Losing Me, Finding You(25)

“Why not?”

“I can't tell you, you know that,” I say although I wish I could. I wish I could tell somebody. But then, I got into this mess on my own and someday, I'm going to get out of it. For now, I think it might be best if I play Kent's games a little better. This burden should be on my shoulders and not my friends'. There's a reason that * picked the three of them for the job when there were plenty of other people who were more than capable. “Where do you think all the money comes from? You want to get a f*cking job? Let me worry about this shit, and don't,” I point my finger at Beck's chest. “Go roughin' up other people's bikes.”

“Code of the Road?” Beck jokes, wincing when his laughter pulls at the bandages on his chest.

“Fuck you, *,” I tell him and then I'm out of there and storming down the hallway towards Mireya's room. I don't even make it halfway there before my own door is opening, and she's stepping out with a towel on her head and a robe over her shoulders.

“Hey,” she says, and her voice is soft. When she looks at me, I can see that she's not angry about Amy anymore. She thinks the threat is over; wait till she hears about my request to Kent. She's going to stop looking at me with that soft smile, stop touching my arm with her fingernails and whispering hot words into my ears. I wonder if I'm okay with that? Mireya's been by my side for a long, long time, ever since Kent found me in the depths of hell and pulled me out of it. He did that for Mireya, too, and so maybe that's why we're all still here, out of some f*cked up sense of loyalty. Or blackmail. Either or. “I hope this is okay … ” Mireya pauses and gestures at the room with her hand, asking my permission. I nod once, very curt, very pissed off, and cross my arms over my chest. “Austin,” she starts and I stop her with a shake of my head.

“Your promised to stay out of this shit,” I tell her, and she looks away like she's ashamed. “You're not trying to get back at me for f*ckin' Amy last night, are you?” Mireya's head snaps around like she's been slapped and her slanted eyes open wide, burning with the fires of hell. When a woman looks at you like that, with the blood of the earth boiling beneath her skin, you know you done something wrong.

“That little white bitch?” she asks, snapping her teeth together like she's trying to bite off the flow of words in her brain, like she could go on forever about how much she hates Amy Cross. “This has nothing to do with that little whore.” Mireya rips the towel off of her head and shakes out her long, dark hair. I think she's Spanish maybe, based on her accent, but she never talks about her past, so I don't know shit about it. Sometimes pasts are better left behind. I think that's the appeal of the open road. The wind holds no prisoners, and it banishes bad memories. If there's any magic left in the world, then I certainly know where to find it; we all do. “Nobody in Walker's group is worth the air in their lungs. If I could, I'd hang 'em all out to dry.” Mireya sneers and looks at the floor like she wants to say something but can't. “You think banging up their bikes was bad? If I ever get the chance, I'll kill them.” She looks up at me finally. “Whether Diamond gives the word or not.”

I look at her, and I wonder how far this goes, what she and Gaine are hiding from me. It seems like this whole grudge goes beyond turf wars and livelihoods, like it's personal. I don't press for details, just step forward and wrap my fingers in Mireya's wet hair. She looks up at me, the anger fading from her eyes as quick as it came.

“How was she, by the way?” Mireya asks, sliding her arms around my waist. I don't need to ask who it is that she's talking about it. My catch of the day, my little Miss Cross. Explosive, hot, tight, f*cking delicious. I've never shied away from telling Mireya shit like that before. This time, though, my tongue gets tied, and I end up kissing her instead of answering.

Mireya bites at my mouth hungrily, gnaws at my lower lip with her teeth and drops her hands to untie the sash around her waist, letting the robe gape open and flash me a long line of smooth, bronze skin and a patch of dark hair between her thighs.

“I've still got those cowboy boots if you're game?” she asks me, stepping back and lying across the bed invitingly. I stand there like an * for a second too long before I finally take a step forward, but it's too late; Mireya saw my hesitation. She sits up suddenly, grabbing the edges of her gaping robe. “What the f*ck, Austin?” she asks, glaring at my crotch like it's the enemy. I've got a hard-on going on; how could I not with Mireya lying on the bed with her full breasts exposed and her flat belly, her long, long legs? But I don't feel any of that fire or that heat. Maybe I'm just letting my anger at the Pres get to me? Shit, I don't know. “You not into chicks anymore?” she growls as she rolls off the bed and slaps my hand away when I reach out for her. “Or maybe that little blue-eyed bitch cut off your balls? Didn't think you were the type to let 'em go so easily.”

I grab her shoulder with a growl and spin her around, slamming her into the wall hard and pressing my body firmly against hers, grinding my erection into her hip.

“This has nothing to do with Amy,” I say, wondering why I still can't get that girl out of my mind. “I just don't like you getting involved with Mel and Kent's shit.” Mireya smiles, but it ain't a happy look.