Jase laughed, flipping Mason off with one hand. “So now we’re headed to ‘Straya? It’ll be all g’day, mate, throwing shrimp on the barbie, and talking about sheilas?” He looked at Gypsy. “Ain’t that how it is there?”
“Not quite, depending on where you are in the country. From what I understand there’s only a smallish group of Australians who talk like that, and they’re called bogans, kind of like an Aussie version of our redneck. They’re more likely to put sausages on the grill than shrimp, and those are prawns over there anyway.” Gypsy laughed. “Kelsey’s managed to set me straight about a whole lot of things I found out I’d gotten wrong.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Mason. “Me going over there, was that your first opening?”
“Yeap. But let’s put aside the ideas of international for now. Focusing on Blue Line and his ask, he’s interested in three or four men, and isn’t opposed to them bringing their old ladies with them, since it’s not a turn and burn deal. We’re talking weeks at a minimum. You think Kelsey’d be up for the trip, or would you leave her here?”
“She’ll go with me, if I go. You really need me to do this, Mason? I’m still…brother, I’ve got my hands full with her and the bar right now.”
“Don’t worry about the bar, we can sort that out. No worries. What makes you have your hands full with Kelsey?” Brute shifted like he wanted to say something, but Mason held up his hand, forestalling whatever comment he’d been about to make. “We all know the general story of what happened with her, but beyond where it intersected with what the Hawks needed, other than me, the men in this room have only heard the few specific details you’ve shared. And as free as he was talking about business, Talon was still pretty tightlipped about the girls when he and I chatted.”
Gypsy rubbed across his jaw with the back of one hand, holding Mason’s gaze. Telling Kelsey’s experience felt oddly intimate, and he considered balking for a moment, because it was something she should have a choice in who knew or not. But, Mason wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have a reason. And dammit, I trust the man. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask why. “Humor me a minute. It’s my old lady, Mason. You need to know this, why?”
“Brothers.” That was all Mason said, just the one word but Gypsy knew what he was implying. A problem shared was easier to bear, and if they knew what was going on with Kelsey, they could more easily avoid any pitfalls. Like with Ruby back in the day, when they had to dance around her fears. Back before Slate took her on.
Mason was offering the support of every man in the room, if Gypsy would only trust them. I do, he thought, and then for a moment wondered if it went both ways. Mason had stumbled along the edges of truth earlier when he assumed Gypsy knew about some club activity, and he hadn’t. Whether by design or not, the only man in the room who hadn’t known for certain if Mason had killed Judge was the one ex-cop. It didn’t take a genius to work that out, and now he wondered if it was the tip of the iceberg of hidden truths. Pushing all that aside, he decided to exhibit his trust, giving Mason what he wanted.
“You’ve all heard the official debrief, right?” He waited, seeing every man nod tensely. “What wasn’t in that was the specifics about what my Kelsey went through.” Calling her his was second nature, because it was how he thought of her. “Baxter, the local guy on the operations, organized the sweep she got caught up in. He was the guy who got to grade the girls based on a variety of criteria, earmarking them for one customer or another. My Kelsey, though, the asshole took a liking to her when she came in. He got permission from on high to ‘sample’ the merchandise.” Gypsy made air quotes with the fingers of one hand, the other gripping just above his knee tight enough his muscles stung from the pinching pressure. “He finagled things to keep her in his compound for a while. A fucking long time, Mason. Most of the girls they kidnapped were sold within days or weeks. They moved through the system and out to wherever their owners were. Not Kelsey, though.”
Slate broke in, and Gypsy knew he was thinking about Ruby, his old lady. After being lied to by someone she thought she could trust, Ruby had been held prisoner by a Michigan MC for a long time. His voice was gruff when he asked, “How long?”
“Eight months. They used clean clothes, baths, food…anything they could think of as bargaining chips to get her to behave. It worked. They tricked and trained her into being compliant. I’ve got an idea she even unknowingly helped them with the other girls, by first being an example of all the things a woman didn’t want to happen to them, and then by actively coaching the girls not to fight, to go along so they could get placed, so they didn’t get raped or beaten…mostly so they could get out of there via a sale. In Kelsey’s mind anywhere was better than the hell where she was stuck.” He swallowed, a rancid, bitter taste sharp on the back of his tongue. “She’s coming to grips with that knowledge. At least I think she is. It chases her up from sleep sometimes, and she talks. I don’t know if her conscious self has figured it out, but I know her mind understands what it all means.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Slate shook his head. “Fuck me, man. When it happens, that point where she figures it out? You know you’ll have to convince her survival was worth it, right?”
“Yeah, brother. It’s a long road ahead of her, and a lot of healing to do.” Gypsy turned to Mason. “You catch a glimpse of why I’m not yet convinced I’m the right member to lead the Rebels west?”
Mason studied him for a moment, eyes tracking back and forth across Gypsy’s face. Leaning forwards, Mason placed both hands palm-down on the desk, muscles in his arms quivering with the strain he placed on them. Whatever this was, he knew it was a big ask, and still had to make it. “I need you.” Gypsy’s chin jerked up and he waited, knowing Mason wouldn’t be talking for no reason, that he’d be taking the conversation somewhere, but not understanding the destination. “We’ve got an opportunity in California I don’t want to turn my back on. A chance to set a partnership in motion that will be the foundation from which we’ll grow going forwards. I’ve trusted you since before you had my patch on your back, brother. You might have your hands full with Kelsey, but I believe you’ll find a way to make this work.”
“You need me, you’ve got me. I’ll want a little time to be sure it’s not going to be a step back for Kelsey.” Gypsy frowned and looked towards the door leading back to the living room. “She’s not comfortable with a lot of folks, boss. This is going to be hard for her.”
“But you’ll do it.” That wasn’t a question and Gypsy knew it, nodding at Mason.
“Like I said, I’ll make sure it’s not a backwards move for her.” Why is Mason pushing so hard for this? “Mason, you know whatever is needed, I’ll do. And I don’t give a shit about how it runs up against anything else I’ve got planned, I’ll do it. I need a little time to ease her into the idea.”
“Then let’s go out there and you can start easing her in that direction.” Mason stood and the other men did, too. Gypsy trailed them out of the room, conscious of his rearmost position in the pack after what Mason had laid out.
***
Kelsey
Standing in the kitchen, Kelsey tried to stay out of the way while still offering assistance, something living in foster care had made second nature. Going into a new situation and figuring out where you landed wasn’t the easiest, but she didn’t remember it ever being so hard before.
DeeDee was the unofficial head of the group gathered tonight, and that was entirely logical. Not only was she Mason’s cousin, but she’d also literally been associated with MC clubs longer than any of the other women. Ruby was her adopted daughter, and Slate’s wife. Slate’s position as president gave his Ruby status, and Kelsey found she liked Ruby. It was easy to see the other women did, too.
With Mason’s role at the national level, and being the club’s founder, his standing gave Willa an untouchable position in the group. Kelsey knew Brute hadn’t been a member as long as Gypsy, but because Bexley had been introduced before Kelsey, she knew in this setting,
she was bottom of the basket, because Bex was higher on the pecking order. If I’ve got it all sorted out, why is this so hard, then?
The grumbling tones of men’s voices became audible, signaling the end of their impromptu meeting and Kelsey finished wiping her hands dry, draping the cloth over the edge of the sink. She followed the women into the living room and noticed she and Gypsy shared the distinction of being last in the queue. Kelsey angled towards the couch where they’d been seated together earlier, and was thrown off stride when Gypsy settled into a chair opposite instead of next to her.
The expression on his face was thunderous, brows drawn together over dark eyes, and she looked away. Gaze to her lap, she tried not to tense up, and failed. Muscles in her shoulders cramped and she struggled to still the trembling of her fingers where they lay on her thighs. Taking a deep breath, she paused and then listened, finding a lull in the conversation between Willa and DeeDee. “D-do you know any pa-places to get a haircut? Mine’s grown out so, it’s all over shaggy.”
Bexley beamed, her smile bright enough to light up the room. “You’re in luck, Kelsey. I do hair.” She rose from where she’d been sitting on Brute’s knee, and walked behind the couch, leaning over to tousle Kelsey’s hair. “Your hair’s gorgeous, lucky girl. What are you looking for?”
Kelsey glanced at Gypsy to see a heavy frown on his features. Quickly averting her eyes, she said, “I-I-I-I.” Eyes closed tightly for a breath, she stopped and began again. “I don’t know. I don’t need anything fancy.”
“But you’re so pretty,” Willa interjected, coming to sit next to Kelsey on the couch. “You should let Bexley do a mystery haircut.”
“I-I-I don’t know.” Unobtrusively, Kelsey rubbed her sweating palms on the legs of her jeans. “I-I-I like s-simple.”
“We can do simple and easy to take care of,” Bexley promised, running strands of hair between her fingers. “And still accent your beautiful face.”
She glanced at Gypsy again. Why is he so mad? His expression was even more severe than before, and she grew lightheaded as embarrassment and fear flooded her, cheeks chilled as blood fled. “I-it’s just hair.” She shrugged. Did he not want her to be friends with the women? If not, then why would he have left her with them? Why would they have had the conversation they did today in the garage? Was her behavior somehow reflecting on him? Maybe the men expected her to be better at making friends, and had called him out on his choice of a woman. “I-i-i-it will grow b-b-b-back.”
“Oh, goodness.” Bexley leaned down, resting her chin on Kelsey’s shoulder, the close proximity intimidating. “I don’t mean to make you feel you’ve got to do what I say, Kelsey. It’s your hair, honey. We’ll do whatever you want.”
The woman waited patiently as Kelsey struggled to stay engaged, her final sentence never advancing beyond more than a staccato barrage of “I-I-I-I-I—”
Kelsey saw movement from where Gypsy sat. She’d kept one eye on him, glancing at him so often she was certain everyone in the room thought she had a vicious tic that kept her head jerking back his direction.
Now, instead of the scowl that had her so off balance, Gypsy had curled the corners of his mouth up in a lazy smile and was holding a hand in her direction. Curving his fingers over his palm, he invited her to come to him. Kelsey bolted up from the couch, nearly running to stand in front of him. With a palm resting on her hip, he turned and drew her back to sit on his lap, cradling her to his chest. “So brave,” he whispered, and Kelsey trembled in his embrace, finally safe. “So proud of you, darlin’.” She leaned into him, relaxing slowly. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out, and from the safety of his lap, she watched the other old ladies continue their party. Eventually, she re-engaged, responding to a question Bexley asked the group without a single stutter.
***
Curled around one of Gypsy’s huge, fluffy bed pillows, Kelsey waited. The sound of the shower finally stopped and a few minutes later, the bathroom door rattled as Gypsy entered the bedroom. They’d been home for a couple of hours now, but she still felt unsettled.
I’ve got to get over myself.
She knew he couldn’t babysit her every moment of the day, and when they were at his work, she’d come to expect he’d have to be in and out of the office, taking care of the million and one details that needed his expert attention.
Tonight, though, for some reason she’d been blindsided by his willingness to leave her alone. Mason had hardly finished ordering the men out of the room before Gypsy’d stood and walked out. She’d been frozen in disbelief as he stacked his plate on hers and whisked them away. His return a moment later had seemed a reprieve, but then she’d realized he was reassuring himself she’d be okay. For a moment—oh, God, for a moment—she’d thought he was going to kiss her like the other men were doing to their women, but the interest she imagined seeing in his eyes quickly flickered out and he’d beaten a retreat, the door of Mason’s office clicking solidly shut behind him, closing him off from her in a way that was more than theoretical.
Being left to the women wasn’t terrible. No one hurt her. No one insulted her. The opposite, in fact, as DeeDee and Ruby had gone to great lengths to try and pull Kelsey into their discussion. Ruby especially had worked a lot of information into her words, asking Kelsey a question and then following whatever response came with a tidbit from her own life. Another lady would chime in, and a story would develop. So it wasn’t terrible, but it was definitely exhausting. It was hard to keep track of the different parts of the conversation, draining Kelsey in minutes as she tried to keep from stepping wrong with this new social group she’d found herself thrust into so abruptly.
At one point, there’d been a loud metallic click, and she’d caught Willa and DeeDee making big eyes at each other. Whatever it was—and it clearly sounded like a lock seating into place to Kelsey—it had them spooked, and their unease had increased the pace of the topic changes, names and places whirling around the room faster than a dust devil could spin. Their accents so strange to her ear, she’d still be working to decipher the end of one story while they were halfway through the next.
When the men returned to them, it wasn’t any better, not at first. Gypsy had looked so angry, gaze fixed on her in a way that laid his mood at her feet. Whatever I did, I must make it right, had been her only thought. She’d tried all the things that had pleased him in the past, worked her way back into the flow of words, but he’d remained unimpressed. Clearly something the men had said had him rethinking every decision he’d made where she was concerned. Things were going downhill fast, and Kelsey had nearly despaired of pleasing him when suddenly, it was like everything lined up again. The storm clouds parted and he’d smiled and asked her to join him, his expression, the one she’d begun thinking of as hers, a soft affection she pretended was edged by desire.
Why would he want me?
Shoving that aside, she focused on Gypsy’s behavior. No matter how he’d acted after the men’s meeting, he hadn’t even been angry she’d stayed on his lap, his voice softly cajoling as he prodded her upright to come home at the end of the evening.
Looking at his face as he walked across the room towards where she lay, she found he once again wore her look. “You stranglin’ that pillow, darlin’?”
Oh, but I love when he calls me his darling.
“Nuh-no.” She moved, pushing his pillow back into its normal position at the head of the bed, rolling to her stomach to do so. He made a sound deep in his chest, and she looked up to see something like pain on his face before he turned his back to her and edged over to sit on the side of the bed. “Can I…can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Course you can.” His voice was coarse, a ragged sound coming from his throat.
“Oh, no. Are you ill?” Worried, she pushed up to a hip, reached towards him, and pressed a palm to the side of his face. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”
“I’m fine, Kels.” He leaned into her hand for a moment, then pulled
back. “What’d you want to ask me?”
This close to him, it was impossible to resist the desire to touch him, and she didn’t try, creeping closer so she could rest her cheek against his back. He never barred her from touching him, but he couldn’t know he’d become her personal addiction. Skin on skin with Gypsy was the closest to heaven she’d ever been. I can only imagine—she cut her thoughts off quickly. It didn’t help anything to give voice to her longings, even a silent one in her head. Baxter had told her again and again how no one would ever want her when he was done, and it was easy enough to believe, especially when a man like Gypsy, obviously virile and with…needs, wanted nothing to do with her. Sleeping in his bed night after night with scarcely a touch between them that wasn’t about comfort.
“Kelsey?” He vibrated under her cheek, and she smiled at the idea of experiencing her name like that. “Your question?”
“Ye-yes. Were you…did I make you…” She trailed off, for once not fighting her stutter but more the lack of words she was willing to voice. “Did I do anything wrong?” There, that was better than her first thoughts, because instead of making it about him, she pulled the blame for whatever had happened back in her lap. “Tonight, I mean.”
“No, darlin’. You didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t anything except preoccupied with something Mason told me.”
That didn’t sound like a lie, not exactly. But it didn’t sound quite truthful, either.
“Are you sure?”
At her repeated question, he shifted, and she lost her position against him, but his arm came around her shoulders and pulled her to his lap. The light touch of his rough fingertips against her chin lifted her face, and she raised her eyes to meet his. Expression somber, he seemed to study her for a moment before he folded her in his arms and pulled her tight against his chest. “I’m sure, Kelsey. You were great.” Something pressed to the side of her head, and for a moment, she imagined he’d kissed her there. “You were great.”
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