Beck nods briskly, saluting me with a watery half-smile, and then jumps on the back of his bike. I lead us out of the parking lot, just seconds before Gaine and Mireya emerge from the hotel.
I tear out onto the street and disappear into the rush of traffic.
Chapter 19
Austin
Beck and I take the highway, keeping our eyes out for motorcycles.
“You think she'd be in a car or truck or somethin'?” I ask Beck. It's not exactly easy to wrestle a struggling lady onto your bike. Beck should know, considering he's done some recent kidnapping of his own. I doubt that whoever's got Amy will be as gentlemanly in their capture as my best friend though.
“Maybe,” he replies through the intercom. I like the coiled snake of violence I hear hissing from his throat. It's good to have a crazy son of a bitch like Beck on your side. “But how the hell are we gonna know that?” I shake my head, even though I know he can't see me. He's right. If Amy's in one of these minivans, in the back of that sedan, in the center row of that SUV, how am I going to know that?
I grit my teeth and keep riding, uncertain if I'm even going in the right direction. I close my mind off and press forward. I can't sit and wait and do nothing, so I have to take a chance here, even if it's the wrong choice to make.
I weave in between the cars, searching windows for Amy's face, or maybe even somebody I might recognize from the fight. It feels like I'm searching for a needle in a haystack here, but I have to try. No matter what, I have to keep fighting. Guess that whole, you never know how precious something is until you lose it phrase is true. I'm missing Amy so fierce my chest feels like it's about to explode. I was nice today, but I wasn't nice enough. When Amy told me she was pregnant, I should've pulled her to me and told her I was happy, that there ain't a single other woman on this earth that I'd want to have a baby with. I should've told her I love you.
“Beck, I'm an idiot.”
“I know you are, brother, and that's okay. A good woman can cure any ailment.” I sigh into the mic.
“And I'm a shitty motherfucking leader.”
“You're an inexperienced one. There's a big difference there, Sparks. Do you think I'd be putting my life on the line for you if I didn't think you could do this? Fuck, I'd kick your ass off the throne and put Kimmi there if I didn't believe you capable.”
“You're a good friend, Beck,” I say, almost grudgingly.
“And you're a Goddamn brownnoser. Let's find Amy and be done with this, alright?”
“Amen,” I whisper, jerking my bike to the right, sliding across traffic like a ghost. That's one of the nice things about riding a motorcycle – you become oblivious to the rest of the driving world. I speed ahead of Beck, crouching low, struggling to hold back the rush of adrenaline that's coursing through my veins. At this moment, I have no outlet for it. I've got to keep it bottled in until it's time to let loose.
I swing around a semi, and end up a few cars ahead of Beck, traveling along at speeds that are most definitely not going to fall within any legal limit. The road stretches out before me, numbing me to the situation and wrapping my soul up in the moment. Wind teases my shoulders, cutting through my leather jacket with knives that wake me up and make my memory so sharp it could cut. I see Amy bending over that Road King bike back in the day, so innocent but desperate to get out. I see myself, getting wrapped up in her mind, sweeping in and taking over. I've been thinking only of me, but it's really Amy whose life has changed the most.
I squeeze my hands so tight that they hurt, rocketing forward, eyes scanning the cars around me. I could get lucky here, catch a glimpse of Amy and act a hero savin' her from a fate worse than death. Instead, I get a phone call. I pull over to the side of the road, skidding into the gravel with a curse and a call to Beck over the intercom. My helmet comes off and I answer the phone without looking at the number.
“Austin Sparks.” It's a voice I recognize. Goddamn it. Margot Tempe. Our rat is back and apparently quite eager to piss me the fuck off. “I know you're following me, but it has to stop. I'm not going to hurt Amy, but I need you to listen to me.” My first urge is to tell her to piss the hell off, but that's not going to help my woman, and that's all that matters to me. At least we're on the right track. If she knows I'm following her, then we must've either passed her or shown up in her rearview mirror, right?
“What do you want, Margot?” I ask, wishing I had taken Beck's advice and shot the woman in the back of the damn head. But that wasn't the right decision to make, and I still stand before my original choice. I listen to the pause on the line, and I just know she didn't come up with this plan all on her own. “Why Amy?”
“It's not really about Amy, Austin,” she tells me as I scrub my fingers through my hair in a frustrated gesture. Beck slides in next to me and lifts his visor. I wave him away, gesturing at the highway with my left hand. Luckily, we've been friends long enough that he understands what I'm trying to say. Beck nods, puts his helmet back in place and takes off, merging into the traffic like a dancer or some shit. “This is about us.”
“Who the fuck is us?” I ask, resisting the urge to make quotation marks with my fingers. Ain't nobody around to see that crap. I turn my head away from the traffic, wishing away the noise. I don't want to miss a damn word of this phone call. Doing that could change everything.
“The Branded Kestrels,” Margot says, her voice muffled by the roar of a nearby semi. “The merger of Bested by Crows and Broken Dallas.”
“You ain't nothin' to them, Margot,” I say, trying to slice through her Achilles' heel with words. She's always been a weak girl. If joining these assholes is any indication, she still is. “You're less than the chrome in their rides, baby. If you're trying to buy a life with Amy's freedom, you're going to be sorely mistaken when it comes time for payment.”
“I'm not buying anything,” Margot snaps at me, and I wonder how much her dignity's been taxed these last few months. I'm not bluffing here. She's probably a passing consequence to these guys, a toy to be used and discarded. It's a sad, sad fact in this world. I don't know why any woman would put themselves through that crap. “How would you have reacted to a dozen guys in cuts storming into the hotel? I dye my hair blonde and put on some fancy makeup, and Triple M hardly even notices me. Not a single fucking person recognized me until I got upstairs. How fucking pathetic are you?”
“Goddamn it, you stupid little bitch. What the fuck do you want? It ain't to chat my ear off, so let's hear it.”
“Austin, we've got some contracts that have come due, and it's your fault we haven't been able to deliver. You're going to fulfill your end of the bargain whether you want to or not. The same offer still stands. Your women, their cuts, and money. I hope your last bank hit was kind to you because you're going to need as much as you can get. This isn't going away, Sparks. We have creditors and there are debts due. Somebody has to pay up, and it isn't going to be us.”
“How the fuck is that going to get me Amy back?” I scream at her, beyond motherfucking frustrated. I've lost sight of Beck, but that's alright. As long as he's on her trail, or at the very least making the bitch nervous, that's exactly where he needs to be. I'll catch up. Then I'll pop Margot's petite little head from her shoulders.
“You have to make a choice, Austin Sparks. Your woman or your club.” My heart starts to pound, so fast and hard it's like a hammer smashing a nail into my chest. I feel sick. “If you decide to choose your club, we'll keep Amy, and she'll be the first bitch in our stable of whores.”
The phone clicks off, and I let out a scream.
Chapter 20
Austin
I dial Margot Tempe right back, seething with rage. It's back to this fuckin' shit again, is it? I won't just be rippin' heads from shoulders, I'm going to turn into a bona fide Beck clone, relishing the taste of blood and laughing when my hammer finds a soft skull to smash into.
“Excellent,” she says, her small voice strong on the outside but crumbly and weak on
the inside. She ain't a very impressive villain. “You have an answer already?”
“Margot Tempe, you slimy, backwater bogart piece o' shit from a horse's hoof, I swear on my mother's tits – ”
“Careful, Austin,” she snaps, her voice full of hurt, like a petulant little brat in need of a spanking. “You're not in control this time, not really. You have one choice to make. Either you have an answer for me or you don't.” I open my mouth to curse her grandma and their entire family, when Margot curses abruptly. “Fuck!”
The expletive coincides with a black sedan swerving in the lane closest to me. A silver SUV crashes into the side and the car spins like a top, cutting into the barbed wire fencing just twenty feet from where I'm sitting.
“Margot?” My voice is practically a whisper, drowning in the sound of her screams. The black sedan hits the ditch on the side of the road and flips straight over, sliding through the grass a couple dozen feet before coming to a steaming stop. “Margot?” I hear whimpering and the distant shouts of passersby. They echo doubly in my ear confirming my worst Goddamn nightmare. This is the fucking car. “Amy!”
I'm off my bike and running, hopping the fence and sprinting through the dry grass as fast as my leg will carry me. The sound of sirens blares in the distant, a background requiem for my pulsing fear.
“I didn't see them there!” the person in the silver SUV is screaming, slumped against the back of their vehicle, but they don't come any closer. “It was an accident.” I leave the girl there to cry and slide to my knees next to the sedan. People are pulling over and rushing my way, but I ignore them, checking in the broken front window to find Margot alive, but bleeding. I ignore her, switching my attention to the back. I reach to open the door, but it's locked.
“Motherfucker,” I growl, the adrenaline I was holding back springing free and overwhelming me. I don't even have time for logical thoughts, just base impulses to guide my hands. Amy. Shit. Amy. Amy. Fuck. I crawl back to the front, reaching my hand up and in, searching for the lock button. It only takes me a second, but I swear to Christ, it feels like a Goddamn century.
“My wife's in the back,” I tell the first person to pause by my side. Amy might not actually be my wife, but she probably should be. “You help the girl in the front.” I grab the handle and start to tug it open. The windows are tinted, so I have no idea what I'm getting myself into here. She could be dead. Maimed. The crumpled door resists my pull, catching on the ground and forcing me to use every ounce of strength I have to get it open. I manage to move it about halfway before it refuses to give another inch. Dropping back to my knees, I look inside and find Amy lying bloody and quiet on the roof of the car. She's bound and gagged, blindfolded. For the first time in a long, long while, tears come to my eyes, but I blink them away, pursing my lips with determination and crawling partially into the car to get a better look at her. “Amy?” I whisper, but she doesn't respond, doesn't even move. I can't tell if she's breathing or not. I reach down and slide the blindfold carefully away. I pretend that her body's made of glass, afraid to move her until the paramedics get here. I don't want anything I do right now to compromise her making it out of here alive.
Amy's eyes are shuttered tight, closed to the world, her dark lashes resting on her pale cheeks. There's blood dribbling down the side of her face, but no visible wound, at least not from this angle. I pull a knife out from my boot and use it to cut the gag away, pushing the rest of the world aside so I can focus on this. The fabric comes away in a wet clump, soaked through with blood and saliva. As soon as I peel it away however, Amy starts to groan, coughing and groaning as she rolls to the side and splatters the roof beneath her cheek with blood.
“Baby?” I whisper, touching her hair gently, moving my knife down to the bindings on her wrists. Her injured left arm is drenched with red, the bandage soaked with blood. “Can you hear me, Cross? You in there?” Just knowing she's alive sparks my body with a raging fire of relief that burns the clouds of doubt away. How this car, right here, on this day managed to get in an accident is beyond me. Coincidence, maybe? Fate? “Amy, come on, sugar. Let me know you're okay.” I remove the cord at her wrists, releasing her arms slowly. A scream tears straight through her throat, echoing around the crumpled car and bringing me the worst agony I've ever felt in my damn life. “Fuck, sugar, I'm sorry.” I decide against cutting the cord off her ankles. I don't want to hurt her again.
“Austin?” Amy whimpers with her bloody lips. My eyes widen as I lean over her, touching a hand to her cheek just as her eyelids start to flutter. A second later, a man is tapping on my leg and telling me to move. It's the paramedics. Sometimes strength is in doing the best you can, no matter the situation. Other times, it's knowing what you can't do and accepting that as truth. I pull back with a promise to follow Amy to the hospital, and let the experts do their thing.
In the back of my mind, vengeance burns white hot and painful.
Chapter 21
Amy
I wake up feeling quite sore, my stomach twisting and turning in my belly. I reach up to clamp a hand over my mouth and scream when pain ricochets through my body. Oh dear. My eyes fly open and for a second there, I'm blinded by the white lights above me, the sterile walls and floors, the flowers.
“Where … ” The word gets caught in my dusty throat and hangs there, threatening to explode from my lips along with a wave of nausea. I hold it all back with a push of strength I'm surprised to even find in me. My entire body feels like it's been run through the washer, spun this way and that. All of my muscles are sore, while half of my bones feel like they've been broken and put back together again. What happened? I remember Margot kidnapping me just moments before my lovely bath and book date I had set up. I remember listening to Margot threatening Austin. I remember feeling a cold knot of fear.
I remember being pregnant.
I try to move my right hand instead of my left and am relieved when it obeys. I clutch my fingers over my belly and suddenly, something that seemed so complicated becomes simple. I want to have this baby. I didn't expect it, but I didn't expect Austin either. Besides, I've seen what a life looks like when everything goes to plan. It might work for some people, but not for me.
“My baby,” I whisper, struggling to sit up.
“Shh, calm yourself down.” I recognize that voice. My head whips to the side and my vision tilts and tumbles, forcing me to close my eyes before I get a glimpse of that familiar face.
“Mama?” I ask, fighting back another wave of nausea. “What are you doing here? Where's Austin?” I won't lie – no daughter could ever be disappointed to find their Mama is there in a crisis, even with the bad blood between us. But the person I need most in this world is Austin Sparks. I have a vague recollection of hearing his voice in that dark memory between Margot's conversation and where I'm at now. Whatever happened in between, I'm not sure, but it doesn't really matter. I'm alive, and I'm safe. As long as I've still got my baby, everything else can be forgotten.
“Don't be silly. I'm here because I'm your mother.” I feel her cool hands on my forehead, sweeping my hair away from my face. When the sick feeling in my stomach subsides, I open my eyes again and find my mother standing in a shaft of sunlight. The single golden beam breaks through a crack in the utilitarian starkness of the curtains. Mama doesn't look as if anything has happened between us, as if I hadn't run away and disappeared for several months. Her mouth is set in a straight line and she looks very businesslike. “Relax for a moment before you sit up. I won't have you passing out again.”
I lay my head back against the white pillows and wonder a question I'm too afraid to ask. Is Papa here? I clear my throat and try to decide if I feel comfortable asking my mom another question, one that I absolutely must have the answer to now.
“Mama, is my baby … is my baby alright?” She pretends like she doesn't hear me, moving over to the window and pulling the curtains back. The clusters of flowers frame my mother in color, highlighting the simple elegance of h
er cream dress, the perfection of the folds as they drape down to her ankles, swirling gently as she turns back to face me. Her brown eyes get that purple sheen in them, drawing the breath from my lungs. I've always wondered how I turned out to be so plain Jane when my Mama is a work of living art.
She stares at me and this look I've had turned on me so many times suddenly becomes less frightening, less stern. I'm not afraid of her anymore, and that makes me feel good inside. Or it would if I had an answer to my question. I tighten my fingers against the thin material of my hospital gown.
“Mama?” I ask, and she sighs, moving over to a vase of pink roses near the door. She fluffs the bunch with her hand, pausing to adjust a blossom.
“How did you end up bound and gagged in the back of a car?” she asks and I nearly scream, tears pricking my eyes as I look up at the ceiling and pray to Sali Bend for strength.
“Don't be cruel,” I whisper, wondering why she's here, why I'm not surrounded by Triple M'ers. I need to see Austin, and I'd love to see Tease, Kimmi, even Mireya. I was glad to see my mom, but if she isn't going to act like a mother, I'd rather she just left. “Did I lose my baby?” Mama scoffs and shakes her head, brushing a strand of cinnamon colored hair behind her ear.
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