Losing Me, Finding You(65)

When I glance over at Amy, I see that her eyes are brimming with tears.

“I see,” she whispers, and I can tell she wants to say more but doesn't how to, doesn't how to put into words how she feels about that. But at least she can shed a tear for the enemy. That's a character trait I can admire.

“So you don't have to go feeling sorry for her or anything, but I just wanted you to know where she came from. I didn't even know until a few days ago, but I wish I had. There's a lot of stuff that she does – that she's done – that makes a whole lot more sense now. I wish I'd known how bad she was hurting.”

“Don't even think about it,” Amy says, turning to me and folding her hands beneath her cheek. “Don't think about treating her differently just because you know. That act doesn't define her. It affected her, I'm sure, but it doesn't make her. I think she's just a strong-willed woman that knows what she wants and is willing to fight for it.” I reach out and touch my fingers gently to the tip of Amy's nose and she winces.

“I guess you're right about that, sugar,” I tell her, unable to fight it anymore.

My cock is swollen and wanting now, despite my horror story, and I just can't resist reaching over and grabbing Amy by the hips. I pull her on top of me and keep my eyes on her face as she angles back and slides her wetness over my cock.

“Austin,” she whispers as she starts to ride me slowly, grinding her pelvis against mine. I reach up and cup her full breasts, running my thumbs along the pink skin of her nipples until she shudders and clenches tight around me.

“What is it, beautiful?”

“You know how you said I was yours before, until I became a full member?” I slide my hands back down to her hips and hold on tight, careful to avoid the colorful bruises that are starting to spring up on her pale skin.

“Yeah. And I meant that shit by the way.”

“Well,” she moans, letting her head fall back so that her wet hair drips sexily over her shoulders and down her back. “I just fought for you, so for now, at least, you're mine, too.”



Chapter 45

It's too early the next morning for me to force more Nickelback on the group, so I settle for a little AC/DC and let 'Highway to Hell' trickle through the intercom system in our helmets. There might be a few eye rolls in the bunch, sure, but I figure that nobody can really come up with a valid argument against good, old fashioned rock and roll. Not with the wind whipping around them and teasing them with her cold fingers, beckoning us into the sunrise that's burning up the sky straight ahead of us.

I listen to the sound of my bike and the beating of Amy's heart and try not to let myself get nervous about Fort Clinton. It's gonna be tough, especially since we don't know if Walker's going to trail us out here. The faster he comes after us, the less time we have to plan. If I had my way, I'd spend about two weeks in town before I moved in. I think we'll be lucky to get two days.

I take the curves a bit faster than I should, pulling the group along with me in a roar of thunder that's deafening but brilliant, a sound I wouldn't change for the world, that I won't apologize for. It's the sound of freedom in the gas of those engines, a promise that things can change and keep changin', that nothing has to get stale or old, and there's always a new perspective out there, one you've never seen before.

I hope that after this week, I'm still around to see it.

We ride straight through, stopping only for gas, and manage to make it all the way from St. Marlin's to Fort Clinton in less than a day. Anyone that says that ain't impressive riding is full of shit.

“Can I talk to you?” Gaine says as soon as we pull into town and stop as a group in an empty church parking lot. Our usual first ride through didn't yield a single, damn hotel, further ingraining my hatred of Tray Walker and Bested by Crows. It's hard to cart forty-nine *s around the country and not know where you're staying. That's why I usually like to plan shit out. Damn that motherf*cker for making me rush through this shit. I wanted to show Amy what we were like, give her a good first impression. Now, I'm thinking that maybe she's just looking at us all like we're chickens with our damn heads cut off, moving this way and that with no purpose. I let out a sigh and touch my fingers to Amy's gloved hand. I smile when I feel her heart beat racing against my back.

“Can I get off the f*cking bike and figure this out first?” I ask as I reach up and remove my helmet. Amy sits back, and the loss of her warmth makes me feel ice cold out here in this drizzly, weird ass weather. What happened to the South? Everything around us is wet and gray lookin'. I hope there're no storms rolling in.

“I tried to talk to you last night, but you wouldn't answer your phone, and then this morning, you were avoiding me like the damn plague. What's your f*cking problem?” I look at Gaine as I climb off the bike and tell Amy to hang tight for me for a sec.

“This better be important,” I tell him as I move across the cement towards Kent. “Because I'm still pissed at you for telling Amy about Brock.” Gaine winces and rubs at his broken heart tattoo. His dark eyes look troubled and are near as cloudy as the splotchy sky we're standing under.

“I'm sorry about that,” he tells me as we move forward. “I am, and I owe you one for it, but I felt like she had to know. I don't know why, and it sounds kind of stupid now that I'm saying it here, but I just went with my gut.”