Gypsy's Lady Read online

  Gypsy’s Lady

  Rebel Wayfarers MC

  #11. 5

  MariaLisa deMora

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover image by Eric Battershell Photography

  Models: Tessi Conquest and Jamie Walker

  Cover design: Debera Kuntz

  Copyright © 2018 MariaLisa deMora

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First Published 2018

  ISBN 13: 978-1-946738-11-0

  DEDICATION

  Home is where one starts from. ~ T.S. Eliot

  For Lila Rose, who graciously invited me into her world, then granted me keys so I could stay a while.

  CONTENTS

  Current day

  The beginning

  San Diego

  Chicago

  Hurry

  Making changes

  Rebel Wayfarers MC

  You earned it

  Decision time

  Line in the sand

  Prospecting

  Melbourne, Australia, five years later

  Hawks MC

  Learning to live

  After Oz

  Questions

  Rumors and lies

  Traveling West

  California

  Strength and love

  Old enemies

  Forever Rebels

  Malcontents MC

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  What do you do when a USA Today bestselling author asks you to entertain the idea of having your two motorcycle club worlds overlap?

  You say yes, idgit. That’s what they call a no brainer.

  And that’s what I did back in 2016 when the lovely Lila Rose, author of the Hawks MC book series, suggested we blend our worlds for her book, Living Without. While entirely her work in terms of storyline, character involvement, and of course every aspect of her Hawks characters, when published, the book contained several scenes where my writing introduced the RWMC characters of Mason and Gypsy. It was fabulous fun working with her, and I cannot thank her enough for the experience.

  Then, I had even more for which to thank her, because she gifted me a character to bring back to my world. Sweet, damaged Kelsey had evolved into my Gypsy’s love interest, and I couldn’t wait to see where their narrative took us.

  The book you hold is testament to both Lila’s generosity and the love readers have for these characters. While the desire to craft their story was there (and so were the questions from readers), life and deadlines got in the way, delaying this book time and time again. Eventually, I was able to sink my teeth into their love and lives, and pen the long-anticipated continuation of their story.

  Every book needs a cover that reflects the story within, right? And this cover is brilliant, isn’t it? Always a pleasure to work with Eric Battershell, and acquiring this image was no different. His artistry with a camera is awe-inspiring, and this photo of Tessi Conquest and Jamie Walker is breathtaking—and exactly what was needed for the book. The image is only part of the equation, however, and it was the brilliant Debera Kuntz who made it perfect in her ineffable way. Becky Johnson and her crew at Hot Tree Editing, as always, played a large part in polishing the story, and I can’t say enough good things about them. Thanks to all involved for helping bring Gypsy and Kelsey to life.

  We like to think that writing is a solitary exercise. What not everyone understands is once a tale’s been released into the wild, the story no longer belongs solely to the author. Each reader claims a bit of ownership, as they take the story and tint it with their own experiences and understandings. Here’s hoping what we’ve wrought together stands up to scrutiny, and you love Gypsy and his beautiful Kelsey as much as I do.

  Woofully yours,

  ~ML

  Gypsy’s Lady

  Gypsy's Lady is a story two years in the making! In 2016, the lovely Lila Rose gave me an opportunity to drop a character from my Rebel Wayfarers MC into the Hawks MC, in her Caroline Springs book #4, Living Without. What you now hold is a continuation of my Gypsy and his love interest Kelsey’s story line from that book. I highly recommend you read Lila’s story before you crack the cover of Gypsy’s Lady. ~ML

  Current day

  Gypsy

  He smiled as he watched her walk towards him, hips swaying seductively side to side with the magnetism of a siren’s call. Her dark hair shone in the dim illumination, rich with a thousand highlights. Curled around her jaw on one side, strands of it were tucked behind an ear, no doubt carried there by a casual gesture from her elegant fingers. Those unforgettable blue eyes were fixed on him, widening as she studied him, reading his mood as only she could. Kelsey smiled and rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth curving up crookedly, a flash of teeth testimony to her amusement at his blatant stare. She’s mi— Before the thought could complete, he was flying through the air, deaf and blind, a mist of blood appearing in the dust and smoke from where Kelsey had been.

  Gypsy rolled onto his back and stared upwards through the shattered ceiling at the night sky. Flashes of light ghosted across the inside of his eyelids as he blinked, blinding remnants of the explosion attempting to cloud his vision. He lifted his head to find the end of the building was gone. Long pieces of splintered lumber protruded from the walls and ceiling, appearing dangerously unstable. Growing noise buzzed loudly in his head, and he rocked up on one elbow, steadying himself for a moment before he pushed to his feet in a panic. Kelsey.

  Frantic, he swung in a circle, gaze tracking across the bent and twisted wreckage surrounding him. Pool tables had been tossed to the side, shredded. There were pieces of masonry embedded in the green felt surfaces.

  Everywhere he looked there were vague outlines of slow-moving figures, features coming in and out of focus as the dust swirled through the ruined building. He caught a glimpse of Tugboat, face half covered with blood. Maggie was tucked under one arm and seemed to be helping him towards the light coming from the front of the clubhouse.

  Blue Line raced up to Gypsy, careless feet scattering fragments of ceiling tiles now inexplicably on the floor. “Where’s Belle?” Gypsy shook his head, still scanning the room for Kelsey. His terror palpable, Blue Line screamed, “Dammit, have you seen her?”

  Ignoring Blue Line, Gypsy ran towards the last place he remembered Kelsey standing. His path was erratic as he bent over each large piece of rubble in turn before tossing it to the side to look underneath. Nothing. Where, God, please? Please, show me. A massive cooler lid lay in front of him, white enamel finish marred with soot. What looked like a broad swath of blood was streaked from one edge to the next, ending with four small fingerprints.

  Gypsy gripped the edges and heaved, air rushing out of his lungs when he heard a soft groan. A second shove displaced the heavy door and Kelsey lay sprawled underneath, face turned to the side. Blood pooled under her head, and he watched with terrified intensity until her chest rose and fell with a slow breath. “Jesus, baby.” He fell to his knees, aware Blue Line had followed him and was talking, but Gypsy’s entire focus stayed on Kelsey. “Please, darlin’. Be okay. Please be okay.”

  The beginning

  Douglas Tatum

  “I still say you don’t have a clue how tough things can be elsewhere.” Still breathless from a heart-pounding chase down a darkened San Diego back alley, Detective Douglas Tatum threw the words over his shoulder towards where his partner st
ood, panting from the same all-out sprint. Doug’s chest was pressed tightly to the back of the man wedged against the wall, and when he felt his captive tense, he kicked the man’s feet a little farther apart, limiting his ability to try and regain his freedom. “At least it’s always warm here.” Doug had grown up hundreds of miles north and east from where he currently stood in San Diego. He could have spent hours explaining to his partner exactly how cushy their job was in comparison to the other places Doug had worked since graduating with his criminal science degree.

  Detective Dirk Norwood stood ten feet away, fists shoved against his hips, scowling down at his shoes as he caught his breath. “I stepped in shit. These are three-hundred-dollar shoes. Lucky I didn’t fall in it. Jesus.” As Doug wrestled his prisoner’s wrists down to the small of his back and snapped a pair of handcuffs around them, he kept part of his attention on Norwood, watching as the man tried to scrape the sides of his shoes against the brick surface of the alleyway. “And when I move up and away from this shithole—” He scraped his shoe again. “—a literal shithole, I can either take you with me or leave you in my dust, Tatum. Your choice.”

  “Norwood, man. I do not know what angle you’re working—” The man in his hands gave a vicious lurch and twist, trying to pull out of his grip and Doug yanked him back, applying just a little more force than absolutely necessary. His captive got the message and again subsided, muscles relaxing.

  “Not an angle, my good friend. This is a one-way ticket past the fucking ceiling they have in this shithole of a district, and I’m going to ride the train of good fortune way the hell away from here.”

  Doug wasn’t certain what kind of scam Norwood was working. He didn’t really want to know, either. All he wanted to do was finish this cross-department cultural exchange that had been shoved down his throat by an ambitious politician back in Chicago, get done with his stint here in Cali, and go home. About the only thing he did know about any scam was that nothing was ever free. Everything had a value and depending on what part of your life you were willing to barter with, it could even be worth the price. Could be, but that was not a given. Doug shook his head. From the looks of the friends Norwood had most recently acquired, men Doug had seen two nights ago through the dim lighting of the back halls in the local bar, he wouldn’t bet his enemy’s money on that association being worth what it could cost. No fucking way.

  Before he could say anything in response, the perp in his grip jerked and heaved, then bent double, vomiting in a stream to splatter his pants and Doug’s shoes. Fucking perfect.

  Back at the station with their prisoner deposited in holding, Doug was seated at his desk as he shuffled the filled-out paperwork in his hands, tapping the edges on the surface, straightening and neatening the pile. Then he did it again. His eyes weren’t on the busywork but aimed across the room at the window into the captain’s office, where Norwood could be seen pacing back and forth, arms swinging in animated conversation. The officers in the room had heard the captain’s voice a couple of times, raised in a heavy buzz of unintelligible sounds but still conveying a clear and pronounced discontent.

  They hadn’t been back from booking for more than ten minutes when Cap had called Norwood in, anger making the already noticeable lines on the older man’s face even more prominent. No reason was given from across the room, just Norwood’s name on a low growl.

  Movement by the main door pulled Doug’s attention that direction, and he watched as a pair of expensive-suited, smooth-faced men walked in. Looking neither left nor right, they marched in tandem across the room and straight into the captain’s office without knocking. A moment later the slats were pulled across the windows, closing any view of the office off from the main room.

  “Sheeeeit.” Doug cut his eyes to a pair of men standing near Norwood’s desk. Joel Graham and Nick Thornton shifted their gazes from the office door back to Doug.

  Graham shook his head. “Not good, Doug. Didja see ‘em? That’s gotta be IA, man.” Joel was also on temporary assignment to San Diego from where the navy had had him stationed somewhere up by the Bay area. Nice guy, opinionated as hell and fucking intense, but Doug had quickly become accustomed to the volatility of the New Jersey native. Doug still found it hard to correlate the harsh twangs of the Jersey accent underlying the smoothness of Joel’s more recently acquired Cali tones.

  Internal Affairs was never something a unit wanted to show on their floor, and Doug knew word of their arrival would be running rampant throughout the station within minutes.

  He heard more shouting from the captain’s office then watched as the blinds flattened against the window in the unmistakable outline of a large, male body, as if someone had been pushed hard, catching themselves against the glass surface.

  Nick shuffled his feet. His southern drawl hit the air, but instead of belling out like a hound per normal, his voice was pitched to stay close, conveying he too felt the situation deserved solemnity. “Did either of you know Norwood before this exchange?” Nick was from South Carolina, temporarily transferring cross-country from the Atlantic to the Pacific. He was full of stories about his wife. Seven months pregnant, she’d stuck close to home to be near family and her doctor. Nick would be headed back sooner than the rest of them to be there for the birth of his son. His devotion to his family was heartwarming, and none of the men ever ribbed him about it. What Nick had with his wife was the kind of relationship Doug wanted someday.

  Of the four men assigned the desks in this area for the past two months, Norwood was the only one permanently assigned to this department.

  Doug shook his head. “No. He picked me up at the airport. That was my first intro.”

  “You know he was in a high-profile district before this assignment?” Doug angled his head to look at Joel and waited. “Scuttlebutt is he fucked up big-time on a case and was on the brink of dismissal, took a demotion and transfer to see if he could be salvaged.” Joel thumbed over his shoulder at the office. “That in there is looking very much like an unsalvageable career to me.”

  Shouting from the captain’s office had them all turning to look as the door swung open and an obviously furious Norwood stalked out, headed straight towards them. He didn’t pause, just snatched up his jacket from the back of his chair and walked past them without speaking, head high, bright color flagging each cheek.

  “Norwood.” Doug got out the man’s name, but Norwood’s stride didn’t falter, and Doug watched as the door swung shut with force, closing Norwood out and them inside.

  “Probably should go after him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Nick’s twang was thick, his tone urgent. He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll call if there’s anything we can do.”

  Joel was silent, and Doug’s gut churned. He understood Nick’s desire to support the man they’d worked with for these past weeks, but something was off. Nothing he could point to, but his mind paired Norwood’s arrogant statements earlier in the day with the characters he’d seen the man talking to give him a distinctly uneasy feeling. “Nick, maybe…” His words trailed off, and he wasn’t certain for a moment what the next ones would be.

  Nick took any decision out of his hands. “I got this. I’ll just see where his head’s at, see if he can tell me what IA wanted, and then I’ll report back in, let y’all know what we can do.”

  ***

  Standing beside the bar, Doug listened to the woman next to him talking to her friend, Joel’s date for the night. Still unsure where Joel had found the pair, with every word falling from this broad’s mouth he found himself retreating farther. The double-date Joel had set up sounded like a distraction and a good idea. At the time, he thought and shook his head.

  “Am I right?” She picked up her martini glass, swirling the liquid with a confident smirk before taking a drink. “I don’t need a man for nothing these days. I can bring home the bacon and cook it myself, no male influence needed.” She turned slightly, gesturing towards the bartender. “I work, make my own money
, and I can do what I damn well want.” Leaning towards the bar, arms wedged alongside her tits to squeeze together the ample cleavage she hadn’t been shy about showing the whole bar, she smiled and slid her now-empty glass across. “Another one, sugar.”

  Jesus. Doug angled his gaze across the space between them and caught Joel’s eye-roll. They both knew what she meant was she only needed a man for one thing, and it wasn’t money. I’m done with this.

  “Did your daddy call you princess?” The “oh, shit” look on Joel’s face was priceless, but Doug’s question got the woman’s attention for the first time since she’d sat her ass on the stool he’d vacated for her. “That tiara surgically implanted yet, or you still have the ability to pull it off once in a while?”

  “Excuse me?” One eyebrow arched up under her fluffy bangs, artfully arranged across her forehead, while the other had snapped into place over one squinty eye. “What did you just say?”

  “Princess, I see how this is going.” The bartender edged closer with the shaker and glass, gaze darting back and forth, probably trying to gauge the possibility for an explosive encounter should he come too near. “I think I’ve heard enough to make up my mind about the evening.” Doug reached out and tapped the bar, waiting a beat for the glass to be set down and filled. He scooped it up and frowned as the woman flinched back as if he were going to toss it on her. Should probably think about dry-cleaning before you open your mouth. “I’ve decided my time is better spent in different company.” He tipped the glass up, drained it dry, and grimaced at the harsh bite of gin. “I don’t mind a woman who knows her own mind. I enjoy it, actually. The back-and-forth, a satisfying give-and-take that can be found in company with a confident, self-assured woman. What I don’t like? That would be little girls who think they can play the martyr about jobs or relationships to try and prove their worth to themselves when all they’re really looking to do is one-up the next girl in whatever line they imagine they’re in. I want a woman who is interested in how we, as in she and I, fit together. Not how she can bend me to edge in alongside her.” He set the glass back on the bar and flipped a couple of bills at the bartender.