Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(78)

I smiled. “You snuck up on me too.”

The next kiss wasn’t soft or sweet. Dash crushed his lips to mine, his hands leaving my face to band around my back, pulling me tight into his firm body. He needed this, like he’d needed me last night. He’d gotten lost in my body, seeking comfort.

I looped my arms around his neck, angling my mouth so I could get a deeper taste. I’d gotten lost in him too. He made everything an adventure. Even watching him fold my laundry or do the dishes was exciting. How was I ever going to let him go? I knew right there, in that moment, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from Dash.

He’d ruined me. He’d changed the game.

We were seconds away from ripping at each other’s clothes when a throat cleared from the doorway, forcing us apart. With swollen lips, we both turned to see Emmett.

“Dash.” He nodded down the hallway. “Better come and see this.”





Chapter Twenty-One





Dash





Bryce and I followed Emmett through the clubhouse party room and to the basement. This wasn’t a place I wanted Bryce, but there was no keeping her away.

As we descended the steps, I took a look around. It was cleaner than upstairs. That, or the dust was less noticeable on the concrete floors and walls.

Dad had built this clubhouse alongside the original members. They’d made the basement into a bunker of sorts. It was a concrete labyrinth of rooms, all varying in size, but each with a drain in the center. Rivers of blood had been washed down those drains. The bleach smell still lingered in the air, even though it had been over a year since we’d cleaned up the main room from our last underground fight.

The smaller rooms had seen far worse than boxing.

It was strange being in the clubhouse, especially when it was so quiet. The nights I’d stayed here in my twenties, I’d learned to sleep with a party raging beyond my door—if I hadn’t been in the middle of the party myself.

There were good memories here. As a kid, we’d come here for family barbeques with Dad’s brothers, men who’d been like uncles until they’d become brothers of my own. Nick and I would light off fireworks in the parking lot on Independence Day. We’d each had our first beer in this clubhouse and many more after.

I’d always wanted to be a Gypsy. Other kids in school would talk about college. Fancy jobs. I’d just wanted to be in Dad’s club. Nick had been the same until Mom died. But even after he’d shunned the Gypsies and moved away after high school, my feelings hadn’t changed.

I had been a Gypsy long before earning my cut.

Yesterday, I’d told Dad that I wished he hadn’t started the club. I was angry. Hurt. A part of me did want to reject this place. It would be easy to put Mom’s death on the club and walk away for good. Burn it down and, with it, the havoc it had wreaked on my life.

Except then I’d have to forget the good memories too.

There had been good memories.

One thing was certain, I was glad Bryce moved to Clifton Forge after we’d disbanded. I wouldn’t have had a shot with her had I been leading the club. She was too good to get mixed up with a criminal. Hell, it was a stretch for me to chase after her now.

But I couldn’t look into the future and not see her face.

She dared me, called me out on my bullshit. She shared her heart, her loyalty, her honesty—all things I’d had with the club, with my brothers. She filled that hole and then some.

“In here.” Emmett ducked into one of the smaller rooms where he’d set up a surveillance station a few years back. Security and hacking had become Emmett’s specialty. He called it a hobby. I called it a gift.

Dad was leaning over a monitor, staring at a frozen image on the screen.

“What’d you find?” I asked, taking Dad’s place.

Emmett sat in the chair, clicking to rewind the video. “I guess we should have kept the sensors on after that raccoon incident. Look at this.”

He pressed play on the video and rolled out of the way to make room for Bryce. She came right up beside me, my hand immediately finding hers. Together, we watched footage from one of the cameras hidden above each window in the clubhouse as a man approached the building.

The color on the screen was a mix of green and white and black from the night vision setting. The man’s face was covered in a black ski mask, his shirt and pants a matching shade.

He walked up to the building, taking a utility tool from his pocket. And then he jimmied open the glass window.

“Fuck. We should have boarded up the basement windows.” They were so small, not even eighteen inches wide, that we hadn’t bothered. Plus the drop from the window was at least ten feet. Our concrete bunker was not small. And up until this winter, we’d had sensors on all the windows.

The man was probably close to my size, but he managed to shimmy his way into the basement. He turned on his stomach, his legs going inside first, and that’s when we saw it.

A patch on his back.

“Fucking lying bastards.” My booming voice echoed off the walls.

I dropped Bryce’s hand, pacing the room as I rubbed my jaw. Now I understood why Dad was against the wall, fuming in a silent rage.

“What am I missing?” Bryce asked.

“That’s an Arrowhead Warrior patch,” Emmett answered, tapping the screen. He’d frozen it before the man had dropped inside.