Train eyed the rowdy crowd. Viper and Stud were sitting at a table to his left. The presidents of the two clubs were talking as they watched their men become increasingly boisterous, each club member claiming bragging rights as to who had settled the score with Raul.
When their attention went to the door, Train stiffened as Sex Piston, Fat Louise, T.A., Crazy Bitch, and Killyama filed inside.
His gut twisted in need, fighting the urge to get off his stool and carry her outside to her ugly green car she refused to get rid of. If she hadn’t driven, he wasn’t picky; he could fuck her against the side of the building or spring for a room at the local hotel.
His eyes stalked her as she followed her friends to the table Fat Louise’s husband was sitting at.
Biding his time now that she was here, Train motioned to Mick to hand him another beer.
“Thanks.” Train started to reach for his wallet, but Mick stopped him.
“It’s on the house for fixing my car. It hasn’t run so well since I bought it.”
“I enjoyed working on it. I usually only have the men’s bikes to work on.”
As Mick talked, Train made sure that Killyama didn’t slip out of sight. He knew none of the brothers would ask her to dance, but he was interested to see if any of the Destructors would. From the file Crash had given him, he knew no men were sleeping over at her apartment, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t sleeping over at someone else’s.
She was wearing blue jeans and a black top that rose up the front, showing her flat waistline, then rode to her hip, accenting her ass. The plunging neckline showed the gleaming V of skin between her breasts. Her pert breasts were so firm Train thought he could bounce a quarter off them. The thin straps crossed at her shoulders, lacing down the long length of her arms.
Killyama had the best body he had ever seen on a woman. She moved like a lioness, confident in her ability to handle anything or anyone who dared to think they could tame her.
Train took a drink of his beer. He should have asked for something stronger. Usually, beer was all he had, but he was sure he was going to need something stronger tonight.
The women were joking and laughing among themselves, all except Killyama, who every now and then would respond to one of them. She seemed a part of their group, yet curiously detached, always keeping her eyes on what was going on around them.
“She’s a nice-looking woman. She yours?”
Train’s lips twisted. “No. I don’t have a woman.”
Mick raised a brow. “Then why are you staring at the redhead like a rare steak?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want her.”
Mick chuckled as he stepped out from behind the bar, going to Killyama’s table to take their drink orders. He came back a few minutes later to fill several beer mugs, placing them on a tray on the bar. Taking a bottle of tequila off a shelf, he then poured out just as many shot glasses before loading the round tray then carrying them to the table.
Train wished he could hear what he was saying to them, because the whole table turned to stare at Train. He felt like a six-year-old under their scrutiny. What the hell was Mick saying?
Before Train could ask, Mick held out his hand when he returned. “That’ll be thirty bucks.”
Train gaped at him. “I thought my beer was free?”
“It is. The round of beer I gave them …” Mick nodded his head toward Killyama’s table. “That costs you the thirty.”
Train closed his mouth as he reached for his wallet. Flicking the bills, he pulled out three tens.
“You’re not going to tip me? Don’t you want to know what she said?”
Train tightened his lips, taking out three ones before hastily putting his wallet out of sight before Mick could ask for more.
“Jeez, thanks.” Mick’s sarcastic comment didn’t keep him from shoving the cash into the cash register.
“I didn’t offer to buy their drinks,” Train reminded the bar owner. “Besides, Viper is footing the bill for the Destructors.”
“Viper’s not the one trying to get into that redhead’s panties. If you weren’t such a skinflint, you would have thought of that yourself. Didn’t your daddy teach you how to court a woman?”
“No, he must have missed that lesson.” The only lesson his father had taught him was to show him how to open a beer bottle with his teeth. Despite himself, Train couldn’t help asking, “So, what did Killyama say?”
Mick almost dropped the beer he was opening. Expertly managing to catch it before it could spill, he set it down on the bar.
“I didn’t know that was her nickname. She’s been in the bar a couple of times with Beth, but I never heard it before. You’re jonesing after a woman called that?”
“Why not? I love to live dangerously.”
“You sure you’re not related to Greer Porter? That’s something he would say when he’s chasing after a woman out of his league.”
“A gerbil is out of Greer’s league. You going to tell me what she said or not?”
Mick reached into the cash register and took out three dollars, setting it down in front of him.