Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(88)

Leo’s face hardened. “Damn straight. Fuck this bitch.”

Dad wasn’t as quick to condemn Genevieve. “I’d like to talk to her.”

“If she hurt Bryce, you’ll have to live with the disappointment.”

This was his chance to pick a side and it had sure as hell better be mine.

“Okay, son.” He slid his sunglasses on his face. “Leo, lead the way.”

Our boots pounded on the pavement as we went to our bikes. As I walked, I called Emmett, telling him to leave the clubhouse and catch up. As I shoved my phone in my pocket, movement at my side caught my eye.

“I’ll come too.” Isaiah was running toward his motorcycle.

Shit. This could get ugly and probably wasn’t the place for him. “No, you stay.”

“Please. Let me help.”

I didn’t have time to argue. “Your bike ready?”

“It’ll keep up.”

“Good. Because we’re riding hard.” I got to my bike and unlocked the storage compartment under the seat. I took out my Glock, tucking it into the waistband of my jeans. Then I took out another pistol, handing it to Isaiah. “You know how to use this?”

“Yeah.”

“You get a clear shot, you take it.”

I didn’t care how much blood was spilled today.

As long as it didn’t belong to Bryce.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Bryce





“Dash will come for me.” I clenched my fists, pulling on the duct tape that bound them behind my back.

“I’m counting on it.” The man standing before me, dressed in black, crossed his arms over his chest. “Now shut up.”

I clamped my teeth together—my molars grinding so hard they could have pulverized diamonds. I wasn’t obeying his order. I was freezing cold and wanted to keep them from chattering. My toes and fingers had gone numb hours ago. At least, I think it had been hours. I had no idea what time it was. The sun was up but not high enough to burn the chill that clung to the misty forest air.

Beside me, Genevieve sniffled. Her arm was pressed against mine, trembling. She was shaking head to toe, the body-racking kind of shakes that were pure fear.

Hours ago, I’d been scared too. When I’d been taken from my home and shoved in the trunk of a car, I’d been terrified. I’d cried until there were no more tears.

Then, lying in the dark trunk, my hands and ankles bound, the fear had vanished. I couldn’t afford to be afraid. I had another life counting on me to get my shit together.

My anger was keeping me alive. It kept my blood from turning to ice, fueling the fire in my heart. Because I had to hang on. To fight. I was finally getting a piece of the future I’d hoped for, a child I would love unconditionally. This asshole wasn’t going to take that away from me.

Fuck this guy. He was the same man who’d broken into the Tin Gypsy clubhouse. I assumed as much based on his clothing. He wore black jeans and a black long-sleeved thermal. His ski mask covered his hair and his face. Black leather gloves stretched tight across his hands. And he wore a cut with the outdated Warrior logo on the back.

His eyes were covered with sunglasses, even in the dim light, the lenses and frames black. He showed no skin except for plain lips poking through the mask.

He was of average build, meaning even if we managed to get out of this situation—unlikely—there’d be no providing the police any identifying information. His dedication to keeping himself hidden actually gave me hope. If he was just going to kill us, why hide?

Maybe I was grasping for hope.

Around us, the forest was shadowed and eerie. The smell of pine and earth was heavy. This place he’d brought us to was so thick with evergreens, I doubted it ever got bright.

It was creepy as hell, but the low light might work to our advantage if we could figure out an escape. Maybe we could hide under some bushes or something. I grimaced at the thought of curling up with decaying leaves and needles.

Behind us, there was an old cabin tucked into the trees. I’d spotted it when he’d pulled us out of the trunk. It was menacing and the windows were blacked out like someone had boarded it up a decade ago and forgotten it existed. It was straight out of a horror movie, the type of place where human bodies were butchered in the basement. If I did get free, I’d be heading in the opposite direction of that cabin.

A phone chimed in the man’s pocket. He turned away from Genevieve and me, disappearing deeper into the trees where we couldn’t see him anymore.

But he was there. Waiting. Watching.

“What’s he going to do to us?” Genevieve asked through chattering teeth.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But just hang tight.”

Dash would find us. This guy had set it up that way. He wanted Dash to find me. But why? And why Genevieve? How had he known about her? Why was she here?

After the man had taken me from my house, he’d loaded me in the trunk, and I’d been jostled around as he took turn after turn, probably navigating through town. Then the whirl of tires against the asphalt became high-pitched as he sped down a smooth stretch of road.

Exhausted and emotionally wrecked, I fell asleep. Maybe for ten minutes, maybe an hour, I wasn’t sure. I jolted awake when we stopped. I waited, barely breathing as his car door slammed, but he didn’t come for me.