“I should call Jonas and tell him, the next time he sends me flowers, to buy me a vase, too,” she complained out loud, knowing she wouldn’t even mention the flowers to him, afraid she would hurt the sensitive man’s feelings if she didn’t get mushy. Letting the men be nice to her this past week was as much as she could take before busting some heads.
After digging out the catnip toys she had bought from her suitcase, she watched a movie before scooping her cat up to go to bed.
About to turn out the light, she paused, fear momentarily overriding her. She would be damned if she let Kane into her dreams. Like all monsters, they only hurt you if you let them.
Her hand went to her throat. The bruising on her neck would eventually go away, and so would the memory of him staring down at her with bloodlust in his eyes.
Turning off the light, she let herself be lulled to sleep by the purring by her head, unaware that the cat wasn’t the only one watching over her.
Moon lit a cigarette before offering one to Train.
Train shook his head. “No, thanks. I quit.” He had only occasionally smoked, and usually only when one of the brothers had offered him one.
Moon peered at him through the smoky haze of his exhale. “Go get some sleep. I’ll stay here until you get back.”
He nodded. “Archer is watching the back. I’ll be back in the morning.” Train hated to leave, but he had some business to take care of with Shade.
“I’ve got it covered. Enjoy yourself and get some sleep.”
“I will.” Train grimly kicked up his kickstand. Seven members were waiting for their own share of the fun, all eight original members must be present for the Last Riders to serve their own brand of justice.
His bike sped down the winding roads toward Treepoint, its headlight guiding his way as lightning streaked across the sky. Knowing the road like the back of his hand, Train seamlessly rode, determined to beat the storm.
Gliding over the pavement at breakneck speeds like a thunderbolt waiting to strike, at the journey’s end, the damage wrought would claim a victim.
18
“Which color?” Killyama held up the two fingernail polishes for Star to choose from.
Sex Piston’s youngest stepdaughter had her little mouth pursed as she debated which one to pick. “Why can’t I have that one?” Star pointed at the deep red that Killyama had used to paint Fat Louise’s nails earlier.
“What’s wrong with these?” Killyama tried to steer her toward the more subdued colors.
“They aren’t as pretty.”
“Your daddy will like these.” She wiggled the two polishes enticingly. “He’ll yell at me if I paint your toenails that shade of red.”
“Is he going to yell at Fat Louise?” The soft-hearted little girl looked worried.
“Yes,” Killyama lied unrepentantly. Sometimes with kids, you had to put the fear of God into them. If not God, then Stud was a good second for one who worshiped him. “That’s why she left before your daddy comes home.”
“The pink.”
“I like the pink, too.” Killyama shook the bottle as she reached for Star’s foot. The little girl began falling to the floor, catching herself. When she kept tickling her unmercifully, Star’s giggles had Killyama laughing with her as they rolled on the floor.
“Do I need to send you girls to time out?”
Killyama quickly sat up at the sound of Stud’s voice. She tugged her top back down that had inched up during the skirmish, turning toward the door and projecting the patronizing attitude she always wore unless her guard was down.
The sight of Stud and Train standing in the doorway had her nearly exposing the shock of seeing The Last Rider in Stud’s family room. She had avoided him during the holidays by refusing Beth’s and Lily’s invitations to celebrate with them, saying she was too busy with work. Since then, she had been glad they lived in different counties so she hadn’t run into him when she was around town.
“What’s he doing here?” That wasn’t the choice of words she wanted to use, but the little girl’s presence had her filtering her words.
The corner of Train’s mouth quirked up.
“I invited him to lunch, if that’s okay with you?” Stud’s expression showed he didn’t care if it was or wasn’t. “We’re taking a break from designing the new bike Train ordered.”
“Did you include the price of lunch in the quote for the bike? If not, there’s a McDonald’s ten miles away.”
“Yes.”
Damn, the bastard used her own trick against her. She would have to warn Sex Piston he could lie as easily as she could.
“Where’s Sex Piston?” Stud asked.
“In the kitchen.”
“Take a seat, Train. I’ll go tell her you’re eating with us.”
If the fucker expected to get a nicer response from his wife, he was going to be disappointed.
“Ready, Star?” Killyama turned back to the little girl.