move.

  She scooted farther onto the mattress until her back was against the headboard, never taking her gaze off him. He stayed by the door. He had many things to talk about with her and his tongue refused to work. His body refused to move. The room suffocated him.

  Lola held out her hand. She had yet to say a word to him, and he welcomed her silence. He couldn't focus and had no desire to open his mouth.

  He stepped forward and stretched out on the bed beside her, laying his head in her lap. Her fingers went to his hair, stroking, soothing, comforting. He closed his eyes, knowing whatever happened; Lola had his back. She'd taken care of him when Cam thrust him into Moroad without giving him the option of becoming a member. She'd listened to him bitch about the lies surrounding his life. She made him laugh when all he wanted to do was run away.

  The other Moroad members believed his relationship with Lola centered around sex. He'd been a teenager with a constant chub, and let them believe what they wanted, and Lola never talked. Anything that happened between them stayed in the room. She anchored him to a life that he tried hard to understand, and their relationship went deeper than sex.

  She smoothed his hair behind his shoulder, tracing her finger along his ear. "You'll be okay," she whispered. "When you're ready, you go out there and show the men who you've become. But, for now, let me take care of you."

  His body shuddered. "Everything has changed."

  "You knew it would." Her hand stroked his whiskered cheek. "Life's about change. You've been through hell and back a few times now. You'll find your place again."

  He wrapped his arm around her thighs, held himself closer to her, and sighed. "Tell me what has stayed the same."

  "Very little." Lola inhaled deeply. "The Moroad women you remember still belong to the club. I no longer comfort the men, but Cam lets me stay around to keep the women in line and protect them from information they have no business knowing."

  "I saw new women standing at the edge of the crowd outside," he said.

  She let out a breath in amusement. "Carbon copies of the others, except younger. You weren't the only one who aged. Katie, Jessie, and Tina are almost forty years old, and Moroad members needed more women who could keep up with the men who walked away from prison. Most of the new women came from Silver Girls like the ones before them. For whatever reason, women preferred Moroad
over Bantorus Motorcycle Club, always going for the dangerous men. Bantorus no longer kept a running business in town and stayed in their clubhouse outside of Federal, but the dancers from both motorcycle clubs still work together at Silver Girls. That arrangement hasn't changed."

  "Who owns Silver Girls?" he asked.

  Lola's hand settled on his head. "I thought you wanted to hear about familiar things."

  He settled his head deeper into the warmth of her thighs. "Answer my question."

  After several seconds, Lola said, "Tiff bought the place from Ink and Lilly. She's been running the business for the last ten years by herself."

  He opened his eyes. When he got hauled off to prison, Tiff's only goal was to get a good paying job and move far away from Federal. The last he'd heard, she was dancing. No one mentioned she owned Silver Girls

  Why in the fuck hadn't she answered his God damn letters at the beginning?

  Chapter Two

  The last door upstairs in the Sterling Building closed. Tiff Carter hurried into the main kitchen—half kitchen/half business central—and set the timer for the Blue Room. She had fifteen minutes while Keely entertained a customer to order dinner for the girls. Then it'd be time to usher all the paying customers out of the upstairs, and get ready for the dance show tonight.

  For a moment, she thrust her fingers into her messy hair and gazed around the messy room. Going non-stop all afternoon, the girls associated with Red Light refused to pick up after themselves. There were coffee cups scattered over the surface of the large, oval table. Assorted female clothing tossed haphazardly over the back of the chairs. Someone left the microwave door open and a warped Cup-a-noodle inside, which had spilled onto the glass carousel plate.

  She let her hands fall to her sides and stepped toward the table. Her toes throbbed from the new heels she'd stupidly decided to wear today.

  Tiff pulled out a chair, removed one lone shoe from the seat, and sat. The relief instant and welcoming to her sore feet. Not wasting time, she picked up her cell and ordered dinner from Silver Valley Bar for the four women who lived and worked in the Sterling Building, plus herself and her assistant, Marci.

  The delivery would arrive soon, and she'd have time to change her clothes and put on different shoes for the long stretch of work she still needed to finish for the day downstairs in Silver Girls.

  Running Red Light upstairs and Silver Girls downstairs made for a long eight-hour shift. Each business brought unique risks and stress to her life.

  Heels clicked against the floor, growing louder. Tiff gazed at the door and waved Marci into the room when the woman stuck her head around the corner.

  "You're not busy?" Marci placed her bag on the table and sat down opposite Tiff.

  She glanced at the timer. "Nope. I have nine minutes."

  "How did you manage that?" Marci leaned back in the chair. "I don't think I've seen you sit down the last three days. You're on a one-woman crusade to run the world."

  Tiff laughed. "That's too much work. I'll be happy if I conquer Red Light."

  Marci waved her hand in front of her. "No one doubts you've nailed running the best damn bordello business in the state. How did today go?"

  "It was busy." Tiff glanced at the timer again. Three minutes. "Our last customer is almost done in the Blue Room, dinner is on its way, and its Friday night during tourist season. I expect a full house downstairs, and tips should be good for the dancers."

  "Girl, you need to take a night off."

  "I can't." Tiff reached across her chest and gripped the tender muscle between her neck and shoulder. "I need to stay ahead of everyone or the place will crumble around me."

  Marci shook her head. "The girls can—"

  The timer rang.

  "Shit." Tiff stood and hurried over to shut off the noise. "I'll be right back."

  She always tried to catch the timer thirty seconds before the ring and use that time to walk down the hallway. The women who worked for her deserved every spare second. Thirty seconds with a man, a stranger, a grabber, a pervert, was thirty seconds too long.

  At the Blue Room, Tiff knocked and swung the unlocked door open. "Time is up."

  Mr. Cochek, Elk member, forty years old, balding, buckled his belt and looked away from Tiff. She caught Keely's gaze and lifted her brows. It was rare for paying customers to last the whole fifteen minutes. The man's confidence bigger than his stamina, he fell victim to all the tricks the Silver Girls played once the door shut and was ready to leave.

  Mr. Cochek ducked his chin and squeezed out the door, slipping on his suit jacket. Tiff lifted her arm, pointing the way to the back door, and escorted him to the back of the building and opened the locked exit door.

  She stroked the customer's arm and whispered, "Please, visit us again."

  "I will," Mr. Cochek said, finally meeting her eyes before leaving as quietly as he came.

  The last customer gone for the night, Tiff walked down the hallway opening the color coded doors to the rooms. The signal for Hannah, Keely, Amanda, and Tahleena that they were free to shower before dinner.

  Back in the main kitchen, Tiff expected to find Marci and instead she found an empty room. She tidied the area, throwing all the discarded clothes in the corner and wiping down the table. She ran a clean business, despite her inability to make the girls pick up after themselves.

  Men were required to wear a condom supplied by Red Light. The women placed a rubber-backed throw rug on the always made beds for the men to lay on to keep everything clean. Each month, she or Marci escorted the women to the family doctor in Federal and had them tested for sexually transmitted diseases.

  While house rules would protect them if the women obeyed every single one, human nature would often get the best of a lonely and needy woman.

  Before she entered into the network and rotated the women, she had a problem once or twice a year when one of the prostitutes would fall for the lines of a returning customer, believing he loved her and allowed him to talk her into going without protection. That's one of the main reasons why she rotated the women every three months. She needed to protect her investments and the women working for the company she hired through took their work more seriously.

  When three months were up, the four women would receive an airline ticket to Nevada, where they'd go to work for one of the other bordellos. In return, new ladies would arrive at the Sterling building for their three months of contracted work with Red Light.

  The only women who stayed working for her year after year were the Silver Girl dancers. Each one of them linked to the two motorcycle clubs in the area. They were never allowed to spread their legs for money, and the bikers kept them honest.

  At one time, she'd danced and enjoyed the comradery with the women and the steady income before she decided to take the leap into ownership.

  The two-ding doorbell rang signaling someone at the downstairs door. Tiff tossed the wet kitchen towel on top of the pile of dirty clothes and grabbed money out of the jar on the shelf.

  Marci stuck her head around the corner at the end of the hallway. "Dinner arrived."

  Tiff waved the cash out in front of her. "I'm coming."

  "I'll get it for you. Go, sit down and rest." Marci took the money out of Tiff's hand.

  "Thanks, babe." Tiff turned and found Keely and Hannah walking out of their rooms.

  Their shift over, they'd taken off their work clothes and each woman wore a pair of yoga pants, a tight Tee that barely covered their flat stomachs, and fuzzy slippers on their feet. Fresh from the shower, Keely wore her wet hair twisted at the back of her head. Hannah's baseball cap held her black hair off her shoulders. If anyone ran into them on the street, they looked like normal twenty-year-old young ladies. The innocent residents of Federal would never suspect the women fucked some of the most prominent men around town including some of their boyfriends, husbands, and daddies for a living.

  Tiff followed them into the room. Her stomach gnawed. She'd skipped lunch to set
up the music for tonight's show. The more she stayed one step ahead of everything that came with running two businesses in one building, the fewer hang-ups she'd need to deal with later.

  "Dinner is served," Marci said, sweeping into the room and placing two plastic bags on the table. "Eat up, ladies. The door downstairs opens in an hour, and that means the upstairs is locked, and you're in for the night."

  Tiff skipped the salad bowls and grabbed one of the Styrofoam containers containing roasted chicken strips and a side order of coleslaw. "Remember to put any tips you want me to put in the safe in an envelope and slide it under my door."

  "Not me." Keely brought the fork up to her mouth, hesitated, and laughed. "I'm going to pay Amanda to give me a mani and pedi on Thursday."

  "Girl, you're never going to save enough money to get out of the business." Hannah picked apart the chicken and put a piece in her mouth. "Once I have thirty-thousand dollars saved up, I'm going to go back to school."

  "To do what?" asked Keely.

  "I want to be a hygienist." Hannah smiled big, showing off her perfect white teeth. "It'll beat having a dick in my mouth every day."

  Tiff laughed, wiping her mouth off with a paper napkin and pushing her empty container to the middle of the table. "All right, I'm going to change clothes and go downstairs. Try to clean up the mess in here. It's getting out of control."

  "Sure thing." Tahleena unscrewed a water bottle. "Good luck tonight. I heard you'll have a full house."

  Tiff paused at the side of the table. The women of Red Light weren't allowed to socialize with the citizens in town and were under strict rules not to socialize with their customers during visits. "Oh, yeah?"

  Tahleena nodded and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "I was sitting out on the balcony when I overheard one of the dancers standing at the back door talking. Apparently, some member of one of their biker gangs is getting released from prison, and the dancer was excited that the bikers were going to come and celebrate by watching a show."