I forget about poor Christy for the time being as my body fills with him, with Austin, and he proceeds to slam me into the glass with desperate thrusts. At first, the very idea that my ass is pressed tight against the window and exposed to anyone that might be outside bothers me, but then I start to like it. I start to love it.
I wrap my arms around his neck and let him slide our sweaty bodies against the cool dampness behind me, fogging it up with our desperate breathing and the heat of the friction we're producing together.
“If you want me to be exclusive,” Austin whispers into my ear, grunting as he thrusts deep. “Then you're going to have to keep me satisfied, sugar. Think you're up for it?”
“The question is,” I breathe, squeezing as tight as I can around him, so that he's forced to stop, to give into the power that's between my legs and wait for me to release him. “Can you handle me? I have high expectations, you know. All us romance readers do. We're spoiled by words.”
Austin moves his hands from my hips and up the back of my shirt, using the pressure of his body to hold me in place, squeezing me so tight that his fingers bruise the skin on my back. So tight I can't see straight anymore, so tight that my heart lets out a sigh of joy and my body relaxes, allowing him to move in me again, stroking the fires of our orgasms.
“Oh, you can bet your sweet stars on that,” he tells me, biting my lower lip so hard it hurts and feels amazing at the same time. “And remember next time you're reading a fucking book, how hard my cocks feels inside of you, see if it compares any. Now be quiet and finish up. I told you,” he growls, leaning in. “I've. Got. Work. To. Do.”
Austin pummels me into the window, sends me over the edge and brings me crashing down on the other side.
Next thing I know I'm in the bed, panting, and Austin is already gone.
I shouldn't have fucked Amy. I didn't have time for it, not by a long shot. But she looked so friggin' cute in her stupid ass pajamas, and then she got me all worked up thinking she'd slept with Gaine. I shake my head to clear it and try to pretend that I don't notice Kimmi glaring at me as we trudge through the mud of a field, heading towards the back of the Fort Clinton National Bank.
“Fucking asshole,” she growls at me as she trips over something and only barely manages to keep herself upright. “Thanks for almost screwing this up, Sparks.” Kimmi flicks a pretend bit of somethin' off her shoulder and adjusts her ponytail. She looks a little weird to me right now without her earrings and her makeup. I swear, I haven't seen her dress this simple since Mint left Triple M for good, and she'd declared herself in mourning. O' course that only lasted for a couple of days, just until the next chick showed up. I sigh.
“Hey,” I tell her, thinking of Amy's face when she asked me if we were exclusive. There was a little bit of fear in her eyes; I could see it. She really likes you, Sparks. Hot fucking dog. What else could I do, but fuck her? “I said I was sorry, what else do you want me to do about it?” I try to keep my voice low, even though it shouldn't matter. We're wading through several inches of muddy water just to get to this here historical wonder that's drowning in the swamp on which it was mistakenly built. Not many idiots would be interested in doing that, not at this time of night when it's colder than shit outside and miserable as fuck.
“I want you to keep your dick out of that sweet, little pussy for five minutes, so you can actually think straight,” Kimmi chastises me and then smiles. It's hard to tell in the dark, but I think she might actually be leering at me. “You thought about it, didn't you?”
“Thought about what?”
“The six senses.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“No, really,” she says, turning to face me and hiking her bag up onto her shoulder. “You've got 'em all, don't you?”
“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
“Wow, one week and the infamous Austin Sparks has got it bad for a little preacher's daughter from down South. I like it. It'd make a good book, don't you think?” I ignore her and keep walking, flipping her the bird and making sure she sees it.
A few seconds later, something hits me square in the back and I go down hard.
I fall asleep but only for a little while, waking up when the wind shifts and starts to pelt the rain against my window, each droplet like a tiny stone that rings throughout the quiet room and makes me shiver. I'm actually glad that it woke me because I was having another bad dream, one where a faceless girl was being held down by men in leather jackets.
I didn't like it all. Not one little bit.
I climb out of bed with an uneasy feeling in my stomach, not that angsty ache that Austin gives me, but something else. I pick up my pants from the floor and slip them on, moving across the room and pausing next to a glass fronted liquor cabinet with several bottles of wine inside. Each one has a price tag hanging from its neck, so I go through them until I find the cheapest one, not wanting to impose on Austin but desperate to get rid of this feeling. It just sprung up out of nowhere and I don't like it. After all, the worst kinds of trouble are the ones you don't see coming until they're right behind you.
I set my bottle down on a table near the window and almost collapse to the floor in embarrassment when I see an ass print on the foggy glass. I move forward quickly and smudge it away with my fingers, snatching the ice bucket as I pass and heading out in search of the ice machine I spotted earlier. I noticed it because I thought it looked odd, this big piece of stainless steel against the old school trimmings and decorations. I kind of wish the owners would get rid of it.
I'm in the hallway scooping cubes when I see them. A group of men in leather jackets with a big, black bird emblem on the back of them. The words Bested by Crows jump out at me as I angle myself carefully behind the wall near the ice machine. I don't know why, but my heart is pumping hard and fast and there's a little bell ringing in the back of my head telling me not to move. I remember Gaine's warning with a shiver and watch as the men move down the hallway checking room numbers until they find the one they're looking for.
Mine.
They glance up and down the hallway, and I narrowly miss being seen, tucking myself against the wall and staring straight ahead at the sign across from me. Please do not stick your bucket in the machine. There is a metal scooper provided for your convenience. The tame words help keep me calm while I wait, turning to look only after the sound of clinking chains and rustling leather is gone.
Immediately, I drop my bucket to the floor and move across the hall as quick as I can, my bare feet whispering silently over the burgundy carpeting. I lift my fist up and tap gently at the door, not wanting to make too much noise. Hurry, hurry, hurry, I think as bile rises in my throat and the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. It'll only take them a moment to realize that there's nobody there. I'm sure they're after Austin, but what happens if they walk into the hallway and see me here? I pound a little harder. And if they are after Austin, I need to call him as soon as I can and warn him. Unfortunately, my cell phone is back in the room.
The door wrenches open and I find myself face to face with Mireya Sawyer. Her dark eyes narrow and her full lips twist into a sneer.
“What is it, Cross?” she snaps and then pauses when she sees the look on my face. “Is it Austin?” I glance over my shoulder and see my door opening at the end of the hall. I turn back to Mireya and push my way inside her room. Luckily, she doesn't fight me and steps aside, closing the door quickly behind me and hooking the chain. I may not like the woman, but she has instincts, and she's tough.
When I see Melissa standing beside the patio doors, I'm even more relieved.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mireya demands, but I notice she doesn't yell. She keeps her voice even and looks me straight in the eye.
“There's a group of men in the hallway,” I begin, my voice breathy. I'm having a hard time keeping my pulse under control. “With colors.” I gesture at my back, but of course, Melissa and Mireya are pros, and they don'
t need an explanation. I suck in a big breath and hurry on, knowing somehow that they're coming. Those men are coming. “Bested by Crows. They broke into my room when I was at the ice machine.”
Mireya's gaze snaps past mine and locks onto Melissa. Her face is starting to crinkle with worry, putting little lines between her dark brows. When I glance over my shoulder at Mel, I can see that her face is blanched. They have some idea of what's going on, even if I don't.
“He actually went through with it,” Melissa scoffs, shaking her blonde head from side to side like she can't bear to believe the truth that I've somehow revealed to her. “He … I … ” She stops talking and just stands there limply, blue eyes wide and disbelieving.
“What?” Mireya asks, starting to sweat. When I look at her, I see that her hands are shaking and her eyes are glossy and far away. “What does Kent want with Walker, Melissa? You came all the way over here to tell me, so fucking spit it out!”
Walker.
My mind clicks with Austin's story. He hadn't specified the MC that Mireya was with, but he did mention that name. Walker. The man that Mireya was married to, the one that held her down while she was raped by the people she was supposed to trust most in the world. My heart breaks in two for her. For all of us. If they did that to her then, what are they going to do to us now?
Obviously, I can put two and two together and figure it out. Bested by Crows are the enemies here. My eyes swing over to the phone. Should I call 911? I wait patiently, trusting that Melissa and Mireya will tell me what to do. This is their world after all; they've grown up here and I'm just learning to walk.
“Kent … he … ” Melissa swallows hard and steps forward, a picturesque beauty with her long, long legs and her skinny waist and her full breasts, but in her face, she looks like a small child. There's basic, primal fear there and it's translating right across the room into Mireya's eyes. “I don't think Austin and Kimmi are coming back alive tonight.”
Pain radiates out from my spine and quickly travels up my skull, giving me a sudden headache that I have to fight against as I struggle to figure out who or what is crushing me into the mud, trying to drown me in the muck and the reeds. For some reason, my first thought is of Amy and how she might cry if I died here tonight, how much that would hurt her. I don't even think about my own well being. I have been taken by that woman and I don't even know it yet.
Rage spikes through me, and I let loose, allowing those primal instincts of mine to surge forward and take hold.
I have a knife in my front pocket, one that's placed just so, easy to wiggle out and flick open, to swing back and plunge into the thigh of the man that's on top of me. His scream pierces the air and carries across the relatively flat ground until it's swallowed up by the sound of fresh rain and a bit of thunder that's rumbling in the distance. Whoever this guy is though, he's a pro and doesn't go down easy. Instead, he swings something at the back of my head and puts stars in my eyes and a fresh spurt of fury in my blood that drives my blade into his body a second time. I hit something soft, and the man grunts, finally releasing the pressure on my back enough that I can roll over, gasping for air and spitting mud and bugs and who knows what the fuck else.
Immediately, I look around for Kimmi and panic when I see two men circling a flattened spot of reeds not far off from me. Behind them, more people are coming, appearing out of the shadows like ghosts. I don't know how many there are, but the odds don't look too good for us right now.
“You sons o' bitches,” I snarl as I use the power in my legs to propel myself forward, slamming straight into the gut of the crumpled man that I stabbed. He's groaning and clutching his side, so maybe he's down and out, but Austin Sparks doesn't take chances.
I pull my fist back, letting power coil in the muscles of my arms, and then I let him have it, punching him hard enough that his eyes roll into the back of his head and he passes out. I'm not gonna kill anybody, but I sure as shit ain't letting him come after me again.
I struggle to my feet with mud sucking at my shoes and dripping down the sides of my face and end up being knocked back down again by another man, one who's twice as heavy as the last. And he has a knife, too, a big, long, serrated one that he holds so awkwardly in his hand that it makes me sick.
I push myself to my knees just in time to see him swinging his arm towards me.
I flip my knife around in my fingers and rise to meet him.
My entire body goes rigid.
“What?” I can't tell if that word comes from me or Mireya or both of us.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Okay, that one was definitely Mireya. She throws a glare at me, just for good measure and then marches right over to Melissa, taking her by the wrist and pulling her forward so hard that she lets out a little yelp. Her blue eyes look like marbles, round and shiny and surprisingly enough, sad. She looks melancholy. “Explain. Now,” Mireya barks as she drags a cell phone from her pocket and dials a number. She switches it to speakerphone and we all listen as it goes straight to Austin's voice mail.
“I was supposed to go with them, but Kent said he'd changed his mind. I thought he meant that he'd changed his mind about everything, but I think he just meant for me. He'd changed his mind for me. He doesn't want me dead; he wants me to suffer.” Melissa lets these words spill from her lips like a fountain, drenching the room in panic and confusion. This is not good. Mireya ignores her and dials another number. Same problem, only with Kimmi's voice coming through instead of Austin's.
“You're talking like a friggin' crazy person, Diamond. Spell it out.”
“They rob banks, Sawyer, did you know that?” Melissa continues, not even pausing to take a single breath. “They rob banks, always have. That's where we get our money from. I was supposed to join them, but I think that Kent only asked me to do that to get rid of me. First, the cops and now this … ”
I stand there in stunned silence while Mireya starts to shout again.
“Melissa, what's going to happen to Austin and Kimmi?”
Austin is a bank robber. My first image is of him in a black mask with a pistol in one hand and a bag with a big, green money sign on it in the other. That, of course, is completely ridiculous and entirely illogical, but I can't seem to sweep it away. It just sticks there while my pulse races harder and my hands get sweaty.
My father, maybe, would pass judgment on Austin, call him a sinner and a thief, but to me, this bit of information only helps me to understand who that sandy haired stranger is and why he does what he does, even if my imagery is a little bit off.
“I think you should be more concerned with what's going to happen to us,” she whispers as tears start to roll down her face. Mireya pulls back and slaps her hard, making me cringe. Again, I glance at the phone. Unfortunately, if Austin is in the process of robbing a bank, I can't exactly call 911 and tell them he's in trouble. If Austin were to get arrested and put away, I don't know what I'd do. I'm just starting to learn to lose myself, and he, he's just learning to find himself. We're not ready to be separated yet. If we ever are.
“Kent wants to make more money, Mireya. He wants more things, better bikers, hotter women.” She spits this last bit out on the end of a harsh laugh. “And he isn't going to get that from running weed and robbing savings and loans.” She flicks some of her blonde hair behind her ear and looks for the briefest of moments like the Melissa I met a few days ago, flirty, arrogant, careless. That fades again as quickly as it comes. “So he made a deal with Walker.” Melissa shrugs and reaches down to her belt, undoing the clasp and sliding it out of the loops. For what reason, I'm not sure, but when Mireya sees this, she takes a step back and gets a little pale. “To run some high paying ventures and combine the two MCs.”
“Besides telling me what I already know, that your fucking husband is a piece of shit, what does this have to do with anything?”
“Can you see Austin running coke, Mireya? How about Kimmi luring girls into the sex trade?” She stares at Mireya's pursed lips and th
en glances over at me. I remain stone still, and I feel like the blood in my body is draining across the floor and leaving me dry. “Yeah,” she laughs. “Neither could Kent, so he arranged for Walker's boys to put Kimmi and Austin down. Beck and Gaine, too, probably, if they don't step in line.”
A knock sounds at the door, making Mireya and I jump.
Melissa doesn't seem surprised though. Instead, she grabs an ashtray and slips it in her pocket along with a handful of pens. She then backs up until she's got nothing but the wall behind her. I wince as she snaps the leather of her belt.
“Grab a weapon,” she whispers, and I notice that Mireya doesn't hesitate, reaching under the mattress and pulling out a knife. My head spins slowly, like I'm running in slow motion, my eyes drawn to a little, automated click as a key card is inserted into the door. And accepted. The handle twists down slowly.
“So they're here to kill us, too?” Mireya says, scaring the crap out of me because she sounds so resigned to it, like it's an inevitable conclusion for things to come to.
“No,” Melissa says, voice so low that she's almost impossible to hear. “They're here to do much, much worse.”
I realize as I'm fighting that this is all a trap, a setup if you will. Kent was playing us right from the very beginning, from the cops in Amy's hometown, to St. Marlin's, to this bullshit right here. He's trying to get rid of us. I duck another punch and try not to let that bother me. Hey, I was waiting for Kent to screw up all along and he goes and does it. I should be glad. But I'm not. Ten years of sharing the road with me and this is what I get: deceit and a bunch of backstabbing bullshit.
My fist moves up and slams into the jaw of another man, crumpling him to his knees next to the guy with the knife. I hope the son of a bitch isn't drowning in the muddy water, but I don't have time to check on his fucking ass. Somewhere to my left, I can hear Kimmi screaming.
Losing Me, Finding You Page 22