Losing Me, Finding You(64)

“You mean about Mireya?” she asks. Ah, perceptive little lady I've got here. I scoot my hips back, just a bit, hoping I'm not going to get another hard-on. Yet. Amy has a habit of givin' 'em to me left and right. I squeeze my arms tighter around her chest to make up for the gap between our hips.

“Yup.”

“About the video … ” Amy pauses. “When was it taken?”

“Video?” I ask her as she tries to squirm away from me and sit up. “Where do you think you're going, beautiful. You ain't gettin' away from me yet.”

“Austin, I have to know,” she says. “I won't be angry, but I just have to know. Where's my purse?” I shrug and figure that if she left it downstairs, Gaine's probably got it. She sighs and leans back against me. “This may not be any of my business, but Austin … ” Amy takes a deep breath. “When's the last time you slept with Mireya?” I think about that for a minute, but I don't know why. There's only way to answer that question – honestly. To do anything else would be to spit in this beautiful girl's face, and Austin Sparks does not disrespect.

“The day after we had sex in the bar,” I tell her without shame. I didn't have any obligations to her then though I can sort of feel in my chest that maybe that wasn't the best choice to make, not for Mireya, not for Amy, and definitely not for me. Amy stiffens for a moment and then relaxes into a sigh.

“She sent me a video on my phone of the two of you … ” Amy doesn't need to finish her sentence. I'm a smart guy, so I get it.

“Shit. No wonder the two of you ended up tussling like alley cats. You know, don't you? That she sent that video to your family.” Amy nods her head and shifts, so that she's staring at the ceiling instead of the wall, pale blue eyes gazing upwards without the slightest hint of anger in 'em.

“I do.”

“And you're not angry?”

“Pissed.”

I pause for a moment and run my fingers along her belly. She shivers and closes her eyes but doesn't say anything else about it.

“I'm sorry,” I tell her because I am, truly. This whole thing between her and Mireya is about me, and it shouldn't be. I shoulda made it clear to Sawyer years ago that I wasn't in love with her like that. But me, being the f*cking dumb ass that I am, didn't see it until it was right in front of my face. Yet another reason to hit Fort Clinton. You owe these girls now, Sparks. Better see to it that you deliver.

“Don't be,” Amy says, opening her eyes again. “It's over now.” I watch her face and I can see the respect there that she's got for Mireya. A good fight will do that to you, you know. 'Specially if you get your ass beat around a bit first. I grin nice and big.

“Looks like you did some damage to Sawyer, eh? Never thought I'd see the day.” Amy smiles back, and her eyes sparkle a bit.

“I don't condone fist fighting, you know,” she tells me, but her voice has this edge to it, like maybe she liked it and she shouldn't have.

“Well, you did a damn good job. I don't think anyone's ever put the moves on Mireya like that. I doubt she'll be bothering you for awhile. Least she'll think twice about it before she does.” Amy chuckles, but it dies away quickly, replaced with a thoughtful face that tells me before she even speaks where this is going next.

“Mireya. You said there was more to her, that she'd had it rough. Why? What happened?”

“Sure are a nosy, little thing, aren't you, Miss Cross?” I'm teasing her, but I think she knows that. She waits patiently for me to continue, and I end up rolling onto my back with a sigh. I really hate this f*cking story, and I've only known it for a handful of days. Same amount of time you've known Amy, but shit, Sparks, if it doesn't feel like it's been forever. In a good way, o' course.

“There's a group of bikers run by a guy named Tray Walker,” I say, growling the name out like it's poisoned. “Mireya used to be married to the *.”

“Mireya used to be married?” Amy echoes, sounding just as surprised as Kimmi when she found out. Apparently, it doesn't take years of knowing the damn girl to figure her out. I smile a little and then frown. I think it's impossible to tell this story with a happy face.

“He was the Pres then, just like he is now, but he was new and he was implementing some changes.” I'm already starting to scowl, already beginning to feel my blood boiling hot and angry. Tray Walker is here, in this city, right now. I could go find him and beat his face in. It would be a service to humanity. Then again, that stupid ass thought could get me killed real easy, too. “He didn't tell his new bride about any o' them, until he took her bike away.” Amy doesn't interrupt me, just waits there patiently for me to continue, mind mulling over my words. “He'd decided that women were no longer going to be full-fledged patched members and that they either had to ride on their man's bike or get out.” Amy's gentle face doesn't change expression. Instead, it freezes there, stuck somewhere between neutral and annoyed. I hate to admit, but she looks a little scary like that. I like it. “Well, Mireya isn't one to give up easy, so she organized a women's ride, taking all the girls in her MC out on their bikes in protest.” I pause because this next part makes me so sick to my stomach that it's hard to breathe. “When she got back, Tray, he took her bike and smashed it up real good, and then he … he held her down and raped her, let his buddies come in, too. All night long they kept her there and tortured her, and then they dumped her naked on the side of the road, all bruised up. If it wasn't for Kent finding her, I don't know what woulda happened.” I remind myself to cut the guy some slack. He did save me and her both after all, along with the rest of this motley crew.