Train's Clash (The Last Riders Book 9)

Train gritted his teeth. “It’s not like I would go to you right after being with another woman—”

“I’m giving you a choice. Either you can get all your blowjobs from other women, or my mouth is the only one that’s going to be sucking you off.” She shoved aside the bowl of nuts he had been nibbling on to push the nearly empty bowl of pretzels she had been eating toward him.

Train stood up without a word, going to the bar. “Give me a whiskey.”

“You never drink whiskey,” Mick commented, reaching for the bottle.

“Give me a double.” Train took out his wallet, paying for his drink before going back to the table where Killyama was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed at her ankles.

Train sat down, downing his shot. “Any of the women in the club will give a blowjob anytime I want, so you can scratch that.”

“Fine. I’m better. But if that’s what you want, it’s no skin off my nose.”

Reminding himself he didn’t hit women, he started to get up again, but Mick beat him to the punch, setting a bottle of whiskey on the table.

“You looked like you needed it.”

When he started to reach for his wallet, Mick shook his head. “Shade said it was on him.”

Shade was at Viper’s table. The brothers were amusing themselves by watching the show.

“Tell you what,” Killyama continued when Mick left. “I’ll give you one, and then you can decide. How’s that?”

Train reluctantly nodded. “You’re not going to go all psycho when I choose other women instead?”

“You won’t,” she replied confidently. “But no, I won’t go psycho.”

“Okay.”

“Cool. Now to my next rule.”

“There’s another one?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to fuck you at my apartment.”

“Why not? Are you living with someone?” he asked suspiciously.

“No. I only invite men into my bed who are special. This is sex. Stud keeps a spare bedroom; we can use that.”

“What’s wrong with my room at my club?” She was taking the wind out of his sails. He had hoped he could gradually convince her to join The Last Riders. If she didn’t come to the clubhouse, how was he going to show her what she was missing?

“I can be fair. We’ll take turns on which club we use, but don’t expect me to take any part in that swapping crap.”

“All right.” Train lowered his gaze to refill his glass. Nowhere in the rules she was sprouting off did she say he couldn’t try to change her mind. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“I have one of my own. I said before I won’t ever lie to you. I expect the same from you. Don’t ever lie to me. If you do, I’ll walk away without looking back.”

She stared at him for several minutes before nodding. “I agree.” She held her hand for him to shake.

Train stood up so fast he had to catch his chair from falling. Taking the hand she held out, he rushed them from the bar. She didn’t have trouble keeping up with his long strides.

“Where in the hell are we going?”

“We’re going to my room. It’s closer.” He stopped at his motorcycle. Getting on, he turned his head to see she hadn’t gotten on. “We going to do this or not?”

Train thought he saw a vulnerable expression on her face when he had turned around, but when he looked again after starting his bike, it was gone. He assumed it was just a trick of the light in the dark parking lot. Killyama didn’t have a vulnerable bone in her body.

She got on behind him, twining her arms around his waist. “You sure you won’t let me drive your bike?”

“I’m sure.” He peeled out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell were after them. He wanted her in his bed and under him before she could change her mind … or add more demands.

The cool night surrounded them as they rode. Train didn’t even feel it, too excited at having her again. He won a battle against Killyama, and she didn’t even know it. He was going to make sure she would crave him every second she was away. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize The Last Riders could give her something the Destructors couldn’t. Him.

Train almost laughed out loud. She would be begging to become a Last Rider.





5





Killyama stared around the small room as Train removed his shirt. The room was smaller than she had expected, the majority of the space taken over by the large bed and a nightstand that seemed to be an afterthought. Besides that, there was a small desk on one wall. Its surface was clear and neat.

When she had gotten off his bike and climbed the long flight of steps to The Last Riders’ clubhouse, she had told herself she would turn around. Instead, she had meekly followed him inside and up the stairs to his room.

She had expected the main room to have a few of The Last Riders that hadn’t attended the party at Rosie’s, but it was empty as the sounds of their steps echoed hollowly in the silence.

“It’s a small room,” she noted. “You sure no one’s going to come in?”

“No one comes in without knocking unless the door is open.”