Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(99)

Draven’s frame slumped against the wall. “Shit.”

The room went quiet.

“It might not be him. The guy who took me. Maybe he had another friend up there. Maybe someone he’d already killed. Who knows? I think he’s probably dead but we don’t know for sure.”

“Bryce is right.” Dash pushed off the wall. “Everyone watch their back. Something about this doesn’t sit well. It’s too clean. He was smart enough to take Bryce and Genevieve but then killed himself in a fire? Doesn’t fit.”

“Agreed.” Emmett stood from his chair. “We’ll keep looking. Keep thinking. Something will come to light.”

Leo stood too. “Fuck, I hope so.”

“Until then, let’s get back to work,” Dash said. “Show whoever this fucker is that we’re moving forward.”

He nodded for me to follow him into his office. The desk was cluttered and he gathered the paperwork up, making one large stack in the corner. “It’s all yours, babe. Unless you want to come hang out in the garage with me. I can set you up on a tool bench.”

I grinned. “We did that before, remember? Pretty sure that’s how you knocked me up.”

He chuckled, sitting on the edge of the desk. Then he motioned me into his arms, into the only place I felt safe at the moment.

“Eventually, all this will end, right? Life will return to normal?” Or a new normal. I didn’t want to go back to the days when he wasn’t in my life.

“One way or another. Either we find out who killed Amina or . . .”

Or Draven lost his freedom.





One week later, Dash and I were already finding a new normal.

We were at the garage, working. That was how we functioned now. In shifts. We’d come to the garage when he had to work. I’d sit at his desk, writing at my laptop. And whenever I needed to work at the newspaper or go somewhere in town for an interview, he’d be my silent sidekick.

Dash wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and oddly enough, I didn’t feel smothered. I felt protected. Cherished.

Loved.

If my new schedule bothered Dad, he didn’t comment. He and Mom were so happy they were getting a grandchild, he didn’t care what I did all day as long as I was growing his future reporter.

After a long talk, Dash and I decided not to tell my parents about the kidnapping mostly because it would terrify them. They’d worry it might happen again, and we didn’t need any extra attention. Which included deleting my story about the Tin Gypsies.

My backup file—the one I wrote in case Dash betrayed me—had been trashed for good. The ghosts of the former Tin Gypsy Motorcycle Club would rest in peace.

And I was going to print fun stories for a while. I’d let Willy tackle the weekly police press sheets for a couple months. At the moment, I was working on a story about one of Clifton Forge’s high school graduates who was off to Harvard in the fall. Exciting news for our small town. The boy’s face on the front page was full of hope and wonder.

I clicked save on the final draft, uploading it to the shared drive, as my phone rang. When Genevieve’s name flashed on the screen, I blinked twice, not believing it was really her.

“Hey,” I answered, standing from the desk because I couldn’t keep still. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”

Not a day had gone by when I hadn’t sent her a few texts and called at least twice. All had gone unanswered.

“Yeah. Sorry.” She sighed. “I’m okay. I just had to get out of there.”

“I can certainly understand that.” Except you could be in danger. I held back the lecture I really wanted to give her. “I’m really glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah. Listen.” She paused. “I-I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Of course.”

“I’m here, in Clifton Forge.”

“What? You are?”

“There are some things happening. Some, uh . . . changes. Anyway, before it gets crazy, would you meet me somewhere?”

“Sure.” I didn’t have a car but I’d figure it out. “Where?”

“The cemetery. I’m sitting here in my car and I can’t seem to get out.”

“Oh, Genevieve.” My hand flew to my heart. “I’ll be there. Just wait.”

“Thanks, Bryce.”

I ended the call and groaned.

Dash is going to love this.





Twenty minutes later, my heart was racing as Dash and I pulled into the cemetery.

After my call with Genevieve, I’d gone to the shop and told Dash about it, knowing full well he’d never let me go alone.

We parked behind a gray sedan with Colorado plates. I sucked in a deep breath as I got off his bike. Ten seconds later, the rumble of another motorcycle filled the air.

“Damn it,” I muttered as Draven pulled into the cemetery. “How’d he know we were coming here?”

“Emmett must have overheard us talking and told him after we left.”

This was a good lesson to remember to keep my voice low in the garage.

“It’s bad enough that you’re here.”

He pouted. “Gee. Thanks.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” I waved him off. “She needs a friend. Not a crowd.”