Loving Me, Trusting You(44)

I want to like it that I did it, to cackle with glee at the memory like a wicked witch in a fairytale with some hope of a happy ending. But I don't. Don't get me wrong though. In no way do I feel guilty for what I've done. Did Tray deserve to die? You make your own decision on that, but he did deserve to pay and I extracted my remittance. Was it right? I don't f*cking know. But I won't do it again. If I do, I'll just be splitting myself up into even smaller pieces. Right now, there's a chance I can recover. Later, maybe not so much.

I glance up at the roundness of the moon and wish I could join her in the sky, join las estrellas and sparkle for eternity in blissful peace. I laugh and the sound echoes around the empty pavement, stirring up the day's dust to dance a solo just for me. I'm not usually so poetic, so I know something must be wrong. Fuck you, Gaine Kelley. I don't know who you think you are, but if I keep having these Shakespearean thoughts, you are done for.

“Mireya?” I almost pull a knife when the voice sounds from behind me, soft and unassuming but also unafraid. I turn to find Amy Cross standing with her arms crossed over her chest. She's dressed in a pair of pink silk pajamas with a hotel robe thrown around her shoulders. Her blue eyes catch the moonlight and throw it back at me, like she knows all its secrets. I squeeze my fists and try not to scowl. I don't want to deal with her or Austin right now. I can't even get into that. Ten years of chasing that fool man around and I have nothing to show for it. What a waste of time. It just goes to show that no matter how strong I think I am, inside, there's a pathetic, quivering cunt just waiting to get out. I don't know if Tray and his cronies put her there, or if she was there all along, but I'm tired of looking at her ugly face. I've cried, what, three times in as many days? I don't cry. That's not me. That's her, all her.

“What the f*ck do you want?” I ask Amy. It's not enough that I'm nursing sore knuckles and a bruised face, that I got the shit beat out of me even as I kicked some ass today. Things went well for us, but I'm still hurting, and now I have to deal with this. I throw her a poisonous glare and a once-over that says she'd do best to back the hell off.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing at the edge of the pool nearest me. I give her a look that says no, but apparently she misinterprets my silence for a yes. I glare at her heart-shaped face and her pale skin, already warming up with color from the sun. The worst part about her isn't just how pretty she is, how her chestnut hair falls straight and silky around her shoulders or how her lips always look like they're just about to smile. The worst part is that she's fitting in here, that she slipped right into this life like she was a piece missing from the puzzle. Austin looks at her like she's a god and her face mirrors his. They belong together, whether I want them to or not.

I look away.

“Austin hovering around the door somewhere?” I ask, gesturing my hand at the dimly light entry to the lobby. I hear Amy's clothes rustle as she shakes her head and slips her robe off her shoulders, rolling up her pant legs and dipping her feet into the cool water. When I glance back at her, I see a small shiver work its way up her legs. It was hot as f*ck out here today, but the water is freezing ass cold. Don't know how they manage to pull that one off.

“He's not back yet,” she says, and I can see in her eyes that she's worried. I am, too, but I refuse to show it. Kimmi and Austin have done this midnight rendezvous shit for years. It's just now that I'm hearing what it's all about, but it makes sense. I almost feel betrayed that they didn't tell us sooner. Robbing banks. Who gives a shit about that? There are people in this world who have too much and some who can't have anything, who don't fit into a particular mold. That's us, Triple M. We're not just bikers, we're people with pasts that would light up the sky if you set them on fire. We need this group and this life to keep our spirits alive. It might come at the cost of others, but then, nothing in this world is free. We work for our livelihood in different ways.

“Gaine?” I ask instead because if Austin isn't back, then that means Christy and Amy were still in our room. I doubt he'd let her out to wander by herself. The initial fight might be over, but we're still here and neither of the other gangs wants us to be. If they come at us again, it's going to be with an even worse intent. They're going to come for us, and it's not going to be in broad daylight in the middle of a hotel parking lot. No, next time, they'll grab us when we least expect it, in a place that makes it easy to take things a step further. And I'm no optimist, so I know what's coming. Rape and then death, that's it. Or for poor Amy, they'd probably just rape her and then take her with them for a fate worse than death. I feel irritated with her myself.

“He sent Beck with me,” she says, and I throw a narrowed glance over my shoulder. I don't see the *, but then, when Beck doesn't want to be seen, you won't see him. I don't know what his story is because he refuses to tell it, and I don't mind. I don't exactly walk around blabbing about how my mother was a Castilian artist who painted vampires and fairies and cats with demon wings. I get the weirdest urge to tell Amy about her, but catch my tongue just in time. I don't want to have girly gossip with this bitch; I just want her to go away.

“Then we're safe as long as the military doesn't descend with nukes.” I reach for a cigarette I started earlier and left in the ashtray nearby. I put it between my lips and inhale. Amy laughs at my joke which I don't think is funny at all and then throws me a sweet smile.