“You okay?” Train watched the myriad of expressions cross her face as he fucked her while moving his hand down to Jewell’s pussy.

“Oh … yes!”

Train fucked her, never losing the control that had Sasha screaming out her orgasm in the lighted bedroom. Then, when he would have moved off her, Sasha’s grip around his waist tightened.

Train stiffened. “Let go.”

He didn’t miss the fleeting, mutinous expression she tried to hide. Sasha might not know it yet, but it would be the last time she was invited to share his bed.

Twisting his hips to the side, he removed the condom, tossing it into the trashcan next to his bed before taking another off his nightstand.

“Get on your knees, Jewell.”

The woman eagerly got into position, turning her ass up toward him. Jewell was a constant bed partner of his, so he didn’t have to exercise the same control he had to with Sasha.

He rode her long and hard with Sasha watching. He didn’t touch her again, when usually, Train made sure all participants received their own portion of attentiveness. However, she had broken his cardinal rule by letting her possessiveness show.

It was the reason he had joined The Last Riders—the women had to share them. Anyone unable to follow that rule wasn’t made a member. It was a rule that kept everyone happy. It took the jealously out of the relationships they shared, not only from the women, but with the men as well. They were all on equal footing, which kept the men from the fights that plagued other MCs.

The men who belonged to The Last Riders were dangerous and deadly. Most, if not all, had served in the military and had firsthand experience of losing friends in the heat of anger.

Feeling Jewell coming on his dick, Train allowed himself to orgasm, relaxing his control long enough to enjoy the sensations coursing through his body.

Jewell dropped down to the mattress. “I can’t move.”

Train slid out of bed, giving her an affectionate pat on her ass. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you in time to get ready for work.” Then, naked, he went out into the hallway to the bathroom next door to his room.

Most of the bedrooms had bathrooms; his didn’t. Viper had offered him the bedroom that used to be his before he had built his own house on the opposite side of the factory, but Train had refused. He was content in his small room, just as he was about being a soldier in the club.

Rider’s door was open, so Train casually looked inside, seeing him fucking Stori. He didn’t interrupt, ignoring the silent invitation that the open door meant.

When any of the brothers wanted privacy, they kept their doors closed. An open door indicted that, if anyone wanted to participate, all they had to do was go inside. Whoever’s room it was would tell them just how far they would be allowed to play. Some of the brothers liked to put on a show, while others had a no holds barred, figuratively.

As Train showered, he adjusted the height of the nozzle so his hair wouldn’t get wet. He washed every inch of his body, the sexual satisfaction already disappearing, leaving the ache of longing that was never far away to return.

His dark eyes stared back him in mirror as he shaved after showering. Sasha and Jewell weren’t going to be the only ones who were going to be tired in the morning. In fact, the weariness in his soul was becoming visible more and more as each day passed.

He wasn’t a kid anymore. The late nights and fuck fests were beginning to take a toll on him. The pussy and the pot might keep his memories at bay, but they came back as soon as the party was over.

When he left the bathroom, he saw that Stori was already asleep on Rider’s bed, and Crash and Rider were sitting on the floor in front of the television set, playing video games.

“Train!”

He stopped before entering his own door at Crash’s call, moving toward Rider’s door. “Yeah?”

“I found the info you wanted. It’s on Rider’s desk.”

Train moved from Rider’s doorway, going to his desk. He picked up the plain folder sitting on top. “Why didn’t you just email it to me?”

Crash laughed. “Emails can be hacked.”

Crash was a hacker with a gift. There wasn’t a computer he couldn’t get into. It might take time, but he would find some way to breach the defenses. The harder the job, the more he took it as a challenge.

“It’s a big file.”

“You wanted everything I could find on Killyama. It’s in there. Viper also asked for a copy. Guess he’s worried about the IOU he promised.”

“I asked for her information before, and you couldn’t get it; how’d you get it now?”

“Emails are the windows to the soul, my friend. Remember that.”

Crash maneuvered his joystick with a dexterity that Rider couldn’t keep up with. Rider slammed his own controller down on the floor when his spacecraft erupted into a ball of flames.

“Besides, I don’t know what you’re bitchin’ about. I gave the folder to Shade a year ago and told him to pass it on to you. I just updated it when Shade gave it back to me last week.”

“Thanks.”

Irritated, Train left the bedroom, anxious to read what was contained in the folder. If it weren’t so late, he would call Shade. The brother had promised to pass any information he had found on Killyama.

When he returned to his room, he found both Sasha and Jewell fast asleep.

Turning off the light on the nightstand, he then turned on the one at his desk before opening the folder and starting to read.

He was dead tired. By just the first page, it was hard to keep sleep at bay. By the end of the folder, two hours later, though, any desire for sleep had disappeared.

Closing the folder, he locked it in his drawer, wishing the women weren’t sleeping in his bed so he could take his frustration out by punching a hole in a wall.

He had always known that convincing Killyama to join The Last Riders was a forlorn hope. What he had just read proved it.

His cell phone ringing had Train lifting it to his ear, even before he saw it was Viper calling.

“Did you read it?”

“I just finished. I’m going to kick Shade’s ass in the morning.”

“I know. He’s not answering his phone.” Not trying to hide his own fury, Viper’s voice cracked like a whip through the cell phone.

“What are you going to do?” Train asked.

“What am I going to do? What are you going to do? You’re the one with the hard-on for the bitch. I told you the brothers aren’t going to open their arms to her, anyway. It’s not like you were serious about her, or are you?”

“I told you that I thought she would make a good Last Rider … if she could tone down her aggressiveness toward the other women … and men,” Train added as an afterthought. “The problem is, from Crash’s report, Killyama is not only business partners with them, they’ve been in her life since she was a little girl.” Train brought his fingers to his eyes, pressing hard until he saw spots as he tried to figure a way out of the box he found himself trapped in. “If Hammer and Jonas find out I’m trying to convince her to join the club, they’ll talk her out of it.”

“Crash is sure they aren’t related?”

“Crash doesn’t make mistakes. There isn’t a way of knowing for sure until he, or I, can find out who her father is. No father is listed, and her mother still lives in Jamestown.” He sighed. “It couldn’t have been easy growing up without a father. He thinks either Jonas or Hammer dated Killyama’s mother at one time and drew close to her, stepping in as father figures.”