Seeing Shade and Lily show up to witness Rider standing her up had made it even more embarrassing.
“Hey, girl,” Killyama had greeted Lily, not removing her glare from Rider.
Folding her arms even closer against her chest, she had decided to turn the tables on Rider. She wasn’t about to let even more people see her humiliation if she could help it.
“What’s going on?” Shade asked.
“I was supposed to give her a ride today”—Rider nodded his head sharply at Killyama—“but my bike won’t start. She thinks I’m fucking with her.”
“Babe, if you were fucking with me, I’d hope I would know it.” She grinned evilly at the furious Rider.
Rider’s face turned red. It took everything she had to keep from laughing at him. It was like taking candy from a baby.
“I meant that I wasn’t trying to get out from giving you a ride.”
“I know what you meant. Do I look stupid?”
Silence met her question.
She was dressed in leather pants and a black T-shirt that had a skull with a dagger in the eye. It read: “Come and get me.” Her makeup was dark and smoky, and her biker boots had metal spokes sticking out. She was willing to admit she was dressed like a ball buster, something that worked to her advantage. No one was stupid enough to insult her directly.
She could see Rider was becoming flustered.
Better him than me, Killyama thought to herself.
“We’ll have to make it another day. I have to order a part,” Rider hedged.
“You’ve already put me off three times. I’m tired of this shit. Forget it.” She turned around, opening her car door as she gave Shade a smirk. “The Last Riders don’t know how to keep their word. Good to know for future reference.”
“I’ll give you a ride myself,” Shade stated.
Killyama made a mental note that Shade didn’t like anyone calling out The Last Riders’ inability to keep their word.
“No offense, but I don’t ride with a man who’s got a woman at his back.”
Shade was grinding his teeth so hard it had his wife looking at him worriedly.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Train offered, setting down the tool he was holding.
This time, Killyama remained quiet, tilting her head to the side as she studied the man. The fucker knew she was trying to get them all pissed off.
Since becoming friends with Beth, she had talked to the men intermittently, so Killyama had gotten a feel for their personalities. Beth had described Rider as being funny and easygoing, which was why she had wanted to get to know him better. Beth had never mentioned Train. If she had, Killyama must have missed it, being more interested in Rider.
She took a deeper look at Train, seeing he had a dangerous edge to him. He was the kind of man you would jump off a cliff with, not caring if you were going to hit rocks or seep into a beautiful ocean of blue.
Rider’s flirtatious demeanor and good looks drew in women like a lure, whereas Train’s dark looks were somber. He didn’t need to bait the trap; he was a shark who would grab you and unwillingly pull you under. Train wasn’t like Rider. He wasn’t frightened of her, and his dark eyes gave no insight into his true personality. However, she had never run from the unknown, and she didn’t plan to start now.
“Deal.” Killyama shut the car door.
Train led the way to his bike, where she swung one leg over the seat after he did the same, snuggling close him. He shot her a look over his shoulder before turning on the motor, and then she hung on as he shot out onto the road.
Killyama was willing to admit she might have bitten off more than she could chew. When he had offered the ride, he hadn’t appeared mad. However, the look he had given her from over his shoulder showed how angry he was about the insult she had thrown down. Her mama hadn’t raised an idiot, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down. Instead, she held him tighter.
The trepidation vanished within half a mile. She loved riding on a motorcycle. She had her own, but when she rode by herself, she had to be careful, watching the road and the assholes who didn’t want to share it. With Train driving, all she had to do was enjoy.
Loosening her hold when everyone was out of sight, she held him by his belt. Killyama had ridden motorcycles long enough to know that he was good. Better than good. He handled the curvy roads like a pro, slowing down for the curves then accelerating as they turned a corner. The bike glided over the pavement smoothly.
His motorcycle was sick. It made hers feel like a bicycle.
Her adrenaline pumping, she tightened her thighs around Train’s waist before lowering her mouth to his ear so he could hear her over the sound of the motor. “Let me drive!”