Train's Clash
Page 42

Stud nodded. “That sounds like her. She’s sneaky as fuck, but you already know that, don’t you? If she sent it to you, it means she likes you.”
“How do you know?” Jealousy reared its ugly head. Train had never been jealous over a woman in his entire life. That Killyama could bring out those feeling was going to take some getting used to.
“How do you think I got all those sponsors? Killyama called them when I was thinking of giving up racing. It takes time out of my work schedule, and Sex Piston’s shop was going through a slump when she ticked off one of her biggest customers. With four kids, it was hard to justify my racing.”
“If you need—” Train had started to offer a loan, but Stud stopped him.
“It’s all good now. The money made from the sponsors picked up the slack, and Sex Piston’s customer came back. She’s good at her job, and the rich bitches like to look good.”
“If you need anything, the offer is there.”
“I won’t. Congrats again. I better be going before she rips out my radio.” Stud started to leave then stopped. “I heard what Sex Piston said. She is right about one thing. If you want Killyama, you will have to go through Sex Piston first.”
“I’m figuring that out for myself. Any ideas?”
Stud rubbed a thoughtful finger across the bridge of his nose. “Find something she wants, but don’t let her have it.”
Train drew a blank. “Like what?”
“Damned if I know. I had to use my kids to get her attached to me.” He gestured toward Sex Piston. “And brother, I might like you, but you can’t have my kids. You’re more than welcome to drop in for a beer when you want to see Killyama, but it won’t earn you kudos from either of them. You’ll think of something … You have a clubhouse at your back to bounce ideas off of.”
Only one brother was smart enough to help him out of this dilemma … Shade.
“I’m going to take your advice. Later, Stud.”
Stud waved back as he got in the front of the truck.
Train waved politely at Sex Piston, seeing her raise up her finger in a fuck-you gesture as he turned away.
Rider was waiting when he slid in the front seat of the truck. He had to shove the large pile of T-shirts over so he could get in.
“How much did you spend?”
Rider put the truck in gear, heading home. “Two hundred.”
“You spent two hundred dollars just to piss off Shade?”
“Yep.” Rider grinned unrepentantly. “Making him mad is worth any amount of money.”
“I’ll remind you of that when I’m covering your casket with dirt.”
“Shade won’t kill me. He might want to, but he won’t. It’ll hurt Lily too much.”
“Brother, a woman is going to bring you down to earth, and when she does, you’re going to hit hard.”
“That woman doesn’t exist,” he stated cockily. “You need me to give you some lessons? I didn’t see Killyama hanging out with you after the race. Did you at least get a kiss for winning when you went searching for Stud?”
“No, she already left. But Sex Piston made sure to congratulate me when she told me to fuck off.”
“Damn, that must have hurt.” Rider’s cheerful attitude had him wishing he had caught a ride with Shade and the women. “What’s your next move, since that one didn’t work out so hot?”
“I don’t know. Sex Piston told me I had to get past her first.”
“She said that?”
Train nodded. “She came right out and told me I wasn’t getting into her bitch’s panties without her say-so.”
“You going to ask Shade what he would do?”
“I don’t need Shade’s advice.” He would, but he wouldn’t admit it to Rider if his balls were on fire.
“You need more than Shade’s advice; you need a fucking miracle.”
Train looked up to see they were stopped at a red light. Rider was waving at an attractive woman in a sports car who was waving back. Maybe the person he should be asking was sitting right next to him. If Rider knew he wanted his advice, though, he would never hear the end of it.
Trying to be cool, he nonchalantly asked, “What would you do?”
Rider took his eyes off the blonde, who looked like she was ready to jump out of her car and into their truck, and looked at him. “What would I do?” he asked in shock.
Flushing, Train clenched his jaw. “Yes, how would you make Sex Piston like you?”
The light turned green. “Give me a minute to think.” Rider’s face turned thoughtful.
He should have just kept his big mouth shut until he could talk to Shade.
“I know.” Rider snapped his fingers.
“What is it?” Train asked when Rider didn’t tell him right away.
“What’s in it for me? I did my good deed for the day when I loaned you my bike.”
Train sighed. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
Train did. Rider was curious about how Killyama was in bed. He had repeatedly asked what she had done to him the night she had spent in the clubhouse to make him yell out. Train had never answered his questions. Now Rider wanted to watch when Train had sex with her.
“I’ll tell you what. You help me figure out how to get past Sex Piston, and if Killyama ever lets me invite anyone to watch, you have first dibs.”
Rider shrugged. “I can live with that.”
“So…?” If the brother didn’t wipe that expression off his face, Train was going to deck him when the truck came to a stop. The randy bastard was anticipating more than just watching. He was going to be shit out of luck, unless Killyama was on board.
He listened to Rider’s plan for the rest of the ride back to the clubhouse. Then, when he pulled into the parking lot, Train could only stare at him.
“Viper will never go for it,” was all Train could say.
“Convincing Viper is up to you. I’m only telling you what I would do.”
“It’ll never work.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask. If he won’t do it, ask Winter to try to persuade him.”
“I stand a better chance asking Stud if I can adopt one of his kids. I’ll try it on my own. If not, then I’ll ask Viper.”
They got out of the truck to unload Rider’s bike.
“I don’t envy you. I don’t know what’s worse: Sex Piston liking you or hating your guts.”
“I’ll just be happy if she doesn’t try to poison my beer when I’m not looking.”
“I take it you’re going to take up Stud’s offer of a beer sooner than he expected?”
Train nodded. “As soon I get cleaned up.”
“I’ve got this. Go ahead,” Rider offered when they unloaded the bike.
“You sure? I was going to wash it for you.”
“I’ll do it.” Rider was meticulous in caring for his bikes, and he hardly offered to loan them out.
“Thanks, brother.”
“I’d say any time, but I would be lying,” Rider joked as he pushed the motorcycle through the back entrance of the factory where he kept his collection under lock and key.