Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9) (2 page)

“
A
re
you out of your fucking mind?”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Killyama swung her legs off the side of the hospital bed. Swaying, she grabbed the handrail to keep herself from taking a nose dive toward the floor.

“Lay your ass back down.” Sex Piston lifted her feet back onto the bed.

“I want to go home,” Killyama complained, laying her head down on the pillow and closing her eyes. She had to fight back the dizziness, taking deep breaths to calm the nausea that had her gut in a vice grip.

“What’s the damn hurry?” Sex Piston slid the handrail up, preventing her from trying to get out of bed again. “You only got out of surgery five hours ago; the doctor won’t release you for another couple of days.”

“I’m not asking for his permission. I want to get out here before …” Killyama looked toward the doorway as the door opened after a brief knock.

The reason she had been trying to get away walked through the door behind Lucky.

Crowding into the small room, the two men ignored the women huddled around her bed. Her friends hadn’t left her side since they had met the ambulance at the Jamestown Hospital after she had been shot trying to save The Last Riders’ president’s wife.

Winter had gone into labor during a home invasion that had only one objective: to kill Winter and Viper. Anyone else who had thwarted that goal was simply collateral damage. Raul Silva had a score to settle with The Last Riders and the Destructors after putting an end to his cartel’s tyranny in a small town over the Mexican border.

Lucky came to stand at the foot of her bed as Train leaned against the wall underneath the small television set mounted high on the wall.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m still breathing.” Killyama focused on Lucky, ignoring Train as if he weren’t even in the room.

It wasn’t easy ignoring him since the biker was tall, even with his frame leaning against the wall. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, legs braced apart, and his muscular forearms showed under the black jacket he had pushed up to his elbows. His skin was dark, hinting a Native-American heritage, with high cheekbones and a sensual mouth. He had a sex appeal that could hit a woman any time he entered a room, and the fucker knew it.

“I can see that.” Lucky’s lips twisted in humor. “Stud called when you came out of surgery and said the doctor didn’t think there wouldn’t be any lasting damage.”

“I heard that Viper’s kid isn’t doing well.”

Lucky’s humor vanished. “No, she isn’t. That’s why I’m here and not Viper. He wants me, as vice president, to extend our gratitude to you and Sex Piston on his behalf.”

“Well, aren’t you being all fancy talking.” She looked away from the two men’s gazes, not wanting them to see how concerned she was for Winter and the baby’s condition.

Everyone who knew her thought she didn’t have a soft bone in her body. She hated soft-spoken bitches who could cry at the drop of a hat. Killyama prided herself on holding her own, no matter what she was up against. She had no intention of dropping her heartless façade in front of these two men.

“It’s a serious topic. The Last Riders don’t take what you both did lightly. Anything you want, if it is within our power, we’ll take care of it.”

Sex Piston swung her head toward Lucky. “We’ll call it even. You don’t owe me shit. If Raul had lived, everyone knows that fucker would have come after Stud, Cade, and Fat Louise. Besides, I only held Winter’s hand. Killyama is the reason we got out alive.”

Killyama averted her eyes from Sex Piston. If the bitch got mushy in front of the men, she would bitch slap her, right after she hugged her.

Lucky nodded at Sex Piston, and then turned toward Killyama. “How about you? You need a new ride? That car you drive is a piece of crap. The muffler is held on with a zip-tie.”

“Don’t need a car,” Killyama refused. She could tell from Train’s stiffening stance he had expected her to jump on the chance of getting rid of the car. “It’s a classic. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean I need to get rid of it.”

“Take your time. Let me know when you decide—”

“Believe me; I will.” Killyama sat up straight, almost laughing at the trepidation on both of their faces. “Scared, Train? Afraid I’ll ask for another ride?”

“You want another ride, then all you have to do is ask.” His indifferent shrug took all the fun out of baiting him. “I think saving Winter’s life is worth more than a bike ride.”

Unable to bite back the hateful words spilling out of her mouth, she caustically replied, “I agree, especially not one from you. From what I remember, a ride from you wasn’t that great.”

Red stole up from the neck of his T-shirt.

Sex Piston had a soft spot for the wives of The Last Riders. Many of them had become friends. Her best friend was just grateful that everyone had lived. However, sentiment didn’t figure into Killyama’s conscience when she needed to keep someone away from her. If she had to portray herself as a self-serving bitch in front of Train, so be it. It was better than him realizing the truth.

Bikers were notorious for living a free and easy lifestyle, yet The Last Riders took that lifestyle to new heights. The Destructors might screw the same women, but at least they fucked behind closed doors and didn’t put on a show for everyone else to see. You couldn’t say the same for The Last Riders, which was one of the reasons Killyama kept her guard up around him.

Lucky raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else you would rather ride with?”

“Hell no. I bought my own bike. You can go back and tell Viper that when I decide what The Last Riders owe me, he’ll be the first to know. Shade didn’t have a problem calling in the IOU for getting Fat Louise out of Mexico, did he?”

Killyama felt Train’s stare boring a hole through her. Thank God Sex Piston had talked Killyama into letting her fix her hair. The thought of Train seeing her hair filled with blood and matted against her head had the feminine side of her cringing. She fought hard to repress that side of her, but every now and then, it slipped out where he was concerned.

“No, he didn’t.” Lucky didn’t let the sparks that were flying back and forth between her and Train faze him.

Killyama wanted Train gone, because whatever pain medicine they had given her was wearing off. However, neither man made a move to leave.

“Anything else?”

“Train, give me a minute.”

Train didn’t move from his position against the wall until Lucky turned to give him a look that Killyama couldn’t see. When he straightened from his relaxed stance, she kept her eyes glued to Lucky, not wanting her expression to give her away.

Train was like a magnet that kept pulling her toward him, despite her mind telling her that she just needed to get laid. He lived in Treepoint, and she lived in Jamestown. They didn’t run into each other that often, unless Sex Piston talked her into going to their town, so it would be a while before she would see him again.

When the door didn’t open, Killyama lifted her eyes to meet his. He made sure she saw the ominous look promising retribution before he opened the door to leave.

After the door shut quietly behind him, Lucky gave his own warning. “Don’t let Train fool you. He’s not going to keep taking the disrespect you keep throwing at him.”

“Train wants my respect, then he has to earn it. Just because I fuck a man once doesn’t mean he’s automatically getting it. He knows exactly what I think about him. If he has a problem with that, he can take it up with me. I don’t need you or anyone else playing interference.”

Lucky lost his affable expression. “I bet you played with matches when you were a kid.”

“I still do. Train’s the one you should be warning. I keep a fire extinguisher if I need it.” If Train ever tried to lay a hand on her, he would find a forty-five shoved up his ass.

“I’ll pass that on to him.” Lucky nodded to the women raptly watching the exchange. “I better get going. I don’t want to tire you out.” More like she was tiring him out.

She lost her bitchy attitude when Lucky moved to the side of her bed, placing his hand on the arm that was covered in bandages and hanging in a sling.

“Thank you, from all of The Last Riders. May God bless you for being there when Winter and the baby needed you.”

Killyama remained silent as Lucky prayed for her recovery and then left them when he finished with the somber reality that a child was still fighting for her life.

“I feel so bad for Winter and the baby.” Fat Louise’s lip trembled.

“We all do. I only wish I had been the one to put the bullet in Raul.”

“Jackal may have pulled the trigger, but you made it possible.” Crazy Bitch sat down on the bottom of her bed. “I nearly pissed myself from laughing when Sex Piston told us about you swatting the gun toward Jackal with your flip-flop.”

“Best dollar and ninety-nine cents I ever spent.” Killyama laughed with her friends.

“You’re really going to ask them for payback?” T.A.’s question had the laughter coming to a sudden stop.

“Do I look stupid? It’s not every day that I can have The Last Riders at my beck and call.”

Fat Louise shook her head, giving her a reproachful look. “That’s not why you saved her.”

Fat Louise had always been the softest-hearted in their crew who had formed a bond during high school. However, her marriage and the birth of her now three-month old son had turned her into a tender-hearted sap.

“No, I did it to save Sex Piston and my own life. Winter was just a bonus.”

“Bullshit.” Sex Piston pinned her with a steely gaze. “I saw you jumping Raul, blocking Winter with your own body. You were ready to martyr yourself to save her, just like when you saved me from those six bitches who jumped me on the school bus.”

Killyama picked up the television remote, turning up the volume, and Sex Piston took it away from her, turning it off.

“You want to hold it over Train’s head, don’t you? When are you going to get over him? He damn sure isn’t pining over you.”

“No, he isn’t.” Killyama dropped her lashes, shielding her eyes. Damn, she felt like crap, and Sex Piston telling her what she already knew didn’t help.

Her probing gaze had Killyama trying to sidetrack her friend. “Don’t think I forgot you didn’t run when I told you to.”

“We made a pact in high school to always be there when we need each other. I wasn’t leaving you alone.”

“The fierce five are still standing strong, aren’t we?” Killyama reached out, and Sex Piston took her hand, linking her other hand to Fat Louise’s, who reached for Crazy Bitch’s, who turned to T.A., who got off the bed to take her hand. “Bitches rule. Boys drool.” Killyama spoke the silly chant they promised to keep. “From fat to slim, from bad hair days and bad tatts, we swear never to steal each other’s boyfriends, or never talk about each other behind our backs—”

“I might have broken that one,” Sex Piston interrupted.

Killyama saw Crazy Bitch elbow her without releasing her hand.

“Or stop driving the green cherry breaker we all lost our virginity in—”

“Didn’t Sex Piston lie about that one? Ouch!” Fat Louise complained when T.A pinched her with her free hand.

“Despite husbands with big bikes and bratty kids, we’ll be friends, side by side to the end of fucking time.”

“Technically, Sex Piston moved away,” Crazy Bitch reminded them.

“Bitch, cut me some slack. I drive to town every day just to be with you all.” Sex Piston tried to drop her hands, but they didn’t let her.

“Um … You never said … Just how big is Stud’s bike?” T.A. sniggered. “How do we know you didn’t break that rule, too?”

“I told you about Cade. You all didn’t stop hounding me about the bitch’s code until I did,” Fat Louise voiced.

Killyama fought sleep to hear Sex Piston’s answer.

“Shut up. Stud didn’t get his nickname by driving a moped.”

W
hen Train heard
footsteps coming down the hall, his hand instinctively tightened in Sasha’s hair as she sucked on his cock. Even though he knew it was one of the brothers heading toward their room, the sound of heavy footfalls always brought back memories from his childhood that were better left forgotten. He had learned before entering the military that evil uses darkness to strike their unwary victims.

He could tell from the footfalls that it was Rider, and when he heard the door across the hall from his open yet not close, he loosened his hold, letting Sasha slide his dick farther down her tight throat.

“What’s wrong?” Jewell lifted her head from the mattress, tightening her thighs over his shoulder as she pulled him back down to her glistening pussy.

“Nothing.” Train lowered his mouth, obeying her silent demand. Pressing his lips on the eager pussy, he created a suction around Jewell’s opening that had both of her thighs gripping his shoulders even tighter.

“Damn … that feels
so
damn good,” she said on a moan, twisting the covers.

Train didn’t break the hold he had created. Using his tongue, he delved between the lips of her pussy, exploring her as if he had never tasted her before. He could feel her thighs shaking as he built her toward an orgasm.

“More …”

Train lifted his head, leaving her pussy with a swipe of his tongue across her clit. “I can’t give you more unless Sasha is willing to give up my dick.”

Sasha shook her head, unable to talk with his dick in her mouth.

Train moved his hips to give her more, burying his cock to the root. Then he reached out, touching her throat where he could see the outline of his cock.

“That’s sexy as fuck.” His praise had Sasha doubling her efforts to please him.

“Then yell for Rider …” Jewell panted.

Train lifted himself on his elbow to stare down at her humorlessly. “You think I need another man to handle two women?”

Jewell’s face went white. “No … No, I-I only meant …” Jewell stuttered to a stop. The woman knew if she pissed him off, it would be a while before she worked herself back into his bed.

“You want my dick more than Sasha does?” Train combed his fingers through Sasha’s hair, slipping his cock from her airway long enough for her to take a deep breath before plunging back in again.

“I want to come!” Jewell pleaded, dropping her legs to the mattress and turning so she could scoot down his body, making room for herself between his legs.

She moved her mouth below Sasha’s, finding his balls, where she sucked one into her mouth then alternated to the other one until he broke out in a cold sweat. He barely managed to keep himself from coming.

Train stared down at the two women diligently working on his cock. “Stop, Sasha.”

Her sultry face dropped in disappointment as she moved to his side.

“Ride me, Jewell.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. She slung one leg over his hip, grabbed a rubber and quickly put it on him before poising her pussy over his dick and dropping down on him with a groan.

“You needed that bad, didn’t you?”

Jewell licked her bottom lip as she nodded.

“Come here.” He held out his hand to Sasha, and she took it, moving closer to his shoulder. Train raised himself up to lean back against the headboard and ordered, “Stand up.” Then he maneuvered her so she was standing, straddled over him, making him eye-level with her pussy. “Now, isn’t that a pretty sight?”

He gently licked her, building her desire until her clit quivered under his tongue. He used his hand to part her fleshy lips, seeing the throbbing center of her desire.

Jewell was pounding herself down on him as he licked Sasha to an orgasm, while Sasha stood over him, holding on to the headboard.

“I wish I had my phone. I’d take a picture of this,” Sasha told him. “The women at the Ohio clubhouse would be jealous as fuck if they saw. They all want you to come back to stay again.”

He used one of his fingers to enter her opening, spreading her juices to make his entry easier. Sasha might fuck a lot, but she was one of the tightest women he had ever had.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked when he added another finger.

“No!” She shoved her pussy further into his face, demanding more.

Train cupped her ass cheek to hold her steady. His balls tightened as Jewell’s pussy clenched around him like a vice.

He slapped at Sasha’s clit with his tongue as he felt her come on his fingers. Taking her by the waist, he then lowered her to his side before she dropped down on him.

“That was fun. Can we do it again? This time, I want your dick.” Sasha leaned over to plant a kiss on his mouth.

He licked her bottom lip before plunging his tongue inside, giving her the taste of herself.

When he pulled away, he told her, “It might take me a couple of minutes, but I’m game.” He looked down at Jewell. “How about you?”

Jewell pulled herself off his limp dick to lie down on his other side. “You know me; there isn’t much I’m not up for.”

Train scooted himself down between the two women. He lazily played with Jewell’s nipple with one hand, and with the other, he kept Sasha’s orgasm on a slow burn by rubbing her throbbing clit.

Sasha shifted to her side, moving her arm to his waist and making his cock accessible to her searching hand. “You’re already getting hard again. Moon is quick on the draw, but I think you have him beat.” She playfully bit down on his shoulder.

Train turned his head to give her a warning glare. “Don’t leave a mark. I don’t like that shit.”

She stopped immediately. “Sorry.”

He twined a hand around her neck before pulling her down to kiss her pouty lips, taking the sting away from his words.

Train had fucked long enough to know that, when a woman left a mark, they considered it a mark of possession. He didn’t belong to any one woman, and he never would. Monogamy was for a man who worked from nine to five.

He believed playing to his strengths. He was the man to call when someone needed something done. He could fly his chopper through war-torn areas and never break a sweat, but the thought of putting a ring on a woman’s finger gave him nightmares.

Jewell stirred next to him, wanting her own share of his attention.

Train squeezed her tit, plumping it up. Then he tore his mouth from Sasha’s ravenous lips to pluck the tip between his teeth, giving her the bite of pain he knew she craved. He took his time rebuilding the women’s desires and his own.

They were all going to be tired as fuck in the morning after the night’s excessiveness. Him and Jewell were used to working with little to no sleep, but Sasha was going to be miserable when he had to drag her ass out of bed in the morning.

Moving Sasha’s hand away to fix another condom on his dick, he then pulled her underneath him without releasing Jewell’s breast. Train slid his dick into her slippery pussy, thrusting hard enough that both women bounced on the bed. He had deliberately worked her desire high enough that she could take him in her tight cunt.

“You okay?” Train watched the myriad of expressions cross her face as he fucked her while moving his hand down to Jewell’s pussy.

“Oh … yes!”

Train fucked her, never losing the control that had Sasha screaming out her orgasm in the lighted bedroom. Then, when he would have moved off her, Sasha’s grip around his waist tightened.

Train stiffened. “Let go.”

He didn’t miss the fleeting, mutinous expression she tried to hide. Sasha might not know it yet, but it would be the last time she was invited to share his bed.

Twisting his hips to the side, he removed the condom, tossing it into the trashcan next to his bed before taking another off his nightstand.

“Get on your knees, Jewell.”

The woman eagerly got into position, turning her ass up toward him. Jewell was a constant bed partner of his, so he didn’t have to exercise the same control he had to with Sasha.

He rode her long and hard with Sasha watching. He didn’t touch her again, when usually, Train made sure all participants received their own portion of attentiveness. However, she had broken his cardinal rule by letting her possessiveness show.

It was the reason he had joined The Last Riders—the women had to share them. Anyone unable to follow that rule wasn’t made a member. It was a rule that kept everyone happy. It took the jealously out of the relationships they shared, not only from the women, but with the men as well. They were all on equal footing, which kept the men from the fights that plagued other MCs.

The men who belonged to The Last Riders were dangerous and deadly. Most, if not all, had served in the military and had firsthand experience of losing friends in the heat of anger.

Feeling Jewell coming on his dick, Train allowed himself to orgasm, relaxing his control long enough to enjoy the sensations coursing through his body.

Jewell dropped down to the mattress. “I can’t move.”

Train slid out of bed, giving her an affectionate pat on her ass. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you in time to get ready for work.” Then, naked, he went out into the hallway to the bathroom next door to his room.

Most of the bedrooms had bathrooms; his didn’t. Viper had offered him the bedroom that used to be his before he had built his own house on the opposite side of the factory, but Train had refused. He was content in his small room, just as he was about being a soldier in the club.

Rider’s door was open, so Train casually looked inside, seeing him fucking Stori. He didn’t interrupt, ignoring the silent invitation that the open door meant.

When any of the brothers wanted privacy, they kept their doors closed. An open door indicted that, if anyone wanted to participate, all they had to do was go inside. Whoever’s room it was would tell them just how far they would be allowed to play. Some of the brothers liked to put on a show, while others had a no holds barred, figuratively.

As Train showered, he adjusted the height of the nozzle so his hair wouldn’t get wet. He washed every inch of his body, the sexual satisfaction already disappearing, leaving the ache of longing that was never far away to return.

His dark eyes stared back him in mirror as he shaved after showering. Sasha and Jewell weren’t going to be the only ones who were going to be tired in the morning. In fact, the weariness in his soul was becoming visible more and more as each day passed.

He wasn’t a kid anymore. The late nights and fuck fests were beginning to take a toll on him. The pussy and the pot might keep his memories at bay, but they came back as soon as the party was over.

When he left the bathroom, he saw that Stori was already asleep on Rider’s bed, and Crash and Rider were sitting on the floor in front of the television set, playing video games.

“Train!”

He stopped before entering his own door at Crash’s call, moving toward Rider’s door. “Yeah?”

“I found the info you wanted. It’s on Rider’s desk.”

Train moved from Rider’s doorway, going to his desk. He picked up the plain folder sitting on top. “Why didn’t you just email it to me?”

Crash laughed. “Emails can be hacked.”

Crash was a hacker with a gift. There wasn’t a computer he couldn’t get into. It might take time, but he would find some way to breach the defenses. The harder the job, the more he took it as a challenge.

“It’s a big file.”

“You wanted everything I could find on Killyama. It’s in there. Viper also asked for a copy. Guess he’s worried about the IOU he promised.”

“I asked for her information before, and you couldn’t get it; how’d you get it now?”

“Emails are the windows to the soul, my friend. Remember that.”

Crash maneuvered his joystick with a dexterity that Rider couldn’t keep up with. Rider slammed his own controller down on the floor when his spacecraft erupted into a ball of flames.

“Besides, I don’t know what you’re bitchin’ about. I gave the folder to Shade a year ago and told him to pass it on to you. I just updated it when Shade gave it back to me last week.”

“Thanks.”

Irritated, Train left the bedroom, anxious to read what was contained in the folder. If it weren’t so late, he would call Shade. The brother had promised to pass any information he had found on Killyama.

When he returned to his room, he found both Sasha and Jewell fast asleep.

Turning off the light on the nightstand, he then turned on the one at his desk before opening the folder and starting to read.

He was dead tired. By just the first page, it was hard to keep sleep at bay. By the end of the folder, two hours later, though, any desire for sleep had disappeared.

Closing the folder, he locked it in his drawer, wishing the women weren’t sleeping in his bed so he could take his frustration out by punching a hole in a wall.

He had always known that convincing Killyama to join The Last Riders was a forlorn hope. What he had just read proved it.

His cell phone ringing had Train lifting it to his ear, even before he saw it was Viper calling.

“Did you read it?”

“I just finished. I’m going to kick Shade’s ass in the morning.”

“I know. He’s not answering his phone.” Not trying to hide his own fury, Viper’s voice cracked like a whip through the cell phone.

“What are you going to do?” Train asked.

“What am
I
going to do? What are
you
going to do? You’re the one with the hard-on for the bitch. I told you the brothers aren’t going to open their arms to her, anyway. It’s not like you were serious about her, or are you?”

“I told you that I thought she would make a good Last Rider … if she could tone down her aggressiveness toward the other women … and men,” Train added as an afterthought. “The problem is, from Crash’s report, Killyama is not only business partners with them, they’ve been in her life since she was a little girl.” Train brought his fingers to his eyes, pressing hard until he saw spots as he tried to figure a way out of the box he found himself trapped in. “If Hammer and Jonas find out I’m trying to convince her to join the club, they’ll talk her out of it.”

“Crash is sure they aren’t related?”