Losing Me, Finding You

by C. M. Stunich

  I duck down to avoid another hit and go stumbling blindly forward, trying to follow the sound of her voice and separate her from the other shadows nearby. Losing Kimmi would be like losing my right arm. I might still be alive, but things wouldn't happen quite the same way anymore. It'd be like I was always off balance, always trying to feel with something that wasn't there. If I lose one of my best friends, somebody else is going to die tonight.

  Shit, I wish I had a fucking gun, I think as I smash into the back of one of the men and send him flying face first into the muck. But armed robbery and plain old robbery are completely different things. Kimmi and I have always agreed on that, so we never bring weapons. She'd kill me if she knew I even had that damn pocket knife.

  I step to the side and narrowly miss being culled by a Goddamn baseball bat, stumbling into another pair of men who have the smarts to grab me on either side and pull my arms back. A third man comes out of the wet foggy air, materializing there like he's Kent's fucking twin or something. When he hits me, I see stars and it pulls enough of the fight out of me that the three men are able to put me right back where they want me: face down in the water.

  “Amy,” Mireya says with a sigh, looking at me with eyes that are full of so many emotions that they look pitch black, like two orbs filled with the night sky herself. There's hate there and love, anger and acceptance. It's both beautiful and frightening. “Get in the bathroom and lock the door. Take my phone and call Gaine.” She tosses her cell to me and steps back, assuming a position similar to Melissa's. “Or Beck. Get someone over to the bank to help Austin and Kimmi.”

  “Knock, knock.” It's Kent's voice, oozing in from the crack in the door. Only the chain is holding it in place now. “Melissa, honey, if you let me in, I might decide to go easy on you.”

  “Easy on me?” she scoffs, puffing out her chest and taking a steadying breath. “Selling me off as a whore doesn't sound all that pleasant, so thank you, but I think I'll pass.” Kent laughs and the sound of his voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.

  “Why not? That's all you ever were anyway, a fucking whore. You think you could just sleep around behind my back, and I wouldn't notice?”

  “That's just a fucking excuse for you to use to feel better about yourself, you spineless piece of shit.” This from Mireya who's throwing a death glare my way. “Get in the Goddamn bathroom and make the call,” she growls at me. “Now.”

  “I'm sorry, but every business needs to start somewhere. I needed collateral and now I've got it. The three of you combined with Miss Margot should make a suitable down payment.”

  “Rot in hell you sack of shit.”

  “Mireya, is that you baby?” It's a different voice outside the door this time, one that has a deep, Southern drawl, dark as pitch.

  “Walker,” she whispers and it's the fear in Mireya's face that finally gets me moving. I gather a vase and a lamp from a nearby table (they're the closest things to weapons that I can find), and retreat into the bathroom, dragging a chair behind me.

  I'm not a moment too soon.

  I get about fifteen seconds to pop the lock in and angle the chair in place before the sound of the hotel room door being kicked off the hinges echoes around the enclosed space like a gunshot.

  My vision starts to go black and my lungs fill with water as I struggle the best damn way I know how, fighting for my life with every beat of my heart. I figure these guys must have pretty explicit instructions on me since they're trying too hard to drown me and not knife or shoot me. I guess maybe it has to do with the amount of evidence they're going to have to clean up when I'm gone. Don't think that way Austin, I tell myself as I feel the last bit of air in my lungs escaping, bubbling out of me and leaving my chest tight with water. I think a lot about Amy as I'm drowning, wishing for her with everything I have, realizing in that disgusting, miserable moment that Kimmi is right.

  I have all six senses.

  And I love her.

  Austin Sparks loves a girl he just met.

  Kimmi's right – that would make one pretty incredible fucking book. Just wish I knew how it ended.

  My mind starts to get spotty then, and I'm saying my last prayers to God when the pressure on me subsides and my head comes up out of the water, drug by an unseen hand that's shouting and slapping me and calling my name.

  “Austin, you fucking idiot. Wake the hell up!” It's Gaine. He lets go of me to deal with another one of Walker's bitches and I end up collapsing to my knees, coughing and choking and gasping. I suck as much sweet, sweet air into me as I can before I lift my head up and try to pretend that I don't see Beck slitting a man's throat with his knife.

  Blood is everywhere now, a whole bath of it, staining the water around my knees and stinking up the place with the scent of hot copper.

  “Kimmi?” I gasp as I blink stars from my vision and let Gaine help me to my feet.

  “I'm right here, Sparks,” she says, stumbling forward and pausing next to Beck who's covered in sticky red but smilin' anyway. Beck says that when it comes to the bad guys, he doesn't mind taking out the trash. I can't say that I entirely agree with that, but it works. Especially since I'm still a-fucking-live.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Gaine demands, pausing when he hears his cell phone. His face blanches. “Mireya.” He rips it from his pocket and answers it with a shaking hand. “Mireya, are you alright?” Gaine pauses. “Amy?”

  My heart stops beating while I wait for Gaine to say something, to tell me that she's okay and that she's just calling to check in. On Mireya's phone?

  “Kimmi and Austin are fine, but you girls hold tight and don't call the cops. We're on our way,” he says and then he's slipping the phone away and starting to run, slogging through the mud with all the power in his legs that he can muster. Nobody says a thing; we just follow after him and I pray to God that Amy Cross is still going to be alive when I get there.

  I dial Gaine and luckily for me, I get an answer. He tells me to hold tight and hangs up, leaving me alone with the sound of screaming and crashing and banging. I should open this door and fight, I think to myself, wondering why Mireya gave me this spot, leaving herself out there to fight while I sit here in this tiled room that's no better than a cage. I have to help. I search quickly though the contacts list until I find Margot.

  She answers on the first ring.

  “What should I do?” I know she thinks it's Mireya that's calling her, but there's not enough time to explain, so I just blurt it all out.

  “Bested by Crows is here looking for you. Get in the bathroom and take a chair, lock the door and bar it. Sit tight and we'll come get you when it's over.” If it ends well that is. I hang up before she can respond, setting the phone on the granite countertop next to the sink and pressing my ear to the door. There's a lot of grunting and cursing, but not as much shouting as there was a few seconds ago. Please tell me they didn't take them down already? Melissa and Mireya are both tough, a lot tougher than me, and I expected a good fight out of them. When I listen in though, I hear only harsh breathing and whimpers.

  That scares the crap out of me.

  “Did you miss me, baby?” I hear Walker say, the sound of his voice making me go cold inside. I have no love for Mireya, but I have nothing but hatred for a man like that, someone who uses others and doesn't care what happens to them. When I hear her whimper, I know that I have to go out there, no matter what happens. If Walker rapes or kills Mireya while I just stand here, I'll never forgive myself.

  I slide the chair away from the door, careful not to make much noise and give away my position. As I reach for the lock, I get dizzy with fear and anticipation and have to call on a good, old fashioned Glance Serone quote to get me through this.

  The toughest fucking moments in life are the ones where the whole world is a big, fat unknown, where chance has more power to change your fate than you do. It's then that you're gonna want me, Sali, because me, I'm a sure thing.

  I pick up t
he metal lamp in one hand and open the door with the other.

  I don't shout or call out a battle cry (why on earth anyone would think giving up their position like that was a good idea, I'm not sure), just step out behind a man – Kent, actually – and raise the metal to his skull. He stumbles and shouts but doesn't go down.

  “You little cunt,” he growls, spinning to face me as my eyes take in the scene and find Melissa on the floor with her eyes closed, blood trickling down the side of her face. I can still see her breathing, so she's not dead, but there are three men around her, looking down on her quiet face with looks that could've only been plastered on their bodies by the devil himself. One of them has a coil of rope in his hand.

  Mireya isn't faring much better.

  The man, Walker, a blonde with tanned skin and a good ol' boy smile has got her by the hair and is holding her down on her knees. I'm happy to say that his lip is split and he looks like he's nursing a shiner on his left eye, but that's about it. Mireya is tough, but she didn't stand much of a chance – there are two more men behind her, pinning her arms back.

  Nobody moves to help Kent.

  “If you can't handle one bitch on your own, how on earth you gonna wrangle a whole stable full of them?” Walker asks, laughing as he watches me pick up another vase and swing it at Kent Diamond. He moves suddenly, flickering like a ghost to the side, so fast I can hardly see and suddenly, there's a knife pressed tight to my throat, too tight.

  I try to breathe, but when I inhale, my skin gets slit along the blade and starts a trickle of warmth down the front of my neck.

  “Try not to beat her around too much,” Walker says, reaching down to unzip his pants. “They're not worth as much that way.” Kent growls like he doesn't like being told what to do and jerks me back by my hair, cutting just a little deeper and making me cry out. Still, I can't stop watching Mireya, looking down at her and seeing her eyes pressed shut, thinking about the way they looked when they sent me into the bathroom. There was love there. It wasn't for me, no, but it was for Austin. She wanted to save me for his sake.

  Walker's pants come undone, and I explode, turning my body sideways and sliding along Kent's blade as I move, slicing my own throat.

  The way I've done it isn't going to kill, but God, it hurts. I think about Austin as blood spatters the floor and my body goes flying forward, hitting Tray Walker so hard that he drops his hold on Mireya. The man uses his powerful arm to knock me back and send me sprawling where I smash into a dresser and fall to the ground, gasping and touching the wound in my neck. It's more of a psychological thing at that point, just the feeling of blood there makes me certain that I'm going to die.

  Immediately my mind goes to Austin Sparks.

  He's the first man I've ever slept with, ever even 'dated' if that's what you want to call our arrangement, but it doesn't matter. I know. I think I've known all along what's going to happen. I'm going to fall in love with him. I'm going to be head over heels and my stomach is going to hurt every time he walks into a room. I'm going to worry about him whenever he isn't there, and there are going to be times where I'll hate him. Because that's what love is. It's a kaleidoscope of emotions, all sorts of different colors blending together into one.

  I watch Mireya explode like a caged panther set free, raking her nails across Walker's face, snatching the knife that she'd had earlier from where it had fallen on the bed and slashing it out, catching him across the chest. The two men that were holding her move forward and manage to grab her shoulders, drawing her back before she can do any real damage.

  A shadow falls over me, and I look up to see Kent looming there, pale and ghastly and mean.

  I'd been right about him: he is fucked up from the inside out (pardon the language, but it's true).

  “Kill me,” I tell him because I'm not going to let them rape me. I'm not going to let anyone rape me. I'd rather slit my own throat first. My body belongs to Austin and to me and that's it. I won't let anyone take it from me.

  “No,” he says and he actually licks the knife. Licks it like he really is as much a vampire as he looks. “I don't think I'm going to be giving you the satisfaction, Miss Cross. Remember what I said: collateral.”

  He reaches down; my eyes close; and in the door walks Austin Sparks.

  Ever hear that phrase, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?

  Well, it's bullshit. Hell ain't got nothin' on a man who walks in and sees his woman on the floor with her throat cut, blood trailing down her neck and soaking into the fabric of her pretty pink pj's.

  Gaine and Beck rush right by, and Kimmi disappears to find Margot, but me, I walk. I walk right up behind Kent Diamond, and I reach out and I grab his neck, sliding my arm around my President's throat and squeezing with every ounce of power that I've got left in my tired muscles.

  He struggles and slashes his knife around, but let's face it, Kent has always been a little bit of a pussy, letting everyone else do the work for him all these years has made him soft. He doesn't put up much of a fight, and after a few moments, he's completely still. I drop his body to the floor and kick it aside, aware that there's movement going on around me but unable to give a shit about it.

  “Amy,” I whisper as I sit down and pull her into my lap. “Fuck, sugar, I can't lose you yet. I only just got you.” I realize that there are six fucking men in this room, six capable, experienced men, but they don't have Beck. I don't bother getting up to help and stay right where I am.

  “Austin,” she says, reaching up to touch my face. “I'm fine.” She pokes at the hole in her own throat. “It's just a surface wound. They bleed a lot.” She pauses and swallows hard. I follow her eyes to the doorway where Kimmi stands with her pistol in one hand and her girlfriend's wrist tucked in the other. She doesn't shoot, but her eyes say she won't hesitate neither.

  “Austin,” she tells me, puckering her lips angrily. “I say, fuck that whole armed robbery bullshit. We're never going to get caught anyway. I'm taking a fucking gun next time.” She keeps her hand aimed at Walker and his men as Beck systematically knocks them out, one by one.

  Until he gets to Tray Walker, himself, of course and pauses to hand over his knife to Mireya, blunt end first. She looks at it and then over at me, and I glance away. This is her decision to make, and I'm not going to interfere or judge. That just ain't right. I keep my gaze focused on Amy.

  “You sure as shit about that sugar?” She nods and then reaches her hands up to my face, grabbing me under the jaw and kissing me with her blood flecked lips, tasting me, pulling in and drowning me so deep into her that I'll never be able to escape, not even if I want to.

  There are only three kinds of kisses in this world: secret ones that nobody sees, the fake ones that everybody sees, and the real ones that only two people see. This one was one of those and I'll be damned, but it rocked my friggin' world.

  After Austin is sure that everyone's alright, that we're all going to live, he rallies us up and puts us on the road, taking our small group back to the main body of Triple M. Without stopping, they fall into line behind him, motorcycles purring and rumbling together in a wicked hot chorus that makes my blood sing almost as much as the man sitting in front of me, whose heart is beating in tune with mine.

  Austin puts a song on the intercom and doesn't talk about what happened. Not until we've ridden through the night turned day turned night again. Only then, once he's put some space between us and what happened, does he pull us all into a parking garage, letting our group fade away into the background of a city that's bigger than any I've ever seen in person, with skyscrapers galore and roads that never sleep.

  Once all the bikes are parked, everything is silent, like the cement walls around us are the edges of a bubble, keeping our small community contained, protected from the outside world and all the sounds that go with it.

  “So you're a bank robber, huh?” I whisper as Austin takes off his helmet for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. Even when we stopped for gas, he didn
't remove it, not once. Not even when I finally remembered my poor friend, waiting in her gilded cage for me to come get her and told him about it. He didn't respond, but I did notice that our path changed a bit, wound back on highways heading Southeast, towards Christy, towards a place that last week, I called home, and today, is just another city.

  I wait in tense anticipation for him to respond to me, to say anything at all.

  “Yeah,” he responds, voice a little rough around the edges, a little hoarse from not speaking for so long. A lot sexy.

  “I think it's hot,” I whisper and Austin grins, meeting my eyes, searing me with heat, blinding me with feelings I haven't yet fully sorted out but that I intend to work on – even if it takes decades. I smile and he smiles back.

  “Good, because, sugar, when I said you were mine, I meant it.”

  “So did I.”

  We grin at each other and then I watch with my pulse thumping like a wild thing while Austin climbs off the bike and tucks his helmet under his arm, turning to face the Triple M'ers who are waiting patiently to hear whatever it is he's going to say. I think somehow, someway, we all just sort of assumed Austin was the new president.

  He doesn't argue the point.

  “I'm sorry to say that Kent is no longer with Triple M.” Austin pauses and rubs at the stubble that's decorating his jaw. He doesn't say whether the man is dead or alive. I'm not sure if he even knows himself. I suppose I don't either. I shiver, but I don't think about it anymore than that. Whatever happened, happened. The universe is in control now, and I hate to say it, but the world minus one of those horrible men (especially Walker or Kent) might actually be a better place. “Shit went down and bad things happened.” He shrugs. “But we keep on keepin' on because that's what we do, that's what our group has always done. We've always been here to pull each other's fat out of the fire, and I intend to keep it that way.” He pauses just long enough for Beck to jump in with a wicked smile and a wink.