Losing Me, Finding You (27 page)

I wake up in a wonderful mood, feeling more alive than ever before. I feel like the night's stripped me of myself and left me blank, like a canvas ready to be painted. Austin isn't back yet (or maybe he's come and gone), but I don't worry about it. I hop out of that bed and dance into the shower, throwing on a white cami and yes, a
skirt.
It's a black, lacy one that doesn't look so bad with my boots and my leather jacket. When I wore it before, I used to pair it with a pastel colored cardigan and ballet flats, and it looked more Mary Poppins than biker chick. I examine it in the mirror for awhile before deciding that I look okay, picking up my phone as I get ready to go out, thinking that maybe I can find Gaine and go for lunch again.

I have a message.

At first I think it's from Christy, but I'm quickly disappointed when Mireya's name appears on the little screen. I think about deleting whatever it is that she's sent, but end up wondering if maybe it has something to do with club business. I open the message.

It's a video. Just like before.

My heart gets caught in my throat and my thumb hovers over the play button like I'm waiting to cut the guillotine's rope.
Whatever this is, I'm not going to like it, am I?
I think as I build up my courage as quickly as I can and go for it.

Images begin to move in front of me, familiar ones. Pictures of Austin's sweaty chest and face, his skull tattoos and the pistols on his pecs. He's groaning and thrusting and growling deep in his throat, but this time, the girl in the video that he's fucking isn't me.

I see bronzed breasts and a flat belly from my first person view as the camera bounces around with each pummel of Austin's hips.

Mireya Sawyer. He's fucking Mireya Sawyer. I'm watching a video of Austin
fucking
Mireya Goddamn Sawyer.

The phone falls from my hand and hits the floor, bouncing a little before pausing to rest face up, so I can still see every little bead of sweat on his skin. I watch as Austin's dick pushes inside Mireya and try not to scream. Several emotions bombard me at once. The first, of course, is jealousy. I can only guess that this video predates me, but how should I know? It could be from one of Austin's famous disappearing acts.
It could be from last night.
I mean, that Mireya girl certainly acts like she owns him. How am I to know if there's still something going on between them?

The second emotion is anger. Raw, white hot anger. This video tells me that Mireya not only
hates
me and wants Austin back but also that she was the one. She was the one who sent the pool table video to my congregation. I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, trying to control myself. Never in my life have I been this full of raw, hateful energy. I want to swirl down the halls and find Mireya, wrap her dark hair around my hand and slam her head into the wall.

Instead, I pick the phone up and tuck it nicely into my purse.
Keep calm and carry on, Amy Cross,
I tell myself. In the back of my mind, I hear another little whisper that says,
Keep calm and beat Mireya Sawyer's ass.
I open the door and force myself down the elevator and into the lobby where I'm guessing I might run into Gaine. When I find him, he's talking to someone in the lounge.

Oh, God, no.

I approach the table as calmly as I can, keeping a safe distance in case I explode.

When Mireya sees me, her perfectly sculpted brows raise up and a sultry smile stretches her lips.

“Good morning, Amy,” she says to me, tilting her head to one side. “I'm guessing you got the message?”

“I got
a
message,” I say, correcting her. Gaine looks between the two of us like he's trying to figure out what's going on, but his face remains blank. It doesn't matter anyway. This isn't between him and me, this is between me and Mireya, and I intend to keep it that way. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Amy,” she coos, picking at the red polish on her nails like she could give a shit less about me. “You go right ahead.”

“Why?” I ask her simply, keeping one hand on my purse strap and the other loosely by my side, just in case.

“Why what?” she asks, pausing to pick up her beer. I watch her long fingers close around the brown glass of the bottle as she lifts it to her red rouged lips and drinks deeply, neck pulsing as she swallows.

To be honest, Mireya is the girl I'll never be. She's tall and pretty and in control of herself. She exudes this aura of feminine confidence and power that I just don't have. I look at her in her skintight pants with her ebony hair glistening in an obsidian fall over her shoulder, and I just don't know what Austin could possibly get from me that he can't get from her. Mireya knows how to touch a man's body; I don't. She has history with him; I don't.

But I'm still going to fight. I'm going to fight because I think that maybe, just maybe, I might be falling in love. And there's still the issue of my family. I can't say yet whether what she did was a blessing or a curse, but she did it without asking and that isn't right. Besides, why send me a video of her having sex with him? What does she expect to get out of that? I won't give Austin up that easily. She should know. She's the same way, after all.

“Did you send the video of Austin and I having sex to my family and friends?”

Gaine's thick, dark brows shoot up, and he whistles under his breath, looking between me and Mireya like he isn't sure if he's going to have to break up a fight or not. I watch the beautiful biker chick, the one I both envy and hate, as she sets her drink down, turns fully to face me and smiles.

“Did you like watching him fuck me, Amy? Did you like to see him inside of another woman? Tell me, how did that make you feel?”

“I didn't do anything wrong, Mireya,” I tell her, trying to keep my cool. “When he first met me, he asked me out for drinks and never said he was involved with anyone. If you'll beg my pardon for saying so, he doesn't share a room with you, he shares one with me. He carries me around on his bike and he holds me at night while I sleep. Now, I know I've only been here a few days, but do you think even one of those activities might come across as Austin being interested in me?”

Mireya sneers and her hand flies out, smacking the beer bottle and sending it spinning across the table and onto the floor where it shatters into a million pieces.

“Yeah, I sent that video, you little bitch. And if I had the chance to do it over, I wouldn't do it. You want to know why? Because Austin told me he was forced to take you after your family had abandoned you. How do you think that makes me feel, hmm? My boyfriend of ten years leaves me for
you
because he feels sorry for you.”

My whole body goes cold, and I stumble back into a decorative column. Her words feel like a baseball bat, pummeling me from all sides, making me weak and bruised, but I refuse to collapse. I can't give her the satisfaction of that. Besides, as much as her words hurt, I know they aren't true. Austin isn't a man that can be
forced
into anything. He asked me here because he saw something in me; I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. He might not even know it's there yet, but it is. He's interested.

“Mireya, come on,” Gaine says, standing up and stepping between us. “You and Austin were never an item as far as he ever knew. I know you love him, baby, but you've got to let him go. He – ”

“Shut the fuck up, Gaine!” Mireya screams, standing up and shoving him violently in the chest. Gaine stumbles back a few steps, but I think the movement is more out of shock than anything else. “If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it.” She turns to face me and takes a step forward, black eyes glittering dangerously. I notice she wears a lot of rings on her fingers, and I doubt that most of them are there for decoration.

“Just remember every time he slips inside of you, that he was inside of me first. When you're calling his name, remember that I called it out first. And remember when he tells you he loves you, he. told. me. first.” Mireya leans in so close that I can smell her perfume and see a tiny star tattoo at the edge of one of her eyes. “Enjoy the used goods, bitch.”

I don't think in that moment. How can I? My mind is racing and my heart is breaking. Animal instincts rise up from out of nowhere and tell me to protect my mate. Later, I suppose I might find this a bit embarrassing, but in the heat of that argument, I just feel pissed off.

My hand flies out of its own accord and cracks Mireya hard across the cheek, turning her face away from me with the motion. I blink once and she's on me, hitting me back, grabbing my hair and pulling me forward. My purse flies off my shoulder as I stumble.

Pain ricochets through my skull as Mireya slams my face into the side of one of the booths, knocking me back into Gaine's arms. I don't stay there long, using his body as a springboard to lunge forward and hit Mireya in the stomach, carrying us both to the ground where we roll around in a tangle of leather and hair and nails. We're both shouting at one another, but I can't hear what she's saying because my heart is pounding too loud in my head.
You stupid bitch. It's your fault that Christy hates me, that my family thinks I'm a whore.
One thing I know that I say out loud is this: “Austin is mine.”

Our fight draws a big crowd of Triple M'ers that surround us and hold Gaine back, watching the catfight with interest. When I see them surrounding us, I feel a bit silly.
This isn't how things are supposed to work,
I realize as I take a step back and wipe blood away from my nose. Two women fighting over a man? One of the reasons that I wanted to leave my hometown was that I was tired of living in the dark ages, and yet, I'm making the biggest mistake of all. I should be confronting Austin, not Mireya. We both should. This isn't about us; it's about
him.
I hold my eyes up to block Mireya's next hit, intending to get out of this, when I hear her next words.

“I bet your nasty, little preacher daddy whacked off to that video in his confessional. I bet every damn man in your whole shitty church did. Don't have much else to do in the middle of hick country, am I right?”

My arms fly out and wrap around Mireya's ebony waves, pulling her towards me and refusing to weaken, not even when she punches me in the face with her rings. Blood sprays out of my nose like a fountain. It's one of the worst things I've ever seen, splattering Mireya's bronze cheeks with red as I choke and cough against the rush of fluids in my throat.
Oh, God, I hope it isn't broken.
I slam my forehead against her face, wincing at the pain but grateful when she lets go of me and we separate, so I can catch my breath.

Both of us are breathing hard and there's an exorbitant amount of blood (mostly mine) sprinkling our faces and shirts.

“You don't have anything to say to me before I kick your ass?” Mireya asks, scooping her long hair back and putting it into a quick ponytail. Her mistake. As soon as she lifts her hands up, I charge her and hit her so hard that she falls back and crashes against the marble floor with a grunt. My fist pulls back and hits her in the jaw once, twice, three times before she grabs my earrings and tears them from my lobes, making me scream. My nails come out and rake down her face and arms and chest, drawing long, angry welts as she reaches out and punches me again, dislodging me from my position and throwing me to the floor.

Her boot comes out of nowhere and makes contact with my stomach. I gag and blood comes up, staining the lobby carpet. Still, nobody moves in to help, not even the employees.

“You like that, bitch?” Mireya asks, kicking me again, even harder this time. I reach out and grab her ankle, pulling with all my strength and knocking Sawyer to her knees
hard.
I roll over and kick out sharply, hitting her in the belly. It doesn't feel as good as I thought it would. Instead, when my toe sinks into her soft belly, I feel sick.

I struggle to sit up, watching her warily out of the corner of my eye and nearly pass out when a sandy head appears behind the crowd and the people part, revealing Austin Sparks to the two of us. He stands there for a very, very long time looking from her to me and back again. His brown eyes take in the blood and the broken earrings with no emotion whatsoever; he's completely and utterly neutral. After one of the world's most awkward silences, Austin steps over to me and bends down, sliding his arms under my body and lifting me from the floor in a dizzying rush. Already, I can hear Mireya sobbing. Still, Austin says nothing to her, taking me through the crowd of bikers, past the baffled hotel employees and up the stairs.

He carries me the whole way there and sets me in our bed before disappearing into the bathroom and turning on the shower. When he comes back into the room, he's naked and he's holding out a hand for me.

“Come on, Cross,” he says, taking me by the wrist and pulling me to my feet. Austin then proceeds to strip me down until I'm standing completely buck naked in front of him, bruised and bleeding and
shameful.
I lower my chin and look away from his face, down at the floor by our feet.

“Austin, I … that was despicable of me.” I jump when I hear him laugh, turning my face back quickly and slapping my hair across his bare chest. When he looks down at me, he's smiling.

“Shit,” he says, reaching up with a thumb and gently touching it to my swollen lower lip. “If I wasn't so damn worried about you, I'd be having a hoot and a holler right about now.” I blink at him and try to pretend I don't see his cock rising slowly to meet me.

“Really? You're not mad?”

“Mad?” he asks, crinkling his sandy brows up. “Why in the hell would I be mad? Don't you know, every man likes a good catfight.” I narrow my eyes when his face drops for a second.
He's hiding something from me.
“And hey, if you had any worries about being accepted by the group, you can forget about 'em now. I bet you'll have half of 'em trying to get into your pants tomorrow. A little tussle every once in awhile is good, builds character and respect.”