Chapter 74
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
H ow in the world had she talked herself into coming to this party? And where was Killyama? She should have been here by now. If she weren’t such a wimp, she would use the back door of the club instead of waiting for Killyama as they had planned.
She was about to head back home when she saw Killyama coming up the path. The closer she walked toward her, the more Lana’s words played in her mind. Killyama’s appearance showed how vastly different they had dressed for the party.
Her outfit was Halloween-y, just as Lana had warned. She hadn’t been terribly worried because Killyama had told her she was coming as a bounty hunter. On which planet did bounty hunters dress the way Killyama was? Wearing long, black stiletto boots with black leather-clad legs tucked inside, she wore a black tube top, which left her midriff bare, exposing the swells of her breasts. Over the outfit, she wore a black leather coat, which billowed out from her lithe body to her feet. On her head, she wore a black hoodie, which seemed to cowl around her neck. At least Killyama wasn’t wearing a mask.
She came to a stop a few steps from her. “What in the fuck are you wearing?”
“I told you I was being a bad Sandy.”
“Bitch, there’s bad, and then there’s bad . What you’re wearing is pathetic.”
It only took Killyama one stride to take her by the arm and lead her down the path she had come from.
“I knew better than coming.” Struggling to keep up with Killyama’s quick strides, she nearly tripped when she would have turned in the direction of the parking lot, only to be jerked back in the direction of Killyama’s house.
“Why are we going to your house? You don’t have to keep me company. I’ll—”
“I’m not going to miss shit. You’re going to get out of this crap. I’ve got something you can wear. Something told me your idea of bad wouldn’t be the same as mine.”
When they reached her house, Killyama flung open the door and ushered her toward the bedroom. Releasing her arm, she went to the closet and returned with a confection of black tulle.
“Get your ass in gear. Change your clothes.”
Larissa didn’t have the courage to fight her. She unzipped the satin jacket and took it off, feeling self-conscious when she saw Killyama’s eyes flicker over the modest tank top underneath.
“You weren’t going for the wow factor, were you?”
“Moon’s only wearing sweatpants.”
Killyama didn’t ask permission before shoving a dress over her head once the top was removed.
“Bitch.” She tugged the dress down as soon her hands cleared the sleeves. “You’re lucky I borrowed this dress off T.A. when we had lunch today. Something told me that asshole didn’t warn you.”
Larissa’s hands went to her hips, stopping the slide of the dress. “I’ll never fit in T.A.’s dress!”
“It’ll fit. T.A. wore it when she was pregnant. You’ll have room to spare.”
Frightened that she was going to ruin the dress by tearing the inner lining, she carefully lowered the fabric over her hips. The dress easily glided down to fall just below her knees.
Killyama moved behind her to zip the back.
Before she could look at herself in the dresser mirror, Killyama grabbed her arm to steer her into the bathroom.
When she entered the room, her jaw dropped at her reflection.
Killyama stared back at her in the mirror. “Now”—her hands went to her hips—“what in the fuck am I going to do with your hair?”
Still dazed at how she looked in the dress, she didn’t pay attention to Killyama turning on the water in the sink until she nearly knocked her out by pushing her head under the water.
“What are you doing?” she sputtered.
Killyama didn’t waste time with words.
No longer did she feel a heavy weight of a towel land on her shoulders than her head was being raised out of the water.
Reaching for a brush, Killyama brushed the tangles out of her hair then squirted a glob of something on her hands, smoothing it through the damp stands. She ran the brush though her hair again, then stepped back to survey the slicked-down hairdo she had created.
Slinging open a drawer, she rummaged through the contents until she took out a square case. She pressed a tiny gold button, opened it, then dumped a pair of earrings onto the bathroom counter. “Put them on,” she ordered. “What size shoes do you wear?”
“Uh … eight.”
“First luck I had tonight.” She disappeared into the bedroom.
After getting the second earring on, Larissa went into the bedroom to see Killyama had made a pile of items on the bed.
“Get them on,” she ordered from her closet. “If Train beats me to the clubhouse, I’m going to beat your ass.”
Hurrying to the bed, Larissa opened a package of black stockings and sat down on the bed to put them on. Then, sliding on a pair of heels, she gingerly stood. Thank goodness they were a more reasonable height than the ones Killyama was wearing.
Gingerly, she stood up to pick up the last item on the bed—a pair of sheer black gloves that reached her forearms.
“Turn around.”
Following Killyama’s snapped command, she turned to check sight of herself in the dresser mirror.
Behind her, Killyama reached over her head to place a mask on the bridge of her nose. Tying the mask, she then took a quick perfunctory glance before pushing her toward the door.
“Let’s go.”
They barely made it through the front door before Killyama slammed it behind them. Larissa tried to keep up without falling.
“Thank you, Killyama. The dress is beautifu—”
“Don’t thank me; it’s T.A. That rich husband of hers bought it for her for some party they went to for his son. Make sure you give it back. The fucker notices when something is missing and won’t let us hang out there until we give it back. She has a pool in the backyard, so don’t fuck it up for us, or Sex Piston will kick your ass.”
“I’ll get it dry cleaned tomorrow and give it right back. Afterward, I’ll stop by your house to visit the baby and pick up my clothes.”
“The kids are staying the weekend with T.A. I’ll bag up your clothes and send them with Moon.”
“Oh … okay.”
As they neared the back door, her footsteps lagged behind.
“What in the fuck is the holdup?”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
Killyama recached for the doorknob. “Bitch.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Haven’t I had your back so far?”
“Yes …” She did look pretty amazing from the brief look she had caught of herself in the mirror.
“Didn’t I have your back when you told me Moon let another bitch ride on his bike?”
“Yes,” she admitted again.
“I’m not going to let anyone fuck with the woman who had my back when I brought my kid into the world. I got you. You good now?”
“Yes.” Larissa gave her a shaky nod.
“Then get your ass through the fucking door before I throw it inside,” Killyama snapped.
Not wanting to find out the hard way if she was bluffing, she went inside.
Two women behind the counter, making trays of food, watched them enter from behind their masks.
“Hey, Killyama.” Picking up a tray, one of the women, dressed in a tight red dress that had a gold zipper running down the length of it, skirted the counter to pass in front of them. “Forget your mask?”
“No.” Killyama reached out to pluck a grape off the tray, popping it into her mouth. “Just wanted to make sure you knew who’s kicking your ass if that zipper gets lowered around Train.” Pulling up the cowl at the bottom of her hoodie, she covered the bottom half of her face, leaving only her eyes and forehead exposed.
The other woman behind the counter laughed. “Watch it, Margarita. Killyama isn’t playing around.”
Margarita must have been irritated at being called out by the way she flounced out of the kitchen.
Easily recognizing Winter’s voice, Larissa took the opportunity to admire her costume. While the other woman was dressed completely in red, Winter was dressed in black and white. Her top was a frilly blouse that fell off her shoulders, and as Winter came around the counter, carrying the other tray, Larissa realized the bottom wasn’t a skirt but puffy pants. The hat she was wearing was flat, as well as the brim.
Taking in her appearance, along with the mask she was wearing, Larissa gave her an appreciative smile. “ Zorro .”
Winter smiled back. “You’re the first one tonight to get it, unless Viper is standing next to me, Larissa.”
Larissa unconsciously raised her hand to touch her mask at Winter guessing her identity.
Winter laughed. “Don’t worry; no one else will be able to recognize you so fast. I saw you walking past my house with Killyama as I was leaving.”
After they walked out of the kitchen together, Killyama nudged her to the side, toward the bar area, as Winter was swallowed up in a crowd much larger than she had expected.
“I need a drink.”
Remaining on the other side as Killyama made herself a drink, she scanned the room to check if Moon was there, taking in the party-goers with consternation.
Killyama had saved her from humiliation. She was going to kill Moon. The Last Riders were going to have to carry him out on a stretcher, she promised herself.
A few of them were wearing costumes that were Halloween-y, like Winter and Viper’s by choosing famous masked characters, but wow, they hadn’t done homemade. Their costumes were a different caliber than what she had devised. Several, she guessed, had spent a bundle to stand out.
Any plans she had made to find out if Moon had been cheating on her flew out the window before she could ask.
He was cheating. There was no way he wasn’t. The women were gorgeous, and if they were decked out in revealing clothes like they were tonight, it would take a saint to resist them.
Moon was no saint. Hell, he didn’t have the willpower to go a night without making popcorn. No wonder he had no interest in having sex with her. He probably didn’t have the energy.
Spotting Saffron wasn’t difficult. The leggy blonde was hard to miss. Dressed as one of the women from Warlord from Hell , she looked sexy and alluring. Everything she was not.
Women belonging to the warlord were only permitted to wear certain colors, according to how often the warlord would call for them. The favorites were allowed to wear black and gold, the ones called occasionally were allowed to wear red, women who were rarely called wore green, and those who had yet to make it to the warlord’s bed wore blue. Only the favorites wore an intricately designed head chain, which circled the women’s faces, like The Lone Ranger’s mask but made of gold. From the bottom of the mask hung thin tassels, studded with black pearls.
Saffron had almost all the accessory down to the gold slippers, except for the one item that one of the favorites from Warlord from Hell was killing everyone for—a gold choker that had dangling stones. Each time the main favorite was called to the warlord’s bed, she would be gifted a precious stone the next morning, if they had pleased the warlord. So far, the main favorite on the show had been given a ruby, an emerald, and a sapphire. The favorite wanted a diamond and was literally killing the others to reach her goal—to become the warlord’s woman.
“Here you go.”
Dragging her gaze away from Saffron, she saw Killyama had placed a tall glass within her reach. “I can’t.”
Killyama raised another glass that looked like the one she had given her. “Bitch, you aren’t the only one with a hungry mouth to feed. It’s ginger ale.”
Taking a sip of her soda, she continued looking around, her confidence evaporating at watching the provocative women throughout the room. Returning her gaze back to Killyama, she found herself being observed.
Larissa slightly lifted her shoulders, silently admitting she had been comparing herself to the other women.
“How do you survive?”
Vindictive humor filled Killyama’s expression. “I put the fear of my boot in them. Makes my days a little brighter.”
When she didn’t laugh, Killyama grew serious. “I trust Train.”
“Have you heard if Moon is cheating on me?”
“No, but if he was, Train wouldn’t tell me.”
Larissa worried her bottom lip as a woman came up to the bar, dressed in a mesh sapphire dress and mask. Little designs were spotted throughout, leaving most of her skin bare, the design becoming more intricate over her private areas.
She waited until the woman stepped away from the bar before asking, “Is she a Last Rider?”
“Not yet.” Killyama dragged a whiskey bottle closer.
“Nuh-uh. Remember, we have babies to feed.”
“I wasn’t going to drink it. I was going to throw it at that bitch.”
Larissa couldn’t blame her. The back was more indecent than the front. There was no design on the back, allowing a clear view of the woman’s thong.
“I don’t know many of the rules, but Moon did tell me women aren’t allowed to fight each other.”
“Fuck off.”
Larissa laughed. “You don’t mean that.”
“No. You’re too nice for us to be best buds, but I don’t mind hanging around you in small doses. I’ll help you work on becoming more like me. Moon won’t be able to not fall in love with you.”
“Your help would be greatly appreciated.” Ruefully, she smiled sadly at Killyama. “I love him so much it hurts.”
Three men came up to the bar, dressed identically, excepted for the difference in color uniforms and masks.
“ The Three Musketeers , Puck?” Killyama slid a beer to the one closest to her.
“Yeah. I wasn’t happy with it, but Jesus talked me and Nickel into going along with it.”
Killyama gave the other two beers. “How?”
“One lucky lady is going to get three votes.”
“Or several lucky ladies,” Jesus butted in. “Depending on Nickel’s stamina.”
After that, Killyama and her tuned them out when they started teasing each other.
“By the way, before I forget, where did you get the jacket you were wearing?”
“I made it.”
“You see something like it in a store?” Killyama refilled her glass with more ginger ale.
“No. I just thought it would be cute to be dressed like one of the Pink Ladies.”
“Huh?”
“From Grease .” Larissa nodded her head, waiting for the Pink Ladies to click at the mention of Grease .
“Oh …”
Clearly, she didn’t get it, the confusion evident on Killyama’s face.
“Didn’t the girls in Grease wear black jackets, not red satin? They sure as fuck didn’t have Last Riders written on the back. Didn’t they show some tits, too? The way you had that jacket zipped up, with that scarf, you could have gotten a G rating. I saved your ass there.”
“Yes, you did,” she agreed thankfully. “I forgot to mention, I love your outfit. I wouldn’t run if I were a felon and you came for me dressed like that.”
“That’s right, because you know I’d catch your ass.”
Larissa started to laugh then stopped when she realized Killyama wasn’t joking. She changed the subject. Something about Killyama scared her. The woman was actually acting as if she were a real bounty hunter.
“You think Train and Moon will be much longer?”
“If he’s not here in five more minutes, I’ll …” Killyama broke off, her eyes widening and a gleam entering her eyes that Larissa had never seen before.
Larissa turned to see who she was staring at.
“Holy shhhiitt,” Killyama purred.
She wanted to purr herself. One of The Last Riders had just walked in, wearing the costume of the main character from Warlord from Hell .
“Who’s is that ?”
Larissa began to explain, “He’s a character from Warlord f —”
“I know who he’s supposed to be.” Killyama eyed the warlord as if she were about to rip his costume off. “I meant, who is in the fucking costume?”
“Oh … I have no idea. You’d have a better clue than I would.” Larissa couldn’t take her eyes off the warlord. “He must have spent a fortune on that costume.”
“Worth every fucking cent, however much it was.”
She had to agree. Whoever it was seemed to have all the accessories. He even had a choker grasped in his gloved hand.
“Is Train coming as anyone?”
Killyama shrugged. “I forget.”
The warlord strode across the room to where Viper and Winter were standing in their Zorro costumes.
Was it her, or did the man in the costume move the same way the actor did in the show?
Larissa tilted her head to get a better view when a man dressed as the Phantom of the Opera blocked it.
“Do you think he’s a recruit or a Last Rider?”
Killyama braced her elbows on the bar to continue to gawk at the warlord. “From how long Viper is talking to him, he’s a Last Rider. He doesn’t give new recruits the time of day at parties.”
“ Warlord from Hell is really popular. Moon got all the brothers watching—”
Killyama shot her a speculative glance. “Could he be Moon?”