“Here?” Christy asks, glancing up at the abandoned houses as we walk past. “As in this town?”
“As in being with the club?” I say, glancing down at our interlocked fingers. We walked everywhere together as little girls, always holding hands. Christy is my support and my comfort, and I don't even mind if Mireya makes fun us for this. “I wasn't sure you were going to make it at first.” I take a deep breath and wait for her to respond. I have to tell her about her parents soon, that they were waiting at the hospital as well. I probably should've told her as soon as I saw her yesterday, but I couldn't. In my heart, I'm afraid Christy will break down and disappear one day, head back to Wilkes and live her life in shrouded misery.
“It's hard for me,” she admits, touching her free hand to her blonde hair. It's waving gently down her neck, happy to be free of the ponytail she was sporting earlier. “Much harder than it was for you, I think. You're a much stronger person than me, Amy.” I squeeze her hand.
“That's not true, and you know it. Everyone has strength inside of them if they know where to look for it. Our strengths all lie in different places, some harder to find than others. You'll get there,” I say and then rethink my statement. “No, you're getting there now. Or at least you seem to be. Have you always been a fan of home improvement?” Christy blushes and steps over a crack in the sidewalk, filled with weeds and clumps of grass. It's sort of pretty, in a dystopian kind of way.
“I like to see the transformation, you know. From broken to whole again.” She shrugs as if her comment means nothing. “I just found something to relate to.” Christy takes a deep breath and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes find mine and her mouth opens and closes like she's about to tell me a secret. Instead she says, “I'm even starting to like motorcycles.” My turn to raise my eyebrows at her.
“Oh, really?” I smile. “Kimmi Reynolds have anything to do with that?”
“You're a bitch, you know that?” she says, and she hardly stumbles over the B-word. Good for her. “But yeah, maybe. She seems like a good person.” Christy bites her lip and glances over her shoulder again before leaning in and whispering to me. “Though I think there's a strong possibility that she might be a sex addict.” I laugh, almost as loudly as Beck does behind us.
“You're right on the money with that one, sugar tits,” he says, and both Christy and I lean into together, chuckling.
“He hears everything,” Christy says with wide eyes and we both flush. I'm not sure what she's thinking about, but I know where my mind is. In bed with Austin. I shiver. “I'm glad you're okay, Amy,” she tells me as we get to the end of the block, and the houses start to change back to normal. The lawns here are mostly green instead of brown, and the homes well kempt. Just one more block until we get to the tiny row of shops.
“I'm glad I'm okay, too.”
“And your baby,” Christy says and we smile sweetly at one another. When I told her I was pregnant, she freaked out a bit. In a good way, though. Christy's excited to be an auntie. “I'm glad she or he is okay, too.” I grin at her.
“I doubt you'll be thinking that when I'm begging you to change diapers.” Christy rolls her blue eyes.
“Oh, please. You know I'll be happy to help.” She looks down at the sidewalk and smiles softly. “Personally, the idea of childbirth is quite repulsive to me, so I'm glad you're the one taking the plunge.” I bump her arm playfully with my shoulder as we cross the street. We walk in silence for another moment or two before I gather up the courage to tell her.
“I know you know my parents were at the hospital, but did you know yours were as well?” Christy's face blanches, and she shakes her head. I look away from her, towards the colorful awnings and the overabundance of brightly colored flowers that pepper the sidewalk up ahead.
“Did you see them? Are they okay?” she asks, voice much quieter than it was a moment ago.
“I didn't see them personally, but my dad said they were there. Unless, of course, he was lying, but I don't think so. They wanted to take you home.”
“Well, I'm not going back,” Christy declares firmly, and I'm surprised by the vehemence in her voice. “Even though it's scary here sometimes,” she gives me a look, “it's better to be with people who love you for who you are. Amy, the only reason I survived in Wilkes is because you were there as well. That's the truth.”
“My mom took my phone number, even though my dad said she couldn't.” Christy and I both go silent for a moment. We know how that might turn out if my father ever discovers she did that. “Maybe one day we can grow a mature relationship with them. I don't know that they're quite ready for that, but they will be eventually. I'm sure of it.”
“If they can get over that video,” Christy says, and I smack her arm, pausing outside of an ice cream parlor that looks like it's been here since the fifties. In a good way though. “I know I'm still trying to get over it.”
“Oh, shush, you brat.”
“But a pool table? Amy, my goodness. Those romance novels must have truly addled your brain.” She grins at me as I shove her with my hip and then drag her inside the store. Today is good, positive, normal. I wish everyday could be this wonderful, but sometimes, fate has other ideas.
Chapter 26
Austin
Now that Amy's back, it feels like all my ducks are in a row. It's time to stop waiting and take action. First step is finding Margot Tempe and putting a Goddamn bullet through her head. I did the right thing before, letting her walk away from us, but now that I've paid my respects to Seventy-seven Brothers, it's time to eliminate the threat. I hate to do it, but I won't risk Amy or Kimmi or anyone else in the club. Not anymore.
I take a tight turn on my bike, enjoying the feeling of the wind pelting my body, the sun warming the leather on my back. Now that we have the clubhouse, I'm going to have to make time to go riding. It won't just be a simple part of my day anymore. That scared me before, but I feel better now. Maybe I won't take it for granted so damn much? If it's a treat more than an obligation, won't I appreciate it more? Anyway, Kimmi and I have no plans to stop robbing banks, so I know I'll get some mileage in during our runs at least.
Even though I'm enjoying the roar of the engine and the flicker of the sun on chrome, that doesn't mean this is a pleasure ride. No, unfortunately my Triple M'ers and me are on a mission. If I let the disrespect that Bested by Crows and Broken Dallas has shown me go, then I'm nothing. I'm weak in this world, and that's a death sentence. I let this stand and even if they get tired of me and disappear, I'll have other problems. I have to prove to everyone that I can be a leader.
“Can you turn off that crap and put some real music on?” Beck asks, breaking through the intercom system and cutting off Hell Yeah by Rev Theory. I ignore him and keep riding. He might be our new Sergeant at arms, but I'm the Pres. I make the important decisions. I grin beneath my visor, taking the next turn nice and sharp, listening to the growl of the pavement as it disappears beneath my ride.
Mireya Sawyer, bless her black, little heart, gave us some very valuable information: the location of Bested by Crows clubhouse. It's been in the same damn place for over two decades and according to her, they're quite proud of it. O' course, they don't live in theirs like we're planning to do, but hell, nobody never said Triple M wasn't an anomaly in the MC world. Heading there, we're taking a chance. I've got twenty members of the club with me and the rest are back at the clubhouse. We could be overwhelmed and end up in another firefight, but we could also get lucky and catch 'em at a time when very few folks are there. That's the hope. Like my favorite Nickelback song, Burn it to the Ground, we're going to flame those fuckers out of there. The goal is to give a statement that we won't be taking their crap anymore.
Here's to hopin' it works.
“You are a real son o' a bitch, Austin Sparks,” Beck mutters as we swing towards our exit and hit a sea of suburban houses and pretty green lawns. Bested by Crows has their place up a long ass driveway, gated, hidden away from the world. Acco
rding to Mireya, you'd never know what it was by looking at it. I ignore my friend and try to stay focused on the task at hand. The sooner we get this shit over with, the faster we get back to Amy, and that's all I really give a shit about right now.
“Guide the way, sugar,” I tell Mireya instead, following behind her bike and slowing down substantially as we get deeper into suburbia, swerving around minivans and absorbing glares from narrow eyed Southern soccer moms. Mireya doesn't answer, and I can only imagine what she's thinking in her head right now. This place holds some hard, hard memories for her, and I'm proud she was even able to guide the way. “Almost there,” she replies finally, taking us to a park that's nearby. We line our bikes up along the South side of the parking lot and climb off, dragging our supplies along with us. Gonna take a whole lot of gasoline to burn this fucker to the ground.
“Alright,” I put a cigarette in my mouth, “Kimmi, Beck, Mireya, and I will head through the trees and scope out the place. If it looks like we can get in and get out without a bloodbath, we'll head back and grab y'all, go in the same way.” We've been over the plan twice this morning, but I want to make sure everyone gets it. I'm not playin' around, not anymore.
Bishop nods, turning around to survey the others while we head off behind a children's playground – fortunately enough for us, it's empty at the moment. Nobody talks as we hike through the trees, passing through spots of shade and dappled sunlight. It's such a nice Goddamn day today. For shame that we're going to have to fuck that up.
The walk takes longer than I expect and by the time we get to where we're goin', I've got sweat rollin' down my face and soaking into the fabric of my T-shirt.
We all pause and stare at the wrought iron fencing that surrounds the building. It doesn't look like anything fancy. I'm guessing to most folks this would look like a bed and breakfast or some shit, plain as the day is long. Huh.
“Doesn't look like there's a damn soul here,” I tell Mireya as she squints up at the building and tries to keep a straight face. Doesn't work. Her lips end up curling into a scowl and her hands clench tight at her sides.
There's not a single bike in the massive gravel parking lot. Unless they're all inside the four car garage in the back. We stand there for a bit, surveying the property and trying to determine if it really is as empty as it looks.
“Maybe they're not using it anymore?” Beck suggests, scratching the back of his head. Kimmi and I exchange a look while Mireya moves forward and starts walking along the fence, heading towards the gate.
“After two decades, they'd just abandon it? I call bullshit. Maybe we're just lucky.” She picks up her pace, forcing the rest of us to follow after. I pull my gun from its holster and curse under my breath. If anything happened to Mireya while I was with her, Gaine would cut my nuts off. And you can bet your ass he'd use a rusted knife, too. I trust him enough to keep Amy safe, so I've got to return the favor.
Mireya pauses by the gate and flicks her hand towards a plaque. It's not fancy, but underneath the address, it says Bested by Crows Motorcycle Club. How motherfuckin' quaint.
“Told you,” she snaps, reaching up and pushing against the gate. The door swings wide, no locks, no nothing. That ain't a good sign. I put my hand on her shoulder.
“This could be a trap,” I tell her, looking back at Beck. He shrugs his shoulders and gives me his best I don't got a damn clue look. “We can't just walk in there.” Mireya purses her lips and looks me up and down. I know her hatred for Bested runs deeper than anything I could ever comprehend, but it's blinding her to good sense. She spins away from me and takes off into the parking lot at a run.
“Son of a motherfucker,” I growl, sprinting after her with Beck and Kimmi right behind me. Did I mention that Kimmi decided to join us today dressed in a studded bra and four inch heels? That girl wouldn't know good sense if it kicked her in the ass.
Mireya moves quick but quiet, like a shadow dressed in her leather pants, boots, and jacket. She doesn't bother to use the element of surprise though, moving right up the steps and to the front door. That, at least, really is locked.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Kimmi growls, pausing next to her and peering in the windows that flank the door. “You want us to get shot dead?”
“There's nobody here.” Mireya says this almost as if it's a bad thing.
“Well, there's furniture inside,” Kimmi adds, turning back to us with a shrug. “But she's right. There's not a soul inside that I can see. Besides, don't you think they would've announced themselves if they'd seen us coming?”
“Unless they're hiding inside, expecting an ambush.” I glance over my shoulder, but it really is creepily quiet here, like a ghost town. Mireya turns to face me, leaning her back against the door.
“They merged with Broken Dallas. Maybe they've finally abandoned this place?” She stares out at the parking lot and the woods beyond with a glassy gaze, like there's another time overlaid with this one. I snap my fingers in front of her face, pretty damn sure those are memories she shouldn't be allowed to delve into. At least not right now.
“You think they'd do that?” Mireya turns away and lets her dark hair fall in front of her face like a curtain. When she pulls her gaze back to mine, the memories are gone and there's nothing there but steely arrogance. Thank God she's with Gaine now. If anyone's fairytale fantasies could melt the ice around a frozen heart, it would be his.
“It's been a decade since I was a member. How the fuck should I know?”
“Well,” Beck says, lighting up a cigarette like he hasn't a care in the world, “it doesn't look like this place has been abandoned for long, if it is at all. We might just be catching 'em at a vulnerable spot.” He takes a drag on his smoke. “I say we do what we came here to do and be done with it. Whether they use this place or not, word'll get around and they'll get the message.” Beck starts down the few steps back to the parking lot. “I'll get the others and we'll bring the supplies up here, light this baby up like a fireworks display on the Fourth o' July.” He grins and crunches across the gravel, leaving me and the girls standing on the stoop like unwanted guests.
I didn't exactly want things to come to blows, but this is almost worse. If they're not here, then where are they? And if we can't find them, what does that mean? I doubt this shit is over. If we can't come to them, eventually they're going to come to us.
“Broken Dallas' clubhouse is way out of the way. We could head there, but it's a much longer trip. I dunno if I'm comfortable leaving the group for that long.” Even being away from the clubhouse this long is givin' me anxiety. Kimmi watches me muse my thoughts aloud and then shakes her head, earrings flying with the motion.
“No. I have a feeling,” she glances back up at the house. “That we're not going to have much more luck there either.”
“And why's that?” I ask, hoping that she's right about this. It's a fuck of a lot easier to defend your territory than it is to invade somebody else's.
“If they're merging but running under a different name, things have to change. If they pay more homage to one group than the other, it's going to start some shit.” Kimmi moves down the steps, pausing in the gravel with her gaze focused outward. “I think we might have to wait for them to come to us again.” She glances over her shoulder and gives me a weird ass look when she sees me smiling. “What the hell is that expression for?”
“Well,” my turn to take out a cigarette, “when they do come, we'll just have to make sure they never leave.”
Chapter 27
Austin
I let the other Triple M'ers do all the grunt work, standing back with my arms folded and my face turned up towards the sky. They kick the door in and drench the place with gasoline, soaking the place until the smell wafts out and catches on the breeze, burning my nostrils with the acrid scent. When they're done, Beck leads everyone back to me and passes over a book of matches.
“We got a line of gas around the outside, so we can start the fire from a couple of places. Thoug
ht you might want to do the honors though.” I take the matches and move up towards the house, pausing about halfway across the gravel lot. I turn back and catch Mireya staring at me with an intentness that could kill. That woman is scarier than a nun in a schoolhouse sometimes. I look down at the matches in my hand and then back up at her.
“You want the honor, sugar?” I ask, holding out my hand, palm up. Mireya looks at it for a long while, long enough that I almost drop my offering and turn away.
“Actually, yes,” she says finally, stepping forward and taking the matches. She lights one immediately, holding the flame in front of her face for a moment before stepping forward and tossing it onto the line of liquid that trails down from the steps. The house doesn't explode like it does in the movies – that ain't how gasoline works – but flames do spread up the line of liquid in a flare of heat, burning quick and spreading quicker.
Mireya and I scoot back a safe distance and watch as the house of her nightmares slowly morphs into a raging ball of flames, walking out the gate only after the sound of sirens begins in the distance. Whatever is up with Bested by Crows, this has to hurt at least somewhat. You don't maintain a clubhouse and a name for two decades to give it up easily. Hopefully this will give them my message: no more fuckin' with Austin Sparks.
Chapter 28
Amy
Before Austin wakes up the following morning, I explore the other house. Work has finally gotten started on this one, and the fence between the two places has been torn down in favor of a single fence that wraps both properties. I certainly hope it's up to code.
Craving Me, Desiring You Page 12
