Gypsy's Lady

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Okay,” she murmured against the skin of his chest and enjoyed how his arms flexed around her. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to move, and they stayed like that for several minutes.

  “Do you like the old ladies who were there tonight?” His question seemed to come out of the blue, and she shook her head a tiny bit to clear the cobwebby thoughts of how his skin felt under her cheek. “No?”

  “Ya-yeah. I like th-them fine.” Not a lie, she promised herself. As personalities went, Ruby especially was patient and kind. Willa offered her own brand of sweet, and no one could compete with her there. DeeDee and Bexley were both nice, and she could see herself being friends with them along the way.

  “They were good to you while Mason was talking to me?” Kelsey nodded and his chin bumped the top of her head. “Good, I’m glad. They’re good women.”

  “Th-they seem close.” That was as near her fear as she’d allow her words to get. They were close, and it was hard to break in when a circle had no need to be any larger than it was.

  “They are, but it doesn’t mean they don’t want you around.” He was near to what she’d been thinking and Kelsey held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t guess the rest. “I think Ruby’d like to be your friend.” She shrugged, feeling her bare arm glide along Gypsy’s skin, the graze leaving her feeling off-balance. Eager for more, but afraid at the same time. She wasn’t certain if that was just a fear of being rejected, or stale memories of her time with Baxter’s men. “Ruby already counts you as one, you know?”

  “I like them well enough.” Not a lie, she repeated in her mind.

  “Would you like to see more of America?” Now she did reel, swaying slightly until his arms tightened, steadying her. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, but it’s a real question. I thought it might be easier to travel now, before you got to be close friends with them.” He winced at his own words and she wondered why. “I mean, it might be better to travel a little bit now, and then we could come back and see if we can get comfortable.” Was he being told to leave because of her?

  “Did I do anything wrong?” It didn’t matter what he said, because Kelsey knew he would soften whatever blow was coming for her. That was the kind of man he was. “Did they tell you to get rid of me?” Fear closed her throat, and she fought for the words. “Aa-are they making ya-you leave because of me?”

  “No, baby.” I might like baby better than darling. She tucked the thought away to consider later, listening intently. “Mason’s got some work in California he needs someone to take on, and he’s asked me. It’s an honor, not a hardship. At least, not unless you don’t want to go with me. I told him I won’t leave you, and he understands. You don’t have to answer me tonight. Hell, it’s still sinking in with me.”

  “Can-can I think about it?” They’d hardly been in Indiana any time at all, and now Gypsy wanted to pick up and move to some other place? She didn’t even know how far it was, and even if he’d spouted off the miles, she still wouldn’t have known. Standard to metric was hard in her head, and kilometers just didn’t convert well. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were a hundred kilometers, or a thousand, if it were because of her, she didn’t want anything to do with it.

  “Sure, honey.” Not as nice as baby, but still sweet to my ears. “Let’s get some rest. I’ve got inventory tomorrow.” He put his hands on her waist and lifted as she pushed with her feet, her cheek sliding up his chest and into the notch of his neck, where it met his shoulder. She lifted her head and found herself face-to-face with Gypsy, mouth hovering over his. The same thought rushed through her mind as earlier, when they’d been close enough to share breaths. What if I kissed him?

  Kelsey scrambled out of his lap, crawling to what he’d taken to calling her side of the bed, and burrowed under the covers. The maneuver effectively shut off her view of him, and she tried to put the feel of his body against hers out of her mind. I wish he wanted me.

  Gypsy took his time getting into bed, drawing the covers up to his waist before he turned to face her. Even without looking around, she knew he was watching her. “Night,” she called in a singsong.

  “Night, baby.” His voice came from inches away, and she closed her eyes tightly as he fit himself all along her back. “Sweet dreams.” His arm slipped around her waist and curled down before flexing and pulling her across the small expanse that remained between them.

  Rumors and lies

  Gypsy

  “Yeah,” he said into the phone, balancing it against his shoulder as he shoved dishes into the washer. He’d left Kelsey sleeping when he’d rolled out of bed a while ago and he missed being curled around her. “I’m still thinking about it, boss.”

  “Well, think faster.” Mason sounded sleep deprived and gruff. “Grapevine sources told Myron the challenges Blue Line is facing might have more to do with Rebel business than the man let on.” That meant Myron had tapped into his vast network of information to dig deeper at Mason’s demand.

  “You think Blue Line lied?” If he were already asking for help, it wouldn’t make sense. Unless the battle was larger than he wanted them to know. “How is it tied to RWMC?”

  “Couple of summers ago, Juanita took Watcher’s girls out to San Diego for a vacation. They stayed with Blue Line.” Mason paused, and Gypsy knew it was from the pain he carried for the man’s death. His voice was more graveled than usual when he continued. “Southern Soldiers were facing a lot of shit. This was before Bella came to us in Chi-town.” That helped pinpoint the timeline, at least. “Watcher needed to get his girls out of town, but we were in deep with the Outriders up here, so he asked the Malcontents to watch his treasures.” Made sense while still not saying anything negative about how much trust there’d been between Southern Soldiers and Rebels, something everyone knew had gone bone-deep on both sides.

  “What does that have to do with now? Bella’s with Tater in Chicago when they’re not with Juanita and Mela in Las Cruces, and Hurley’s permanently assigned to the LC chapter, because of Mela. What do Watcher’s girls have to do with Cali these days?”

  “Man out there saw them, liked the look of them, got shut down by Blue Line. Now, even if he no longer specifically wants them, Myron believes the fact he’s ready to wage war against Malcontents is tied back to that. Watcher’s girls are Rebels now, and we accept the weight of that fully. They don’t just belong to us in the now, we take on whatever’s in the past, too.” Mason paused and a baby cried in the background. “Dolly’s up, I need to see to my girl. I just wanted to let you know the latest, brother.”

  “What’s the man’s name? The one who is tied up with Blue Line?” Gypsy stared at the kitchen counter.

  “Pending the intel. Myron’ll have it for me today.”

  “Gotcha. Lemme know when you have it?” The doorbell rang, and Gypsy looked towards the front of the house, wondering who it was. “Boss, did you send anyone my way?”

  “Nope. Whatcha got?”

  “Probably cookie sales.” Gypsy laughed softly. “I should buy one of each kind, see what Kelsey likes best.”

  “She okay after last night? Hard as fuck to watch, Gypsy. I don’t know how you do it. It was so fuckin’ hard to watch her try and fight through that kind of fear.” Mason cleared his throat. “She good?”

  She was still sleeping, curled into a ball after having tossed and turned all night, fighting in her sleep. He wouldn’t tell Mason that, though, because Kelsey wouldn’t want him to. “Yeah, she’s good. I told her about the possibility of a trip in our future and left the ball in her court. If she’s okay with it, I’ll do it, but otherwise, we’re going to have to find a different solution.”

  “Understood, and after last night, I can’t find it in myself to fuckin’ blame you.”

  The doorbell rang again and Gypsy headed that direction, not wanting the chimes to wake Kelsey. Dolly stopped crying, the angry sound turned into a soft snuffling close to the phone and Gypsy knew Mason had picked up his baby girl.

  “Later, bossm
an.” Disconnecting the call, he shoved the phone into his pocket and peered through the peephole, expecting to find a uniformed tween girl with a wagon of goodies. Instead what he found was a man with dark hair and a grim expression on his face. That expression didn’t mean anything; it was just how Bulldog carried himself.

  The doctor was someone Gypsy had known in his old life before the Rebels, but somehow through the years, the man had become a friend of the club on a track parallel to Gypsy’s. It had been a surprise when they’d finally seen each other at a party, but since then, Bulldog had been to Gypsy’s more than once to watch a game. They were friends, but he didn’t think Bulldog had ever come over without an invitation before.

  “Hey, man,” Gypsy greeted as he pulled the door open, stepping to the side when Bulldog shoved past him, headed directly into the kitchen. “Why don’t you come on in.” He salted his words with amusement as he followed his unexpected guest, so the man knew he wasn’t pissed.

  “Bloody hell, when were you gonna tell a bloke you’ve been to his home?” Bulldog swung to face him, and Gypsy laughed at the aggrieved expression on his face. “That’s me motherland, and if I’d known you were headed Down Under, I’d have at least asked you to bring me back some grub.” His accent was thicker than ever, and Gypsy grinned to hear it. “I can’t stay but a minute, but we gotta plan a get-to. I wanna hear everything.”

  “I was down by Melbourne. Is that where you’re from?” He turned to the coffee machine, pouring a mug for Bulldog and refilling his own cup. “And if I’d had any warning, I would have. It was a quick trip.”

  “Fuck you, it was not.” Bulldog accepted the mug, blowing across the surface as he scowled at Gypsy. “It’s not like you was just gone for an arvo, ya know. Nearly a month, from what I heard.”

  “About right,” Gypsy conceded, taking a sip from his own mug. “It’s pretty down there.”

  “Fuck yeah, it is. Best place on this planet. What was your business?” Bulldog took a big drink, sputtering when the too-hot coffee scalded the roof of his mouth. “Fucking hell, do you set your pot to boil flesh from bones?”

  Gypsy grinned, glad their easy back-and-forth was as comfortable as ever. “Slow and steady—” He took another slow sip to prove his point. “—wins the race.”

  “Fuck winning your race, I’d be happy with just placing.” A thud signaled Bulldog setting the mug on the counter. “Tell me straight, Rebels opening the Aussie door?”

  “You know I can’t say anything about something like that, man. Not to confirm or deny. Business is—”

  Bulldog cut him off, “Business. I know. I was wondering, because if I had mates there I trusted, maybe you could help me with something.”

  “I made friends there. Tell me what you need, maybe I can source some help.” If Bulldog was looking for the kind of assistance the Rebels could bring to the table, Gypsy knew it was likely the Hawks would fit the bill, too. “If there’s a cost, I’d let you know.”

  Fingers drumming on the counter, Bulldog stared at him for a minute. He opened his mouth just as the doorbell rang. Gypsy twisted to look at the door. “Sec, brother,” he said, holding up one finger as he set his cup down.

  Staring through the peephole again for the second time in a few minutes, Gypsy was surprised to see this visitor was Tugboat. He opened the door and stepped back, reaching for Tug’s hand to pull him into a one-armed clinch. “Hey, Tug. Bulldog’s here. We’re in the kitchen.”

  They moved that direction, Tug telling him as they walked into the room, “I wanted to pick your brain about something I heard this morning.”

  This was barely-disguised code talk for club business, and it seemed Bulldog understood well what Tug meant. “I’ll get out of your hair, but ring me, Gypsy. If you think you know some blokes that can help, then I’d be all in for talking through things. Tug.” He nodded, lifting his mug to take a final, cautious sip. “’Ware the java, Gypsy’s got it hot as hell.”

  Tug grinned, teeth bright in his beard. “Right, I’ll be on guard. Good to see you, Doc.”

  “I can see myself out, Gypsy. Call me.”

  Gypsy nodded and dumped Bulldog’s mug in the sink, running it full of water. When he heard the door close, he turned and eyed Tugboat. “What’s up, old man?”

  Tug opened the cabinet and retrieved a mug. He filled it and stood where Bulldog had been, unconsciously adopting the same position, hand lifting the coffee to his mouth where he blew a stream of air across the liquid. “California.”

  “What about it? Nothing’s settled, not yet.” There was movement across the room and Kelsey’s head peeked around the corner by the hallway, hair a messy tangle around her sleepy smile. “Come here, darlin’. You know Tug.”

  Lip gripped between her teeth, Kelsey came to him, moving slowly as if in a fog. The expression on her face was content as she sidled up beside Gypsy with a shy nod towards Tugboat. In turn, he smiled at her, greeting her with a softly spoken, “Mornin’, Miss Kelsey. Good to see you again.”

  “And you as well, Mr. Tugboat.” Gypsy slipped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. She looked up, eyes still sleepy. “I had a good dream.” He realized she was relaxed and comfortable, her face soft with whatever emotions had followed her up out of sleep. She wasn’t stuttering, either.

  He gave her a squeeze. “I’m glad, honey.” Staring down at her, he marked how young she looked without the lines of strain framing her expression. “Want some coffee?” She made a face, which Gypsy expected, given her previous reactions. “Tea?” Cheek to his chest, she nodded.

  “I can’t get used to American coffee.” That was directed at Tug and he laughed softly.

  “I spent time in Brisbane when I was in the service, and I couldn’t get used to having a cuppa.” Tug turned and checked the half-full teakettle before turning on the stovetop burner. “Tea and toast?” Unerringly, he moved to the cabinet next to the refrigerator where Gypsy kept the toaster.

  “I can do that, Tugboat.”

  She shifted to pull away from Gypsy but stilled when the old man threw a glance at her over his shoulder. “It’s my pleasure, honey. You look comfortable there with your man. It’s just toasting some bread and heating a little water.”

  At the phrase “your man,” she froze, turning to stone under Gypsy’s arm. He eased her in front of him, assuming the position they’d held so many times since he’d saved her. He wrapped his arms around her chest and waist, holding her close. “Let him,” he murmured in her ear. “Makes the old fart feel useful.”

  “I heard that.” Tugboat had located the bread and a box of teabags and was busy arranging things on the counter.

  “I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it from you.” Gypsy gave Kelsey a squeeze and she snorted, trying to hide her laughter. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment, Tugboat focused on his self-appointed tasks. Cutlery clattered against a plate, and the click and whoosh of the toaster signaled the bread was sufficiently browned. “So you’re interested in coming to Cali if we go?” At his words, Kelsey’s neck twisted, her face angled up as she snuck a look at him. “What’s in it for you?”

  “My nephew is there. Maggie and I have been back and forth some this past couple of years. Blue Line and his crew have made us welcome, but it’d be nice to have folks I know and trust with me. I want to make sure my blood lands on his feet, you know?” The kettle gave a rising whistle, and he lifted it from the burner, aiming a stream of steaming water into the cup he’d set beside the plate of buttered toast.

  “He interested in joinin’ an MC?” Gypsy wouldn’t be surprised if it were that way. Often clubs were built on generations of members, patches passing from grandfather to grandson, uncle to nephew.

  “Yeah. He served with Bear, and I know Blue Line’s partial to him. Navy family, you know? If he won’t come to Chicago or the Fort—and he’s told me he’s done with the cold, so I ain’t gonna hold my breath—then I can’t think of a better club for him than the Malcontents.” Tug tu
rned, cup and plate in hand as he made a show of passing them off to Kelsey. Picking up his mug, he pointed to the table and Gypsy reluctantly turned Kelsey loose, grabbed his coffee and followed them.

  “Man, there are ties everywhere I turn. Bear and Blue Line, me and Blue Line, Watcher and Blue Line, Watcher and Mason, you and Blue Line. You think what Mason wants is reasonable?”

  “I think it’s not only reasonable, but it’s the best possible outcome. Takes from the Outrider bastards still trying to hold onto a patch, and puts good men in line with other good men.” Tug took a swallow, then angled his eyes up at Gypsy, the expression on his face shrewd. “And I think you and I would be idiots if we didn’t follow this chance, brother. Forging new ground for Rebels. It’s a heady thing.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” The more thought he gave the idea, the better it all sounded. “Me and Kels, we’re still talking about it, right, honey?” Kelsey kept staring at the toast on her plate and didn’t respond. He grinned at her preoccupation, and semi repeated his question, “Right, Kels?”

  She looked up suddenly, eyes wide and blinking as she focused on him. “Suh-sorry. Wh-what?”

  The fucking stutter was back.

  ***

  Kelsey

  Heart pounding in her chest, Kelsey took in the sudden expression of anger that flitted across Gypsy’s face and ducked her head, staring at the plate in front of her. How did I ruin it? They’d been having a good morning, conversation between the three of them had been free and easy, and having Tugboat there seemed to relax him a lot. More than she’d seen him unwind ever before. In fact, compared to how he’d been at Mason’s home last night, it was night and day. And now she’d gone and messed up and he was back to being tense all over, even to grinding his teeth, a sound to which she’d become painfully accustomed.

  A hand appeared in her peripheral vision, approaching from the opposite side of the table. For a moment, she sat and stared at the broad palm and strong fingers with blunt, short nails. The fingers twitched and she glanced up to see Tugboat’s gaze on her, worry lines furrowing his forehead. He didn’t say anything, just kept the offer of support on the table between them. She dropped her gaze and stared at his hand. Almost against her will, she found her hand creeping across the table to rest in his. Rough fingers closed around hers and gave a brief but tight squeeze, the action evoking a good memory already close to the surface from her dream.