Gypsy Soul: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 3)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  I don’t even look at my hair. I don’t check my make-up.

  I don’t care.

  I think Gypsy broke me.

  Grabbing my phone, I nearly jump out of my skin when it starts to ring in my hand. The bad feeling in my stomach intensifies when I see who it is.

  I connect the call, trying to power through the storm of emotions wreaking havoc on my gut. “Hey, Kerri.”

  “Hi.” The word is a little short. A little clipped.

  It’s fine. I get it. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” She stops and the line goes quiet.

  I’ve got nothing to fill the air with. What do you say to a woman you’ve wronged on the most basic level?

  Nothing. You keep your mouth shut and take your punches. God knows she’s dished out a few.

  All deserved.

  “Has Gypsy said anything to you about dinner tonight?”

  “Not that I remember.” Honestly there’s only one thing I can really remember Gypsy saying to me, and it’s what sent me running.

  I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.

  “Tracker and I were thinking you might want to get out of the house and come over to my mom’s for dinner tonight.” Kerri pauses and I can hear a woman’s voice in the background. “My mom says she has your favorite.”

  That throws me for a loop. I’ve never met Kerri’s mom, so I’m not sure how she would know what my favorite anything is. “That’s nice of her, but I don’t think it’s a good idea tonight.”

  My whole plan for the evening is to stay as far from Gypsy as possible, which means hiding out in my room watching Netflix.

  Maybe call my dad and check in.

  Do a job search in Cookeville, see what sort of opportunities I can find there for a fresh start.

  Because I can’t keep going the way I am.

  “Listen,” Kerri’s tone softens, “I know we’ve had some issues, but I would really like it if you and Gypsy came over tonight.” I’m still planning to say no, but then she adds, “Shelly and Becca will be here.”

  Maybe I’m just going a little stir crazy.

  Maybe I’m not really feeling what I think I am for Gypsy after all. Maybe it’s just something like Stockholm syndrome.

  Only Gypsy’s not my captor.

  He’s my protector.

  I rub my eyes, one more thing I would never have done before he came along and cracked the life I was leading. “Maybe we’ll come for a little bit.”

  I can hear the smile in Kerri’s voice when she says, “Great.”

  I almost believe she might not hate seeing me.

  I hang up the phone and barely open the door, peeking out into the hallway. The bathroom door across from me is closed and the shower is running. I force my eyes away, doing my best not to imagine what’s on the other side.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Unfortunately, I can’t miss the smell of Gypsy’s soap as the steam of the water pushes it around the edges of the door. It’s the same smell that permeates the guest bedroom where Gypsy’s been sleeping every night.

  He’s always so close, but impossible to reach.

  Even if I wanted to try.

  I go downstairs and pick up my bags where I dropped them when Bob grabbed my ass and suggested I fuck him.

  Or maybe it was to let him fuck me.

  Whatever.

  It’s not like he’s the first. Probably won’t be the last.

  It’s one of the downsides to living so far from my dad and brothers. The line of wide shoulders that protected me from the Bobs of the world aren’t here to protect me.

  Because whether he knows it or not, Gypsy’s not the first man to rough a guy up for getting suggestive.

  “Felicity.”

  The sound of my name in his deep drawl sends a shiver snaking down my spine.

  I ignore it. And him.

  I carry my work bag to the secretary in the corner of my living room and open the desk portion before unpacking my computer.

  “You can’t ignore me forever, Beanie.”

  I can sure as hell try.

  Gypsy moves into my line of sight and I almost forget what I’m doing, which is pretending he doesn’t exist.

  And it might be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done considering he’s once again in nothing but his underwear, the fitted knit fabric clinging to the sizable bulge I have spent too much time pretending not to see.

  Of course he would have to be hung too.

  Apparently I’ve done enough terrible things in my life to deserve to have everything I could ever want paraded around in front of me every fucking day, knowing the second I try to make a grab for it, the whole thing will blow up.

  And then disappear.

  Like a ghost.

  “We need to talk.” Gypsy steps closer, bringing the sweet scent of leather and tobacco to wrap around me. “I meant what I said this morning.”

  I don’t want to talk to Gypsy. There’s too much room in conversation, too many places a lonely, desperate mind can read into something.

  Hear things that are never actually said.

  “We’re supposed to go to Jill’s.” I still don’t let myself look at him. “I can go by myself if you don’t want to go.”

  The relaxed line of his body immediately tightens, each muscle bunching and flexing under his skin.

  Gypsy’s not the biggest of his friends. He doesn’t carry himself like most of the others, but there’s not a doubt in my mind he could be just as dangerous as the rest of them.

  Maybe more.

  Tracker, Butch, and especially Hawk, look scarily intimidating.

  Not Gypsy.

  It’s why Bob was so caught off guard when Gypsy came for him.

  “You don’t go anywhere without me, Felicity.” He steps closer. “Nowhere.”

  I straighten, trying my best to hold up under the most dogged challenge I’ve ever faced. “I’m not a child, Gypsy.”

  His hazel gaze rakes down my body.

  I know he wants me. He hasn’t tried to hide it.

  Which means I should probably earn a fucking medal for being able to resist him.

  But I made myself a promise.

  And Gypsy is a perfect example of why I have to stick to it.

  “Is that what you really think?” He eases a little closer. “That I treat you like a child?”

  I tip my chin up, trying to find the strength I have to have. “I think you treat me like I am your responsibility.”

  “You are.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m responsible for keeping you safe, Felicity.”

  “So then I guess that makes me a job, not a child.” I put the truth of our situation in front of me so I can face it, keep it close enough to use as a shield, protecting me from the man who thinks he’s keeping me safe.

  He’s not.

  Because Gypsy is far more dangerous to me than King could ever be.

  He shakes his head slow and even. “I will never consider taking care of you work, Felicity.”

  “Then what would you call it?” I manage to sound put out. As irritated as I wish I could be.

  “A privilege.”

  I can’t stop the snort. “Yeah. Okay.”

  I spin away, actually irritated.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Felicity.”

  I stop. Who in the hell does he think he is?

  I turn to face him, this time not affected by his nearness or his nakedness.

  Because he’s finally, actually pissed me off.

  Thank God.

  “I am a grown fucking woman and I will walk away from whoever I want, whenever I want to.” I stand tall, staring him down for a couple of seconds before turning my back on him again.

  And walking the fuck away.

  I grab my car keys from the counter and snag my purse as I head for the door.

  Fuck this. I’m done.

  King can come get me right now. I’d like it if he did.

  Because I’ve got a p
ile of pissed off I need to get out of my system.

  I slam the door as I leave, a little surprised he’s not trying to stop me.

  Not disappointed.

  Surprised.

  I jump in my car, breathing deep as soon as the door is shut.

  I’m alone for the first time in a month and it feels...

  Fine. It feels just fine.

  I start the engine.

  At least I try to.

  But the damn thing just clicks. Doesn’t even attempt to turn over.

  I swear to God.

  I pop the hood, my anger building at a blessedly high rate. I like being angry. It makes everything easier.

  I lift the hood and hook it into place, taking in the engine in front of me.

  “Son of a bi—”

  “You got a problem, Beanie?”

  Gypsy is standing in the open doorway to my townhouse, but now instead of just his underwear, he’s also wearing a smirk.

  “Nope.” I go back to the open driver’s door, reach into the car and pop the trunk.

  He thinks he got one over on me.

  It’s time for Gypsy to find out I’m more than he thinks.

  I’m more than everyone around here thinks.

  I fish around through the tools in the back and pull out the adjustable wrench I need, before going to hook my battery back up. Less than two minutes later, the cables are attached and I’m slamming the hood closed.

  This time I’m the one wearing a smirk. I shoot it his way as I get in, giving Gypsy a little wave before starting the car.

  His eyes barely widen as it immediately fires up.

  His surprise is oddly satisfying.

  I’ve worked so hard since I moved here to be what men like.

  Pretty. Put together. Sexy.

  Frequently easy.

  I’m tired. I’m tired of spending thirty minutes putting on makeup every day. I’m tired of wasting thirty more on my hair.

  All to try to catch a man.

  It never worked.

  So I’m not trying anymore.

  Fuck them.

  All of them. Gypsy included.

  I pull out of the complex and realize I have no idea where I’m going.

  I promised Kerri I would come to Jill’s, and I still plan on doing just that. Maybe spending a little time with Shelly will put me in a better mood.

  I like her. Even if I’m still not sure she likes me.

  I grab my phone at a stop light and dial Shelly’s number. She answers on the second ring, her voice filling the speakers of my car as the light turns green. “Are you guys on your way here?”

  “I am, but I don’t know where I’m going. Can you send me the address?”

  The other end of the line is quiet for a second. “You aren’t alone are you?”

  “I am.” I smile, feeling a little proud of myself.

  “You can’t go out alone, Fel. Something could happen to you.”

  Something is happening to me. I’m finally doing what I freaking want. I’m giving one big middle finger to everything with a dick.

  They all deserve it.

  “I’m fine. Just send me the address and I’ll see you soon.” I disconnect the line before she can piss on my parade any more. I don’t want to hear it.

  I’m tired of dicks ruling my life. They always have, one way or another.

  No more.

  My phone dings as the address to Jill’s house comes through. I’m making the first turn when my phone starts to ring.

  I connect it with a smile on my face. “Hello.”

  “Turn the fucking car around, Felicity.”

  “Nope.” I hang up the line.

  It rings a second later.

  I answer it again. “Hello.” This time I drag the word out a little.

  “I swear to God—”

  I hang up the call again.

  Still smiling.

  I was right. I can totally do this.

  I can handle Gypsy—

  Oh my God.

  I don’t know his last name.

  I don’t actually know his first name either.

  I’ve been lusting after a man and I don’t even know his fucking name. That’s an all time low for me.

  And I’ve gone pretty low in my quest to snag a man of my own.

  But that’s the past.

  I don’t need a man.

  Definitely not Gypsy whatever his name is.

  Jill’s house is easy to spot. It’s the one on the street with a driveway full of bikes and muscle cars. I park behind Butch’s yellow Camaro and jump out, practically bouncing up the driveway, feeling lighter than I have in a long damn time.

  Until the door opens and I’m greeted by three frowning faces.

  “You’re going to get hurt.” Shelly’s arms are crossed over her chest.

  I hold my own arms out. “Do I look hurt?”

  Kerri’s head barely tips to one side and she squints at my outfit. “Is that a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt?”

  “Hell yeah it is.” I bob my head a little, the twang I’ve worked so hard to smother teasing at the edge of my words.

  “Are you wearing leggings?” Becca stands shoulder to shoulder with Kerri and Shelly, the three of them staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  And maybe I have.

  Who the hell knows?

  I snap the waistband of my ‘pants’. “I felt like being comfortable.”

  “Yeah you did.” Kerri nods a little. Finally she steps back, giving me the room to pass. “Come on in. You hungry?”

  “I am starving.” I follow her into the large home. Jill’s place is beautiful. Open, airy.

  And full of bikers.

  All of them grinning at me.

  I ignore their eyes as I walk to the large island dominating the kitchen where a blonde woman about Kerri’s height and build is passing out warm smiles and loving pats.

  Kerri thumbs over her shoulder in my direction. “Mom, this is Felicity. Felicity, this is my mom Jill.”

  “Hi.” I hold out my hand but Jill doesn’t take it. Instead she pulls me into a tight hug.

  “Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re here.” She leans to peek around me. “Where’s Gypsy?”

  I lift my shoulders. “Not sure.”

  Her gaze lands on me, the line of her brows coming together. “Isn’t he with you?”

  I shake my head as someone snickers behind me. “No. I came by myself.” I turn toward the food lining the counter, ready to change the subject. I don’t want to think about Gypsy right now. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  Jill’s hand rests on my back. “You just sit and relax. The boys have it under control.”

  I let her push me into one of the stools lined up along the island. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Jill stands behind me and leans across the island, hooking a finger on the lip of a dish and pulling it our way. “Here. I made your favorite.” She smiles at me, revealing a deep dimple in one cheek. “I hope I did it right.”

  I drop my eyes to the dish in front of me and almost fall out of my chair.

  I point to the small bowl next to a pile of bright green blanched beans. “Is this—”

  It can’t possibly be.

  There’s no way she would know.

  I swallow hard.

  There might be one way.

  “Where is she?”

  Gypsy’s voice has my spine snapping straight. Every eye in the house turns to the front door as it bounces off the wall. Except for Shelly’s, which rest on me. She presses her lips together, smothering a smile as she spins away.

  “There you are.” Jill steps from behind me, clearing the path between me and one very angry biker. “I was just asking Felicity where you were.”

  I don’t turn around. I’m not really interested in seeing the look on Gypsy’s face right now.

  He can be as mad as he wants.

  Hell, maybe I should make him a little madder. I tip my head Becca’s way. “Can
I come stay with you for a while? It might make things easier since we work the same place.” I lift my eyes to where Butch is standing at the end of the island. “Butch could keep an eye on both of us at the same time.”

  Butch lifts a brow.

  Becca gives me a single-shoulder shrug. “I guess that would be fine.”

  “Great.” I smile. “I’ll go home and pack some stuff and be there later tonight.” I grab a bean and dip it into the curried mayo Jill made for me.

  Gypsy’s lean frame steps between us, cutting off the conversation. His eyes are hard, burning with an intensity I’ve never seen in them before.

  “You’re not going to Becca’s.”

  I swallow my bite. “I am, though.”

  He leans down, the hazel of his eyes darkening as they line up with mine.

  “Over my fucking dead body.”

  4

  THIS WOMAN MAKES me fucking crazy.

  Pushes buttons I didn’t know I had.

  Like the one getting slammed by the narrowing of her eyes as she stares me down in front of all my brothers.

  I drag in a slow breath, trying to calm the warring emotions battling it out in my guts. “You are staying with me.”

  I’m not this man.

  I don’t tell anyone what to do, let alone a woman.

  But she is hell-bent on getting herself hurt, all in the name of proving how much she doesn’t want me around.

  Which is a lie.

  I rest my hands on each side of her, one at the back of her stool and one on the counter at her side. “I’m not doing this with you, Beanie. Not here.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page.” She barely smirks at me as she tries to spin her seat away.

  I hold tight, keeping her eyes on mine. “We’re not even in the same book.” I lean in close, daring her to pull away. Knowing she won’t. If for no other reason than to prove she’s not intimidated by me.

  And she’s not.

  Part of me wishes she was.

  The other part of me fucking loves it.

  I move my lips to her ear, making sure she’s the only one that hears what I say next. “If you wanted to piss me off then you’ve accomplished your goal.” I tease my breath over her skin, barely letting my mouth graze the lobe of her ear. “But you’re about to learn there are repercussions for everything.” I straighten before I’m tempted to say more.

  Do more.