Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9) (28 page)

“They’re tracking a fugitive who broke parole.”

“What’s he on parole for?”

“He beat up his baby’s mama. They already checked out the family in the area. The baby’s mama has gone into hiding. She’s got a restraining on Cooper—the fugitive—saying he threatened to hurt her and the baby when he was sent to prison.” He gestured toward the hotel. “They settled down for the night about an hour ago.”

“Who’s sleeping where?”

“They’re sharing the same room. You want me to stay?”

“No, go on home. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Where’d you get the wheels?”

“It’s Moon’s. Sasha drove it down for me.”

“Sasha’s at the club?”

“Ready and waiting.” Train slid Crash’s check next to his own. “Drive safe, and thanks.”

“Let me know if you need a break. I can come back.”

“If it takes longer than two days, I might have to. Someone told me I’m getting too old to burn both ends of the candle, and I’m feeling it tonight.”

“If she was my old lady, she wouldn’t be running around, chasing felons.”

“If Killyama was your woman, you’d be dead.”

Crash shook his head, leaving.

The waitress approached him for refills several times, each time making a beeline toward the cook tending the grill who kept eyeing him suspiciously. At four o’clock, two cops came in, doing the same thing. Train saw them running the license plate on Moon’s car when they left with their coffee.

He went to his car at five, expecting Hammer would want to get back on the hunt with the sun. Plus, he needed to hide out in case they stopped at the Waffle Stop for breakfast.

He was glad he had moved the car when Killyama, Hammer, and Jonas came out of the hotel. The three looked wide awake, talking as they made their way inside the Waffle Stop, staying inside only thirty minutes before they were on the road again.

Train spent the day following them, holding back so they wouldn’t see him.

It was getting dark when Hammer and Jonas went inside a burger joint and left Killyama outside. A few minutes later, Train felt his phone vibrate with a text message. He took his phone out to see Killyama had texted him.

He was glad she couldn’t hear him laugh as he stared at the picture she had sent him. It was of three football players, holding their helmets as they talked to whoever was on the other side of the camera.

The first message read:
Missing you
. Underneath, another one read:
Not.

Train texted Jewell to send him the picture he wanted. When she sent it back, he sent the picture to Killyama. Sitting back, he waited for the fireworks to start.

Who took that picture of you?

I did. It’s a selfie,
he replied.

Selfie, my titty.

Train waited a second to see if she was going to say anything else. She did.

You have a selfie of Shade like that?

He wondered what she would do if pulled up to that Escalade and paddled her ass.

Why don’t you find out when come over tonight? If you don’t have tickets for tomorrow, come on back now. I can meet you at your apartment. I miss you.

Sorry, lover. One of the players gave us tickets for tomorrow. Guess you’re just going to keep missing me.

Just one time he wished she would give him a small sign that she cared about him. Just one that she didn’t hide behind pretenses or insults.

Train didn’t respond and was about to shove his phone back into his pocket when she got out of the Escalade. When he saw her face, he could see that she knew he had been mad at her texts. With no one around, she had let her guard down.

An aching loneliness filled her expression, and his hand went to the door handle. He had suspected the deep emotions she held for him, but he had never witnessed them before. Now he was.

She bleakly watched a small family walk past her. The father carried a little girl in his arms while the mother carried an infant. It hit Train that she believed she would never have what that family had.

Train couldn’t understand why Killyama believed she couldn’t have her own like that. She had even told him she didn’t want to have kids.

He wanted to hold her close and ask the questions that were going to drive them apart if she didn’t learn to trust him with her answers.

Pulling his cell phone back out of his pocket, he texted her before she could go inside the restaurant.

Have fun. Text me when you get back, and we’ll meet up. Love you.

Her smiling face was worth the cut to his pride. The smiley face she texted back was as good as it was going to get for now.

Train ducked into a convenience store to use the restroom and grab himself a snack. He had just resettled back in the car when Killyama, Hammer, and Jonas came running outside the restaurant. When Hammer pulled out with wheels screeching, he knew they must have received a hot tip.

He had already been listening to the police scanner as he waited for them, so when the alert came from his phone and the scanner, his blood ran cold.

There had been an alert issued for a two-year-old boy. The child had been taken by his non-custodial father who was wanted for a parole violation. Train knew it was the same man Killyama was searching for when Cooper’s name verified by the dispatcher.

Train cussed, almost hitting a blue truck that had pulled out of a shopping lot. It blocked him from keeping a clear view of Hammer’s vehicle. Then, when the truck stopped at a yellow light, Train lost sight of them, still stopped at the red light behind the truck while Hammer had sped up.

Train nearly rear-ended the truck. Slamming his hand down on the steering wheel, he backed up then swerved to the right into the turning lane. Gunning Moon’s motor, he shot out into the traffic, dodging cars until he saw a turn he could make that led into a drug store.

He shot through oncoming traffic, did a U-turn to make a left, and then another right onto the street he had lost Hammer. Passing cars at a speed that would have gotten him a ticket if the cops hadn’t been searching for the little boy, Train gave a sigh of relief when he saw Hammer’s SUV turn down a side street. He made the turn three cars behind them.

The streets became tree-lined as they moved farther into a residential neighborhood. He was about to follow Hammer down another street when he saw him break and park in front of a house.

Train braked, too, stopping his car. He then watched as Killyama and Jonas walked away from Hammer, who started running catty corner from them. Their bright vests were clearly visible as they walked toward a house that had a “For Sale” sign posted in the front yard.

Train jumped out of Moon’s vehicle and ran to the side of the neighboring house. He climbed over a fence on the opposite side of the tree line, seeing Hammer trying to look through the side windows then disappearing behind the house.

Train brought his hand behind his back, clutching his gun handle, as Killyama knocked on the door then fiddled with the lock box on the door handle. Jonas must have called the agent, requesting to see the house.

When Killyama raised the key in her hand triumphantly, Train tensed as she put it in the lock and turned it. Killyama and Jonas then barged inside.

Train wanted to run inside when he heard yells. Then he heard a crash from the backyard, assuming Hammer had broken in through the back.

“Get your fucking hands up!” He heard Jonas’s loud shout from inside.

Train was about to charge toward the house when Killyama came running out with the little boy carried protectively in her arms. At the same time, the police swarmed the neighborhood.

Seeing her holding the crying child brought a lump to his throat as he hurried back to his car, driving past the squad cars. He drove by a traffic jam as he headed back to the hotel where Killyama was staying. He knew she would be busy for the next few hours doing the paperwork on the capture. He could get some sleep before heading back to Treepoint.

He was about to check in to a room when he changed his mind after staring at his watch. Instead, he grabbed a bite to eat at the Waffle Stop then drove back to Treepoint. If he was wrong, then she would still be safe with Hammer and Jonas for the night. However, with the fugitive captured, she would more than likely go right back to Jamestown.

He was exhausted when he arrived back at the club.

Parking behind the factory, he changed the license plates before he covered the car up with a tarp. Too tired to take the steps, he walked the pathway around the club, not speaking to any of the brothers as he went upstairs, where he simply nodded at Moon as he passed him in the hall.

He didn’t want to shower, but two days without one had him taking a quick one before he dried off and made his way to his bed. He thought about locking the door, but he knew no one would come in without knocking

He kicked the covers to the bottom of his bed, tossed onto his stomach, and shoved a pillow over his head to drown out the blaring music. He was glad he had invested in a good pair of black out shades; the pitch dark room would be welcoming in the morning.

He was asleep in less than a minute, naked.

Train didn’t know how long he had been asleep when a gentle hand slid down his back to curve intimately over his ass. He shoved the pillow off his head, opening his mouth to snap at whichever woman had come inside his room without knocking, then froze when he felt a head drop to his shoulder.

“I missed you, too, lover.” Her voice was filled with the emotion she couldn’t show him in daylight.

He swung out his arm and lifted his chest so he could pull her underneath him. Silently, they made love, the loud music muffling their gasps and moans. He tried desperately to reach her the only way she would allow him to, trying to show her with his body how much he loved her. Trying to drive the words out of her he needed to hear, kissing each part of her body until she was begging for release. Giving up when he couldn’t hold his own climax back any longer, he moaned his love for her in the dark room.

Wearily, he shoved the pillow under his head when she rolled over. Train expected her to scoot over more like she usually did, but she placed a thigh over his instead. He didn’t touch her, though.

She lived in her own self-imposed exile, briefly leaving it when she was with her friends, her mother, or when she was having sex with him; returning to her solitary existence when someone grew too close, wanting more than she was willing to give.

Killyama used her lies as a barrier between them. He kept trying to find a way around it, but she just built it taller and wider. Train was terrified he wouldn’t be able to reach her in time to keep her from enclosing herself without a chance of escape.

“
W
hat are
you lazy fuckers sitting around for?” Killyama stomped up her mother’s porch where Hammer and Jonas were waiting. “You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago. We’re wasting time. We should be halfway to Knoxville by now.” Seeing the men’s steely gazes staring back at her, her tone went from criticizing to concern. “Is something wrong with Mama? Is that why you texted me to meet you here?” She started to run inside the trailer.

“Peyton’s fine.” Jonas’s words stopped her in her tracks. “We need to talk.”

“Where’s Mama?”

“She’s making us lunch.”

Killyama stared at Jonas’s poignant face, while Hammer turned toward the road, so she couldn’t see his. For a badass, she could read him like a book.

She braced herself. If neither of them wanted to be the one tell her, whatever it was had to be bad.

“Just spit it out. If it has something to do with Mama—”

“It’s not about Peyton; it’s about The Last Riders.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” She took a step down from the porch. “I don’t care what Train’s done. I don’t even give a fuck who he killed. And if The Last Riders have done something criminal, I don’t even care—”

“Rae, listen to me.” Jonas put his hands on her shoulders.

“I don’t want to. Please, Jonas.”

“They bugged your phone.”

She tried to shrug out of Jonas’s grip. “Train’s just worried about me. We knew he was watching when we went on a hunt.”

“It’s more than that, Rae. Listen to me—”

“No! I can’t, Jonas. I can’t lose him …” It was the closest she had ever come to cry in front of them since she had been a child.

“Leave her alone, Jonas. We can deal with this ourselves.”

It took Hammer’s gruff statement to show how bad it really was.

She wanted to sink down on the steps to lessen the impact of what they were about to reveal. Instead, she turned to face them. Jonas was the one who always tried to shield her, Hammer would get angry at him, and tell them that what she didn’t know could get her killed. That was why he had put hours of work developing her skills.

“Tell me.”

“I need my computer. I left it in the Escalade.”

As they walked the distance to the vehicle, no one said a word. It made Killyama feel like she was being led to her execution.

Hammer held the back door open for her. “I meant what I said, Jonas and I have this.”

Killyama rested her hand on the door, pausing. “Can you or Jonas get hurt if I don’t help?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s your answer.” She jumped inside Hammer’s SUV, hearing the door close behind her.

What her and Train had going these last few months would have ended sooner or later. Jonas and Hammer had always been the ones who had been there when she needed them. Her friends were like sisters to her, but she looked over them more than they did her. Even her mama had lost herself for a few years until she could find her way back to her. Jonas and Hammer hadn’t, not ever. They were a team, and a team stuck together, even though one’s heart was about to break.

Jonas and Hammer got in the front seat, setting the laptop on top of the console so she could watch the video.

“Ready?” Jonas’s silver eyes met hers.

“Shut up and press play.”

* * *

“
W
hat are you doing tonight
?”

Train tossed his soda can into the trash. He hated Curt Dawkins, who was staring at him as he sucked smoke into his lungs that wouldn’t be working for him much longer. If the cigarettes didn’t kill him, The Last Riders would.

“Rider, Moon, and I are going to grab a beer at Rosie’s after work. Wanna go?” Curt continued after he took another draw, pulling his jeans up that had slipped down with every puff he took. Train didn’t know why the disgusting shit made the effort. His beer gut would just have it slipping down again.

“No, thanks. I’m busy. I need to get back to work. I don’t want Jewell docking my pay if I don’t clock back in after break.”

“She doesn’t dock me. She always tells me to take my time.”

Probably because she enjoys having you out of sight,
Train thought.

None of The Last Riders could stand the braggart, but Jewell, as the factory’s manager, had to deal with him the most. The club kept hoping he would slip up and say something to one of the brothers, or he would really fuck up and make a play for Jewell. He hadn’t, and the club was getting tired of tolerating him.

Shade just wanted to kill him and be done with it, but Viper wouldn’t give the go-ahead because Curt had family in town. If he went missing, it would draw suspicion toward The Last Riders, and without proof, he wasn’t willing to take that risk. Therefore, until Viper had proof that Curt had been raping women in town, something they had been told had been happening for years, they had to let the fucker keep breathing.

“Who’s the wallbanger? You guys need to hook me up in becoming a Last Rider if you’re getting that piece of ass.”

Train turned to see who Curt was staring at with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth. Killyama was walking toward the front of the factory.

Train took a step forward so she would see him, giving a whistle. Stopping, she swerved and walked toward him.

He almost chuckled when he saw the anger glinting in her eyes as she drew closer.

“You see a leash on my neck?”

“I was trying to save you a trip inside,” Train explained, noticing Curt was putting out his cigarette with his work boot.

“Next time, just yell,” she snapped.

“I’ll do that. What—”

“Are you going to introduce me or what?”

The way she was staring at Curt made his flesh crawl. Stiffening, he made the introductions, deliberately giving Killyama’s nickname as an introduction.

Curt’s eyes widened, taking in her T-shirt that read “Try This” in bright red letters, her blue shorts, and her tan ankle boots that had a strap crisscrossing the front to tie at the back with fringes dangling down.

“It’s nice to meet you. You here to place an order? I can help—”

“She’s here to see me,” Train cut Curt off, shifting away from the door to move beside Killyama.

“You work here?” Ignoring Train, she didn’t take her eyes off Curt.

“Yeah, I can take care of anything you need,” Curt insinuated, puffing his chest out at her interest.

Train was ready to blow all efforts The Last Riders had done in the months since Curt had been hired, wanting to plant his fist in the man’s smirking face.

“Then don’t you think you should get your ass back to work? I’m sure The Last Riders don’t pay you to shoot the shit with me.”

Curt’s face turned ruddy red as he jerked the back door open.

“Dude, I’d lay off the beers, or buy a bigger pair of pants.” Killyama couldn’t help adding an insult to the injury she had done to his pride.

Train slung an arm over her shoulders despite her trying to wiggle away from him. “You just made my fucking day.”

She tried to hide her smile as she used her hands to try to push away from him. “Lover, that dick doesn’t have enough socks to shove down his jeans to make me give him the time of day.”

“I was getting worried,” Train admitted.

“You were jealous of that wiener?
Please
…”

“So, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I thought I’d make your fucking day.” She looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was watching. Then she brought her hands to his belt buckle to pull him closer, planting a kiss on his lips before taking a step back.

Train licked his bottom lip, still wanting to taste her after the brief kiss was over.

“Is it my birthday again and no one told me?”

“Not yet, but you never know. How much longer before you get off?”

“Not for a few hours. I told Jewell she could take off when I came back from break.” He had made the offer when Jewell had complained about wanting to go shopping. He was trying to make up the time he had spent chasing after Killyama.

“I’ll call Beth or Lily and see what they’re up to.”

“Why not just hang out with me?”

“You won’t get in trouble?”

“No, I won’t get in trouble.” Train stared at her poker face. “You know that I’m part owner of the factory, right? I might get in trouble for not putting my time in, but I won’t for letting you keep me company.”

“How should I know—”

“Jonas is good. As good as Crash. I’m sure you had me checked out, even though Hammer and Jonas know me from serving with me.”

“Crash does a sucky job. I wouldn’t bet the bank on what he knows.” Her blithe answer had Train shaking his head.

“I didn’t need Crash to tell me you had checked me out. You never asked me about what happened to my father when I told you he killed my family.”

“I didn’t have to ask because I know what I would have done.”

“Then you’re smarter than the detectives who have been trying to make a case against me for years.”

“Smart enough to know that they don’t have a chance of ever pinning his murder on you. What would you have done if he hadn’t escaped the psych ward they were evaluating him in?”

“We’ll never know now, will we?”

“Guess not. So, are we going to stop chit chatting so you can earn more moola? I need a new pair of shoes.”

Train opened the door for her. “I think you have enough shoes. I haven’t seen the same pair on you since I’ve known you.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You don’t live with all these bitches and not know better than that. A woman never has enough a shoes.”

“Just admit you have a shoe fetish,” Train joked, not missing the workers watching them as they walked through the factory.

“If you’re keeping track of my shoes, I’m not the one with the shoe fetish.”

Train pulled up another stool so she could sit next to him, and once she sat down, she used the heel of her boot to swivel the stool to stare at the work being done around her.

Train sat down, picking up the order he had planned to fill when he came off break.

“So, what do we have to do?”

Train took his attention off the order form to gaze at her interested eyes. “You’re going to help?”

“Why not? I don’t have anything better to do. The shop is closed today. Sex Piston is home with Rocky and Star—they have a virus. Fat Louise and T.A. are at work. And Crazy Bitch is using the day to clean her apartment.”

“You didn’t volunteer to help Crazy Bitch?”

“Hell no. Some of the brothers came over last night. They trashed the place, so she made a couple of them stay to clean up the mess.”

“Her loss is my gain. You want to work, I have plenty to keep you busy.”

Train decided it would be easier for him to fill the orders and for her to box the items for shipping. He searched for a smaller order that needed to be filled, and then found the items required. After showing her how to package them, he started filling another order.

She was quick. Killyama was already done before he could return to his station, setting a toilet kit on top of the table.

“How in the fuck am I supposed to pack that?”

Going to the wall in front of his deck, he slid out a large flat box, showing her how to use the heavy tape on the box flaps to close the bottom.

“Got it.” She placed the toilet kit inside.

“We use popcorn so it won’t slide around in the box.”

“Popcorn?”

“I’ll show you.” He lifted the box, carrying it to a machine that sat a few inches away from his station. Setting the box under the machine, he pressed the button that would let synthetic popcorn fill the box.

“That’s cool.”

“Let’s see how cool you think it is after you’ve done thousands of packages.”

“I’ll pass on that. Next time Rocky or Star are blowing chunks, I might give Sex Piston a day off.”

He saw Jewell walking out of the office and told Killyama, “I’ll be right back.”

By the time he was done listening to what Jewell needed done and switched the office calls to his desk, he found Killyama had completed three orders and was waiting for him to check them before she closed the boxes.

“You’re quick. You ever want to quit hunting fugitives, I’ll hire you.”

“The Last Riders would fire you if that happened.”

Train sat down next to her. “No, they wouldn’t. They would give me a raise.”

“Dude, you steal some of Rider’s bullshit cologne? I know they can’t stand me.”

“No, babe, they can,” Train insisted.

“Ember looks like she needs your help.” He felt the hurt she was masking when she stood up, sending the top of the stool spinning.

Train carried a large box to the mail cart for Ember, and when he came back, Killyama was working on another order. Then he was called away again by someone else. With Jewell gone, he had to troubleshoot any problems the workers had. He was then helping Rider fix the postage machine when Killyama tapped him on the back.

“I’m done with the orders on your desk. You have any more?”

“You’re done with the whole stack?”

“Yes, and Stori checked the boxes for me to make sure I did them right.”