King(61)

As they filled their plates at the many tables that had been set up, King was much more wary this time about the food; he only dumped small amounts onto his plate.

“You’re learning.”

“I learn from my mistakes,” King said, following Evie to where The Last Riders were seated at a picnic table.

He hadn’t met them yet, but he recognized them from their pictures that had been given to him when he’d had Shade checked out. They were a hard group of men that had faced many challenges. King had grown up rough, but a couple of them could probably teach him a lesson or two.

“Hell no, why didn’t someone warn me they would be here,” the one King recognized as Train groaned.

King looked in the direction he was staring at in horror.

The group of women entering the picnic were dressed flashy, to say the least. One with bright red hair was dressed seductively in a wrap dress that left her chest mostly bare. She had tattoos on her chest, which he couldn’t make out from the distance, and she was pushing a double stroller like it was a weapon of mass destruction, sending people scurrying out of their path. If he were to imagine what hard-living biker women looked like, these women would fit that picture in his mind. They were dressed in leather, boasted tats and had hair that went the gamut of colors. One of the women was taller and leaner than the rest, wearing tight, black jeans and a t-shirt with metal spikes on the shoulders. Her cold gaze surveyed the picnic guests before moving to stand behind the young girls.

The women were heading toward their table.

“Shit.”

“Calm down, Train. We’ll protect you.” Lucky laughed at his friend’s predicament.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think is so funny; you’re not a pastor anymore. They’re going to consider you fresh meat,” Train taunted.

“Hey, bitch, where have you been?” King stiffened next to Evie when he realized one of the women was addressing her. Her hand quickly lay on his thigh to prevent him from snapping a reply to her rude greeting.

The woman in the wrap dress smacked the other woman on the arm. “What did I tell you about your fucking mouth?” She then turned to look down at Evie. “You going to introduce us to your new man?”

“King, this is Sex Piston. The one with the metal spikes is Killyama. The one with the purple hair is Crazy Bitch. And T.A. and Fat Louise are over there with the little girls, breaking the line to get their faces painted.”

“Got to teach kids to take up for themselves.” Sex Piston bragged.

“They’re the ones breaking the line.” King watched the woman shrug unconcernedly, never taking her shrewd gaze off him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Train try to talk to the one with spikes; however, she ignored him, walking to Lucky. “This seat taken?”

“Bliss was just getting us—no, have a seat.” Lucky scooted over, letting the abrasive woman sit down. King then noticed a small, attractive blonde turn on her heel, going to another picnic table. Evie just shook her head at him when he asked why the woman didn’t return to the table. Within seconds, King had his answer as the table was completely taken over by the crew of women.

Not long after they sat down, King was taking a drink of his iced tea when Sex Piston’s baby began crying. She picked the infant up, and without showing even a hint of embarrassment, she pulled her dress to the side, unsnapping a flap before letting the baby nurse in front of God and everyone at the picnic.

“One of nature’s most beautiful moments, isn’t it?” Killyama said.

“That’s easy for you to say; he isn’t chewing your nipple off.” Sex Piston replied sarcastically.

King choked, trying to blink back the painful tears in his eyes.

“They have that effect on everyone,” Train said grimly.

“I see Willa decided to come after all. I’m going to go say hello.” Evie jumped up, glad to take the opportunity for escape.

King grabbed Evie’s hand. “I’ll come with you,” he said, hurriedly getting to his feet.

“Coward,” Evie remarked when they were away from the picnic table.

“What are they?”

“They belong to the Destructors.”

“Another motorcycle club?”

“Yes.”

“And I thought Treepoint was a sleepy, little town,” King muttered snidely.

“Technically, the Destructors live in Jamestown, but Sex Piston likes to visit, a lot.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

“Hi, Willa.”

“Evie, King.”

“Did you bring dessert?” King asked, smiling down at the pretty woman. She was as short as the other blonde, but while the other was slim and perky, Willa was heavier and more reserved. There was no comparison to King when he looked into her cornflower blue eyes.