All That Matters (7 page)

“Yes. Fuck yes. Fuck me. Please!” Meg begged. The feelings that were building up inside of her were so intense that she didn't know what else she could do besides ride the rising wave. “Please!”

“Please what?” he demanded.

“Please make me come.”

“Again.” He leaned over her. “I'll make you come again if you do something for me.”

“What?” Meg didn't think that there was much she wouldn't agree to at the moment. He remained inside of her but shifted so that he was on his knees. The change in position sent him even deeper inside of her. “OH!”

He chuckled and used his hands to push her legs open wider. “Touch yourself. Touch those pretty titties and play with your clit. Yeah, like that.” His eyes were full of fire as she covered her breasts with her hands. “Use one hand on your clit. Meg's hand shook as she ran it down her body. She gasped as she touched herself. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

It felt amazing. Meg had thought what she felt before was the best that anyone could possibly feel, but she'd been wrong. The mass of sensations from her own hands and Train's cock had her entire body feeling as if she were going to simply come out of her skin. She felt her stomach clench. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Come on. Come all over my dick.” He tightened his grip on her hips and went at her hard. She felt his body brush against her fingers with each stroke. “Pinch your nipple. Do it hard.”

“Train!” Meg's whole body went completely tense. She exploded, sure that she'd actually shatter into a million pieces. It would be one hell of a way to go. She heard him roar again, felt him pulse inside of her but then his weight was settled on top of her.

It took a few minutes for them both to breathe normally again, maybe more. She wasn't really keeping close track. Instead, she was almost dozing between the warmth of his body and the things that she'd just felt for the first time ever. Meg opened her mouth to tell him that but stopped short because she didn't want it to go to his head.

He shifted off of her, stretched out on the bed. It gave a better view of the ink on his chest. She'd noticed the sprawling bare tree earlier, it was hard to miss, but she had missed the scar nearly hidden in the bare branches. Meg didn't realize that she'd reached out to touch the spot until he grabbed her hands.

“Don't.” The simple word changed the mood in the room, or more specifically the mood that he was in. “I should go.”

Meg nearly told him that he didn't have to go, but she didn't. Instead she nodded, unable to trust her voice to speak. He discarded the condom in her trash can, grabbed his clothes and dressed in record time. “I told you that we'd have fun.” He smiled over at her. “We can do this again if you want. Just let me know. Got a pen?”

“On the dresser,” Meg got up from the bed, moved to the closet and got her robe out while he wrote his number on the back of an envelope she'd left out. She slipped her feet into her slippers. “I'll walk you down. I've got to lock up behind you.”

“Right.” He turned to face her, looked like he was going to say something, but he turned away, opened the door and nearly walked right into Joshua. “Hey.”

Meg said a quick and silent prayer to whatever God was listening that Joshua wasn't going to have one of his trademark meltdowns. Things out of the normal really had the ability to set him off. “Leo pissed his bed. It stinks.”

“Is he up?” Meg wished he hadn't blurted out the fact that Leo had had an accident. It embarrassed him to no end. He'd die if he knew that Train knew about it. Leo had started to put Nightshade on a pedestal thanks to Monroe.

“No. He slept right through it, all of it. I was going to knock, but you sounded busy. I'm going to go and sleep in Dad's room. I sure can't sleep in your room now.” He huffed the words and walked away.

“Looks like you've got your hands full.” Train cleared his throat. “I'm just going to see myself out, let you take care of it.”

“Yeah, I think that you're right.” Meg didn't know what she expected, maybe some kind of an affectionate gesture, but all she got was a smile from him before he headed down the stairs. She exhaled a deep breath. All of the peace and calm she'd felt was gone by the time that she heard the downstairs door shut.

Chapter Five

Nightshade had managed to take over certain aspects of Miller's business without any trouble. Some of the things they helped move were actually ridiculous, like tonight and the crates of purses they were dropping off. He was stuck behind the wheel of the truck with the newest prospect, Info, sitting next to him.

They'd never done this particular drop before, and the cargo was also a first. They were transporting counterfeit purses, some fancy-ass brands that women went nuts for. Their contact, a middle-aged man named Vince Anzaldi, had set the meet at a high school sports complex about twenty miles away. The location was the first thing that had given him pause. No one else seemed to see a problem with it, even after he'd brought it up to them. He really hoped that he was wrong, but he didn't think so. Train had learned young that it was good to trust your gut. Even if it wasn't exactly logical, he'd very rarely been steered wrong.

Info shifted and coughed. “You mind if I smoke?”

Train shifted his attention to the younger man. He was in his mid-twenties, had served in the Marines for four years and done two deployments to the Middle East that he didn't like to talk about. He didn't talk about much of anything, which endeared him to Train some but also made him wonder what the quiet man had to hide. “Yeah, Shithead. I mind.” He really didn't give a shit, he just wanted to bust the man's balls.

New people weren't his favorite thing, but he understood that they needed to increase their numbers. It was the lesser of two evils to bring new people in than to indulge Danny and his desire to patch over The Street Kings. As if those guys were just going to give up their identity. Some of them didn't even fucking ride. They were a street gang. Good as an ally but not more.

He took his phone out as it rang. It was his personal line. He didn't recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Train?” It only took the sound of his name for him to recognize the voice. Meg. He hadn't thought that he'd hear from her at all; it had been nearly two weeks since the night that they'd hooked up. He'd spent more time thinking about that night than he wanted to think about. “It's Meg.”

“Yeah, I knew that. What's going on?” They were close to where they needed to be, and he was damn sure that he didn't want to have any sort of personal conversation in front of Info, so she was going to need to get to the point.

“The boys are leaving for a sleepover in about twenty minutes. I was thinking that maybe you wanted to come over tonight.” She spoke in a rush, her nervousness clear.

“Tonight's not going to work. I'm out of town.” Train felt a pang of regret that pissed him off and confused him at the same time.

“Oh. Okay. Well, maybe when you get back.” Her voice was soft, hesitant. It reminded him of the look that she'd had on her face when she'd noticed his scar. Up until the instant when she'd reached out towards his chest, he'd been having a great time. He'd stopped her before she'd touched him, gotten out of there as fast as he could. He didn't need complications. “Yeah, maybe. Look, I've got to go.”

Train didn't hear her reply as he ended the call. It only occurred to him once his phone was back in his pocket that it was a shitty thing to have done. Meg wasn't a pass-around. She was... Fuck. He did not need this distraction right now. He reached in his pocket, lit a cigarette and rolled the window all the way down despite how cold it was. The rush of air cleared his head and allowed him to once again focus on the task at hand.

“Think you could roll the window up?” Info spoke up. “I'd rather smell the smoke than freeze my balls off.”

“No.” Train focused on the road as they neared the closest street to the sports complex. “We're almost there. Get your game face on.” There were only four of them tonight. If something went wrong, they'd be fucked. “There's no room for error.”

“I'm not some wet behind the ears kid, no matter what you might think. I know how to handle myself in situations that would make you shit your pants. So back the fuck off.” Info lit a cigarette, exhaled the smoke in a defiant stream. Train grinned. It was nice to know that Info had some balls. There was a large building used for maintenance. It was large enough for the van and the SUV following to pull inside. Someone began to shut the metal rolling door. Train got out, looked around and didn't like what he saw at all.

There were half a dozen guys, all armed, who seemed to have come out of the shadows. “There's no need for weapons.” A male voice spoke up. “My men have strict orders not to draw on any of you unless you make the first move.”

“We don't much like surprises.” Buster was out of the SUV. The tone of his voice told Train just how pissed off he actually was. “Which one of you is Anzaldi?”

“I am.” The man who stepped forward was middle-aged, stocky and so bald that the overhead lights seemed to dance across the surface of his skull. “I'll assume that you're Buster.”

“That's right. You said that there would be three men here. I count seven.”

“I'm sorry for misleading you, but it was necessary. You see, this cargo is very important to me. Shall we unload?” Anzaldi started towards the back of the van but Train stepped in front of him. “This doesn't have to be messy.”

“It's not just a load of purses, is it?” Train had suspicions from the start about the purses. It seemed like an item that couldn't make much money. Info had started to rattle off numbers to explain how much they could be worth. “What else is it?”

“My cargo is my business.” Anzaldi's face had turned red, really red. For a split second Train saw Meg's face in his mind. She'd blushed that furiously almost every time he'd complimented her. He pushed the thought out of his head, focused on the possible cluster fuck unfolding around him.

“Not when we're the ones transporting it,” Buster took the conversation back over.

“Miller never cared what was in the crates. I did not think that it would be an issue with you.” Anzaldi was still red, but his voice was calm. “I can pay more to assure that it is.”

“That's not the way that Nightshade works. I thought that we made that very clear.” Buster came to stand next to Train. “Now, you need to tell us what's in those purses, and then we'll go from there. If you refuse, things are going to get messy. Your superior numbers will not work in your favor.”

Anzaldi considered the offer long enough for Train to think he was going to refuse. He didn't like the idea of seven guys against four, especially when one of their four was untested. Finally, the man let out a loud sigh and nodded. “I will show you.”

There was money inside of the purses, all of the ugly purple ones with the gold fringe, huge stacks of money from several different countries. Every last bill was counterfeit. “We are going to take you up on that offer of more money for each one of these runs.”

“That sounds fair.” Anzaldi nodded.

“If you ever pull something like this again, we will kill you. We will kill your men. It's nothing personal, it's just business. I hope you understand.” Buster's words weren't a surprise to anyone in Nightshade. They'd voted as a club to be ruthless, to make sure that no one tried to cross them. So far, it had worked. Anzaldi was the first who'd tried to get something past them.

“Your reputation precedes you.” Anzaldi took out an old-fashioned handkerchief and blotted his forehead. “I'll make the payment retroactive to include tonight.”

“Perfect,” Buster replied. “Now, let's get this load off of the truck and get on with it.”

<#>#<#

Train rolled the windows down as soon as he'd dropped Info off. He hadn't wanted to hear the man bitch about the cold. It would have ended badly. He was pretty proud of his self-control because he'd started feeling really twitchy after they left the sports complex, and it had only gotten worse.

By the time that he pulled up in front of his place, he was ready to come out of his skin. Suddenly the thought of going into the empty house seemed like a bad plan. It would be too quiet. Probably he should just start the van again, head back to the clubhouse and let Claire take care of the twitch with her mouth.