Train's Clash
Page 37

Moon peered at him through the smoky haze of his exhale. “Go get some sleep. I’ll stay here until you get back.”
He nodded. “Archer is watching the back. I’ll be back in the morning.” Train hated to leave, but he had some business to take care of with Shade.
“I’ve got it covered. Enjoy yourself and get some sleep.”
“I will.” Train grimly kicked up his kickstand. Seven members were waiting for their own share of the fun, all eight original members must be present for the Last Riders to serve their own brand of justice.
His bike sped down the winding roads toward Treepoint, its headlight guiding his way as lightning streaked across the sky. Knowing the road like the back of his hand, Train seamlessly rode, determined to beat the storm.
Gliding over the pavement at breakneck speeds like a thunderbolt waiting to strike, at the journey’s end, the damage wrought would claim a victim.
 
 
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“Which color?” Killyama held up the two fingernail polishes for Star to choose from.
Sex Piston’s youngest stepdaughter had her little mouth pursed as she debated which one to pick. “Why can’t I have that one?” Star pointed at the deep red that Killyama had used to paint Fat Louise’s nails earlier.
“What’s wrong with these?” Killyama tried to steer her toward the more subdued colors.
“They aren’t as pretty.”
“Your daddy will like these.” She wiggled the two polishes enticingly. “He’ll yell at me if I paint your toenails that shade of red.”
“Is he going to yell at Fat Louise?” The soft-hearted little girl looked worried.
“Yes,” Killyama lied unrepentantly. Sometimes with kids, you had to put the fear of God into them. If not God, then Stud was a good second for one who worshiped him. “That’s why she left before your daddy comes home.”
“The pink.”
“I like the pink, too.” Killyama shook the bottle as she reached for Star’s foot. The little girl began falling to the floor, catching herself. When she kept tickling her unmercifully, Star’s giggles had Killyama laughing with her as they rolled on the floor.
“Do I need to send you girls to time out?”
Killyama quickly sat up at the sound of Stud’s voice. She tugged her top back down that had inched up during the skirmish, turning toward the door and projecting the patronizing attitude she always wore unless her guard was down.
The sight of Stud and Train standing in the doorway had her nearly exposing the shock of seeing The Last Rider in Stud’s family room. She had avoided him during the holidays by refusing Beth’s and Lily’s invitations to celebrate with them, saying she was too busy with work. Since then, she had been glad they lived in different counties so she hadn’t run into him when she was around town.
“What’s he doing here?” That wasn’t the choice of words she wanted to use, but the little girl’s presence had her filtering her words.
The corner of Train’s mouth quirked up.
“I invited him to lunch, if that’s okay with you?” Stud’s expression showed he didn’t care if it was or wasn’t. “We’re taking a break from designing the new bike Train ordered.”
“Did you include the price of lunch in the quote for the bike? If not, there’s a McDonald’s ten miles away.”
“Yes.”
Damn, the bastard used her own trick against her. She would have to warn Sex Piston he could lie as easily as she could.
“Where’s Sex Piston?” Stud asked.
“In the kitchen.”
“Take a seat, Train. I’ll go tell her you’re eating with us.”
If the fucker expected to get a nicer response from his wife, he was going to be disappointed.
“Ready, Star?” Killyama turned back to the little girl.
Obediently, the child sat down on the floor, holding her foot out. Killyama sat cross-legged as she opened the nail polish. She delicately proceeded to brush the pink polish on the nail beds, trying to hold her hand steady as Train made himself comfortable on the couch.
She felt his eyes taking her in, going from the bright red polish on her toes to her black shorts, and then raising his eyes to her black and white tie-dyed shirt. She almost touched the skull and crossbones bandana at her throat. Forcing the new habit back, she made herself keep painting Star’s nails nonchalantly, as if his presence in the room didn’t bother her.
“You’re looking good.”
“You talking to me?” she asked snidely.
“Yes.”
She scoffed. “I always look good.”
“Yes, you do.” Appreciation glowed in his eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman. It would be hard for you not to see that when you look a mirror.”
“Dude, save your compliments for the w-h-o-r-e-s.” Conscious of the little girl listening, she spelled out the word.
“You want to go for a ride?”
“Viper cool with that?” Killyama set the foot she was working on down, reaching for Star’s other foot.
“Viper doesn’t tell me who to spend my time with when I’m not working. I’m off for the rest of the day.” He paused. “There’s a movie showing at the park. We could take a blanket and watch it.”
“I’m busy. Ask … Jewell.” She had almost mentioned Sasha but managed to stop herself from revealing that she knew the woman was out of jail.
“I’m asking you. If you don’t want to, I can hang out here with you. Or we could go to the Destructors’ clubhouse.”
Killyama set Star’s foot down, telling the girl, “Go see what is taking your mom so long?”
“It’ll ruin my polish!”
“If it does, I’ll fix it before I leave.”
“Promise?”
“I said so,” Killyama said calmly, not wanting to take her frustration out on the child.
As soon as Star was out of earshot, Killyama lithely stood then advanced toward Train. “Since when do you want to take me riding? The only sucker in this room is you. If you want payback, take your best shot. If not, then get the fuck out of here.”
Before she could blink, Train dragged her down to his lap. When she would have punched him, he twisted her hands behind her back with one of his.
She fiercely tried to struggle out of his hold. Using her legs—the only part of her body she could still use—she attempted to throw herself off the couch. However, Train circumvented her move by using one of his long legs to pin her down.
She reared her head back when he lowered his to hers. At first, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he stared deeply into her eyes. Unlike her, Train was eerily calm.
Seeing she wasn’t going anywhere until he was ready to let her go, or she yelled for help, which she refused to do, Killyama settled down on his lap.
“That’s better.” Train stroked his thumb over her collarbone, just beneath the bandana.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed.
Train moved his hand to her waist, her abdomen quivering under his touch.
Remaining quiet, she hoped he would go as soon as he said what he apparently wanted to say.