Losing Me, Finding You(34)

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask her, but she doesn't answer, pausing next to a 1951 Thunderbird with a whistle.

“This yours?” she asks a man standing nearby. I grab her wrist and spin her to face me. The dude gets real upset and starts coming forward, but Mireya holds up a hand to let him know she's okay.

“Kent told me,” I say.

“Shit,” Mireya growls, jerking her arm away from me and spitting at the sidewalk. “And he probably exaggerated, too. Look, Sparks, I don't need you to march down here feeling sorry for me, trying to steal my vengeance. Run along and go play with your little virgin friend.” Mireya smiles briefly for a moment, and it isn't a friendly smile. Then she frowns and shakes her head. When she looks back up at me, her eyes are dark with anger and the skin on her face is taut. “I don't really feel like talking to you right now, so f*ck off.”

“I don't give a shit,” I tell her, trying not to get mad. Truth is, I am beyond f*cking pissed. It's taking every ounce of my self-control not to seek out our rival MC and show them a real nasty time. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“My life is none of your f*cking business!” Mireya snaps, pulling away and heading back the way she just came. “If you decide you want it to be, come find me.” She starts to walk away, practically begging for me to follow after her. I start to, I really do, but then I see Amy Cross at the end of the street, shoeless and dressed in her ugly, purple dress. There are black tears streaming down either side of her face, but she's smiling. In one hand, she's got a small duffel bag and in the other, her purse.

What on God's green earth?

My body heats up at the sight and in an instant, I'm rock hard. A hot, angry tumble sounds real good right about now, I think as I start towards her, wondering what's going on. If I was in my right Goddamn mind, I'd realize that pushing away all my other worries for this girl was a bit weird.

“You alright, Cross?” I ask when I get close enough to touch. My hand comes out seemingly on its own and brushes against her cheek. She lets me touch her, but she doesn't respond, standing stone still like she isn't sure what avenue to take.

“Did you send it?” she asks quietly. She blinks a few times and wipes away some of the mascara that's run down her face. I wrinkle my brow and drop my hand.

“Send what, darlin'?” I ask, and a smile blossoms on her uncertain face.

“I didn't think so,” she whispers, taking a deep breath and adjusting the strap of her duffel bag.

“Honey, if you don't start talkin', I'm gonna get real worried and start breakin' faces. What the hell happened to you?”

“I … ” Amy begins, voice trailing away to a whisper. “I'm homeless.” She wrinkles her face up like she's perplexed and then tilts her chin up to look at me. “I've been ostracized by a simple decision, one that some would see as meaningless and others, life altering. But I don't think sex is either or.” She pauses, eyes cloudy like she's lost in thought. “I mean, it could be, but it doesn't have to be.”

“Sugar, you're singing a pretty strange tune there, and to be honest, I don't have a clue what you're talking about.” I reach out and brush my fingers across Amy's shoulder, watching as she shudders and bites her lower lip. I take the duffel bag from her. “Are you in some kinda trouble?”

“I guess you could say that,” she tells me as I turn around and start to guide her back towards the hotel. It doesn't exactly seem like she's all there right now. I'm betting on shock, but why? What the hell is going on? First, Mireya's secret and now this. I love women, but wow, they sure can be complicated. Like you're a simple piece of work, Sparks? Get over yourself. “Somebody sent a video of us having sex to my entire congregation.” She pauses and taps a fingernail to her pursed lips. “I suppose they could've gotten the numbers from me when I left my purse at the bar. It had my address book in it, you know? I know nobody keeps them anymore, but my father, he … ” She waves her hand around dismissively, but I cut her off.

“What the f*ck?” I ask, and Amy pauses next to me, mouth turning into a little 'O' of surprise.

“On the pool table. Somebody filmed it and sent it to everyone I know. I can never show my face there again and that church, that's my family's entire life.” Here she pauses and takes a big ass breath. I'm still working it out in my head trying to understand what's going on. Somebody filmed us? I play out that scene in my head and try to remember who was in the bar that night. Could've been Diamond. That bitch has done worse, but then, what reason would she have to sabotage Amy? The only person I can think of that would even have her on their radar would be … Mireya Sawyer. Fuck.

“I … don't know what to do with myself. I had a plan, but they beat me to it. They closed my account.” I have no idea what Amy's talking about, but I get the gist: the girl's broke.

“Well,” I say as we near the doors to the hotel. “Then I've got good news for you, Cross.” I reach out and touch a strand of her hair, still mussy from our little rut behind the grocery store. I like that she's still got that look about her, like she's been marked by me. I suddenly want everyone around me to know this girl belongs to me. I want them to see her wrapped around me on the back of my bike, see me taking her up the stairs and into my room. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop this train of stupid ass thoughts. “You're in.”