Lupinski Clan: Fate Is A Mated Bitch Part 1

Fate is a Mated b.i.t.c.h.

Lupinski Clan.

Emmy Gatrell.

For My Hubby ~ without you, none of this would be possible.

Love you Babe.

ONE ~ Andy.

The radio was blasting, and I was singing my heart out trying to psych myself up for what I was about to do as I pulled into my new neighborhood. "c.u.m to me, baby. I'm going after this sweet craving, whoa-oh. You should lose your mind and go f.u.c.kin' crazy. I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping you'll eat me by the ocean." The music was so loud, some of my new neighbors were watching my neon lime-green VW Bug progress down the street with varying looks of dread and annoyance at what I might be bringing to the neighborhood. I turned the music down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible with a car that you could see from s.p.a.ce. I didn't want to be considered the bad neighbor for the rest of my life and I didn't want to ruin my surprise for Ken either.

After pulling into the driveway of my first home, I took a moment to appreciate it. The paperwork had been finalized while I'd been away, and this was the first time I would walk into it as being mine-well, kind of mine. Even though I'd put up most of the money-my entire life savings-we'd decided that putting the mortgage in Ken's name was the wisest choice, because he had a stable job as a tax lawyer, and I wrote romance novels. While my books were currently popular, one never could know what might happen, at least that was Ken's advice.

It was the cla.s.sic suburban ranch home-three bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen with a sink overlooking the backyard so that our future children could play under my watchful eye while I did dishes and maintained the home. It was everything Ken wanted. Me, not so much, but it was my first home, so I tried to be content. Unfortunately, not many of my things made it to the house besides clothes and kitchen gear; most of my possessions were locked away in storage. Ken let me keep my Gram's couch; he said it would be perfect for f.u.c.king. Considering he hadn't f.u.c.ked me since we submitted the bid on our home, I was looking forward to a good pounding, and was hoping my surprise might do the trick.

I'd been in New York meeting with Sam, my literary agent, when I'd walked by the store and caught sight of the getup in the window...and the plan had come to me. It hadn't been the kind of shop I would frequent. Whips, chains, and contraptions that I had no idea what you did with them had covered the walls. And I'm a naughty romance writer, so that was saying something. The getup I wore didn't exactly fulfill his weird-a.s.s fantasy, but it was what I was comfortable doing, so he'd better like it-or he could suck it, in several areas, on me. He was talented with his tongue. I'd give him that.

I'd parked then checked my reflection in the side mirrors. The cost of my barely-there outfit and the change-ticket fee to come back a day early had been astronomical, but today might be the day I fell madly in love with him. I wouldn't want anyone to get me wrong; I was content, but not over the f.u.c.king moon for the guy, and I preferred it that way. Mommy and Grammy issues lay at the root of the problem rather than daddy issues. Still, a little more depth of feeling wouldn't be a bad thing. After I'd retrieved my suitcase from the trunk and walked up to the back door of the house I slipped quietly in.

"Harder!" sounded from the living room and stopped me dead in my tracks before hearing the unmistakable sound of s.e.x. "Faster, Ken! Harder!"

"I'll give it to you," Ken whined over the pound-slap-pound-slap noises their bodies made. My heart sunk with each step forward, tears gathering in my eyes as I skirted the kitchen island, stopping just inside the entrance to the room to confirm the truth of what I'd heard. I covered my mouth and gasped at seeing Ken's pasty-white a.s.s f.u.c.king Karen, our brand new neighbor-and our real estate agent-from behind; she bent over the arm of Gram's couch. Ken grabbed her by the hair so he could pound her harder. He used his other hand to reach down and rub her c.l.i.t. d.a.m.n him! He never did that to me, no matter that was all he'd needed to do to ensure I came.

"Oh, Daddy, harder," she screamed as she held onto my Grams couch for dear life.

That's it. I'm out of here. Backing up until I could turn around, I took a Sharpie marker from the counter, making it to the door before turning back to grab a stack of sticky notes as well. I wanted to send a message, but if I did it by defiling Precious, his red Corvette, I'd pay for it later. Quietly closing the door behind me and plodding to his car didn't calm me; my anger grew exponentially until I was sure it would explode.

I stopped when I reached the driver's side and saw my reflection in the gla.s.s. What the h.e.l.l am I doing? What the h.e.l.l am I wearing? Who the h.e.l.l does he think he is? A woman I barely recognized anymore was staring back at me. The painted-wh.o.r.e look I'd been going for streaked darkly down my face. I quickly wrote, Came back early to surprise you. f.u.c.k you and the wh.o.r.e you rode in on.

I slammed the sticky note to his window as forcefully as I could. That did make me feel a little better. Then, I got into my car and drove away from the artificial life I'd been trying to create.

I drove aimlessly for hours, the music blaring, with no direction or purpose other than to stray as far from Orlando as possible. I stopped for gas a couple of times but then kept driving. When I needed both gas and food, I utilized a truck stop to refuel my car and myself at the same time. It wasn't until then I realized I had nothing with me. I had my purse which contained my cell phone, wallet, and knife, along with my backpack which carried my laptop and everything else I'd need to write. The only clothes I had were on my back, and there was so little to them to my great dismay. I'd left my suitcase at the house, so I didn't even have dirty clothes to change into or my chucks so that I could take off the G.o.dawful heels.

After making sure all the b.u.t.tons were done up on my coat with the sash tied tightly and my purse strap was secured across my chest, I clutched the bottom of my coat solidity as I ran across the parking lot. Giving a show of what was underneath to a bunch of long-haul truckers was the last thing that I wanted to do. It had begun to rain, and the temperature was dropping-f.u.c.k me; it was getting cold! The display of Georgia maps by the door implied I'd escaped Florida. I f.u.c.king hated Florida. Ken's company had transferred him here, and like he'd said, I could write from anywhere. G.o.d d.a.m.n it, I'd become a doormat, so willingly it made me nauseous.

As I was perusing the display of Krispy Kreme Donuts, which, unfortunately, was severely lacking at this time of day, my phone dinged with the arrival of a message from my mom.

Are you okay? Call me. I need to hear your voice.

There were three missed phone calls from her and ten from Ken. I didn't want to talk to anyone, not even my mom, at that moment, so I quickly texted her back.

Mom, I'm okay, in GA. Caught Ken f.u.c.king the real estate agent. I need some time to think and to find a lawyer. No worries, didn't kill him...yet. But I need someone to go over the contract and try to save some of my $. Totally screwed. Promise I'll call tomorrow so you can hear my voice.

I hit send and put the seven remaining donuts in a bag. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be driving. Driving calmed me, helped me think, or kept me from doing too much of it, whatever my greater need might have been. For now, I needed to figure out a way out of this fiasco. I put my donuts, the largest thermos they had available for purchase filled with coffee, a lidded styrofoam cup of caffeinated jumpstart, and four Five Hour Energy bottles on the counter to dig my wallet out when out when I heard my phone ding again.

He's an a.s.shole. Please stop if you get tired or if the weather gets bad. Checked the weather for GA and the rest of the trip home, you're headed into a storm. You don't need to call, text me in the morning, so we know you're okay. Grams and I will be here. Love you.

My mom was adorable and understanding. She knew I'd eventually go home but needed some time to myself. My car would be my own personal hyperbaric chamber for the next little while; nothing else could get in or out. I would be safe in there. I texted back, K, Love Ya'll, before putting my phone away and digging out my wallet. I was slipping my credit card out of its sleeve when my phone rang again.

"Popular girl," the cas.h.i.+er said. I just shrugged, looked at the display, and declined Ken's call. He called back before the transaction was completed, and I declined it again.

The cute but mousy teenager raised her eyebrows when the phone rang yet again. I turned my phone off, "Caught him with another woman."

"Ahhh, what an a.s.shole."

"Yep." I signed the receipt and, after receiving one last sympathetic smile from the cas.h.i.+er, escaped the store.

I drove another couple of hours. The sun had set, and the rain was becoming more constant but wasn't enough to impair my vision, although I did need to crank up the heater. It was freaking cold, and I was clad only in underwear. The situation couldn't have been any worse. Or so I thought.

I was jamming, singing my heart out along to Adele, not paying attention to where I was going. My typical stress-related response-driving in one direction until I felt like turning around. When it came time to get to where I was going and I had no clue where I'd ended up, I thought, Well, that was why GPS and Google Maps were created. I'd taken a random turn and about thirty minutes earlier had found myself on a tiny road, made up of only about a lane and a half, which wound its way up a mountain. What the f.u.c.k? s.h.i.+t, I had no clue at all where I was. The weather was getting worse, so I stopped the car and got out to see if I could get some clue to where I was and how to get out of here.

"s.h.i.+t!" I peered down the sheer mountainside, my heels sinking in the loose, slimy red Georgia clay. "c.r.a.p!" I'd have to do a twenty-point turn to go back the way I'd come. One f.u.c.k up and down I'd go...no more Andy. I didn't trust my Bug to keep me free from getting stuck in the mud. This stuff was nasty; a monster truck could get stuck in it I swear. The fear of getting stuck left me only one choice. I climbed back in the car, drank an energy shot, and began to slowly make my way up the mountain, hoping it wouldn't take long to find someplace to stop.

It was taking a long time to find some place to stop. I was crawling up the mountain at this point because the rain was getting harder and couldn't see s.h.i.+t. I kept an eye out for a road or anything for signs of life, but for the longest time, I saw nothing of the human world. Absolutely f.u.c.king nothing. Where the f.u.c.k am I? Finally, after driving five miles an hour for a solid hour, I saw an offshoot on which to turn. If I hadn't been watching so carefully, I would've missed it. It wasn't marked or well lit, and there was a good chance I was pulling into someone's driveway but didn't care. I needed to get off the road.

Thankfully, the new road was wider than the one hugging the mountainside had been, as well as being heavily flanked by tall trees, which blocked much of the rain falling onto my winds.h.i.+eld. After ten minutes, I still hadn't seen any signs indicating I was near a town or a cabin for that matter. I was lost in the middle of nowhere. At least the temperature wouldn't be dropping to dangerous lows in Georgia at this time of year. Deciding to give the drive ten more minutes before pulling over to dig the blanket out of the emergency kit and hunker down in the backseat until sunrise, I drove a little faster, hoping my luck would improve and would find signs of life.

Luck ran out on me altogether eight minutes later. I wasn't speeding but had increased my pace slightly, since I could see twenty or so feet in front of me along the new route. I figured that would be enough time to stop if I needed to...but I was very wrong. As I changed the playlist, my mood sliding from sad Enya into angry Metallica, I glanced to the right and saw a completely out of place gigantic white blob. I looked twice more before focussing on the road ahead just in time to see a big-a.s.sed buck run in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel in an attempt to avoid the collision. Unfortunately, I missed seeing the sinkhole-sized pothole. My tire blew, and the steering wheel jerked free from my hands. The back end of my car headed in the opposite direction I needed it to. I heard the pop, bang, swoosh of another tire blowing and my trunk beheading a sapling before slamming into the biggest tree trunk I'd ever seen.

My seatbelt locked up, knocking the breath out of me, but my airbag failed to deploy, so at least I didn't end up with a broken nose to add injury to insult. I suffered a moment of panic as I jerked with the impact, my chest burning like it was on fire and making me forget how to breathe. In another moment, my body started working again, so I sucked in a breath and let it out with a, "f.u.c.k me!" I slammed the steering wheel with my hands and the headrest with the back of my head a couple of times before closing my eyes on the situation.

"Just breathe, Andy. In your nose, out your mouth." I counted five for in and five for out twice before opening them again. The nose of my car still rested on the road, but the rest of it had ended up in the trees. My purse had flown from the seat during the crash, so I scooped it from the floorboard, digging through it to find my phone.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" No service. Not merely a lack of bars; the phone said no service'. After sitting for a minute watching the winds.h.i.+eld as the rain picked up again, I started to shake and remembered the blanket. Turning all the way around in my seat to peer back toward the trunk; my expectations were bleak as to whether I'd be able to open the trunk at all, but I had to try.

It took a couple of tries with me battering the door using my shoulder and pus.h.i.+ng with both feet to pry it open just enough to get out because there was a bush holding it closed. When the door slammed shut behind me, I shook my head at my own stupidity. I should've climbed over the seat and exited the pa.s.senger door, sparing my shoulder. Dumba.s.s.

Even though I figured the blanket was a lost cause, I still went to inspect the trunk. The only way I was getting it open was with a crowbar. I stared in disbelief before a sudden gust of wind picked up the back of my coat exposing my backside to the unpopulated world around me. Clutching at it to cover my bare skin, I screamed out my frustration to no one. "If I weren't in the middle of G.o.dd.a.m.ned nowhere, that would've been f.u.c.king embarra.s.sing!" I released my coat and slammed my hands on top of the smashed trunk. "f.u.c.k!"

Think, think, think, Andy. Temperature is dropping... You won't freeze, but tonight will suck. Okay, I just need to huddle in a ball inside the car and wait until dawn, so I can walk to a place where there's cell service and call for help. Yep, that's a decent plan. I started making my way to the pa.s.senger's side door when I thought I caught sight of something down the road. I wasn't sure if there was such a thing as a damsel in distress mirage, but I could have sworn I'd seen a speck of neon. I rubbed at my eyes, keeping them closed as I crossed my fingers before opening them again.

"f.u.c.k yeah!" I screamed, leaping with joy into the air...and then slipping in the mud as I landed, barely managing to catch myself just in time. I had seen neon. Even though I had no idea how far down the road the neon glow would be found and that the walk would feel like a million miles in the heels, I didn't care. I was cold, wet, and hungry, given my last donut had fallen out of the bag and onto the floor. I wasn't starving but definitely wouldn't turn down real food if I could find any. I opened the pa.s.senger door and crawled halfway into the car, so I could lock all the doors and turn on the hazards. I grabbed my purse and phone but opted to leave my backpack, since I didn't have any work on there that hadn't been uploaded to Dropbox, so if some a.s.shole came by and stole my computer, it would suck but wouldn't be the end of the world.

I adjusted my hood to keep the rain out of my eyes, if at all possible, and slung my purse over my chest, praying I'd make it there in one- A wolf howled, scaring the s.h.i.+t out of me. I looked up to scream at G.o.d, but it started raining harder, so I ended up with a mouthful of rainwater instead. The situation was so ridiculous I had to laugh as I stumbled toward the light.

TWO ~ Andy.

The rain picked up again as I made my way along. I was cold, wet, my feet hurt, and most likely resembled a drowned rat as I drew close enough to the neon to make out a gray cement building with very few windows. On the door was the neon beacon which had led me here. It read, Walt's Bar. Hope sprung up inside me, because how could a bar stay in business in the middle of nowhere? People had to live close by, or, at the very least, there must have been a few customers inside. Trucks, cars, and motorcycles occupied the lot. I could hear music and smelled food. Maybe my luck was changing after all.

I pulled my hood as close as possible. I wasn't a vain person, but at the moment, I preferred to hit a bathroom up in an attempt to look decent before anyone laid eyes on me. I knew I looked like a hot mess. Approaching the door, the boisterous conversations inside quieted, which seemed weird, but all I could think of was warmth; I needed warmth. Whatever else I had to deal with, so be it; I needed to get out of the elements immediately.

I pulled open the door and walked through the small entryway, finding a second door to walk through before I gained entrance to the building. I saw the bar straight ahead and noticed the bartender watching me. A guy sitting at the bar turned to peer at me as well. I kept my head down, hood pulled forward, and made my way to the bar without surveilling my surroundings.

The bartender was extraordinarily hot. Native American with long, straight dark-brown hair, black eyes, and tall with an incredible body from what I could see through his clothes. He wore a perplexed expression on his face as I approached. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so. I had an accident up the road and need to call a tow truck, but I don't have any cell service here. Can I please use your phone...and would you happen to have a phone number for the closest tttoooowwww ssserrrvicccce?" I s.h.i.+vered, my words coming out stuttered.

"Let me help you with your coat," one of the guys at the bar said as he rose to stand.

I waved him off, but didn't fix my eyes on him. "No, that's okay, but thank you very much." I lifted my head slightly to look the bartender in the eye, but not enough to show my face to the crowd. "So, a phone, a number, coffee-please tell me you have coffee-and I think a shot of whiskey might do me wonders, rigggghhtttt nnnooowww." It took a second to shake off the chill long enough to speak again. "Restroom have a hand dryer or towels?"

"Yes, both."

"Oh, thank G.o.d." The bartender smiled. Wow, look at those pearly whites, could blind someone I tell you.

"I'll brew a fresh pot. Go through the opening at the end of the bar, past the stairs, and the bathroom will be on your right, beneath them."

My eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. This moment was the first thing that had gone right all day, and I was overwhelmed. "Thank you so much."

I took a step forward but stopped when he said, "Unfortunately, the phone lines are down, but it doesn't matter anyway, since Eddie, the tow truck driver, is drunk as a skunk in the corner back there." He pointed over my shoulder.

"I am...." *hiccup* ". . . not drunk . . . or a skunk," Eddie shouted, following his words with a contained beltch.

I shook my head and sighed. "Of course he is." I took another step and stopped. "If the phone lines are down, are your credit card machines working?"

"No, sorry."

"Just ccccoooooffffee then, please." I had five dollars in cash on me, and if I hoofed it back to my car, maybe a couple of dollars in change, I would've loved to get plastered, but it didn't seem to be in the cards for me. Why didn't I get money out of the ATM at the truck stop? Because I'm a dumba.s.s; that's why.

I didn't look around as I made my way to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and kicking off the torturous heels. My feet were blistered and bruised, reminding me of the dancer's feet I would be left with after a particularly grueling cla.s.s. I turned the hand dryer on and hung my coat over it to dry while I used paper towels to pat my lingerie and skin dry. I adjusted the jacket when the dryer stopped, pressing the large silver power b.u.t.ton again and again until it was mostly dry. Next, I stuck my head under the nozzle to get most of the dampness from my hair. After was.h.i.+ng the rest of the stale makeup off my face, I reapplied enough so I didn't resemble a crazy lady who'd been driving around aimlessly for hours. My feet were doctored the best I could by applying a couple of Band-Aids with some triple antibiotic I found in the bottom of my purse. I ran the dryer over the coat one last time, so it would be all nice and toasty when I slipped it back on, saving the worst task for lastdonning the evil shoes once again. I almost cried and ruined my fresh makeup when I strapped them into place. Never, never, never, was I going to wear six-inch stilettos ever again, not ever.

Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I unlocked the bathroom door and stepped outside. All the bar noise died down when I did and dropped altogether as I crossed the floor back to the bar. I could feel the bar patrons staring at me but didn't look around as I slowly hobbled to the empty seat at which the bartender was placing a steaming cup of coffee. To my left sat the guy who'd been there when I first came in. I took a real look at him. He was probably in his mid-fifties, with dark-brown hair and eyes, muscles trying to burst free from his sleeves. He wore a serious expression as he watched me. The look on his face was similar to the one observed that split moment before complete strangers ask, "Haven't we met somewhere before?"

Perched to the right of the coffee was a new guy. He was just as good-looking with similar features and coloring. He frowned as he was watched me try to walk. Waiting only a moment, he stood and made his way over to me.

"It's painful watching you try to walk. Will you please allow me to help you, Miss?"

"That's very sweet of you, but I'm sure I can manage." I tugged at my coat making sure my embarra.s.sing garment was covered.

"Don't be ridiculous." He swept his hands under my arms and lifted me up. I let out a little yelp as he turned, bearing my weight and placed me before the empty seat. "Wasn't that easier?"

I laughed. "Yes it was. Thank you." I winced as I stepped around the stool and sat, adjusting my coat out of habit to ensure nothing beneath was showing. A s.h.i.+ver overtook me as I grabbed the coffee with both hands and picked it up. "Thank you," I said to the bartender, quickly taking a sip right after. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the coffee as it seeped into me. Not fast enough, though, as my body shook again, involuntarily.

"Please let me take your coat. Sitting in the wet is going to make you sick. You'll be much warmer without it," the guy on my left said.

I laughed again. "No, It won'tttttt." I took another sip.

"I don't understand why-"

I interrupted him. "Because I'm that woman!"

"What woman?"

"That woman!" I looked him in the eye. "The one who comes home early with a s.e.xy surprise for her fiance and walks in on him f.u.c.king the neighbor! Who was also our real estate agent." I shook my head. "b.i.t.c.h just took all my life savings and put it into a house that I'll never get to live in, because it's not in my name, because I'm a f.u.c.king dumba.s.s!"

He didn't look away as I shouted or when I was done. Neither did I, so it turned into a staring contest. He wore an expression like he expected me to be doing something besides sitting in a bar sipping coffee, half-naked under a thin coat. And then I felt it, the increasing pressure inside my head and a chill more like a pins and needles across my skin, all over my body. My thoughts interrupted the moment. I can't believe I just told a complete stranger-make that three strangers-my pathetic story! Oh my G.o.d, I just want this day to end.

I released a slight groan as I laid my hands on the bar, smacking my forehead down on top of them and banging it a couple of times for good measure. My words were slightly m.u.f.fled as I spoke over the surface of my hands. "I don't suppose there's a hotel, motel, or B&B around here that would be willing to take a credit card imprint and run it as soon as the machines are back online?"

"Nothing like that around here."

"No one would trust me?"

"No places to check, even if they did." I heard shot gla.s.ses clanging and the thump of them being set, one after another by my head. "I think you were right earlier."

I lifted my head and looked at the bartender. "About what?"

"I think whiskey is exactly what you need. On the house." There were four shot gla.s.ses on the bar, and he poured whiskey down the line into each of them. He handed one to me, and then in unison, he and the men on either side of me grabbed their own.

I smiled and raised mine up, and they followed suit. "Free shot." I shrugged. "At least something good came of fate being a mated b.i.t.c.h." I moved to drink from my gla.s.s, but they didn't mirror me this time. Each face held slightly shocked expressions, then noticed there was no more ambient bar noise. I set the gla.s.s down and turned on my seat. The room was filled by a group of unfreakingbelievably smoking-hot guys. Like crazy gorgeous. Like if there were bars for models, like there are cops and firefighters, this was it. Jesus! I turned back around and felt my cheeks heat up. I gave a half laugh and shook my head as I picked my shot back up and whispered to myself, "My day couldn't have possibly been complete without screaming to a room of romance cover models about my most humiliating moment and utmost failure. Nostrovia." I downed my shot and smacked the gla.s.s down on the bar.

The entire room all responded, "Nostrovia." The three guys nearest me pounded their gla.s.ses down, and I heard bottles and gla.s.ses ringing throughout the room.

THREE ~ ANDY.

"I can't believe everyone heard that." I shook my head and stared down into my empty shot gla.s.s.

The guy on my right b.u.mped his shoulder into mine. "Hey, how were you supposed to know romance novel cover models have super hearing?"

I snorted and looked at him, "Considering I write romance novels, you'd think I would've been privy to the information."

He smiled and shrugged. "Industry secrets, you understand?"

"Ha! Touche." I put my hand out. "Andrea, but friends call me Andy."

His eyes sparkled as he responded, "Pleased to meet you, Andy. I'm Abraham, but friends call me Abe." He took my extended hand, and we shook. "And the barkeep, also serving as resident piano player, is Sam."