Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(15)

“Look, I’ve said it a hundred times. I’m sorry about prom. My dad and I paid for that and then some. I was a stupid kid. If I could go back in time, I’d undo it. But I can’t.”

They’d paid for it? Interesting. I’d pegged Draven and Dash as men who wouldn’t make amends for something like petty vandalism. As leaders of a dangerous motorcycle gang, they could have made some threats and gotten away with it. Taking responsibility was not something I’d expected.

And something Cody had conveniently left out of his story.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Cody snapped. He was a good four inches shorter than Dash and at least thirty pounds lighter. But I got the impression this wasn’t so much about the murder or prom as it was a less-popular kid taking a stand against an old nemesis.

Good for you, Cody.

“I only want to find out who killed that woman.” There was vulnerability in Dash’s voice. I didn’t like how my heart softened.

Cody huffed. “You Slaters are all the same. Your dad takes a knife to a woman in my motel, stabs her from head to toe, and you’re here to pin it on someone else. Guess it’s a good thing Bryce is here. Otherwise you might try to say I killed her.”

“That’s not—”

“Get out,” Cody snarled. “Before I call the cops.”

Dash blew out a long breath, then turned his attention to me. “You put my dad’s name and picture in the paper.”

“Well, he was, in fact, arrested for murder. You might remember, I was there.”

The corner of his lip curled up. “You make a habit of printing lies? I can’t wait to shove them down your throat.”

Lies? No. No one questioned my integrity as a journalist. “What I printed was the truth. A woman was murdered. Truth. She died here at the motel. Truth. Your father was arrested as a suspect. Truth. Are those the lies you’re going to shove down my throat?”

He inched closer, looking down his nose at me. “Maybe. But I’d rather shove something else down that pretty throat instead.”

“Weak.” I rolled my eyes. “If you think threats laced with sexual innuendo will scare me away, you’ll need to try harder.”

“Harder. You’ll beg for harder.” He came closer again, the smooth leather of his jacket brushing against the thin cotton of my tee. I’d worn a sports bra to the paper last night, opting for comfort instead of lift. I’d chosen one without padding and when his eyes drifted lower, I knew he saw my nipples peeking through.

I could step away. Or I could call his bluff. Was Dash a bad-boy playboy? Absolutely. But was he a misogynistic womanizer who’d force himself on me? No. Which meant he was pushing to see how hard I’d push back.

Game on.

I took my own step forward, pressing my breasts into his chest. “I doubt that . . . King.”

Dash hissed as I dragged my nails up the side of his jean-clad thigh. My entire body was braced, waiting to see his reaction. If he touched me, I’d probably have to knee him in the balls. But it didn’t come to that. Calling his bluff worked.

In a flash, he stepped away, his frame strung tight, and marched out the door. The bell filled the air and my breath came back in heaves, the sound drowned out by the noise of Dash’s Harley as it raced away.

Cody’s grin stretched ear to ear. “I like you.”

“Thanks.” I laughed, my heart rate settling.

“What else would you like to know?” Cody asked. “I’ll tell you everything if you’re out to get Dash.”

Now it was my turn to grin from ear to ear. “Do you happen to know the victim’s name?”





Chapter Five





Dash





“They won’t let me see him.” I slammed the door as I walked into the office at the garage.

“Can they do that?” Presley asked, looking between Emmett and me.

Emmett shrugged. “They’re cops. At this point, they can pretty much do whatever the hell they want.”

I’d been trying to see Dad for days but the chief had thrown up a steel barrier. No visitors unless it was Dad’s attorney. No exceptions. So while I could glean some information from Jim, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the one-on-one conversation I needed. We trusted our lawyer but there were questions I wasn’t going to let him relay. Their conversations were no doubt being recorded, which was illegal, but I didn’t trust the cops to uphold Dad’s constitutional rights.

Besides, depending on the situation, Dad wouldn’t tell Jim everything. Because Jim wasn’t a Gypsy. We might not be tied together with patches and oaths anymore, but we were still loyal to one another. Loyal until death.

“Is it normal for them to take this long to release a suspect?” Presley asked.

I shrugged. “According to Jim, the prosecutor is trying to decide whether she wants to charge Dad with first-or second-degree murder at the arraignment. We could push them to decide, set the bond hearing, but Jim worries that if we do that, they’ll go for first. Thinks it’s better to let Dad stay where he’s at and hope for second.”

“What do you think?” Emmett asked.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I don’t know enough about the criminal justice system to question Jim. He’s always done good by us. And Dad trusts him.”