Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(19)

“You too, Dash.” He shook my hand, giving me the side-eye, no doubt worried about his infuriating daughter.

“I think we’re done here,” Bryce said, standing from her desk and swiping up her laptop. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

We were not done with this conversation, not by a long shot, but until I got my dick under control, there wasn’t anything more to say. “Yeah. Same.”

I nodded to Lane, shot Bryce a glare, then turned and marched out of the Tribune.

Goddamn it. She wasn’t going to back down, no matter how often I threatened her. If anything, my visit had just spurred her on.

Which meant I was going to have to get creative.





Chapter Six





Bryce





“Smug bastard,” I muttered, shuffling papers on my desk as I looked for my notepad. “How dare he come in here and threaten me? How dare he—ahh! Where is it?”

The notepad I’d been searching for was nowhere. Not in my car. Not at home in a basketful of unfolded laundry. Not on my desk, which was now a total mess.

I kept different notepads for each of my stories, a place where I could make notes so I didn’t forget anything. Pink was for birth announcements. Black for obituaries. Red was for the Fourth of July rodeo and festivities. And the yellow one was for Amina Daylee’s murder.

The last time I’d seen it had been yesterday morning. I remembered making a note against the steering wheel in my car that Amina’s middle name was Louise. Her daughter lived in Denver. I’d written it all down so I wouldn’t forget, then tucked the notepad into my purse with the others.

Retracing my steps, I’d come right into the newspaper after that. I’d dumped everything from my purse onto my desk to organize it as I worked through my various stories in progress. I’d been in the middle of wrapping up a piece for Sunday’s paper. It was a no-brainer—the schedule for Clifton Forge’s Independence Day weekend celebrations. I’d had all of my notepads right here by my keyboard, the red one open as I’d typed, when—

I shot out of my chair. “That asshole!”

Dash had to have taken it. The thing couldn’t have just disappeared, and I’d looked everywhere. But how had he known it was the right one? Shit. He must have seen it at the motel when I’d been talking to Cody.

Luckily, the notebook held nothing I couldn’t remember. The act of writing down my notes was usually enough to commit them to memory. And most of the information in those pages had already been printed.

Still. I was mad. “Gah. I can’t believe he did this.”

“Who did what?” Sue looked over her shoulder at my outburst.

I huffed and sat down. “An asshole thief stole my notepad right out from under my nose.”

All because I was so distracted. Distracted by the danger that surrounded him and the allure of discovering all his secrets.

“Sorry, dear.”

“It’s my own fault,” I muttered, giving her a nod to return to her work.

It was definitely my fault.

Dash had leaned in close and his smell . . . God, he smelled good. The spice of his cologne mixed with the summer breeze was a heady combination. Under the spell of that scent and his unwavering hazel glare, I’d feared for a split second that he’d kiss me. That I’d kiss him back.

Then I’d feared he wouldn’t.

He’d probably swiped my notepad when I’d been staring at his mouth.

Damn him. I’d dropped my guard and he hadn’t hesitated to take advantage. Dash must be feeling the pressure if he’d resorted to petty theft.

We both knew I was winning. I held more aces than he had kings at the moment, but the game was about to take a turn.

Tomorrow was Draven’s arraignment, and unless the judge decided the sixty-year-old man was a flight risk, he’d be out on bond tomorrow. As soon as Draven was free, Dash would have an inside source.

So to keep my edge, I’d need to push harder and dig deeper. What I needed was another scoop, to find another person like Cody Pruitt who’d spill because he had a personal grudge against the Slater family.

But who?

The door from reception opened and Willy walked inside, heading straight for his desk across the aisle from Sue. He pushed his sunglasses into his thinning blond hair, revealing dark circles under his eyes. It was nearly noon but with his rumpled clothes, he looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Hi, Willy.”

He lifted a hand as he sat, leaning deep into his chair. “Morning. Hey, Sue.”

“Hi, Willy. Rough night?”

“Might have had one too many beers.”

At that, the door opened again and George rushed through, his arms overloaded with loose papers and the briefcase trapped underneath an elbow about to slip free. He made it to his desk just in time to dump everything on top as his case crashed to the floor. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, George.”

Everyone else exchanged greetings as I sat back and watched, me the newcomer to the team. For once, the room was full. Everyone was here except for Dad because, per Mom’s demand that his twenty-day work streak come to an end, he was taking the day off.

“I don’t think we’ve all been in the same room since last month’s staff meeting,” I joked.