by Nicole James
“So, Tess from Sandy Springs, long time, no see.”
“Three years to be exact,” she murmurs, gazing out the passenger window.
“That puts you at what, twenty-four now?”
“The man can add. Impressive.” She can’t hold back the lift of her brow that accompanies her snarky comment.
“Cute. You’re a laugh a minute. I forgot that about you.”
“Did you?” She turns to stare at me, her chin in the air. “I bet you remember every detail about me.”
I clench my jaw, hating that she’s right. This girl was stuck in my head for months after our encounter, but I’ll be damned if I’ll ever admit it to her.
At the time I wanted to track her down. Now? Knowing who she belongs to, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Her father may no longer be our president, but he hasn’t lost his patch, and her and me? That ain’t happening.
I exhale, trying to rein in all the conflicted feelings I have for this chick, and concentrate on the road. The silence stretches for miles until she breaks it.
“That night—why didn’t you tell me you were a DK?” Her voice is soft, hesitant, almost like the question is pulled from her unwillingly.
I glance over, sweeping her from head to toe. If anything, she’s even more beautiful than I remember, and I remember every inch of her young, firm body stretched across my bed, her face staring up at me, her eyes wide and her mouth parted as I sank inside her. “You never asked, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m no one’s princess.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” she snaps. “I want nothing to do with my father or his club.”
“That include me?”
“Unfortunately, you’re a necessary evil. I’m just as trapped in this situation as you are.”
“I’m not fucking trapped.”
“Seems you owed Belle a favor, and here you are. I’m sure it’s not where you want to be, hauling my ass to Rutledge and back.”
“And why are you here if you want nothing to do with your father?”
She folds her arms and stares out the windshield. “It’s complicated.”
I can’t stop the huff of laughter. “Right. It always is with family.”
“Especially fucked up ones like mine.”
That’s a whole can of worms I have no intention of opening, so I move on to safer topics. “Why’d you disappear that morning without even a goodbye?”
She’s quiet, then finally clears her throat and gives me a lame excuse. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Bullshit. You wanted to evade me. Is it the club? Is that the issue?”
She turns and meets my eyes. “You want the truth? Yes. Like I told you, I want nothing to do with the Devil Kings.”
“And what stopped you from tellin’ me that? Did I scare you that bad?”
She shakes her head. “You didn’t scare me.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was a gut reaction. I saw your back tattoo and your cut hanging on the chair. I freaked. Getting caught up in you, in the club—that’s what scared the crap out of me. I panicked. So I got the hell out of there.”
I run a hand down my jaw, taking in what she said. “Gotta admit, babe. If I had found out that morning who you were, I’d have freaked, too. You were definitely off limits. Hell, you still are, I guess.”
“So it was for the best, then.” She looks away.
“Was it?” I ask it before my brain has a chance to catch up with my damn mouth.
Her head snaps back around. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, babe. You gotta admit we had some fucking magic that night. I thought we had a connection. Was I wrong?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “No, you weren’t wrong.”
I study the road a long time before I finally can’t hold back the damning admission. “I searched for you, you know that?”
“What?”
“Returned to that dive bar a dozen times.” I huff out another laugh. “Now, here I’ve finally found out the identity of my little Cinderella from that spectacular night three years ago. And if I’m bein’ honest, Tess, I can’t deny the thrill of that, but…”
“But?”
“You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“I’m thinking that flame is still there, burnin’ strong. But fuck—that girl is Growler’s daughter, and getting involved with her again would be nothing but trouble, and it’d be better if I don’t go there. I know it as sure as I know…” I look over and realize I’ve shocked the shit out of her. “Tess?”
Suddenly she lifts a hand toward me and strokes the back of her fingers down my beard. “It’s as soft as I remember.”
Fuck. My dick just went hard. I spot a sign for a rest area and jump over two lanes to take the exit. I pull in the first open spot, far from the building and the other cars, throwing the truck in park.
She scrambles out of her seatbelt and climbs into my lap, her mouth seeking mine. It’s times like these I’m glad for the old Ford F150 model with the velour bench seat.
Her lips are soft and her kiss is eager. In all this time I’ve never forgotten her.
She pulls back and stares into my eyes. “You’re right. We can’t do this.”
“Right now I’m thinkin’ maybe we can.”
“You’re a DK. That’s a deal breaker for me.”
“Ain’t saying you got to marry me and have my babies, Tess,” I argue, even as the thought of her holding a baby—my baby—flashes before my eyes.
To break the tension, she yanks on the door handle. “I have to use the restroom.”
I watch her climb from the truck and hurry away, like she can’t get far enough, fast enough.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
When she comes back, I start the truck and back out without a word.
We’re quiet for the rest of the trip, each in our own heads.
An hour later I pull down the prison road. This—visiting a prison—is new for me, and it’s rattling my nerves in a way I hadn’t expected. It’s only by the grace of God that I haven’t been driven up here myself, riding in the back of a prison van in chains.
I feel my pulse elevate, and just looking at the place, I suddenly can’t breathe.
I pull to a spot and park, gathering myself, and then look over at her. She’s got more guts than I have, walkin’ in that place alone. I’ve never even liked visiting hospitals; I can’t imagine what this is like. “You gonna be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. You can’t stay here. They don’t allow anyone to wait in the parking lot. You have to leave and come back.”
“What time?”
“Come back at ten. I don’t plan to stay long.” With that, she climbs out. I hit the button and roll her passenger window down.
“Hey,” I call as she starts to walk away.
She turns back and leans in the window. “Yeah?”
“Tell your old man to put me on his visitors list.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
I watch her walk away. The girl is gorgeous, and my eyes drop to watch the ends of her long locks sway above her fabulous ass. Even dressed conservatively, she’s still got the sexiest strut I’ve ever seen.
It’d be so easy to pick back up with her, but she comes with a whole lot of baggage—baggage that’s got MC Princess and Stay Away stamped all over it.
She’d be exactly the kind of trouble I don’t need.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tess—
Gypsy drives off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his truck pull down the lane. I head inside, puzzled by what he just asked me to do. My mind is a whirl right now. That request threw me. My mother led me to believe the club basically wrote my father off. I can’t help wondering if Gypsy would tell my father anything he wants to know. Surely they can’t sit inside that room under the nose of the guards and talk c
lub business. On the other hand, maybe that would get me off the hook. I’m not comfortable with trying to dig for information from Gypsy. As much as I don’t want anything to do with him—not really—I still feel bad that I’m basically using him.
The fire is still there; that much we proved.
I can’t let what happened at the rest stop happen again. I don’t know what came over me. When he admitted how attracted he was to me, how attracted he still is, I just got carried away. The things he admitted—how he’d searched for me, how he couldn’t get me out of his head—really got to me, and in the moment I acted rashly.
I never should have let him know I was still attracted to him. And above all else, I can’t ever let him know that the night we shared was the best I’ve ever had.
I walk inside and begin the ritual of security hoops I have to jump through before I can be admitted in to visit my father.
Twenty-three minutes later, I’m sitting at a table waiting with the requested beef jerky and two Mountain Dews. I even throw in a bag of cheese curls.
My father is the second one brought in. His step is a little lighter when he walks toward my table this time.
He’s reaching for one of the cans before his ass hits the chair. He pops the top and guzzles a good portion, then looks at me. “Well?”
“Gypsy drove me here.”
“Good, and?”
I lift my chin and raise a brow for effect. “He wants you to put him on the visitors list.
My father doesn’t say anything at first but reaches for the jerky and tears off a bite. He smiles as he chews it, and then nods. “You did good. What about that trip?”
I know he’s referring to information on the club’s Sturgis run. “I haven’t had enough time.”
He nods. “The prison has forms Gypsy will have to fill out. They’ll do background, but if I recall correctly, he’s never been convicted of anything. Roll of the dice, really, if they allow him in. But if they do, that would work to my advantage.”
“Then you could ask him all this stuff yourself.”
He focuses his piercing gaze on me. “Still want you diggin’ to see what you can find out.”
I sigh.
He eats some more jerky, then scans the room and asks, “How’s your mother?”
“Worried about you. Smoking too much. Not eating.”
“I wrote her a letter. Mailed it yesterday. No clue how long it takes to get through this joint and on its way to her.”
“I’ll tell her. She’ll be standing by the mailbox every day waiting for it, so I hope you’re not bullshitting me.”
“I’m not.”
“You could call her, you know.”
He curls up his lips. “Nah.”
“Why don’t you put her back on the list?”
He stares at me then. “You do well, maybe I will.”
I get the feeling he’s stringing me along. For my mother’s sake, I hope not.
An hour later I walk into the bright sunshine and drag in a deep breath of fresh air, glad to be outside again. I spot Gypsy’s truck just coming up the drive. He pulls to the curb, and I climb in, slamming the door.
“How’d it go?”
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, not answering his question.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I turn to him. “Have you ever been in prison?”
“Nope.”
“Ever visited someone inside?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a horrible place.”
He nods, the expression on his face saying he’s not sure how to make any of this easier for me.
“He wants me to come back next week.”
Gypsy looks out the window then at me. “How many times you plan on visiting?”
“You think I want to come back?” I snap, my nerves shot. I’m a nervous wreck the entire time I’m locked inside that place, and I know it will take hours to shake the effect it has on me.
“If you don’t want to do this, then don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
I stay quiet. How do I explain it? I feel dead inside.
He blows out a breath. “You hungry? Let’s get something to eat. I found a place a couple blocks from the riverfront.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, just starts driving, taking control, and I let him. I’m like a walking zombie, numb to everything.
We end up at a cute pizzeria on Broadway, a pretty divided boulevard with trees down the center and diagonal parking. We sit at an outside table. It’s quite pleasant with a pretty fountain and a guy playing a soft blues guitar. He orders a couple of beers, and we split a small loaded pizza.
By the second slice, I’m feeling myself again.
Gypsy leans back in his chair and sips his brew. He’s got on a pair of wraparound shades that make it hard to tell where he’s looking.
“This is nice,” I say, by way of thanking him. Seems he knew what I needed better than I did.
“It is,” he agrees. I’m thankful he’s not pushing me for answers.
“Is this where you came while you were killing time?”
He takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and dips his head to light one, blowing the smoke toward the sky. “Just drove around, scoping out the town.” He jerks his head to the side. “The riverfront’s a couple blocks over. You want to take a walk? I’d like to check it out.”
I shrug, finishing the last of my food. “Sure.”
He signals the waitress and pays. We stroll down the street, and it’s comfortable being with him. I spot a drug store and gesture. “Mind if I stop in here for a minute?”
“Sure.” He holds the door for me.
I find a sunglasses display near the front and give it a spin, searching for the style I usually buy. I grab a pair and slip them on, checking in the tiny mirror provided.
“They look good on you,” Gypsy says.
“Typical man. Thinks a woman needs his approval.” I walk past him to the register and see the smile that pulls on his sexy mouth. I set my purchase down, and he tosses a pack of cinnamon gum down on the counter. I smile at the cashier and push it forward. “This too.”
“Would you like a bag?”
I shake my head, already snapping off the tag and sliding the glasses up on my head. I pay and pass Gypsy his gum as we walk out.
“Thanks for the gum,” he says as he holds the door.
“Thanks for lunch,” I reply.
He chuckles. “I think you got the better deal.”
“I always do.”
“I’ll remember that.”
I slip the aviators over my eyes. Now we’re on even ground. He can’t see where I’m looking either.
His smile is megawatt, almost like he reads my very thoughts. We turn and head toward the riverfront. It’s only two short blocks. I hear and smell the water before I see it. The trees along it grow tall and give shade to the pretty river walk the city planners invested in. It’s really quite lovely. The shade and the water cool off the breeze. We stroll along for a while, then stop and lean on the railing overlooking the river, side by side, barely six inches separating us. Two kayakers drift past, quietly paddling.
Finally, Gypsy repeats the question he asked earlier. “Why do you have to come down here to see your old man when I know it’s the last thing you want to be doing?”
“Because he took my mother off the visitors list.”
He tilts his head toward me. “I don’t follow.”
I stare at the water. “My mother is out of cash. I know my father has some stashed. There’s a safe deposit box. They’re both listed on it and either one can access it, except there’s a key. My mother doesn’t know what he did with it. She’s sure he’s hidden it somewhere. He so much as admitted it to me. I need to convince him to tell me where it is.”
Gypsy shakes his head. “So he’s just leavin’ her out to dry? What a piece of work your old man is, babe.”
“Not telling me
anything I don’t already know.”
“This key… did you look for it?”
“Turned the house upside down. Can’t find it. But hell, there could be a million places he could have put it.” Suddenly I turn to Gypsy. “You wouldn’t have a clue where he’d hide something would you?”
“Me? Hell no.”
I look back at the river.
“Pretty shitty thing to do to Belle.”
“Yup.”
“But, babe, how is this your problem?”
I turn to face him. “How well do you know my mother?”
“She was my president’s ol’ lady. She was around the club a lot.” He shrugs. “She liked to party, usually to excess. Why?”
“Why did you say you owed my mom a favor?”
“She did me a favor once.”
“What kind of favor?”
He looks off down the river, avoiding answering me. “Not important. So, how many trips are you gonna make down here to beg your father to do right by his ol’ lady?”
“As many as I have to, why?”
He shrugs. “Growler’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Did he give you a reason why he’s being such a dick about this?”
“Says he doesn’t want my mother to piss all the money away on booze and drugs. Says he’ll need it when he gets out.”
“Babe, I hate to break it to you, but he’s not gettin’ out anytime soon.”
“I know that.” I turn to look at him. “I told him that very thing.”
“What’d he say?”
“He thinks differently. Thinks his attorney’s going to get his conviction thrown out.” When I say it, Gypsy’s whole body tightens, and he straightens, his hands clenching on the railing.
“He said that?”
I nod. “Are you willing to bring me back again next week?”
He blows out a pissed-off breath. “If I’ve got time.”
I push my shades up on my head. “Let me see your eyes.”
He stares a few seconds, then reluctantly pushes his shades up. He turns his whole body toward me. We’re inches apart. At his full height, I have to tip my head back to look up at him.