by Jamie Begley
Train’s Clash
The Last Riders, #8; Biker Bitches, #4
Jamie Begley
Contents
When two people clash, two series collide.
Map of Treepoint, Kentucky
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
38. One Year Later
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Sarah Brianne
Lucca
Prologue
1. Mine
2. If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not The Answer
When two people clash, two series collide.
Young Ink Press Publication
YoungInkPress.com
Copyright © 2016 by Jamie Begley
Edited by C&D Editing &
Diamond in the Rough Editing
Cover Art by Young Ink Press
Map by C&D Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, drugs, domestic discipline, and explicit language offends you.
Connect with Jamie,
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www.JamieBegley.net
Map of Treepoint, Kentucky
Prologue
Killyama juggled the grocery bag in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other as she unlocked the door. Swinging it inward, she walked inside then slammed it shut with her foot.
“Don’t bother helping,” she snapped at the man lounging on the couch.
He clicked the remote, turning off the television, and then stood indolently, his tall body only hinting at the muscles underneath the faded denim and T-shirt. He walked toward her as she set the groceries and beer on the counter.
Turning back toward him, she was met with a hard smack across the face that sent her back against the counter.
As her fingers went to the corner of her mouth, coming away with blood, he taunted, “You’re getting slow.”
At that, Killyama swung her fist out, trying to nail him in the gut, but he sidestepped and caught her fist. Then she jerked her other hand up, nailing him under the chin. However, he didn’t release her.
They began to struggle against each other. He knocked her against the round table next to the kitchen table, causing his dirty breakfast plate to fall to the floor as she found herself lying back across the table. Taking her shot, she lifted her booted foot to kick him in the balls as he tried to pin her hands to the table.
“Son of a fucking bitch! You always go for the balls.”
“Hammer, if you know that, you should watch them better.” Killyama snickered, sitting up on the table as he bent over, trying to catch his breath from the pain.
When he regained himself, he hobbled to the counter, taking a beer out of the carton and twisting off the top. “Want one?”
“What do you think?”
Hammer tossed one to her then watched as she opened the bottle.
“Getting bored already?” she asked.
He took a long drink of his own beer before answering, “Yes. I don’t know why you have to live in this small-ass town.”
“I like it, and my friends are all here. You don’t have to stay. You could stay anywhere you want.”
“That’s true, but who would watch your back?”
Killyama snorted. “Who would watch yours?”
Hammer set his beer down on the counter. “I got called up for an assignment.”
“How bad?” She kept her expression neutral, knowing he would mock any concern she had.
“If they call me in, it’s bad.” He began picking up the broken dishes from the floor, tossing them into the trash. “Do you know where my paperwork is, in case I don’t come back?”
Her hand tightened on the beer as she took another sip. It wasn’t strong enough to numb the fear she felt over him leaving.
“They say Fiji is nice this time of year,” she joked past the lump in her throat, knowing that was what he expected of her.
“I can pick my own crew,” he told her, ignoring her attempt at humor.
She narrowed her eyes at him, seeing the impassivity on his face, before he quickly lowered his eyes.
“Don’t—”
“I need him. He’s the best chopper pilot in hot areas. If I’m going to bring my men out of there alive, I need him.”
“Or none of you will come out alive; is that what you’re trying to say?”
Hammer crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Finishing her beer, Killyama scooted off the table and placed the empty bottle next to his. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I say. I’ve begged you to quit taking these assignments, yet you still do. Now you’re going to take—”
“Dammit, Rae, I don’t want to leave with you pissed off at me!”
“Then you’re shit out of luck!” she snapped, picking up her car keys.
“Where are you going? I need to leave in an hour.”
“Drive your own damn self to the airport, or get Jonas to drive you.”
“I was kinda hoping you would tell Jonas for me.”
She scoffed. “I guess you’re really super fucked, then.” Angrily, she went to the door where she paused, her hand on the doorknob. She tried to control the tremble in her voice, not wanting to expose the turmoil that had her wanting to beg him to stay, as she told him without looking back, “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Killyama nodded, opening the door, and then paused again. “Do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Make sure you bring Train back. If anyone’s going to kill that fucker, it’s going to be me.”
“Tell me again, exactly, why the hell we’re sitting in the parking lot of Sex Piston’s beauty shop?”
Train ignored Rider’s aggravated complaining, watching for the woman who drove him crazy. Any other time, Killyama would be hanging out at Sex Piston’s shop. However, they had been sitting there for the last couple of hours with a no-show from her.
“You’re going to miss your flight.”
Tra
in ignored Rider’s reminder for the third time, but he did glance down at his watch, seeing Rider was right; whether she showed up or not, he was going to have to leave.
Just then, an ugly green car pulled into the parking lot, coming to a stop. His dick went hard before she even stepped out of the car.
“Sex Piston’s clients don’t have dicks,” she smarted off at his door before he could even step out.
Train kept his mouth shut, determined not to get into an argument with her this time. He had already anticipated her friends tipping her off that he had been hanging out.
He put up his guard before telling her, “I’m not here for Sex Piston. I wanted to see you.”
“Fucker, we don’t have a word to say to one another.” Placing her hands on her hips, she cocked a hip out.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He took a step toward her. “I’m going out of town, and I plan to settle this between us before I leave.”
Killyama shot him a killing glance. “Spit it out, then.”
Train was surprised she had given in so easily until he realized Sex Piston and her crew were watching from inside the shop.
“The day we went for a ride and ended up fucking each other—”
“Asshole, I don’t need you to remind me.”
“Hear me just one damn time, Killyama!” he yelled.
Her mouth snapped closed.
Taking a deep breath, he continued, “When I told you I wouldn’t fuck you again, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“So, you’re saying what?” She slid her hands into the back pockets of her leather pants, rocking her feet back and forth. “You would have done me again?”
“Maybe. What I was trying to tell you was that I don’t fuck women more than once who don’t belong to The Last Riders.”
“So, the only way you would do me again is if I became a Last Rider?”
“Yes.”
Killyama stared at him in silence, something Train didn’t take as a good sign, thinking she would rather chop her left tit off than become a Last Rider. Then she broke eye contact as Rider rolled down the window.
“Train, we’ve gotta go.”
She angrily jerked the truck door open. “Yeah, you don’t want to miss your flight. We don’t have a damn thing to talk about, anyway.”
“Killy—”
“Don’t call me that! We’re done talking.”
Train felt his hands clench into fists. Just like every other time he tried to talk to her, it had ended up in an argument. Just once, he wished the funny, sexy woman who had gone for a ride with him would show again. He wanted to see the woman who had brazenly tried to ride his bike, who didn’t have a shy bone in her body, and who was the one who had made the first move between them, igniting a fire that hadn’t been put out since that day.
“Yes, we are,” he growled.
Before he could change his mind, Train pinned her to the hood, thinking, Damn! It couldn’t feel as good as the last time I kissed her. However, when his tongue entered her mouth, he had to admit he had been mistaken. It was even better.
“You have exactly two seconds to get your hands off my bitch,” Sex Piston snarled at the exact moment he felt cold steel pressed against the back of his head.
Lingering, he released her lips, yet whispered against them, “We’re not done.” He then held a soft kiss against her lips for an infinite second.
She pushed him away. “Yes, we are.”
In another second, he was surrounded by women who could make any dick shrivel. That’s when Train noticed Rider, who was a scared little bitch, hadn’t volunteered to have his back.
Train stepped up to the truck. “I’ll see you in three months. Don’t forget me.”
“Dude, you’re already a memory,” Killyama said as she turned away.
After shutting the door, Train rolled down the window. “Don’t worry; I’ll remind you when I see you again.”
Before she or any one of the other bitches could say anything else, he hit the door as Rider drove away, the wind blowing strands of hair into his face.
“You do know that was a loaded pistol pointed at you, right?”
“Killyama wouldn’t have let her kill me.”
Rider shook his head at him.
“Don’t worry,” Train assured. “I’m not stupid enough to underestimate her or those friends of hers.”
“Really?” Rider spared him a glance as he drove onto the interstate. “Then tell me something.”
“What?” Train pulled a rubber band out of his pocket before dragging his hair behind his head.
“How did Killyama know you were going on a flight?”
1
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Killyama swung her legs off the side of the hospital bed. Swaying, she grabbed the handrail to keep herself from taking a nose dive toward the floor.
“Lay your ass back down.” Sex Piston lifted her feet back onto the bed.
“I want to go home,” Killyama complained, laying her head down on the pillow and closing her eyes. She had to fight back the dizziness, taking deep breaths to calm the nausea that had her gut in a vice grip.
“What’s the damn hurry?” Sex Piston slid the handrail up, preventing her from trying to get out of bed again. “You only got out of surgery five hours ago; the doctor won’t release you for another couple of days.”
“I’m not asking for his permission. I want to get out here before …” Killyama looked toward the doorway as the door opened after a brief knock.
The reason she had been trying to get away walked through the door behind Lucky.
Crowding into the small room, the two men ignored the women huddled around her bed. Her friends hadn’t left her side since they had met the ambulance at the Jamestown Hospital after she had been shot trying to save The Last Riders’ president’s wife.
Winter had gone into labor during a home invasion that had only one objective: to kill Winter and Viper. Anyone else who had thwarted that goal was simply collateral damage. Raul Silva had a score to settle with The Last Riders and the Destructors after putting an end to his cartel’s tyranny in a small town over the Mexican border.
Lucky came to stand at the foot of her bed as Train leaned against the wall underneath the small television set mounted high on the wall.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m still breathing.” Killyama focused on Lucky, ignoring Train as if he weren’t even in the room.
It wasn’t easy ignoring him since the biker was tall, even with his frame leaning against the wall. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, legs braced apart, and his muscular forearms showed under the black jacket he had pushed up to his elbows. His skin was dark, hinting a Native-American heritage, with high cheekbones and a sensual mouth. He had a sex appeal that could hit a woman any time he entered a room, and the fucker knew it.
“I can see that.” Lucky’s lips twisted in humor. “Stud called when you came out of surgery and said the doctor didn’t think there wouldn’t be any lasting damage.”
“I heard that Viper’s kid isn’t doing well.”
Lucky’s humor vanished. “No, she isn’t. That’s why I’m here and not Viper. He wants me, as vice president, to extend our gratitude to you and Sex Piston on his behalf.”
“Well, aren’t you being all fancy talking.” She looked away from the two men’s gazes, not wanting them to see how concerned she was for Winter and the baby’s condition.
Everyone who knew her thought she didn’t have a soft bone in her body. She hated soft-spoken bitches who could cry at the drop of a hat. Killyama prided herself on holding her own, no matter what she was up against. She had no intention of dropping her heartless façade in front of these two men.
“It’s a serious topic. The Last Riders don’t take what you both did lightly. Anything you want, if it is within our power, we’ll take care of it.”
Sex Piston swung her he
ad toward Lucky. “We’ll call it even. You don’t owe me shit. If Raul had lived, everyone knows that fucker would have come after Stud, Cade, and Fat Louise. Besides, I only held Winter’s hand. Killyama is the reason we got out alive.”
Killyama averted her eyes from Sex Piston. If the bitch got mushy in front of the men, she would bitch slap her, right after she hugged her.
Lucky nodded at Sex Piston, and then turned toward Killyama. “How about you? You need a new ride? That car you drive is a piece of crap. The muffler is held on with a zip-tie.”
“Don’t need a car,” Killyama refused. She could tell from Train’s stiffening stance he had expected her to jump on the chance of getting rid of the car. “It’s a classic. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean I need to get rid of it.”
“Take your time. Let me know when you decide—”
“Believe me; I will.” Killyama sat up straight, almost laughing at the trepidation on both of their faces. “Scared, Train? Afraid I’ll ask for another ride?”
“You want another ride, then all you have to do is ask.” His indifferent shrug took all the fun out of baiting him. “I think saving Winter’s life is worth more than a bike ride.”
Unable to bite back the hateful words spilling out of her mouth, she caustically replied, “I agree, especially not one from you. From what I remember, a ride from you wasn’t that great.”
Red stole up from the neck of his T-shirt.
Sex Piston had a soft spot for the wives of The Last Riders. Many of them had become friends. Her best friend was just grateful that everyone had lived. However, sentiment didn’t figure into Killyama’s conscience when she needed to keep someone away from her. If she had to portray herself as a self-serving bitch in front of Train, so be it. It was better than him realizing the truth.
Bikers were notorious for living a free and easy lifestyle, yet The Last Riders took that lifestyle to new heights. The Destructors might screw the same women, but at least they fucked behind closed doors and didn’t put on a show for everyone else to see. You couldn’t say the same for The Last Riders, which was one of the reasons Killyama kept her guard up around him.