Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(58)

“No. The first time I saw Amina in over twenty years was the day she came here.”

“Why’d she come?” Bryce asked. “Did she tell you?”

“Said she wanted to visit. See how things had changed. Called me here at the garage and asked if I’d meet with her for a drink. I told her I’d pick her up from her room. Got there. We started talking. Never had that drink.”

I looked to Bryce. “That means there is a boyfriend out there. Maybe one who’d get jealous and kill her after he left.”

“Crime of passion makes sense,” Emmett said. “Given the number of times she was stabbed. But how’d he get your knife, Draven?”

“Hell if I know. I haven’t been hunting in years. I can’t even remember where I kept it. Somewhere at home, probably.”

“A boyfriend wouldn’t have known that.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Or who you were to go and steal it. No boyfriend acting in a jealous rage would take the time to set you up.”

“Unless.” Bryce began swaying, shifting her weight from foot to foot as a crease formed between her eyebrows. “What if Amina was dating someone from Clifton Forge? Maybe she had come back here. Maybe she’d lied about not being here for decades. If her boyfriend was from town, it would be plausible he could have set you up. Especially if he knew you, Draven.”

“She didn’t lie,” Dad said. “Amina had no reason to deceive me.”

“But what if she was part of the setup?” Bryce countered, talking with her hands moving. “Maybe she and this boyfriend came to town. She called you to the motel while he went to your place to steal your knife. Except something goes wrong. Maybe they’d planned to plant the knife at another crime. But he comes back to the motel and gets enraged that you two had sex. Kills her. Frames you.”

It was possible. Thin, but possible.

“Amina wasn’t out to get me,” Dad insisted. “She . . . she wasn’t like that.”

“You said there was history, Dad. Are you sure she wouldn’t want to see you in prison?”

“I’m sure.”

“How can—”

“Kingston.” One word and there was no room for argument. “I’m sure. Someone set me up to take the fall for murdering an innocent woman. She just wanted to visit a town she hadn’t been in for years. And to see me, an old friend from high school. That’s it.”

Bryce opened her mouth but took one look at my gaze and clamped it shut again. There would be no debating this with Dad. She didn’t know him well enough to hear the conviction in his voice.

“So where are we?” Emmett asked, taking his hair in his hands to tie it up.

“We’re in the same place we were.” Dad sighed. “Whoever did this has me dead to rights. The cops know I was there. They have my fingerprints on my weapon. There’s nothing we can do but wait and hope someone gets stupid and starts talking.”

“That’s not happening.” I fisted my hands. “No one is talking. Whoever did this is patient. Really fucking patient. They’ve made no move against the rest of us.”

“They probably won’t,” Emmett said. “At least not yet. They’re waiting to see what happens with Draven.”

“Exactly,” Leo muttered. “Meanwhile, we’re stuck. And we all gotta keep looking over our shoulders until we can make some headway.”

“Or,” Bryce said quietly, “we use the one lead we have. We make sure this boyfriend didn’t start dating Amina to get to Draven. If the killer knew there was a connection between Draven and Amina, he could have been playing her from the beginning.”

“Agreed,” I said. “We need to track this guy down.”

“How?” Leo asked.

“We could ask her daughter,” Bryce suggested.

“No.” Dad’s bark echoed off the walls.

“Why not?” I pushed off the wall. Was Dad really that set on life in prison? “She might know who her mother was seeing.”

“No.” He pointed at my face. “The daughter is off-limits. She just lost her mother. She doesn’t need to be bothered by a goddamn reporter and the son of the man who is suspected of killing her mom. Leave her alone. That’s an order.”

It had been a long time since he’d issued an order. Not since the days when he’d worn the president patch for the Gypsies rather than me.

“Am I understood?” Dad asked Emmett and Leo.

“Understood,” they answered in unison.

Dad looked to me, his gaze hard and unwavering. “Dash?”

Fuck. Bryce was seething but I was pinned in the corner. I wouldn’t go against Dad. Not when he’d gone this far to make his point. “Understood.”

“We’re with you, Prez,” Emmett said as Leo’s head bobbed in agreement.

“Good,” Dad said. “And that goes for her too. She bothers the daughter, I’ll see to it that she’ll never write another story again. Hard to write when you’re missing your hands.”

Hell. Did he have to keep making it worse? That was over the top. If his intent was to scare Bryce, he had failed. She was livid. I could feel the heat of her anger from across the room. She’d probably melt the paint on the Mustang.