Claiming Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 2)

I kick my ankle away from his touch. “Relax. You won’t get in trouble.” I’m not sure if that’s true. If he’s drunk there’s every possibility this guy will end up in jail, but that’s not my problem.

“Don’t,” he orders again.

“Just leave me here. Help me to my bike…”

“Excuse me?” I say.

“You heard me.”

“No way I’m leaving you here,” I reply. “Besides, that pile of metal isn’t going anywhere.”

“What?” the biker hisses roughly. He lifts his head so that his bloodied face becomes illuminated in the moonlight.

I stumble back at who lies at my feet because I know what this means:

New Lucy just died.

Chapter 3

You did it again you fucking dope. I don’t know what I’m doing here, lying in the wet grass with a couple of strangers lingering over me telling me I need to go to the hospital. I don’t need any goddamn help from no one. I can’t feel much pain. Sure, my face feels a bit beat up but it’s nothing I haven’t endured before. I have places to be tonight. I remember that…I think. But what I can’t seem to piece together is why the fuck I’m here— Wherever here may be.

The chick who was desperate to get me help has fallen silent. I’m now getting another lecture by some other lady about how if I don’t get medical assistance something bad might happen to me.

“Something bad already happened,” I say.

I’m already steps ahead. If I were taken to a hospital, police’d be up in there quick trying to slam me for all those warrants I remember skipping out on…Do I remember? Anyhow, no way in hell I’m heading to prison. Not this year. Not this damn lifetime.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“Baddock National Park, off the 1-B. Two hours south of The Bay.”

“Aw, shit.”

My brain spasms as it tries to remember what the fuck I was up to earlier today. Did I stay at a buddy’s house who lives out here? Did I have an event to make it to? Why the fuck am I on the coast? I must have hit my head a lot harder than I thought.

“Where were you going?” says the young girl. “If you’re not going to hospital, can I call someone for you?”

“I, uh…” I trail off. I analyze whether my body is ready to sit up yet. While I decide, I unbuckle my helmet from my chin, discarding it into the long grass. I lift my neck slightly higher to test the extent of my injuries. The pain seems familiar, therefore not all that serious enough to warrant an emergency room visit. Finally, I’m able to sit up.

“Careful, careful,” says the older woman.

“Do you feel okay?” The younger girl asks. She’s a pretty one, but her questions are getting on my nerves.

“Look, no offense but can ya back the fuck up?” I realize my voice is croaky and my mouth tastes like ass; all dry and bitter. “I’m fine.”

My fingers comb through my hair. It’s fucking hot here in my leather jacket. I’m suffocating. But when I go to take it off, a sharp pain propels like an electric shock up my shoulder. A whine escapes my throat accidentally cuing the girl I’ll name Mary-Sue to pipe up again.

“Y—You are hurt,” she says quietly, almost timidly.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Then…”

I sigh. She shuts up and finally realizes there ain’t no point in pressing someone as stubborn as me.

“You wanna help so bad, darlin’? Help me take this off.”

I wait, surprised when she doesn’t assist me right away.

“Okay,” I say. “So you don’t wanna help me. I’ll do it my damn self.” I shake the jacket off. This makes me cry out. My shoulder doesn’t feel right. “Fuck! Goddammit! Doesn’t help I can’t see what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” the girl cries out, moving a bit closer. She is fucking dangerous gorgeous, petite with long, hair and a body that’d make any man lose their manners.

“What’s your name?” the older woman asks.

I’m in shock— That’s why I can’t remember shit. I laugh her question off for now because I don’t have any goddamned idea what my name is.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” the older woman continues as if it fucking matters.

I flip her off with my still functional arm.

“Hey! She’s just trying to help,” Dangerous Mary-Sue pipes up.

“I don’t need any fucking help!”

She pauses and stares. The look she’s giving me is hard to read. She seems deer-in-headlights, wide-eyed and slack jawed as though I’ve caught her in the act. Then her heads drops and she moves back into the darkness beside me.

“Let me help you,” she says gently.

And I do as she shimmies the final sleeve of the jacket from my arm.

“You’ve dislocated your shoulder.”

“Yeah, cheers for that, Sherlock.”

“If you quit that attitude, I can put it back in but I need you to stay really, really still. Hey miss, do you wanna speak to him for a little bit for me? Hold him still.”

The older woman crouches down to me, putting an arm behind my back.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, just…Just gimme a sec. I’m just distracted by the fact I’m about to be in excruciating pain right now.”

“Quit complaining,” Mary-Sue says. “You’re so drunk this won’t hurt a bit.”

“I’m not drunk,” I say then realize that could probably help explain my current fuzzy head and short temper.

“Just ignore her,” the older lady says. “Talk to me. Are you from around here?”

“Portland,” I answer instantly, the city flashing to life in my mind. I guess I hadn’t forgotten everything. “Been there… Awhile.”

Click. Mary-Sue gently extends my arm. I flinch, but before I can say another word, she makes a move that is anything but gentle.

“Jesus fuck!” I shout. A shocking pain so jarring buckles my sanity. I shout like a little bitch into the night. It seethes down the tendons of my arms like mercury.

“There.” Mary-Sue gives me a demeaning pat on my leg. “All better.”

“You said it wouldn’t hurt!”

“Quit being a baby. You’re a fighter. Fight through the pain,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t want to be using it much for a few days. We’ll need to strap it up. I’ve got a first aid kit back at the tavern.”

“The tavern?”

“Yeah, it’s where I work now…I mean…It’s where I work.”

“We’re not taking him to the hospital?” the older woman asks, but Mary-Sue stops her. “Lets just get him back to the tavern. That’ll give me a chance to look him over and we can use the phone there if he still needs an ambulance.”

“Any chance of a name before I’m kidnapped by a couple strangers in the middle of the woods?”

“I’m Jules,” the older lady says, but she goes quiet when she realizes I wasn’t really asking her… We sit there in an uncomfortable silence until my Mary Sue speaks up in a voice no louder than a mild wind…

“It’s Lucy. Lucy…Rivers.”

“Lucy,” I reply, a cool but distant feeling of recognition rolling around in the back of my mind. I try to hang onto whatever fucked up memory is still inside my fucked up head, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, hauling myself to my feet.

Lucy gives me one hell of a confused look, and she tries to stop me as I walk over to what’s left of my ride, telling me that I need to take it easy… I might not remember everything, but I know taking it easy was never my strong suit. I stare down the black two lane highway and feel an overwhelming urge to get the bike out of sight.

“Help me with this,” I ask her, grabbing onto the handlebars with my good arm. Together, we pull the wreck further into the grass. On our way back toward the car they arrived in, Jules is eyeing me suspiciously.

“So, before I let you in my car, maybe you could tell me your nam

e?” she asks.