“I was afraid Crash would get suspicious and get the Road Demons to kill Gavin. It had nothing to do with trust. It had to do—”

“You couldn’t bring yourself to put your happiness over someone’s life. Do you know how rare you are? It’s why I love you so much … You fought like a wildcat to protect Winter, Lily … You’re a protector; you can’t help yourself.” Train pried her fingers from the bars, holding them in his hand. “If you had gone in the military, you would have had a uniform filled with medals.”

“Timothy didn’t want me to,” she admitted, watching his reaction. “My mother told you, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “She told me everything.”

Killyama sighed. “She doesn’t want to move.”

“I don’t want you to, either. Stay, Killy … please.”

“If I did like you …” She then added the end of her sentence hurriedly, “And I’m not saying I do. I don’t want you leaving The Last Riders. They might not like me, but they love you.”

“Babe …” He broke off at her dark look. “Killyama, they love you. We could compromise. Stay one week at The Last Riders’ compound, and then we can stay at your apartment the next week. We can take turns.”

“I’m not leaving my cat alone for a week.”

“There’s a large bedroom with its own bathroom where Lucky and Willa lived in until their house was built. It’s empty. Viper would let me have that room if I wanted it.”

“I could meet up with Sex Piston the week I live with you and drive in to Jamestown to meet up with Hammer and Jonas when I need to?” Killyama asked, hope brimming in her chest.

“Yes.”

His fake acceptance had her grinning. “You’re not going to bitch about me bounty hunting?”

“No, but when we get married, and you get pregnant, it stops.”

“Deal.” She turned his hand, shaking it hard.

“Don’t think I don’t know you accepted that deal because you never plan to marry me and have kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. A deal’s a deal. Now let me out of this hell hole.”

Train laughed. “Knox would be offended if he heard you call his cell a hell hole.”

“He’ll be lucky if I don’t sue his ass. I still might when he gives me my purse back, and I get my cell phone. I’m calling Diamond. Fucker said I littered with malice. Number one: it was his cup. Number two: he was the one who dropped it, so he was the one who was littering.”

“Killyama, you should have gone into politics.”

“I know, right? I might need to go to law school so I can put bastards like him away for good.” She pointed at the poster on the wall.

Train stared at the wanted posters, a frown furrowing his forehead. “What’s he wanted for?”

“For being ugly.”

He laughed. “You ever fuck in a jail cell?”

“No, and I’m not going to tonight. I’ve got to go—”

“I thought you would want to be with me tonight?” Train tried to kiss her.

“Not tonight. I gave Sex Piston forty-five dollars to buy dinner for me.”

Train placed his hand on the door so she couldn’t open it.

“Lover, I know you missed me, but I’m hungry, and I’ve already paid for it.”

“Don’t be mad. Remember, we just got back together.”

Damn, the fucker was cute when he was afraid of her anger.

“It was Sex Piston’s idea … how to get you to talk to me,” he confessed, searching her eyes to see if she was mad.

“Is King’s still open?”

“Yes.” His eyes started twinkling.

“I guess you’re taking me to dinner. You can buy me that big-ass T-bone steak on his menu. And you’re getting back my forty-five dollars from Sex Piston.”

“It’d be easier for me to give you the money back myself.”

“Lover, if that works for you, that’s fine, as long as it ends up in my purse.”

Train left the bathroom with a towel wrapped about his hips. He would ask Viper in the morning if he could take Shade’s old bedroom, looking forward to the large shower that was down there, already anticipating many memorable showers.

He had wanted them to take that shower when they came back from King’s, but she hadn’t wanted to. Train thought she had wanted time to herself to call her mother who was still staying with Gavin.

Worried about her changing her mind if he left her alone too long, he opened the door to see her sitting on his bed. She was wearing one of his few white T-shirts. It was large on her, but he could still see the long length of her legs. She was brushing her shoulder-length hair.

He loved her curly hair. The dark mahogany gleamed in the glow of the lamp.

When he closed the door, she stopped brushing her hair, holding the brush loosely in her hand. She wrapped her arms around her knees, a swathe of hair covering the curve of her cheek.

“I have a confession to make.”

Train moved closer to the bottom of the bed. “What is it?”

“I had already made up my mind to drive to the clubhouse and see you after I left the church store.”

“Were you?” Train stared tenderly at the woman he loved more than life.

“Yes. I was going to be all romantic and shit, too.”

“Really? I’m sorry I missed that.”

Train threw his towel into the hamper in the corner of his bedroom, sitting down on the side of the bed behind her where he brushed her hair away from her face. She rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand, but still wouldn’t turn around to face him.

“Next time we get in a fight, I promise I will let you be the one to make up.”

“I have something for you.” She shifted slightly, reaching for her purse. “Close your eyes.”

Train immediately obeyed, hearing the snap of her purse as she opened it.

“I kept it in my purse, not knowing when I would be able to give it to you.”

Train felt her take his hand that had been pressed to her cheek, placing something in his palm. Then, leaning back against his chest, she relaxed.

“You can open your eyes.”

Train stared at the black braided wristband. He smoothed his fingers over it, feeling the stiff leather that was also supple and soft. Braided into the wristband was a silver disc. His eyes narrowed, reading the Apache words she had engraved.

He huskily repeated the words his grandfather had taught him. “I love you.”

Killyama raised the hand holding the wristband, pretending to squint down at it. “Is that what it says? Damn, I thought it said something else.”

Train played along with her. “What was it supposed to say?”

“Mine.”

“Put it on for me?” Train held out his wrist so she could tie it on his left wrist.

“You don’t want to put it on you right hand?” she asked as she secured it.

“The left one is closer to my heart.”

When she finished, he used the same hand to turn her in his arms. Leaning back against the headboard, he lifted her up until she was sitting on his lap, her knees on each side of his hips.