Imposing as ever, Blue Line’s dark hair was no longer clipped military close, and his warm, brown eyes were tipped at the corners to match the smile on his face. They studied each other for a moment as Gypsy marked tiny differences in his friend. A scar on his chin was now hidden by a full beard, and there was a tired cast to his eyes that spoke of long days and nights carving a life for himself from the fabric of the Malcontents as it had been. He’d always been an imposing figure, but Gypsy noted how his shoulders were back, head up, and if it were possible, those shoulders were even broader.
Blue Line moved first, reaching out wordlessly and Gypsy slapped their palms together as he wrapped fingers around the up-thrust thumb. As their grip tightened, he found himself pulled forwards, shoulders and chests bumping as an arm wrapped around his neck. He pounded on Blue Line’s back, careful to avoid the Malcontents patch riding there.
“Jesus,” Blue Line grunted, “you haven’t changed a fuckin’ bit. It’s like looking through a tunnel in time.”
Gypsy grinned, his back now taking a pounding from Blue Line’s fist. “I’ve changed a lot, asshole. You’re the one who looks just the same.”
“God, it’s good to see you.” Blue Line’s arm clinched tight for a final squeeze, then released Gypsy as he stepped back. “So fuckin’ good.”
“Back atcha, brother.” The word escaped without thought, and it felt right. He knew this man better than anyone, and even now, remembered how it felt to trust Joel with his life. “I brought friends of yours with me.” He moved to the side and watched as Blue Line’s face softened, looking somehow younger as he spotted Bear.
Their clinch was tight and went on a long time, the two men muttering into the other’s leather-covered shoulder, words lost on the wind. It was still clear to anyone watching they had a shared loss binding them together a lifetime ago. Blue Line’s sister, Andrea. Bear’s first wife.
Off to the side, Tugboat and Maggie were talking to the other man, Tug’s arm slung around the man’s neck to pull him close while he held his woman’s hand with delicate care. Gypsy turned to see Kelsey still standing next to the bike, her face carefully blank. From the stoop of her shoulders, he could tell the tension running through her body was getting worse by the moment, ramping up in intensity even as he looked at her. Shit. It probably looked like he didn’t want her nearby with how he’d set her there and commanded her to stay, as if she were an errant pet. If she only knew how she owned him, instead of vice versa. Gypsy took a quick step in her direction and lifted his arm, curling his fingers over his palm in invitation. Her eyes widened as relief and fear warred for space on her expression. With the collapse of her chest, he saw the air whoosh out of her lungs with a sigh. God, I’m such an asshole.
A moment later, she was tucked against his side, held in place by his arm curving down and around her back. He took a moment to appreciate the strength of her grip, and heat of her body as his palm settled on one narrow hip to hold her close. “Ready to meet ’em?” Her hair brushed his arm with her nod and a zing of electricity arrowed straight to his crotch, dick giving a twitch as blood flooded there. Riding all day with her nearby made it increasingly difficult to put a cap on his desire for her. Down, boy. “The younger of the two is Tugboat’s nephew, Carter LeRoy. I think his road name is Moby, but you know where to check on his vest, yeah?” She nodded again, leaning closer so her cheek pressed against his chest. Gypsy dropped a quick kiss on the crown of her head, burying his nose in her hair, scenting the flowery shampoo she’d used this morning. “And this guy”—he said as he led her towards Blue Line—“is an old friend of mine, Blue Line.” Kelsey stumbled, her fingers twisting in the waistband of his jeans. He tried to flash Blue Line a warning with his eyes, hoping the man understood what his glare meant. Be careful, dammit.
“Hey, Kelsey. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” Blue Line gave a low wave, curling his hand back to his hip so it wasn’t apparent to everyone he’d aborted an intent to touch her.
Kelsey didn’t respond except with a dip of her chin as she pressed even closer to Gypsy.
“So, we’re here,” Gypsy stated with a grin.
“So you are.” Blue Line’s mouth stretched into a small smile. His brows furrowed for a moment, then smoothed out. “We got a houseful. The women have been planning this cookout since I told ’em you were coming. We’ve got some common friends in residence too. You know Mela, right?”
Gypsy tipped his head to the side. “Carmela, Watcher’s girl?”
Blue Line snorted. “Estavez’s girl as well. Yeah, she and Hurley rolled in yesterday.”
“You mentioned food?” Tugboat joined their circle, Maggie trailing behind, her fingers linked with his. Bear and Moby followed them over, heads close together. Gypsy was reminded they’d served together in the military and recognized the brotherhood they still shared. Too bad the man joined the Malcontents, he thought. With an uncle and good friend in the Rebels, he would have fit right in. “I could eat a horse.”
“Equine-free zone.” Blue Line grinned as Tugboat scoffed. “But yeah, we got grub inside. Me and Seabass thought we’d wait for you out here.” Gypsy glanced at LeRoy’s vest and noted the name stitched in place said Moby, not Seabass. “Yeah,” Blue Line must have seen his confusion, because he shook his head. “Man lived in a tin can for years, and you’d think he’d have seen it all. Not true.” Blue Line shook his head ruefully. “Some of the shit he’s seen after he patched in left him gaping like a guppy. Man took offense at that one, so I decided Seabass would be a better fit. Fucker won’t change his plate, though.” Tugboat laughed, and Gypsy smiled. “Moby’s decent, though. Glad y’all didn’t scoop him up.” Right under his name was another patch with the initials V.P. Blue Line wasn’t joking. “Came to me when I needed a brother like him, settled right in.”
He turned towards the building and Gypsy let him walk away, sticking his hand out to Moby. “Hey.” He tipped his head towards Kelsey, still pressed tight against him. “This is my lady, Kelsey.” Her hand around his waist tensed, fingers digging in when he claimed her, and he liked how every time it happened, she reacted the same way. “Your uncle is a good friend. Too bad you like the sand and sea.”
Moby’s face was serious, an intent expression on his features as he shook Gypsy’s hand and gave Kelsey a brief nod. “I’ve known Blue Line for a while now. Was a good fit for me to come here when I got off the boat.” He shrugged. “Now that I’m officially out, this is home. Not a big fan of winters.”
“We get our fair share of the white stuff, that’s for certain.” Gypsy paced beside him, placing Kelsey on the side opposite to where Moby was. “And you’re right, the cold months can put a crimp on riding. Still, living in Shakey,” he shook his head with a grin, “that would keep me up at night.”
“Sh-shakey?” Kelsey murmured her question, cheek pressed to his ribs. Moby stumbled, his eyes cutting to the side, studying Kelsey’s face.
“Yeah, darlin’. California is known for its earthquakes. Rumor years ago was it would shake off the rest of the continent one day, become an island.”
“Oh, God.”
Gypsy glanced down, seeing Kelsey’s face pale. “That’s all just talk, honey. Buildings are constructed to meet code and in something like this,” he gestured towards the building in front of them, “are single story, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”
“You’re from Australia?” Moby bent forwards, staring at Kelsey from around Gypsy’s torso. “That’s a distinctive accent.”
“I-I am.”
“I rotated out of the port in Sydney for a few years. Beautiful country, good food, and better people Down Under. Welcome to the States.” Moby winked and Kelsey ducked back, slowing so she was half a step behind Gypsy.
“Th-thank you.”
Gypsy let her lag for a moment, then urged her back into her place. “Kelsey’s been here for a couple of months. She’s getting along well.”
Moby smiled at her again,
and something about the look on his face didn’t feel right to Gypsy. Smooth, and too appreciative of what he saw. Or maybe the man was trying to set an obviously uncomfortable guest at ease. “How do you like Uncle Tug?”
Gypsy was looking down so he got to see the brief flash of teeth as Kelsey smiled wide for Moby. He tried to remember the last time she’d smiled at him. When she was wacked-out of her head on meds. He tightened his grip on Kelsey, trying and failing to relax his arm. What’s this fucker’s deal? “I-I wasn’t certain wh-what to think about him at first.” She paused and her throat worked as she swallowed. “Bu-but I like him heaps now.”
Moby laughed, and Kelsey’s shoulders shifted under his arm with a matching chuckle. He gritted his teeth. “I went to Australia, to Melbourne. We met, and Kelsey came back with me. We’re married.” His mouth had opened and taken off on a tangent without his permission, but once the words were out there, he was glad. Didn’t want to take them back, because he needed Moby to know Kelsey was taken. She’s mine.
Straightening, Moby shifted his attention from Kelsey to Gypsy’s face, his expression saying he didn’t like what he saw there. Chin jutting forwards, he questioned, “Are you now?”
“Yes.” They’d reached the building, but neither made a move to open the door and go inside. “We are.”
“Then I suppose congratulations are in order. Well done, Gypsy. She’s a beauty.” The man still didn’t reach for the door. “Woman like that, you’re a lucky man.”
“I am. I thank God every day for sending me there so I could meet Kelsey.” Gypsy curled his fingers around her hip. “Life is good.”
“Glad for ya.” Moby lifted one hand then hesitated, turning to stare into Gypsy’s face. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, man. I didn’t mean anything by my words, except your woman’s voice woke a pleasant memory of good days.” Expression arrogant, he held Gypsy’s gaze. “No offense intended.”
“None taken,” Gypsy lied, his blood still boiling at what had transpired over the past few minutes. “Kelsey and I both are tired. Blue Line said there was food and a party. I don’t want to be seen as stiffing the hospitality.” He reached around Moby and grabbed the handle, twisting and pulling. “After you.” With one final glance at Kelsey, Moby turned and walked into the darkened entryway.
Kelsey pulled at his arm and Gypsy looked down, pausing as the door settled into place behind them, cool air stirring strands of her hair against his skin. “Yes, darlin’?”
“Are…are you mad at me?” Her voice was pitched low, for his ears only, and he caught the quaver she tried hard to hide. “Wh-what did I do?” He opened his mouth, but for once Kelsey continued, talking over him. “I-I did what I’ve been told. I didn’t speak to him first. I didn’t…Gypsy, what did I do?”
“Nothing, Kelsey.” Stated firmly, his words still didn’t have the effect he wanted. Kelsey’s mouth was flattened into a line, her eyes scrunched in worry. “Honey, trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you. I know you. You didn’t do anything.” He shifted her so they were front to front, her hands folded on his chest between them. “I’m not mad.”
“You sounded cranky.” She wasn’t looking at him, staring instead at some obscure spot on his shirt.
Gypsy tucked a bent knuckle under her chin, lifting her face until she had to meet his gaze. “Not at you, darlin’. Never at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She opened her mouth and closed it with a snap, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say.
“Kelsey, tell me what’s bothering you?” As if I didn’t know. He’d gone all possessive in response to Moby, and Kelsey clearly felt it disturbing. I’m an asshole. “If you don’t tell me, how can I help fix things?”
Squinting one eye, she seemed to study his face for a moment. Her mouth opened again, then closed slowly. Tucking her chin to her neck and breaking their gaze, she muttered, “I would never.”
“Would never what?” Gypsy slipped one hand up the back of her neck. Fingers threading through the strands of her hair, he palmed the curve of her skull. It caught at his heart, the way she gave herself to him like this, relaxing as he cradled her against his chest. His cock gave an unsubtle throb, threatening to come to life if he didn’t cut this contact short. “What would you never do?”
“Tease with a man. I wouldn’t get all flirty. I’m your missus, aren’t I?” She shook her head. “I’d never disrespect you like that. You’ve done so much for me, Gypsy. That’d be a piss-poor way to thank you for saving me.”
Gypsy froze as her words tore at him. Did this mean her faithfulness wasn’t driven by affection, but a sense of gratitude? She believed herself beholden to him. If she can’t love me, what does this mean? Would Kelsey be doomed to a loveless life if he kept her to himself? No matter how he felt, and he’d known for months he loved her, if he couldn’t make her happy, should he see if she wanted him to let her go?
No.
He pulled in a breath.
She’s mine.
“That was about him disrespecting you, Kels. He shouldn’t have been like that with you.” You’re mine. “I was making certain he understood what you and I have.”
“Di-did you mean what you said?” Her breathy question was asked of his shoulder, her cheek pressed deep against his chest. “Before you got mad?”
Gypsy ran his words back through his head, not finding any falsity in anything he remembered spouting. No matter the words, his message had been clear, and he wanted to make sure Kelsey knew it. “Every fuckin’ word, darlin’.”
Softer than before, her voice was scarcely audible when she asked, “You thank God?”
“Every single day.” He knew now what she’d fixed on. “Hate like fuck what you went through. Hate it with my entire being. If I could deal my anger out to those men, any of those men who put hands on you, they’d be dead a dozen times over. But—” He pulled in a breath, trying to steady himself from the sudden flare of anger that consumed him. “—it all conspired to bring me there at the exact moment you needed me. That’s God’s finger, pointing me to you. Making it so I could be what you needed most in that place. And God’s finger, it gave me you. I thank Him every day.” Tightening his arms around her, he folded his shoulders inwards, resting his burning cheek on top of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, Kels. God’s honest truth.”
“Gypsy.” His name from her soft lips was the aphrodisiac it always was. He had to shift his hips to the side so she wouldn’t know what it did to him. “You saved me.”
“What you don’t know yet, Kelsey, is you saved me, too.” He kissed the top of her head and she pulled back, staring up into his face. “You saved me, too.”
Tugboat’s voice came up the hallway, preceding him by enough Gypsy was able to pull himself together before the old man saw them. Gypsy turned them to face the corner so by the time Tug came into view, it looked as if they were already on their way. “Wondered if you got lost. What happened?” He squinted an eye, scowling at Gypsy. “Carter came in with a pissed-off face. What’d you do to put that there, huh?”
Kelsey spoke before he could, and the confidence in her voice pinned him to the spot. “Moby was being chatty, seein’ as I’m from Australia and he’s been to Sydney, so he reckoned he’d found a friend. I got nervous, and Gypsy made him stop.” She looked up at Gypsy, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I’m okay now.”
“Yeah?” Gypsy angled his face so he could see her more clearly.
She blinked and the corners of her lips tipped the slightest amount. “Yeah. It’s all good.”
“Then come inside. They’re waiting supper for you two, and I’m hungry.” Tugboat’s boot soles slapped the floor as he stalked away, his voice trailing off as he turned the corner back towards what must be the main room of the Malcontents’ clubhouse.
Gypsy urged Kelsey forwards, his arm crossing her back, hand resting on her hip. Walking like this with her now felt so natural and easy, he couldn’t imagine not
having her beside him. She laid her palm on top of his hand, fingers falling between his so he could curl around them and give her a squeeze. Connected in that way they joined the rest of the group, the noise level finally registering as a mass of people.
Gypsy looked across the sea of unfamiliar faces, trying to pick out anyone he knew. Finally, along the back wall, he found someone he recognized. Steering Kelsey in that direction, he shifted his arm, bringing her fingers to his belt and waiting until she grabbed hold before he reached out to shake Hurley’s hand.
“Brother.” Hurley leaned forwards and bumped shoulders with him.
“Good to see you, man.” Gypsy studied his face, seeing new lines and pain there. Need to get him talking, see what the story is. Hurley turned to the side, reaching behind him to draw a young woman forwards. “You remember Mela, yeah?”
“Sure, I do.” Gypsy nodded at her. “How you doin’, Carmela?”
She shrugged, sheets of dark hair rippling at the movement. “Good. Mom said to tell you hello.”
Gypsy glanced back to Kelsey, giving her a smile as he held his hand out. She moved to his side and would have stopped there, but he urged her in front of him, propping his arms on her shoulders, wrists crossed in front of her chest. “Tell Juanita I miss her.” Watcher’s wife had been a big part of the man’s life, and most of the Rebels had at least met her before his death. When she came to stay with them after his death, in those dark days before Mela had been found, Gypsy had taken the opportunity to get to know her better. “Mela, this is my Kelsey. Kels, this is Hurley’s old lady,” he grinned at how Mela wrinkled her nose at the title, “Carmela. She’s a unicorn.”
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