Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9) (30 page)

Hope was a gossamer thread that tied someone to their beliefs. It could be strengthened by faith, or broken when it was stretched too tight. He believed that Killyama had a reason for breaking into the back room, but he was struggling with the faith he had in her that it was a reason that could justify what she had done. The only reason that thread between them hadn’t been broken yet was his love for her. One more twist on it, though, and it would be severed forever.

There was no rebuilding his faith in her without an explanation, which she was refusing to do, so he had to either find his own answers or cut the thread himself.

Train gave Rider his keys back before going to his bike.

“You going after her?” Rider asked incredulously when Train started his bike.

He backed his motorcycle up. “No. I’m just going for a ride.”

Peeling out, he drove out of the parking lot without any sense of direction, letting faith lead the way.

T
rain stared
at the bedroom window, waiting for the light to come on. It was still early; the sun having come up an hour ago. He had no intention of waking her up so early, but the waiting was starting to get to him.

Sitting where she could see him if she looked out her window or open her door, he didn’t want to startle her, yet he hoped she would see him before he had to knock on the door.

It was eight a.m. when he saw her bedroom light come on. He waited until he saw the light come on in the kitchen before he got off his bike and knocked on her front door.

“Train? What are you doing here?” Peyton asked as she opened her screen door, staring at him with a frown of concern. “Is Killyama all right?”

“Yes. May I come in? I’d like to talk to you about her.” Train didn’t expect her to let him in since he had only met her once, yet she opened the door without hesitation, inviting him inside.

“I’m making some coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thank you.” Train racked his brain, trying to find a way to start the discussion.

“You said you wanted to talk to me about Killyama?” she prompted.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been seeing your daughter for several months—”

“I know.” She tightened the knot at her waist that held her housecoat together.

“We broke up yesterday. She did something that I consider a breach of my trust—”

Peyton held her hand up, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear the details. If Killyama decided not to see you anymore, then I respect her privacy. I won’t try to change her mind.”

“I broke up with her. And it’s not her mind that needs to be changed. It’s mine.” Train stared at her, willing her to see what was in his heart. “I love her. I have for some time, yet she continues to push me away by lying. Yesterday, she went so far as to steal a key off a friend of mine.”

“She must have had a reason. Killyama never stole from anyone before.” Her troubled eyes met his.

“That’s why I’m here. I guess I was hoping you would know something that Killyama wasn’t willing to tell me.”

“No.” Peyton went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. Without her makeup on, Train could see Killyama in her. Her mother wasn’t as skillful as her daughter at lying.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you. Are you sure I can’t offer you any coffee?”

“No, what I want, you aren’t willing to give.”

“Call her. Try to talk it out … Maybe you will be able to work things out with her.”

“I’ve tried. Believe me; I’ve tried. Do you know that she swears she’ll never get married, that she doesn’t want children?”

“She’ll change her mind.” Peyton’s dismay showed he had exposed a sore spot.

“She might be pretending it’s a joke to you, but she’s serious about it. I tried to find out why she doesn’t want a future with me, or any man, but she stonewalls me. A man can only take being told to fuck off so many times before he starts to listen. Either you help me or, so help me God, I’m going to walk out that door and I won’t look back.” Train gave the same opportunity to Peyton he had given to Killyama. If she didn’t help him, he was done, and he let her see that truth in his eyes.

Tears welled up in Peyton’s as she set her coffee cup back down on the counter with a trembling hand. “Will you give me a few minutes? I need to get dressed. There’s something I think you need to see.”

“All right.” At this point, he was willing to do anything to shed some light on Killyama’s behavior.

“Have a seat. It won’t take me but a moment,” she excused herself.

“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Peyton nodded then went through the narrow trailer toward her bedroom, while Train took a seat on one of the benches at the kitchen table. From there, he could stare out the kitchen window. He almost expected to see flashing blue lights, or Hammer and Jonas’s vehicle pull up. He had offered to leave, but Peyton could have become frightened and used the opportunity to call the police or someone else she could trust.

When she returned, she was wearing slacks and a blue cowl neck sweater. It was early spring and the mornings outside were cool.

“The grass is damp in the morning,” she explained as Train watched her slip on a pair of rain boots before going to the door. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Once they were outside, she stared wide-eyed at his motorcycle as if she had never seen one before. “You’re not driving the truck?”

“No. Where are we going?” He got on his bike, holding his hand out for her to take.

“To my studio. The road there is even worse … We can walk.”

“Get on. I’ll go slow,” Train promised.

Peyton took his hand, faltering as she got on behind him. Then she hesitantly placed her hands on his sides.

“Hold on,” Train warned as he started the bike, turning it around in the yard before he went in the direction she pointed down the rutted road.

She was right; it would have been quicker to walk since it took them ten minutes to get to the trailer that was set off from the road. He had expected it to be the same as Peyton’s, but it wasn’t. It was much larger and newer, and definitely in better shape; that’s for damn sure.

“You use this place as your studio?”

“I know. Killyama wants me to live here and use mine as the studio,” she said as she got off the bike.

He followed her to the door of the trailer. It didn’t have a front porch; stone steps led to the doorway. Peyton went up the steps first, unlocking the door, then Train followed her inside.

The outside wasn’t the only difference between the two trailers. The trailer he entered was much more open and modern than Peyton’s. Peyton’s had a small booth for guest to eat at, whereas this one had a table with six chairs, the living room had a sectional couch that could easily seat many, and it even had a fireplace which Peyton easily flipped a switch to start. Train tried to hide his expression from her knowing eyes.

“I’m more comfortable in my home. I feel guilty this one’s going to waste.”

“It’s not wasteful if you’re using it.”

“I made the master bedroom my studio. It’s this way.”

They walked down a hallway that was big enough for two people to walk side-by-side, leading to a door at the end.

Peyton reached for the doorknob but hesitated before opening it. “Killyama is the only one who has been inside. I’m trusting you, Train. I don’t know why … but I do.”

“Anything I see or hear will be just between us. I give you my word as a man of honor.”

A wry smile curled her lips upward. “
Honor
? That means different things to different people. I hope it means something to you.”

He nodded. “It does.”

She gave him a searching look. She must have been satisfied with what she saw reflected in his gaze because she opened the door, stepped inside, and allowed him to enter.

Train leaned against the doorway, taking it in. The pieces he had asked to buy were there. The pictures hadn’t given justice to the magnitude of seeing them in person.

“Rae never liked taking pictures, even as a baby. She would cry or make faces every time I tried. It was easier to get her to pose for me. Sometimes, it took several sittings to get the look I wanted to capture.”

Rows after rows of sculptures replicating Killyama showed her growth from a child to the independent woman she was today.

“They’re beautiful.” Even the word spoken out loud didn’t describe the beauty of the sculptures she had created. It was as if each piece had caught that part of Killyama that she didn’t want anyone else to see. All the bravery she had shown when she had saved Lily and Winter’s life was there, her sense of humor that always brought a smile to his lips, her stubbornness that drove everyone crazy. Train stared at them all, not touching as he took his time walking past the shelves until he came to the end.

“I just finished that last week.”

“May I touch it?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, just be careful.”

He nodded as he picked it up gently.

“It took me several days to figure out which material I wanted to sculpt it out of. I usually do bronze, but I had a piece of emerald green soapstone that called to me.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I know it sounds silly.”

Train couldn’t get any words out. Cradling it carefully, he stared down in awe at the expression she had managed to capture.

“You can have it if you want it.”

Train raised his head at her offer. “Yes, I want it. I’ll pay for it. How much do you want?” The emotions he felt weren’t easy for a man like him, but the sculpture he was holding made it impossible to keep them in check.

“I couldn’t take your money.” She gently took it out of his hands before going to the window and letting the morning sun hit it. “Rae was talking about you when she posed for this. I know she loves you. She may not have told you, but she does.”

Train felt the fragile thread of hope strengthen.

“Do you know why she would have stolen my friend’s key?”

She shook her head. “No.” Then she briskly set the sculpture on a worktable that had some drawings. “But yesterday morning, Hammer and Jonas came by and told me they were meeting Killyama. They didn’t want to come inside, so they stayed out on the front porch until she arrived.” She rubbed her temples with her slender fingers as she recounted what happened. “I was in the kitchen, and I couldn’t hear much …”

“What did you hear?” Train moved nearer to the table.

“She was begging Jonas not to tell her something about The Last Riders.”

Train felt his stomach clench in dread. The Last Riders kept a lot of secrets. One in particular that could destroy the whole club was buried a mile away from the clubhouse, on more property they owned. There was no way Hammer or Jonas could know about it, because it was
only
known by the founding members. None of the other brothers knew about it. Razer, Shade, Knox, Lucky, Cash, Rider, Viper, and Train himself would kill anyone in a heartbeat who tried to expose that secret.

Cash and Shade had found the spot when they had searched for Gavin after he had gone missing. Afraid he could have been lost or hurt, they had searched the entire mountainside, finding the two huge moss covered rocks that the men had to squeeze through to come out on the other side and into a large plain surrounded by rocks on three sides and the mountain at its back. The men had come to the conclusion that it must have been a crater that had been filled with time.

“Did you hear what Jonas said?” he asked.

“No. They went to Hammer’s SUV and stayed there for almost an hour. When she came out, she went to her car and left. Hammer and Jonas came in to eat lunch, but they acted like everything was okay.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

Peyton looked like she wanted to say something else, yet she couldn’t make up her mind.

“I know you’ve only met me one time, but I keep my word. You can trust me,” Train assured her.

“I hope so. I won’t be the only one hurt if you break your word to me.” She straightened her shoulders like she was bolstering her courage. Then she walked to one of two closets in the room.

He didn’t move, intuitively knowing she didn’t want him to see what was inside as she slid the closet door open. However, he couldn’t help seeing more shelves of tiny sculptures.

She pulled one from a shelf, bringing it back to the worktable and setting it down next to the one of Killyama.

As Train stared down at the man’s face, it took him a minute of admiring the piece before he actually began to realize the face was familiar to him. He tried to place who it belonged to, but he couldn’t.

“Who is this?”

“Maybe this will help.” Peyton went back to the closet. “Rae doesn’t let me keep anything of his around. She doesn’t want to see it.” She reached up to the top shelf, taking down a scrapbook, before coming back to the table and shoving her drawings to the side.

Opening the book, Train was floored at the image staring back at him.

“Major Timothy Cooper,” Peyton said.

“I know who he is … He was in the SEALs. I never served with him, but anyone who’s a SEAL knows of him. He’s the one who inspired hundreds of men to join the Navy. He’s won medals that are almost impossible to win.”

“He’s Rae’s father.” She flipped the next page over. It showed the major holding a crying baby as Peyton looked lovingly at the man who showed no pride or affection for the tiny infant he held. “I met him when I was sixteen. I had gone to stay with my aunt and uncle when my mother was killed in a car accident.

“I was jogging one day when a man tried to drag me off the path. Timothy stopped him. He helped me home and stayed with me until my aunt could come home.” She ran a graceful hand over the picture; love in every brush of her fingers. “I became infatuated with him. I saw him several times when I went out jogging, and he would stop to talk to me. He would walk me home”—she looked up from the picture, blushing—“and I invited him inside.

“I didn’t know he was still married then. Truthfully, I was so in love with him I don’t think it would have mattered, anyway. He told me he was separated from his wife. Then, when he was selected to become one of the president’s pilots, he admitted he was getting back together with her, that the president wouldn’t allow any unmarried men on his team. That’s what he told me.”

Peyton had been a sixteen-year-old who had been taken advantage of by a man Train and others had respected. If the gossip had gotten out, his career would have been destroyed.

“I still remember that day. I’m ashamed to admit I begged him not to leave me. I told him I was pregnant and didn’t know what I would do. My aunt and uncle didn’t know about our affair. They didn’t want me there, much less help me raise a baby.” She flipped over another page.

“He bought the trailer and the land to put it on. Timothy promised, when he could, we would be able to see us more. He was worried about anyone finding out. I didn’t care, as long as I didn’t lose him. I was willing to do anything he wanted.

“When he came to Jamestown, I thought we could go places and do things together, but Timothy was always worried about someone finding out, especially when Rae grew older and started calling him daddy. He would smack her hand every time she did and make her call him Timothy.”