Gypsy King

by Devney Perry

  “So, it’s Friday. I don’t have to be at the garage. Let’s do something.”

  “Something,” I drew out the word. Did he just ask me out on a date? What happened to sex only during the investigation? A Friday spent together was something a couple would do. We were not a couple, though I wouldn’t say no to a day reserved for sex with Dash.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged a shoulder. “What were you going to do next to look into Amina?”

  “Oh. Right.” Amina. This wasn’t about sex or spending time with me on his day off. Silly me. Time to get back on track. “I want to know why she left town after high school. Where she’d been. Why she came back to Clifton Forge and why she called your dad.”

  “’Kay.”

  I stood and breezed by him as I left the laundry room. “I was going to go back to the high school and finish checking yearbooks. You know, the ones I was looking at when you called the cops to the library.”

  “How long are you going to throw that at me?” He followed me to the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the floor.

  “Forever. Remember? I don’t like you.”

  “Good to know.” Dash chuckled and nodded at my coffee mug. “Got any more of that coffee?”

  “Sure.” I took out a mug and set it under my single cup brewer. With a pod brewing, I faced him. The island was between us, keeping me from reaching for those tattooed arms. They were so . . . ugh. Tempting. He was so annoyingly tempting. And he really needed to get dressed.

  “Do you want to come with me to the school?” I asked, handing him his full mug. Maybe if I brought Dash along, it would be easier to face Samantha at the school’s front desk. I was thoroughly embarrassed to face her again after being arrested. A sidekick, especially one as distracting as Dash, might take away some of the focus on me.

  “Um . . . maybe.” The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he sipped the coffee. “Do you know where she’s been living? Bozeman, right? That’s what your article said.”

  “Yep.” I’d gotten that information from Chief Wagner when he’d given me the preliminary report on Amina along with her name.

  “Let’s skip the school. Take a road trip instead.”

  I’d been contemplating a trip to Bozeman anyway. It was two hours one way, and depending on what we found, it would take up the entire day. I’d already delivered my content for this Sunday’s paper and I was ahead on Wednesday’s. If I was going to write something about Amina in next week’s edition, I’d need to get new information soon.

  “All right.” I nodded. “But I’d still like to drop by the school.”

  “Why? We’re probably not going to find much there anyway.”

  We’d likely find a few more old pictures, and while they might shed light on teenaged Amina, it was more important to know the person she’d grown into as an adult. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We can skip the school and get on the road. I need to text my dad and tell him I won’t be in today. Then we can go.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “Mind if I use the shower?”

  “Go for it. Towels are in the tall cabinet.”

  “Want to join me?” He winked.

  I ignored the rush of heat between my legs. “We don’t have time.”

  “Babe.” He set down the cup on the island and sauntered my way, his slow, steady strides raising my heart rate with every step. I gripped the edge of the island and prayed my body didn’t melt at his feet. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like the fingertips he shifted into my hair. “There’s all the time in the world.”

  “We should go.” There was no conviction behind that statement.

  “Tomorrow, don’t shower without me.”

  I suddenly wished it was tomorrow.

  With a playful tug on my ear, Dash dropped his hand from my hair and walked out of the kitchen. This time, his steps were sure and swift. Those of a man ready to get to work.

  I closed my eyes and let my heart rate settle to normal, then made us travel cups of coffee while the water ran in the bathroom.

  Dash was mere feet away, naked and wet. I unloaded the dishwasher so I wouldn’t go anywhere near the bathroom. Then I readied my purse for the trip, taking out the extra notepads I wouldn’t need for this story. I sat at the island, drinking my coffee until Dash came out wearing yesterday’s clothes and his signature, cocky grin.

  “Here.” I held out a travel mug.

  “No cup holders on the bike.”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “Cup holders.” He went to the front door to pull on a boot. “My bike doesn’t have them.”

  “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m driving. My car comes equipped with cup holders.”

  Dash straightened. “We’re taking the bike.”

  “No, I’ll dri—”

  “Babe, the bike is fun. Trust me.”

  “You told me not to trust you.”

  He grinned. “Make an exception. Riding through Montana in the summer is unbeatable.”

  “Fine.” I shoved his coffee mug into his belly and tipped mine to my lips, guzzling because I didn’t want to risk falling asleep on the motorcycle.

  “That was easier than I thought it would be.” He took a long drink from his own cup.

  “Shut up.” Did I secretly want to ride on his Harley? Yes. But I’d die before admitting that to him.

  I set my cup down on the island and began digging the essentials out of my purse and wallet. Cash. Credit cards. Driver’s license. Lip gloss. Hair tie. Gum. Phone. The jeans I was wearing were tight and the pockets wouldn’t keep it all, so the hair tie went on a wrist. The gum, money and cards into my jeans. But the other items still needed a new home.

  I looked at Dash and smiled. Then I moved into his space, nice and close. My fingers hooked in his jeans pocket, pulling it open as his breath hitched. With my things dropped into his pocket, I patted his thigh before backing away. “All set.”

  “Careful.” Dash palmed his zipper, making a blatant adjustment to his cock. “I might make you go in there to get them back.”

  My core tightened. “I might insist.”

  Outside, the morning air was fresh and clean. We walked to Dash’s bike and he sat on the dewy seat first. “Climb on.”

  “Helmets?” I hadn’t minded when it was just a slow ride through town. But the highway? I was insisting on a helmet.

  Dash opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he saw the look on my face. I was guessing it was part fear, part excitement.

  “Please?”

  He sighed. “We’ll stop by the garage and pick them up.”

  “Thank you.” I settled into the seat behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Then he started the motorcycle, roaring away from the curb and down the street.

  To my relief, the garage wasn’t open when we arrived. I wasn’t ready to show up on Dash’s bike and get questioning looks from his employees about why I was wrapped around their boss. With the way Dash jogged inside to retrieve a helmet, I guessed he wasn’t ready to address our relationship with his employees either.

  After Dash insisted I wear his leather jacket and buckled the matte-black helmet on my head—he refused one for himself—we rode out of town. The crisp morning did more to keep me awake than coffee ever could, and it was a thrill to be behind Dash as he navigated the curved highway.

  I felt the shift in his muscles as he leaned us to one side or the other. The power of him and the machine between my legs. A couple of times, he’d let go of the handlebar with one hand to grip my thigh, those long fingers giving it a squeeze to make sure I was okay. I’d tightened my arms around his ribs in a silent yes.

  The familiarity of my hometown wrapped around me as we arrived in Bozeman. These were the streets where I’d learned to drive. We passed my high school and the restaurant where we’d always celebrated Dad’s birthdays. We rode by stores and buildings that hadn’t been there during my youth, the changes I’d missed living in the city.

  I’d always pictured coming ba
ck here and having a family. I’d hoped one day to return to Bozeman and go house hunting with my husband. I’d wanted to send my kids to the same school where I’d gone.

  Being here was bittersweet. The memories swirled together with dreams now gone. A pang of sorrow hit and I pushed it away, not wanting to think about my lack of husband and children.

  I didn’t need them to be happy.

  But I wanted them all the same.

  When we reached an intersection, I pointed for Dash to take a left. Then I navigated us through town and toward Amina’s address. I’d pulled it from public records one day and had jotted it in my yellow notepad in preparation for this trip.

  Dash slowed down on the residential streets as my eyes scanned house fronts for numbers.

  “There.” I pointed to a pale peach two-story home.

  We parked and I climbed off the motorcycle first, removing my helmet. Dash simply stood and raked a hand through his hair to tame the windblown mess. Two swipes and it looked perfectly disheveled. I pulled my hair tie off my wrist, twisting my mane up into a knot.

  “This was her house?” Dash pointed to her place.

  “It’s cute.” Her home was located on a pocket park. Bordered by five nearly identical homes, the park had two picnic tables and a playground for kids. The block formed a horseshoe around the park. In front of Amina’s home, there was a For Sale sign freshly staked into the green grass. “I hadn’t expected it to be listed already.”

  “Now what?” Dash asked.

  “Now”—I held out my hand—“you give me my phone and we go house hunting.”

  One call to the realtor and she was on her way to show us into the house.

  “Didn’t waste any time getting it on the market,” Dash said as we sat at the picnic table, waiting for the realtor.

  “It’s not like she’s coming back. I’m sure her daughter or whoever is settling the estate wanted to get it up this summer so it would sell before winter.”

  “Yeah. Nice place.”

  “It sure is. All this is new from when I grew up here. This all used to be farmland.”

  This subdivision would have been on my short list as a mother. It was exactly the kind of place I would have wanted to have my kids grow up in, where we’d know the neighbors and the children would all play together on Saturday afternoons.

  My place in Clifton Forge was a single-story home, like all the others on the street. There was minimal yard area. The HOA took care of shoveling snow from the sidewalks. I’d moved in and learned that I was the youngest person on the block, surrounded by elderly couples and a retired widower.

  As the street’s new spinster, I fit right in.

  A car door slammed. The realtor from the sign smiled and waved as she came our way. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” I smiled. Dash and I both stood, and when we were on our feet, I slipped my hand into his. The arm attached stiffened.

  Good to know how he feels about hand-holding. There was no time to let that irritate me because the realtor was speed walking our way, her hand held out the entire time.

  After introductions, she led us into the house. “Your timing is perfect. We just put this on the market yesterday afternoon. This neighborhood is so desirable right now. It will go quick.”

  “It’s adorable.” I smiled up at Dash, pretending to be the happy couple. When the realtor stepped up to the door, I squeezed his fingers. “Don’t you just love this porch, honey?”

  “Uh . . .”

  This guy. I’d held his hand and his brain had short-circuited. I rolled my eyes and mouthed pretend.

  “Right.” Dash’s tense arm relaxed. “It’s perfect, baby.”

  The realtor stood and pushed the door open to let us inside first. Then she flipped on lights behind us as we let ourselves wander.

  “This is three bedrooms, two and a half baths. Open concept, as you can see. It was built six years ago and has only had one owner. She took incredible care of the place, and the seller is interested in selling it furnished.”

  “That might be great, wouldn’t it, sweetie?” I asked Dash.

  He threw an arm around my shoulders. “Sure would be. We’ve been wanting new furniture. That couch looks a hell of a lot nicer than ours.”

  I faked a laugh, stepping out of his hold to look around. My eyes searched for pictures, any clues to Amina’s life. It wasn’t easy with the realtor hovering, but luckily, her phone rang.

  “Would you mind if I stepped out onto the porch to take this?” she asked, already moving that way. “Feel free to show yourselves around. I’ll catch up.”

  Dash closed the door behind her and we both watched as she walked toward the park, her phone pressed to her ear.

  I hustled over to an end table and opened the drawer. Empty. Then I hurried to the next, doing the same. It only had the remote for the television. The kitchen was my next stop and I started with the drawers in there too.

  Dash followed, glancing over his shoulder to the front door. “What are you looking for?” he whispered.

  “Anything that might tell us about Amina.”

  “’Kay.” He went to a drawer, but I stopped him with a glare.

  “No. You stand guard.” I waved him away. “If she comes back, distract her.”

  He scowled. “How?”

  “I don’t know. Smile at her. That seems to make most women fall at your feet.”

  “Except for you,” he muttered.

  I stayed focus on my search, not bothering to correct him. Dash didn’t need to know that his smile was just as lethal on me too.

  The kitchen didn’t have anything other than typical kitchen stuff. There wasn’t even a junk drawer with old mail. Maybe the daughter had come and cleaned things out already? Maybe Amina was a neat freak?

  I bolted up the stairs, glancing left and right to get my bearings. Then I went right for the master bedroom. Downstairs, there had been no pictures. Nothing framed on end tables or above the fireplace mantel. And the same was true here.

  There wasn’t a hint of the life lived inside these walls. I wasn’t completely surprised, but I had hoped for a photo here and there.

  I checked the drawers in the master bedroom and bathroom for good measure, but all were empty, as I’d expected. I was finishing up my loop through the guest bedroom when I heard Dash’s voice carry up the stairs.

  “Nope. No kids. Thank God.”

  Really? Was that last part necessary? It was a good thing I was only using him for sex. Even pretending to be a couple was exhausting. First the hand-holding. Now the aversion to kids. Yes, it was a very good thing this was sex only.

  I put on a smile and brushed a fallen lock of hair off my face as I came into the hallway. I went right to Dash’s side, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s such a beautiful home. I can see us living here. Having babies here. Lots and lots of babies.”

  A visible grimace crossed his face.

  “If you two would like some time to talk over an offer, I’d be happy to meet you back at my office.” The realtor beamed with dollar signs in her eyes. “You don’t have a buyer’s agent, correct?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “But I think we’ll need a little more time to discuss. Maybe over lunch. Could we call you later?”

  “Absolutely.” Her card came flying out of her hand, faster than a poker cheat with an ace up her sleeve.

  We followed her out of the house, lingering on the sidewalk as she got into her car. She was on the phone again before she even slid into the driver’s seat. The moment her car was gone, I took a healthy step away from Dash.

  “That was unproductive.” I frowned. “I hadn’t expected it to be listed so soon. And for all the personal touches to be erased. Amina’s family must have cleared it out fast. I didn’t see a picture or anything.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Damn,” I muttered, pacing the sidewalk just as a woman pushed a stroller around the corner. I didn’t think much of her until she walked up to the house beside
Amina’s.

  “Excuse me, miss?” I waved as I approached. “Did you happen to know your neighbor?”

  “Amina? Well, sure.” Her shoulders fell. “I was so sad to hear what happened to her.”

  “Me too.” I held out my hand. “My name is Bryce. I’m a journalist and I’m writing a piece about her. A memorial of sorts.” Not entirely a lie.

  “Oh.” She shook my hand. “That’s nice.”

  “We just came by to see where she lived and get a glimpse into her life. It seems like this place fits her. It’s charming and beautiful.”

  “She was both those things,” the young woman replied. “We loved having her as our neighbor.”

  “Was it just Amina? She lived alone, right?”

  She nodded. “Her daughter visited occasionally. She came last week to clear out her mom’s stuff. Poor thing. She looked heartbroken doing it all by herself.”

  “Oh, that’s awful. There was no other family?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Amina didn’t have many visitors. Just her daughter a couple of times a year and the boyfriend who’d visit on the occasional weekend. But it was normally just her. She made me enough meals for two weeks when the baby was born.”

  “That’s lovely,” I said, though my mind was still stuck on one word. “I didn’t realize Amina had a boyfriend.”

  “Oh, yes. Except maybe boyfriend isn’t the right term. I don’t know how serious they were. But he was here every now and then.”

  “Do you happen to know his name?”

  “Sorry. Amina didn’t talk about him much. And when he came, they kind of kept to themselves, if you know what I mean. He’d get here late on a Friday night. Leave Sunday morning before church.”

  “I see.” Sounded like Amina had had a booty call, not a boyfriend. Was it Draven? Had they been sleeping together for a while? “Well, thank you. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. Good luck with your memorial. Amina was the best.”

  I waved, stepping away but paused. “Can I ask you one more question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know what he looked like? The boyfriend?”

  “He was probably her age. Older. About the same height as him.” She pointed a finger at Dash, who still stood in front of Amina’s house. “I only saw him two or three times and always as he was leaving. Like I said, Amina didn’t talk about him much and I didn’t want to pry. I have a feeling that he was from her past and came with some memories.”