Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9)

  “Damn, dude, I didn’t expect you to get so hot under the collar about me doing other men. I didn’t take you for the jealous type. Is it just the Destructors you don’t want me fucking, or does that include The Last Riders?”

  From his brooding gaze, either Train didn’t want to answer her question, or he couldn’t. She was glad he didn’t, because she wouldn’t have been happy with the answer she was sure he would have given.

  The Last Riders didn’t share pussy with other clubs, but sharing it among themselves was expected. Beth and Lily had never shared the details of the Friday night parties they had attended. How far the sisters went during those parties was anyone’s guess. Killyama was guessing not far, though. Or, at least that was the hope she clung to. That, and her and Train could somehow work out a relationship they could live with, and wouldn’t leave one—meaning her—doing what they didn’t want to do.

  She didn’t want to have sex with any other Last Rider, and she sure as hell didn’t want to watch Train giving it to another woman in front of her.

  Maybe renting a porn would be a compromise they could both live with.

  “Who are you smiling at?” Train looked over his shoulder suspiciously.

  “Do you see me staring at anyone but you?”

  “Just checking.”

  She gripped his ass tighter as they danced a couple of songs before deciding to play pool. She won all three games and, when Rabbit asked if he could play, she let the two men have it, taking a stool to watch.

  She ordered beers for the men who gathered around to watch Train beat Rabbit, and then he won against Bear. When he won against Pike, she ordered them all a shot of whiskey.

  “Where you going? Let’s play another game.”

  Train shook his head when Pike tried to coax him into another game. “Another time. I don’t want Killyama getting bored.”

  Killyama tipped her shot glass, saluting him. “Good save. You know they’re all scared of me and wouldn’t bug you to play after that excuse.”

  He grinned. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  She smiled back, giving him the beer she had ordered for him.

  He was thirstily drinking it when Jenna held out her hand. “That’ll be a hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

  Train lowered his beer bottle, staring down at it like it was somehow made out of gold. “I thought a beer is five bucks if you don’t belong to the club. If it costs me a hundred and seventy-five dollars for you to bring it to me, next time, I’ll get it out of the cooler myself.”

  “It’s not for one beer. Killyama said the last three rounds for the men were on you.”

  Train tilted his beer to his mouth, finishing it before setting it down on the table. Then he reached for his wallet.

  Killyama humorously watched him fork over the money he had just won.

  “Nice wallet,” Jenna complimented, counting the cash he had given her.

  “Thanks. It was a gift.” Train waited until Jenna went back behind the counter before he took the shot of tequila Killyama was about to drink.

  “Hey … That was mine.” She couldn’t help laughing at his disgruntled expression.

  “Want to tell me why I bought, not one, but three rounds of beer?”

  “The first two rounds were beer. The last one was whiskey.”

  Train choked on her shot of tequila.

  “And it was cheaper than a visit to the emergency room, which is where the brothers would have sent you if you had won another game. The only reason your ass isn’t in an ambulance right now is because I was smart enough to buy those rounds for them, and because they’re slow as shit and didn’t know they were dealing with a pool shark until you beat Pike.” She swiveled on the stool she was sitting on. “Jenna, bring me another shot of tequila and another beer for Train,” she yelled out before turning back to him.

  “Am I buying that, too?”

  “No, it’s on me. Don’t be pissy. You’re lucky I got over my mad spell with you and we’re friends now. Before, I would have warned them. I’m a good pool player, but I’m not that good.” She rolled her eyes at his lame attempt to get on her good side by letting her win all three games.

  “Lucky me,” he grumbled.

  It took another beer before she could talk him into dancing with her again. When they sat down to take a break, several men pulled chairs up to join them.

  “Where’s the rest of the crew tonight?” Calder asked. “I haven’t seen Stud tonight, either.”

  Killyama cocked her head at Train as he deliberately pulled her chair closer to his, dropping an arm over her shoulder. He was practically pissing on her chair to stake her as his property.

  “Stud and Sex Piston had a teacher’s conference with Meri and Keri’s teacher. Sex Piston keeps making up excuses for missing, so both of them went this time. Crazy Bitch and T.A. are out on a double date, and Fat Louise and Cade are hanging out at their house with their baby.”

  “The girls in trouble?” Before Calder had gone to prison, he wouldn’t have cared less if the girls were in trouble. Then prison and the rehab Stud had sent him to had given him the opportunity to get clean. It had taken time for him to mend fences within the club and form relationships with his nieces and nephew.

  “No, the girls want to be foreign exchange students next year, and Sex Piston is fighting it all the way.”

  “What does Stud think about it?”

  “You know Stud; he isn’t crazy about it, either, but it’s not like he can spring for a family trip to Paris.”

  “I’m with Sex Piston. Two young girls in Paris? Stud would just be asking for trouble.”

  Killyama stiffened. “I don’t know why not. I told Sex Piston she should let them go,” she lied. She wasn’t about to offer any advice when it was Stud and Sex Piston’s call to make. If they felt the girls could act responsible, then she was all for it. “You think they’ll bang any man with a French accent?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Hell yes, but that’s me, not Meri and Keri.”

  Train dropped his arm from around her shoulder. “You’d fuck a man just because he had a French accent?”

  “Hell yes.” She wasn’t about to back down in front of the men. “What woman wouldn’t? It’s called the city of love for a reason.” She fucking cracked herself up. Crazy Bitch was usually the one who enjoyed baiting the men in the club, but since she was AWOL, Killyama decided to fill in for her. “All I’d have to hear is three simple words: ‘Welcome to Paris,’ in French, and I’d do him.”

  Train rose to his feet. “Really? That’s all it would take to get you in bed?”

  Killyama had meant to aggravate Calder, not Train. That was just a bonus. He was sexy as hell when he was jealous …

  “Bienvenue a Paris.”

  “What’d you say?” Killyama put her finger in her ear, trying to pop the plug that kept her from understanding what he had said.

  Train repeat the unintelligible words again. Then he repeated it in the only language she understood.

  “I said, Welcome to Paris.”

  23

  “Go home, asshole! You’re going to wake my neighbors!”

  Train tried to reason with the furious woman, but she ignored all of his attempts to cool her down. The only reason he had managed to get her on his bike was because she had been damned by her own words. Then she had taken off like a scalded cat as soon as he had parked at her apartment building.

  If he hadn’t kept up his military training, he wouldn’t have made it to her door in time before she could lock herself inside. He had barely managed to jam a boot in the door to keep her from closing it.

  She braced her shoulder against the door as he tried to reason with her to let him inside. She was still trying to lock him out when she heard her next-door neighbor ask if there was a problem.

  Frustrated, she let the him inside, and Train held his hands up in the air as he shut the door with his boot.

  Train cautiously eyed her over as
they faced off. Her hair was a tumbled mass of curls as she held his helmet, and he could see her perfect breasts trembling under the silky black top she wore.

  He chose his words wisely, not wanting to find out the hard way if she had inherited her mother’s habit of head bashing.

  “It better be English,” she warned when he opened his mouth.

  “Don’t blame me because I took you at your word. How was I supposed to know you would get mad for calling your bluff?”

  She began pacing in her high-heeled boots, going from one end of the room to the other. “I. Am. Not. Going. To. Fuck. You just because you started mouthing off a bunch of mumbo jumbo.” She raked her hair back, making it more disarrayed.

  “It’s not mumbo jumbo; it’s French. I speak it fluently. I took it in high school, college, and used it a few times in the military. Want me to show you that I can repeat what you want in French?”

  “La te da.” She threw him a nasty look at she continued pacing. “Can you say ‘go home’ in French?”

  “Yes, but I want to know why first. Why don’t you want to have sex with me now? You said you wanted to think it over—obviously you have or you wouldn’t have invited me to meet your mother, or meet you at the clubhouse. So, what’s up?”

  Sighing in defeat, she admitted, “I told Sex Piston and the other bitches I wouldn’t.”

  “Why in the hell would you tell them that? Personally, I don’t think it’s any of their business, but I know you are all tight. Why would they care as long as it’s what you want?” His stomach sank at a sudden thought. “Did you tell them you don’t want me?”

  “No. They just want me to be careful. They don’t want me to get hurt.”

  “You’re not the only who can be hurt here.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Why not? I’m taking a chance, too. I should be the one worried … Have I done anything you asked me not to? You’re the one who almost ran me over.”

  She stopped pacing to stare at him. He could see what she had been hiding from him; what Winter and everyone had been saying. She cared for him, and she was afraid he would want her only physically. However, if he gave her the breathing room she wanted, he might never get her back to the point they were now.

  He moved to stand in front of her, tracing a lone finger along the bottom of the black bandana that curved around her throat. This was as close to being vulnerable as she was going to show him.

  She put her hand up to stop him from touching her.

  Sliding out from under her restraining hand, he drew an imaginary line down her chest, coming to a stop at the button between her breasts. “Do you want to know who the woman was who’s name I covered up?”

  “Yes.” Train wanted to kiss the lip that she tugged between her teeth.

  “Her name was Nalin, and she was my mother.” Train unbuttoned the first button, sliding down to the next one.

  “Why did you cover up your mother’s name?”

  “Because she lied to me. My father was a drunk.” Train’s lips twisted in mockery. “Not only was he a drunk, he was a mean drunk. Everyone on the reservation was afraid of him. I was seven when my mother saved enough money from cleaning houses to move us to Louisiana, where my father found a job with an offshore drilling company. My mother was so excited. She thought it would be a new start for us. I wasn’t as excited. I didn’t want to leave my grandparents behind, but my two little sisters and I had no choice.

  “My father stayed sober when he was on the job, but when he came home, a bottle was in his hand. Our mother never told us when he was coming. I doubt she even knew herself. I would usually find out he was home when I heard him walking down to my mother’s room at night after the bars were closed. My sisters would sneak into my room when they heard them fighting.” Train slipped another button free as Killyama’s pale face watched his movements. She didn’t stop him.

  “I was nine years old when he made the mistake of trying to beat my sister when she had gone into our mother’s bedroom. The days my father wasn’t there, Lenna would snuggle with my mother until it was time to get ready for school. We hadn’t heard him come home that night.

  “My father was still drunk and started beating Lenna. My mother tried to pull him off, but he just beat her, too. I still remember lying on my bedroom floor as he tried to rape my baby sister.” Train unbuttoned another button. Her skin was like satin where his fingers touched, keeping him rooted in the present as he recounted the memories of his past.

  “I lost it. My father wasn’t used to us fighting back, so I managed to get him off of Lenna. It was the only time in my life my mother called the police. She knew he would kill me for fighting him.

  “The police came and arrested him. He lost his job, and the courts wouldn’t let him back in our home.” Train shook his head at the turmoil that erupted because of that night. “My mother wouldn’t take him back after that happened. Me and my sisters wanted to move back to the reservation, but my mother wouldn’t. She was determined we would have a better life.” Another button was undone.

  “She scrimped and saved, and we moved into an apartment in a good neighborhood that had the best school in the state. I would go with her to clean businesses at night, and go to school in the morning, grabbing a few hours’ sleep as she would finish the few jobs she didn’t need my help with. By my senior year high school, she built up her business so that she could hire other workers. That was when I decided to go into the military. I didn’t think she needed me anymore.”

  Train paused before flicking the next button undone. “I was in my second year in the military when I found out from my sister that our mother was seeing our father again. I made my sister put my mother on the phone, and we talked a long time. She swore to me that she wasn’t taking him back, that she was seeing him because she felt sorry for him. She said he was living on the streets. She swore to me that she would never let him come near my sisters. She lied.

  “A week later, I was staring down at my mother and sisters’ graves. Lenna, Ela, and my mother had all lied to me. My mother had let my father move back in before Lenna had even told me that she was seeing him.” Train spread the silky blouse away from her, staring down at her rose-tipped breasts. He gently pressed a kiss on the flesh between them.

  “That’s why you covered up your tattoo?”

  “Yes, and that’s why I would never lie to you, and I don’t want you to lie to me. Lies affect everyone around you.” Raising his head, he pulled the two parts of her top back together. “And since I have no intention of making you a liar, I’m going home.” He turned to leave.

  “Train?”

  He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. His self-control had limits, and seeing her hazel eyes look defenseless was more than he could take.

  “I told them I wouldn’t fuck you until I was sure you wouldn’t fuck around on me.”

  Train turned. “I already told you I won’t.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I want to be upfront, Rae. Neither us knows how this will work out, but I will be honest.”

  “I will, too.”

  When he started to leave again, she reached out, looping the wallet chain that was clipped onto his jeans around her finger.

  “How do you say ‘fuck me’ in French?”

  His eyes narrowed on her sultry expression. One minute, she could have a man cringing in fear, and the next … she was a modern day Delilah.

  She shrugged her blouse off then moved closer to brush her breasts against his T-shirt. Train unsnapped her jeans, speaking softly in French as he started tugging them down. She then brought her hands to his biceps so she could maintain her balance as her boots prevented the jeans from dropping to the floor. Train tangled his foot with hers as he gave Killyama a small push backward.

  She stared up at him without comprehension, asking, “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘fuck me’ in Apache. I also asked if you’re wet?”

  “If I wasn’t bef
ore, I am now. That’s hot. Say some more.”

  Train took off his T-shirt. “How about I show you instead?”

  She leaned forward, unlacing her boots then taking them off and slinging them to the floor.

  They kissed as they finished undressing each other. Train was so excited about having her willing and submissive under him that he ignored the pain coming from his ankle. When it became a trail of fire, he broke free from the kiss to see a cat staring up at him with beady eyes.

  “What the hell?”

  Killyama reached down to pick up the hissing cat that was doing his damnedest to scratch him again. “This is Gollum.”

  “It’s a cat?” He was looking at Gollum as if he had never seen a cat before. “That doesn’t look like a cat. Cats are cute, fluffy fur balls. What you’re holding needs an exorcist.”

  Killyama laughed. “He’s not that bad.”

  Train saw the whatever-it-was swat Killyama, leaving a thin scratch on her forearm.

  She hugged the cat to her, soothing his ruffled fur. “He was Fat Louise’s sister’s cat first. When she wanted to kill him, Fat Louise took him. Then, when she married Cade, Crazy Bitch took him. When Crazy Bitch threatened to kill him, I took him and renamed him Gollum. It used to be Manson.”

  “Manson suits him better.” Train jerked his wrist back when the cat tried to scratch him again.

  “I’m not giving my cat away.”

  Train had never seen hurt in Killyama’s eyes in the years he had known her. She was showing it now.

  “Killy, my sisters had a cat. It was nicer and would rub against my leg. Gollum and I will eventually get along, too. What do you usually do with Mans—Gollum when men come over?”

  Killyama buried her face in the cat’s fur.

  Even if he hadn’t heard from Shade and Viper about how courageous she was in the past, it showed now. Train couldn’t think of any other woman who would put her face near that hissing, spitting spawn of some fucked up creature.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask …” Killyama started. “Does a little lie count?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even a little, little one?” She pinched two fingers together with her free hand.