Train's Clash
Page 94
“Me, too.” Bina laid her head on her shoulder, lifting dark, soulful eyes to her. “Are you going to tell Papa?”
“No, you two are. We’ve told you over and over again that you’re not allowed to play in here.”
“I needed some paper. I used all of mine,” Ela confessed.
“Then you should have asked. You knew I was busy with lunch and snuck in here, Ela.”
Killyama’s calm reaction started the tears flowing again, Ela’s tiny shoulder shaking with her sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“I can either trust you or start locking my door again. Can I trust you, Ela?”
“Yes, Mama. I won’t do it anymore. I promise.”
“I do, too.” Bina wanted to make sure she wasn’t left out if her sister managed to get out of trouble.
“Okay, I’m going to trust you both. Now go eat your lunch; it’s getting cold. I made your favorite.” She gave them each a big hug as they slipped off her lap.
“Save me some!” Killyama shouted out as she heard them running down the hallway.
She sat back in her chair, smiling lovingly at the sounds of their chatter.
“I told you it was going to be okay,” Ela boasted.
“Papa doesn’t know yet. He’s going to make us sit in time-out,” Bina reminded her.
Killyama used her boot to swivel her chair as they started conspiring on how to get out of Train’s punishment.
“I told you to wait another year before taking that lock off,” she reproved the painting that stared back at her.
Shoving her hands in her back pocket to keep from touching it, the sight of her husband never failed to impress her. It was her mother’s talent in Train’s portrait that had convinced Killyama to accept his marriage proposal. Killyama had known her mother could see into the soul of who she was painting, and she had definitely captured Train’s. His love for her was evident with each brush stroke.
When she was working on a particular case, she could stare up at his portrait and ground herself again. Whatever horror that humanity was capable of, it was filled with love, too.
“I see the girls have been busy.” Train’s soft voice had her turning toward him.
“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me? You want me to give birth in my office?” she snapped.
Train gave her a smug smile, coming toward her to wrap her up in his arms. “You’re only mad because I caught you staring at my picture again.”
“You’re lucky it’s your picture hanging there.” She sniffed indignantly, trying to pull away. “If Rider’s bike hadn’t broken down the day he was supposed to give me a ride, there would have been a different picture hanging there.”
Train burst out laughing. “There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening,” he boosted, gathering her closer.
“You don’t think I could have made Rider love me?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “It would have been a piece of cake.”
Train linked his fingers with hers. “Babe, I don’t doubt you could have made Rider love you … if you had been given the chance. Why do you think his bike was messed up?”
Killyama narrowed her eyes on her husband’s unrepentant face. “You sabotaged Rider’s bike?”
“Yes. There wasn’t any way I was letting Rider have first dibs on you.”
She leaned up, kissing him. “Sneaky men make me hot.”
“Papa!” Their daughters came running into the room, lifting their arms to be held.
Train lifted them up, kissing each of their cheeks. “What have you hellions been up to? I was only gone ten minutes.”
“I love you, Papa.” Ela turned his face toward her.
“I love you more.” Bina made him turn to face her.
Killyama rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“Let’s go let your papa eat his lunch. You can tell him how much you both love him when you’re telling him about my broken vase.”
Train set the girls back down on their feet. “You two go ahead. We’re coming.”
Their little shoulders drooped as they obeyed their father’s order.
“I told you that boys are less trouble.”
“Lover, don’t blame me. I’m trying!” She pointed at her belly. “If this one isn’t a boy, you’re shit out of luck.”
“It’s a boy,” Train declared confidently, bending down to place a kiss on her stomach.
She ran her fingers lovingly through his hair, whispering, “From your lips to God’s ear.”
Sometime in the future…
The sound of the party taking place outside of the club was muted when he shut the door behind him. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out another six-pack of beer, setting it down on the counter. Taking one out, he opened the bottle, his eyes catching the portrait hanging on the wall.
The large picture showed the founding members of The Last Riders. His eyes caught on the dark-eyed, somber man with the chain hanging down the side of his leg. He felt the same chain brush the side of his own leg when he turned toward the door.
“What’s taking so long, Clash?” a sultry voice asked. “Brick is looking for you.”
“Nothing.” Clash turned back to the picture, tilting his beer bottle in salute before taking a drink then grabbing the six-pack to leave. “I’m coming.”
Lucca
Made Men, #4
Sarah Brianne
Coming Soon!
Prologue
The Story Behind the Scar. The Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture.
Pulling his classic black Cadillac onto the side of the street, he positioned himself perfectly to watch the house. Then he looked at the clock and saw he had timed it perfectly. School’s out.
He flipped his lighter off and on, off and on, waiting for her return. Lucca had never been good at sitting still, nor was he a very patient man when he was tired. The night before had been a long one, and his body still felt it this afternoon. Regardless, he had enjoyed every second of it.
Last night, he had lain Mr. Johnson to rest and held up his promise of fucking the blonde until she regretted it. Both things had satiated his dark side … for now, anyway.
Lucca flipped his lighter closed as a stuck-up BMW pulled into the driveway. He had never trusted a German car. The only thing good about it was its black paint color.
A strawberry blonde exited the car. Elle Buchanan. He couldn’t help the sneer he pasted on his face. His little brother was in big fucking trouble.
Watching her walk to the front door, he believed the girl only got prettier the more you looked at her.
It’s going to be a shame when I have to strangle the life out of her.
One thing was for sure, the girl was going to die, and nothing was going to save her. It was unfortunate she had been there when the trigger had been pulled, but some girls were just born unlucky, this one in particular. She was only going to make it another month to her eighteenth birthday.
The stuck-up looking car reversed, drawing back his attention. He wondered who would drop off a girl in this neighborhood. Truthfully, he was a little shocked this was the address, considering the girl had come from a prep school.
“No, you two are. We’ve told you over and over again that you’re not allowed to play in here.”
“I needed some paper. I used all of mine,” Ela confessed.
“Then you should have asked. You knew I was busy with lunch and snuck in here, Ela.”
Killyama’s calm reaction started the tears flowing again, Ela’s tiny shoulder shaking with her sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“I can either trust you or start locking my door again. Can I trust you, Ela?”
“Yes, Mama. I won’t do it anymore. I promise.”
“I do, too.” Bina wanted to make sure she wasn’t left out if her sister managed to get out of trouble.
“Okay, I’m going to trust you both. Now go eat your lunch; it’s getting cold. I made your favorite.” She gave them each a big hug as they slipped off her lap.
“Save me some!” Killyama shouted out as she heard them running down the hallway.
She sat back in her chair, smiling lovingly at the sounds of their chatter.
“I told you it was going to be okay,” Ela boasted.
“Papa doesn’t know yet. He’s going to make us sit in time-out,” Bina reminded her.
Killyama used her boot to swivel her chair as they started conspiring on how to get out of Train’s punishment.
“I told you to wait another year before taking that lock off,” she reproved the painting that stared back at her.
Shoving her hands in her back pocket to keep from touching it, the sight of her husband never failed to impress her. It was her mother’s talent in Train’s portrait that had convinced Killyama to accept his marriage proposal. Killyama had known her mother could see into the soul of who she was painting, and she had definitely captured Train’s. His love for her was evident with each brush stroke.
When she was working on a particular case, she could stare up at his portrait and ground herself again. Whatever horror that humanity was capable of, it was filled with love, too.
“I see the girls have been busy.” Train’s soft voice had her turning toward him.
“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me? You want me to give birth in my office?” she snapped.
Train gave her a smug smile, coming toward her to wrap her up in his arms. “You’re only mad because I caught you staring at my picture again.”
“You’re lucky it’s your picture hanging there.” She sniffed indignantly, trying to pull away. “If Rider’s bike hadn’t broken down the day he was supposed to give me a ride, there would have been a different picture hanging there.”
Train burst out laughing. “There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening,” he boosted, gathering her closer.
“You don’t think I could have made Rider love me?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “It would have been a piece of cake.”
Train linked his fingers with hers. “Babe, I don’t doubt you could have made Rider love you … if you had been given the chance. Why do you think his bike was messed up?”
Killyama narrowed her eyes on her husband’s unrepentant face. “You sabotaged Rider’s bike?”
“Yes. There wasn’t any way I was letting Rider have first dibs on you.”
She leaned up, kissing him. “Sneaky men make me hot.”
“Papa!” Their daughters came running into the room, lifting their arms to be held.
Train lifted them up, kissing each of their cheeks. “What have you hellions been up to? I was only gone ten minutes.”
“I love you, Papa.” Ela turned his face toward her.
“I love you more.” Bina made him turn to face her.
Killyama rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“Let’s go let your papa eat his lunch. You can tell him how much you both love him when you’re telling him about my broken vase.”
Train set the girls back down on their feet. “You two go ahead. We’re coming.”
Their little shoulders drooped as they obeyed their father’s order.
“I told you that boys are less trouble.”
“Lover, don’t blame me. I’m trying!” She pointed at her belly. “If this one isn’t a boy, you’re shit out of luck.”
“It’s a boy,” Train declared confidently, bending down to place a kiss on her stomach.
She ran her fingers lovingly through his hair, whispering, “From your lips to God’s ear.”
Sometime in the future…
The sound of the party taking place outside of the club was muted when he shut the door behind him. Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out another six-pack of beer, setting it down on the counter. Taking one out, he opened the bottle, his eyes catching the portrait hanging on the wall.
The large picture showed the founding members of The Last Riders. His eyes caught on the dark-eyed, somber man with the chain hanging down the side of his leg. He felt the same chain brush the side of his own leg when he turned toward the door.
“What’s taking so long, Clash?” a sultry voice asked. “Brick is looking for you.”
“Nothing.” Clash turned back to the picture, tilting his beer bottle in salute before taking a drink then grabbing the six-pack to leave. “I’m coming.”
Lucca
Made Men, #4
Sarah Brianne
Coming Soon!
Prologue
The Story Behind the Scar. The Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture.
Pulling his classic black Cadillac onto the side of the street, he positioned himself perfectly to watch the house. Then he looked at the clock and saw he had timed it perfectly. School’s out.
He flipped his lighter off and on, off and on, waiting for her return. Lucca had never been good at sitting still, nor was he a very patient man when he was tired. The night before had been a long one, and his body still felt it this afternoon. Regardless, he had enjoyed every second of it.
Last night, he had lain Mr. Johnson to rest and held up his promise of fucking the blonde until she regretted it. Both things had satiated his dark side … for now, anyway.
Lucca flipped his lighter closed as a stuck-up BMW pulled into the driveway. He had never trusted a German car. The only thing good about it was its black paint color.
A strawberry blonde exited the car. Elle Buchanan. He couldn’t help the sneer he pasted on his face. His little brother was in big fucking trouble.
Watching her walk to the front door, he believed the girl only got prettier the more you looked at her.
It’s going to be a shame when I have to strangle the life out of her.
One thing was for sure, the girl was going to die, and nothing was going to save her. It was unfortunate she had been there when the trigger had been pulled, but some girls were just born unlucky, this one in particular. She was only going to make it another month to her eighteenth birthday.
The stuck-up looking car reversed, drawing back his attention. He wondered who would drop off a girl in this neighborhood. Truthfully, he was a little shocked this was the address, considering the girl had come from a prep school.
