Losing Me, Finding You(33)

“Kent,” I begin, tucking my hands in my pockets. “I want to sponsor a new member.” I speak before I can think too hard about it. I promised Amy that I would, so I'm doing it. I don't think she really understands what it means to be a part of an MC, especially since I can guess she's never spread those sweet thighs over a bike anyhow, but I think she does understand the need to be free. I can get behind that. Besides, Triple M isn't a real MC – not in the traditional sense of the word. Some of our members might think so, but then they never ask where the money comes from or why we go where we go. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.

“Oh?”

“A girl?” Melissa asks, smiling wickedly at me, teasing me by flicking her tongue across her full lips. I ignore her.

“She don't know shit about motorcycles, and she'll probably bail first chance she gets, climb on a bus in the next town and head right back here, but … ” I look down at my boots. I may not know Cross, but my words still ring false. She doesn't seem like the type who gives up easily.

“But if I let her in, I've got your full cooperation?”

“Something like that,” I say, thinking that he's got it anyway. I can't let Gaine, Beck, and Mireya take shit for my work. I'm the one that's responsible for this crap. And whatever it is that Walker's done to them that they're grudging against, I'm gonna figure that out, too, and take care of it. That's why we're all here together, a bunch of broken *s trying to look out for each other. Well, everybody except Kent and Mel. I used to think they were about that – well, Kent anyway, not that blonde bitch – but I've long since learned my lesson. If you pull someone's fat from the fire then you've got their loyalty. Kent knows that. Period. He doesn't give a shit about any of us.

“Done. Bring her in, cart her around. You're responsible for her.” Kent shrugs like he couldn't care less, but his black eyes are sparkling. “Introduce her to the group. Tonight, you, Mel, and Kimmi are going to finish this.” I spin around and watch Kent as he sits down on a bench and pulls out a cigarette. His hands are shaking, but the muscles in his hands are tense, fingers curled like he's holding something back.

“I'm not going to smash up anybody's bike,” I tell him firmly. “I'm not into that juvenile crap.” Kent smiles, a big, wide, crocodile smile that makes his small face look ever smaller, overwhelmed by those teeth and those thick lips. Melissa hooks her hands behind her head and rolls her blue eyes over to mine. She's smiling, too, but hers is much more restrained, tight and little. What a miserable couple the two of them make.

“Good,” he says, voice pitched so low I can hardly hear him over the roar of the crowd. “Because I think you're right. Walker's getting suspicious. I'm thinking he's planning on moving ahead of schedule. You're going to beat him to the finish line.” Fuck.

“Kent, this is my deal. You've always known that. Going in ahead of schedule is like planting an X right on our friggin' backs. We'll have two choices: stay here and deal with the consequences, or leave and draw all the attention to us. Either way, I'm sorry to say it, but we're f*cked.”

“What if I told you a little secret,” Mel whispers, leaning over and blowing hot breath into my ear. “A nasty, dirty, little secret.”

“About what?” I snap, getting real antsy real fast. I have a plan, have always had a plan, and I've stuck to it. Things don't seem to work out too well for me if I don't. To get me to break it, Melissa's secret would have to be good. Real, real good.

“It's about your girlfriend.” Immediately my mind goes to Amy, but I don't know why. I don't have a girlfriend. Austin Sparks has never had a girlfriend. “It's about Mireya.” Ah. Figures. Kent taps the bench next to him and smiles as a bit of country twang breaks through the drone of the crowd.

“Come on, Sparks. Sit a spell, why don't ya? Melissa will tell you all about it … ”



Chapter 27

I don't go looking for Tray Walker, but I want to. I want to hunt him down and kill him, and I want to take a good portion of Bested by Crows down with him. You don't know who knows and who did what, I think as I imagine the Triple M'ers. Most of them are good people, some aren't, but very few of them know their true purpose: to act as cover. It's kind of like hiding in plain sight, using an MC to cover our tracks, but it works for us. At least it has for the past f*cking decade. Ever since I was eighteen, I've been pulling shit for Kent Diamond, and now, I'm going to do it for Mireya Sawyer.

“Don't walk away from me,” I growl at her. I probably shouldn't be acting like this. It isn't Mireya I'm mad at. It's Tray and his buddies and me for being a complete and utter *.

“I've got shit to do, Austin.” Mireya glances over her shoulder, quite the sight with her bright lips and dark hair, her olive skin and her tight as f*ck leather pants. She looks so friggin' tough; it's hard for me to imagine anyone hurting her. She doesn't act wounded, not usually, but then I think about what she said this morning and it all starts to make sense. “Apparently, so do you. I think her name is Amy.” Mireya's smile gets tough as leather and then she's turning away from me and stomping down the sidewalk like she's pissed off.