GYPSY
Copyright © 2018 Roux Cantrell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, and events portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by author.
An Ink and Art Original
Published in the United States by Ink and Art Publishing LLC, Louisiana
Cover art and formatting by Poole Publishing Services LLC
Editing by Patty Duhon Lail
To my family, for always being there,
my journey would be incomplete without you
For my friends for never failing to keep me laughing
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With every book, there are many people to thank. First, Delaney Foster for always keeping me focused and on track. For my brothers and sisters making sure I know the rules of the road.
The Gypsy Kings
Nicolea Petrovic aka Gypsy ... President
Misha Pavlenko aka Cruise ... Vice President
Stephan Demidov aka Tabor ... Sergeant at arms
Rafe Bondarev aka Wrench ... Sergeant at arms
Iosif Annikov aka Fiddler
Kiril Pavlov aka Angel
Dimitri Nardin aka Wick
Luca Fanin aka Tool... Treasurer
Yuri Goraya aka Preacher
Yasha Goraya aka Bones
Valentine Lobachevsky aka Romeo
Adrik Shvernik aka Doc... Secretary
Sasha Bagrov aka Tumbler
Ivan Serebrov aka Dagger
Sergei Aminev aka Hammer
Igor Yablonev aka Caretaker
Ilya Travkin aka Trip
Savin Kapisa aka Crow
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Prologue
When you’ve been held back and pushed down your whole life, to find a way to feel free from those chains, you grasp it with both hands. It can be almost perfect at times.
For Nicolea Petrovic the world faded away when he blasted down the highway on his Harley. His club brother’s behind him had his back always. Either on or off the road. If there were anywhere his sins could disappear, it would be right there on the highway, wind in his face roar of the engine in his ears, concrete beneath him.
The called themselves Tsyganskiye Koroli which translated to gypsy kings. The guys had started calling Nicolea ‘Gypsy’ and it stuck. Over the years each man managed to get their own road name from one place or another. Each man had their own stories, the two men on his six were his sergeants at arms. Rafe and Stephan better known as Wrench and Tabor. The name of the club stuck because Gypsy always said they were all kings.
They had a code. One they each lived by and no one, no one ever broke the code. Pulling off the highway he led them into town. It was time for a break. His damn phone had been buzzing in his back pocket for over an hour. Taking a deep breath, he tried to not think about who may be calling.
Parking the bike, he sat waiting for his crew to line up. Reaching in his back pocket he took the phone out to see twenty-five missed calls. One from his father and the rest from Velean. A low growl came from within him, Gypsy was tired of the situation with her. Hitting the call button, he waited for her to answer, which she did with a clipped tone.
“I have been calling you!”
“And I didn’t answer. Busy. What do you want?”
“We have plans tonight.”
“Like I would be able to forget. Do. Not. Call me again or I won’t be there.” Gypsy hung up before another word could be said. He needed a change and soon. Climbing off the bike he walked with Wrench and Tabor as everyone piled in to the small cafe. He listened to the sounds of voices but didn’t hear what was said. His mind was far away from the cafe and his crew. It was thinking of a different life one where he had no rules, no responsibility’s, one where he made the decisions in every facet of his life.
Coming up as an enforcer in his father’s world earning him the right to be king. Hell, his right to breath. If anyone was going to take it away from him, they would have to be ready for one hell of a fight.
Gypsy needed a change. Something to shake things up. The thought was futile due to his circumstances with Velean. Bitch needed to be out of the picture.
“Gypsy, beer?”
Nodding his head Gypsy needed to get his head back in the game...
Chapter One
Gypsy eyed the woman before him remembering who he was with and who he was when with her. Here he was Nicolea Petrovic. Settling behind his playmate for the evening. She had the temper it took to deal with him on his worst day. A master at the art of seduction, the world slipped away as Nicolea devoured Velean’s body. He loved watching as she relented to his demands. He could command her with a touch or a whisper, his choices in the bedroom usually reflected his mood. It was Velean’s choice to be here. If she wanted to leave, all she had to do was say so. After all, she had searched him out as a dominant. It had taken Gypsy some time to decide on having Velean as a submissive. She didn’t have the temperament that worked in a submissive for him. She liked to push him. He begun looking at it as a test. Gypsy never lost control, he viewed Velean as a challenge. Then things changed.
Gypsy was, for lack of a better word, private. And private seemed too simple when it came to “Nicolea Petrovic”. His personal life remained secret on many levels. How Velean had found the ammunition to keep him in their relationship eluded him. Looking at her, he had to get out of his own headspace or he wouldn’t finish their session.
The tension eased from him as he brought Velean to the edge and then pulled her back. For him it wasn’t the trust she gave to him. The trust between Dominant and Submissive was important. It didn’t work without the trust. She had to trust that in his care she was safe. Nicolea had never forgotten those things, although when with Velean he pushed her further then he should sometimes because she forced him to remain with her.
Velean needed the release and this was her time. Gypsy loved the sensuality of the touch as he ran his hands over a woman’s skin. They responded to his touch exquisitely. They found sexual pleasure in the mastery of his hands, and even from his voice as he demanded things from them. He found peace in that submission, he would give her what she craved.
Leaning back, he observed Velean. A little push and she slowly fell over the edge. He slid his cock into her slow and deep. Quickened his pace, pounding into her. She looked exquisite with her head tilted back trying not to scream. Gypsy would wrench the screams from her. She would beg him to stop, she would beg him for more before he was done, she would beg him to cum. He had placed a beautiful black leather mask over her eyes. Securing her to the bed, kept her hands away from his body. Her nails were an issue for him. She kept them filed into points and sharp as hell. He only allowed her to have them free once. Thinking about those razors, he ran a fingertip along her body, making her moan a little softer. He plunged hard and fast.
She gave him the scream he demanded. Gypsy would take that for now.
Following her with his own climax. Only taking seconds to compose himself before rolling away leaving Velean right where she was. He listened as Velean continued to moan. Using an old ploy, she rubbed her legs together to get him back on her. Reaching up he freed her hands. Leveling a stare at her, one she knew very well. If she attempted to touch him, their evening would end right then and there. Gypsy was normally one to give a lot of care after the fact, but not with Velean. Velean didn’t appreciate any of it. She knew the truth, if she wasn’t blackmailing him they wouldn’t be in bed together.
Sitting up, he cracked his neck before stepping away from the bed. Walking into the adjacent bathroom Gypsy stepped in the shower, wanting to wash the smell of her from his skin. It was about time to end this game.
After dressing, he sat on the leather sofa sipping a glass of Lagavulin 1976. Beauty could be found in many places, he thought as Velean walked in a long satin robe. Her heeled slippers clicked on the marble floor as she sauntered around. Yes, beauty could be found in many places, even in those with an ugly heart. Gypsy took another pull on his drink. Setting the glass down on the side table, he rose, moving around Velean. He picked up his jacket and keys.
“Nicolea, are you leaving?”
“Yes, Velean, I’m done for the evening.”
Chapter Two
Mariquinn walked through the streets. The area she was in was the older part of the city and mostly inhabited by gypsies. Being a gypsy herself, Mariquinn’s family had many businesses that the women operated. The men were the muscle. The buildings were older but well kept. Each one housed at least one family, maybe more, depending on how large the family was and how wealthy. Living in the city was costly.
Looking up, she saw older ladies hanging clothes out to dry. She stopped to watch how they pulled the lines across pulley systems, so they could get the clothes lined up across the alleyways. Her mind thought about how she could use pulleys in her act. Mariquinn was an aerialist performing at the festivals.
Two dogs rushed by Mariquinn, almost knocking her down. Smiling, she moved on along. She loved coming into the city to help at her mother’s shop, it beat helping her sisters at the other stores.
As she walked along, Mariquinn breathed in the smells of fresh brewed coffee and warm traditional bread from a bakery. She could already smell open air restaurants cooking lunchtime specialties. Yes, she truly liked being in the city sometimes. She just didn’t want to live in the city. She needed to be among the trees.
Stepping through the doorway of her mother’s shop she smelled chocolate, and not just any chocolate, her mother was famous for her candies and hot cocoa.
“Mariquinn, what are you doing standing there? Let’s get to work, we have a lot of orders today.”
“Yes mamma.”
Mariquinn dropped her backpack behind the counter and slipped on an apron. Knowing the drill, she went straight to work.
Gypsy stood talking to Wrench and Tabor. On more than one occasion they had protected him with their lives. Coming up in his world wasn’t a walk in the park like most would think. It was a minefield most days. Being the next in line for king of the gypsies put a target on his head. If he was out of the picture, another family could step forward and petition their eldest son to be king. See, Nicolea was the only son of the current king. What most people didn’t understand was that the term “king” did not mean wealthy or even having complete control over lands and peoples. It meant that person would be the one standing between his people and whatever regime ruled. Being king meant his life was at risk always. His family had been in the position for a long time.
Thinking of responsibilities, he thought of his four sisters, two older, and two younger. His older sisters were married. His younger not yet. Gypsy knew deep down his father would make that one of his first decisions when he stepped up to run the family. What did he really know about marriage? His one long term relationship ended in disaster. One he was still paying for.
Looking over towards the coffee shop, he watched people coming and going. The older men and women knew who he was, not so much the younger ones. That was because Gypsy kept a low profile. He wasn’t rightfully the king yet. There was one big hold-up. Marriage!! For him to ascend fully to his rightful position he had to get married and Nicolea was not ready for that. Watching movement to the side of him he saw Tabor and Wrench, the two men seemed on edge. They hated when he hung out in the open. Gypsy knew it was time to get down the road. Catching Tabor’s attention. He let him know it was time for the guys to fire up the bikes. “Let’s get going.”
Tabor whistled loudly. Making a signal with his hand, he let everyone know it was time to roll. Gypsy was the president of the MC, it was the one thing he controlled completely free of his father and his family. The club had its own string of businesses ones that the men worked and ran. This was who he truly was.
Mariquinn sat in her mother’s chocolate shop enjoying a cup of hot chocolate, dreaming of being high up in the trees. She was anxious about festival season coming up. Performing the aerial ballet was dangerous. Mariquinn loved the adrenaline rush it gave her and she had a good following which meant she made money.
The roar of thunder brought her attention around. She knew that sound. Twenty large motorcycles rolled past the shop. The man in front was said to be the new gypsy king. She had never seen his face, any of their faces for that matter. When they rode past she could see things like color of hair or even sometimes if they stopped in front for a second someone would look in and she saw their eyes. Each man wore a bandanna or half mask across their face obscuring them from prying eyes. Who really knew if any of them were Nicolea Petrovic, the gypsy king? That could just be a rumor.
She watched as the bikes rolled past and for a minute she wondered what it would be like to be on the back of one. Arms and legs tangled around a man that commanded that much power. She had heard people say things like ‘when you are on the back of a bike you feel free, without a care in the world’. The only time she felt that way was high up wrapped in her silk. As she watched, the bikes slowed to a stop, traffic halting them. Watching the riders straddling their bikes, Mariquinn really started to wonder about how that much machine underneath you would feel. Blinking back from her thoughts, she caught a rider center front looking in the window in her direction. Mariquinn dared not acknowledge him. What would happen if she did? How would she feel about it? Grabbing her cup, she fled the table heading for the kitchen and a hiding spot from prying eyes. After all, that was all she could see of the mystery guy’s face.
Gypsy could only see that it was a girl sitting at the table looking out the window at them. Not being able to make out anything else about her due to the hat she had pulled down casting a shadow across her face. He smiled as she bolted from the table when she saw him looking in at her. How refreshing was that, he thought.
The sound of an engine sliding into gear had him turning back and shifting into first. The tension in his neck was killing him. It was beginning to give him a headache and that headache had a name. FATHER.
When his phone rang consecutively for a half hour Gypsy knew something was up. Knowing the tension and the headaches would only get worse the longer he put off seeing the king he looked at the missed call log and saw the calls were indeed from his father.
He and his crew had been on a run and he had ignored the ringing. Finally, at the last stop he called his father back to check-in. Unfortunate for him, he was being summoned for a meeting that afternoon. Gypsy had to wonder what was so fucking important that he had to take a meeting today.
Once they got back to the club house he could change and jump in the car. No need for an added headache by going in his leathers and on his Harley. If this was another marriage lecture, Gypsy just may have to abdicate his seat on the throne. What were the chances his father would want to have that argument twice in one month? Pulling into the corner parking lot, he waited for
the garage doors to open so he could pull in. The entire corner and the building which stood on it belonged to him and his crew. The first floor was the garage and club house, the second floor held apartments that the crew rented, and the third floor was his apartment in the city. He only stayed there every now and then. Gypsy lived out of the city in the countryside. He preferred the peace and quiet. He used the apartment for entertaining. No one needed to know the location of his private estate.
Chapter Three
Gypsy sat thinking about the two sides to his life and how much they were the same. Nicolea Petrovic was a force to be reckoned with, that’s what people said about him. He had to laugh at he thought. As next in line to be king of the gypsies he wasn’t ready to marry, and he certainly did not want his wife to be chosen for him. But, here he sat listening to his father run on about marriage and the responsibility of family.
Gypsy would run his people like he ran his club. His laws, his way. And again, this was his mantra. Now his father was sitting here informing him he was to be married. This was his worst nightmare. He had hoped this topic was not what and why his father had called this meeting. How wrong he had been.
The fact he had never laid eyes on his future queen had him pounding a fist on the table. “Father, I’m not marrying a woman that I have never met, least of all seen.”
Gypsy held his hand up to halt his father from speaking. “Father, I understand that this is how things have been done and yes, I know you are happy with Mother. But, you aren’t me and she’s not Mom. On top of all that, you said she’s from one of the outer clans. Why not a woman from one of our own families?”
“Nicolea ... son, I have my reasons.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“Fine, I owe their father. He saved my life when I was young. He has three daughters. The youngest is very sought after. I think she would make a good wife for you.”
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