Loving Me, Trusting You(39)

What would my friends say if they found out I've been carrying a wedding ring around in my pocket for three friggin' years? Yep. That's right. I don't want to know.

“I don't envy you the pain it will cause.” Kimmi rises to her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek before sauntering back out the front doors and into the heat. I stay where I am, frozen, trapped in thoughts. I can't even imagine a scenario where Mireya says yes to a ring. It would never happen. When I told Austin a few weeks ago that I couldn't imagine her ever getting hitched, I was serious about it. When I told her I loved her before, I had this romantic chain of events all planned out in my head. Things didn't work out, and so now I'm stuck with this ring. I've thought about getting rid of it, sure, but it never feels right. How can I take my feelings and just flush 'em down the Goddamn toilet?

I sigh and push off the wall, wandering to the bank of windows in the lobby. The hotel is situated up a long driveway, perched on a hill overlooking the small, dusty city.

It's the perfect vantage point to see Broken Dallas coming.

Long before I hear them, I spot them down the road, moving across the pavement like they own the place. And they do, I suppose. They really f*cking do.

“Shit.” I don't want to see where they're going. I know. That part's pretty damn obvious. What I don't know is what they're going to do when they get here.

I race across the lobby and hit the stairs, pausing at each floor with the hopes of finding Austin. Fortunately for me, this is a small town and an even smaller building. I find him quick, exiting the room he's going to share with Amy, a silly smile plastered across his lips. I don't blame him. He's head over heels, so I get it. And he's not a bad Pres, just an inexperienced one. He's used to robbing banks, and based on his track record, he's f*cking good at it. But this is a whole different ballpark with a new set of rules and unforgiving consequences. Planning on coming here was fine, but we should've prepared more first. The fifteen minutes we've spent here might've cost us everything.

“Broken Dallas is en route,” I tell him before he can even ask. I watch as his blue eyes widen and his mouth twists into a slight scowl. “I'd say we have about five minutes, maybe less.” Austin nods and doesn't waste time with small talk, moving down the hallway and tapping on doors with his knuckles.

“Christ on a f*cking cracker, this shit doesn't ever get easy, does it?” he asks me as we move into the stairwell and down, boots pounding against the linoleum floor. The chains on my pants ding against the railing as we spin down and around, hitting the lobby running with a small entourage in tow. People stare, but we don't pay them any attention. We don't have time to focus on them. Right now, all that's important is showing a strong presence and staying polite. It's true. Manners will get you everywhere with bikers. Trust me, I am one.

I check my pockets again, making sure my handgun is safely tucked inside the waistband of my jeans. I didn't used to carry it around. It was strictly for emergencies, always there in the back of my bike for when I needed it. Feels like everyday is an emergency now. If it's not Bested by Crows, it's something else, right?

Mireya meets up with me outside the doors, face paler than usual, red lips pursed tight. I imagine if I were to kiss them now, that I'd get my tongue bit off. She looks fierce as f*ck today.

“How's it goin', lover?” I ask her as we move through the parking lot and pause near the entrance. We have to let them in here, there's no other choice, not if we want to stay on their good side. I take a deep breath and pray to God that Austin knows how to handle this. Beck looks ready to strangle someone with his bare hands and Kimmi's already loading a fresh magazine into her semi. Fantastic.

“Not so good. What the hell is going on here? I'm tired of dealing with this harassment bullshit. Can't we get a single freaking moment to ourselves?” She sounds like herself, but she still won't look at me. Good thing or bad? I don't get time to contemplate it.

“They'll be comin' around the mountain when they come,” Kimmi singsongs, but she doesn't look even the slightest bit frightened. A bit sweaty maybe and a whole lot of ticked off, but that's it. I'm glad she believes in Austin as much as she does or she'd have taken his place already. In all reality, she'd probably make better decisions than him, but she's not very diplomatic. All her good work would be undone the second she had a free moment to shoot off her mouth.

I pause next to my bike and wait. What else is there to do in this situation?

The rumble of engines starts low and grows louder quickly, winding up the road to the rusted gate that cuts across the front of the property. It's open, doesn't look like it's ever been closed actually, and it's only seconds before the group has pulled in front of us, all frowns and angry faces. There are no women here, only men. I wonder how much worse this shit is going to get before it gets better. My guess would be a whole hell of a lot.

“Good afternoon to you, gentlemen,” Austin says, tilting his blonde head to the side. He's all smiles and good ol' boy charm. His voice is laced with Southern hospitality and underwritten with brute strength. Perfect.

“Who the f*ck are you?” asks one of the men. He's got on a pair of sunglasses and a leather jacket with full colors, including the 1% in the center, to the left of their emblem, that says he considers himself a gen-u-ine badass extraordinaire. The only bikers that put that insignia on their shit think that they're outside the norm, that they're the special ones. Well f*ck him and his sister. I keep my face neutral.