“You want me to find a hotel, or am I driving you home?” Hammer asked before they exited the parking garage.
“Let’s go home. I can drive if you’re too tired.” Killyama scrolled down the text messages she had been too busy to answer during the day.
Hammer didn’t answer as he pulled out onto the street.
“Everything okay in the office?” Jonas turned to look over his shoulder, watching as she read her messages.
Her lips tightened as she dropped her phone into her lap. “Yes, Venny said it was a slow day.”
“Thank fuck. I need a day off. It’s good to have you back.” Hammer didn’t take his eyes off the road as he gave the compliment.
“What? Did you hear that, Jonas? Aw, I knew you liked working with me.”
“What choice do I have?” Hammer flicked the blinker as he accelerated to merge onto the interstate. “It was hire you, or attend your funeral when you got your ass killed. Besides, you can run faster than me and Jonas.”
“A turtle can run faster than you two,” she good-naturedly insulted the men in the front seat.
Jonas passed her a bottled water. “You have anything planned this weekend?”
“I have to go to a party that The Last Riders and Destructors are throwing.”
Killyama didn’t miss the look the men shared.
“The two clubs are having a party together?” Jonas was the one to ask the question they were both curious about.
“It’s not like you’re thinking. Jesus, I tell you one little secret about The Last Riders and you think all MCs are like them. The only thing the Destructors have in common with The Last Riders are motorcycles.”
“You think so?” Hammer shook his head, disbelieving.
“I know so. What else could we have in common?”
“You seriously don’t think the Destructors are doing some of the same women in their club?”
“Maybe, but at least they don’t let others fucking watch.” Killyama crushed the water bottle in her hand. “If you’re so damn interested in The Last Riders, I’m surprised you two didn’t join when you got out of the service.”
“Neither Jonas nor I needed a club. We had families to go back home to.”
“That one-room cabin isn’t a home.”
“It is to me. Besides, me and Jonas wouldn’t fit in with The Last Riders. Most of them were in the Navy; we’re Rangers. We lead the way.”
She made sure Hammer and Jonas heard her mock gagging noises as they fist bumped in the front seat.
“You were probably worried they would see the needle dicks you two are packing.”
“They would have been jealous.”
Killyama held on to the armrest as Hammer’s boasting had him swerving from taking the lane that was an exit. She needed to make sure her living will was up to date.
“Now I really want to throw up. Talking about your dicks is creeping me out.”
“You were the one who brought it up.”
“It’s not like we’re related,” Jonas spoke up. Killyama could see his grin in the dark.
“Yes, you are. You’re like honorary uncles.”
“It’s an honor?” Jonas’s grin grew wider.
“Hell yes. Well, you are. Hammer’s more like a distant cousin.”
“That’s cute, kid. Hear that, Hammer?”
“You only like him more because he bought that motorcycle for you on your sixteenth birthday and taught you how to shoot a gun. I gave you a car. I never hear you thanking me for that.”
“Believe me; I have thanked you several times, and so have my friends.” Killyama’s mind went back to the numerous times the car’s spacious back seat had been used instead of a motel room.
Hammer turned on the music, and Killyama relaxed back in her seat. She was growing tired of the drive from Knoxville to Jamestown. It would be easier to live there, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut ties with her friends. Hammer grouched about it constantly. Even Jonas was getting fed up with her excuses.
When Hammer had opened his business in Knoxville after he had left the service, he had expected her to move there, too, but she had nixed that idea. Killyama couldn’t leave her bitches behind for the job she had begged him to train her for. They needed her to watch their backs. Two of them might have husbands now, but they still needed her. Or, that was what she told herself. She refused to name the real reason she remained in Kentucky.
She hated herself for the two hours she had spent alone with Train. It had the side effect of not being able to get him out of her system.
The Last Riders should tattoo a warning label on their backs: once is not enough. Every time she was near him, he could make her body quiver in need as if she were an addict begging for a fix.