by Devney Perry
“Are you sure?”
“It’s the best idea I’ve had in my life.”
“Do you think we’ll kill each other?”
“Probably.” He dropped a kiss to my lips. “Is that a yes?”
I hesitated, making him sweat for it before I rescued him. “Yes.”
“Hell yes.” Dash tipped his head back and laughed. Then his hands fell from my face to wrap me in a hug. I giggled, clinging to him as he picked me up off my feet and spun me around the room.
For so long I’d wanted this. Never would I have imagined I’d find it, a home—love—with the man I’d set out to expose. The enemy. A criminal who’d stolen my heart.
All the foolish days and nights I’d spent wondering if I’d end up an old maid had been for nothing. The timing simply hadn’t come together.
I’d been waiting for my Gypsy King.
“What about the baby?” I asked. “You didn’t want kids.”
Dash’s smile softened but didn’t disappear. “I’m scared. Never saw myself with a kid, but if there is anyone in the world I’d want to raise a baby with, it’s you. Just keep me from fucking it up, okay?”
Oh, Dash. Why hadn’t I realized this before? He wasn’t scared of kids. He was scared of ruining his own. Again, timing was not on our side. Draven’s drama had probably reinforced Dash’s fears.
“I have faith in you. Blinding, unwavering faith. You’ll be an amazing dad, Dash.”
He dropped his forehead to mine. “Come on. I want to show you something else.”
Dash took my hand and led me out of the office. We walked past his bedroom and through the living room, then around the kitchen and down another spacious hallway.
“This is a family house,” I said. “If you didn’t want a family, why build such a big house?”
He shrugged. “For the space. Not to feel crowded. I spent a lot of nights at the clubhouse and I lived above the garage for a while. When I was finally ready to buy, I wanted space. A home gym so I didn’t have to go to town in the morning. An office. A theater room in the basement. Couldn’t find anything to buy so I had it built instead.”
“A sanctuary.”
“Yeah, but there’s one thing I hate about it out here.” He shot me a heart-stopping smile over his shoulder. “It’s too quiet. Figure you and our baby can fix that for me.”
I laughed. Given his or her parents, there was no doubt our child would be loud and bold. “We’ll do our best.”
“Appreciated.” Dash led me to the garage. He let go of my hand as he walked to the large, green gun safe on the far wall, spinning the combination on the dial until the door clicked open.
“Holy shit.” My eyes widened at the small arsenal. “I guess we’ll be safe after the apocalypse.”
He took out a white envelope and shut the safe. The flap on the envelope wasn’t sealed and he flipped it open, pulling out something from the corner.
No, not something.
A ring.
“This was Mom’s.” He held the ring in one hand as he reached for my left.
“It’s beautiful.” The gold band was thin and delicate because the solitaire in the center was the showpiece. It was a square-cut diamond—simple and flawless. The entire piece was classic, something I would have picked for myself.
“Dad gave this to me a few years ago. He’d bought it for her on their tenth wedding anniversary but she didn’t wear it much. She preferred the chip he’d bought her when they were just two dirt-poor kids. He buried her with that one. Gave this to me since Nick was already married. Told me one day, I could give this to my old lady.”
I was dumbfounded. I’d asked for a morning to rest and he’d changed the rules. But even in my shock, I hadn’t missed those last two words.
“How about you never call me an old lady again?”
Dash laughed, the rich sound filling the garage. “Want me to get down on a knee? Do this right?”
“No.” I smiled up at him, wiggling my finger so he’d slide the ring into place. I didn’t need the bended knee, the fancy words. “You already nailed it.”
The moment the ring was settled onto my finger, Dash swooped down and captured me in a kiss. His tongue dove inside, demanding and delicious. Standing in a garage, the cement floor cool on my bare feet, we kissed until the heat was too much to stand. Then Dash scooped me up and carried me inside to his bed.
Our bed.
I’d admit, it was better than mine. The sweatshirt was stripped off. My panties dragged down my bare legs. Dash’s jeans quickly disappeared along with the white T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest.
We moved together, my hips cradling his, like lovers who’d been together for years, not weeks. We came together, him bare and pulsing inside me, our hands linked and our mouths fused.
Together.
“I love you,” I whispered into his ear as we clung to one another.
“Love you, baby.” He leaned away, sweeping the hair from my forehead, and grinned. “Damn, but this life is going to be fun. And I promise, I’ll do right by you.”
He’d be the best husband and father I could have ever dreamed possible.
“You will.” I smiled. “And you’re right. This is going to be fun.”
Epilogue
Dash
One year later . . .
“Hey, babe.”
“Hi.” Bryce smiled as she came into the living room, dropping her purse onto the couch before stealing Xander from my arms. She peppered his cheeks and forehead with kisses. “How’s my guy?”
“He’s good.” I laced my hands behind my head. “Just slugged down eight ounces and had a hell of a burp.”
“He’s such a chunk.” She smiled at our son, who was nearly comatose. “I love it.”
Xander Lane Slater was four months old and his legs were fat roll upon fat roll. He had a pretty awesome double chin going too. We took extra care cleaning it during his nightly bath so it didn’t smell like rotten formula.
I stood from my chair, going for her purse and the newspaper tucked inside. “How’d this morning go?”
“Perfect. Papers are out for delivery.” She settled into the chair I’d vacated, rocking back and forth slightly. Xander would be out cold in thirty seconds or less.
Exactly as I’d planned. He was going in his crib and Bryce and I were going to have some fun in the bedroom.
But first, I had to read the paper.
I plopped down on the couch, opening the fold to read the front page. I’d never get sick of seeing my wife’s name in print. It was a sense of pride I hoped would never fade.
Bryce had confessed not long after we’d gotten together that a part of her had felt like a failure when she’d moved to Clifton Forge. She’d had dreams of making it big, being the next nightly news anchor—not exactly the same as running a small-town paper. But then she’d realized that here, writing stories about our town and its people, was where she was meant to be. She reported on the good stuff that happened in Clifton Forge and occasionally the bad.
She’d embraced the birth and wedding announcements, even writing our own. We’d gotten married surrounded by our families and closest friends at dusk, along the bank of the river. Then we’d had a damn fine party at The Betsy—her idea, not mine. Her only request was that they scour the bathrooms first.
We’d gotten married a month after I’d proposed so she hadn’t been showing. That was her only real request. She wanted to hurry things along.
Nick stood for me as best man. And Genevieve stood for Bryce.
I liked to think maybe Mom had a hand in Nick and me finding our wives. That wherever she was, she was looking down on her sons and had sent them the women they needed.
Including my sister.
“Did you take a copy to Genevieve?” I asked as I scanned the article on the front page.
“Yep.”
“How’d she take it?”
“She cried,” Bryce said, dropping her voice. Xander was completely
zonked. “But she needed that closure. I think she’s happy with how it turned out.”
In today’s paper, Bryce had written a memorial article for Amina, one she’d had drafted for over a year. Bryce had been ready to publish it weeks after Genevieve had moved to Clifton Forge, but my sister had asked her to delay it countless times.
She hadn’t been ready to read that final farewell. After everything that had happened to us this past year, I didn’t blame her.
I was proud that she’d finally found the courage to let it happen.
“Great piece, babe.” I folded up the paper.
“Thanks. Though you should be congratulating yourself too. You practically read the whole thing while hovering over my shoulder as I wrote it.”
“I don’t hover.”
Bryce rolled her eyes. “And I don’t leave the laundry for you to fold.”
Maybe I hovered.
In the past year, I’d kept a constant eye on Bryce. It was rare she went anywhere alone, and even then, I had someone watching. Today, that person was Lane. Bryce hadn’t complained, not once all year, because she knew I needed it. I needed to make sure she was safe and she gave me that. But she needed freedom. To live without watching me worry myself in circles.
I’d be the first to admit that after Xander was born, I’d gone a little crazy with security. The system I’d installed at home was better than the one Emmett had put in at the clubhouse.
But I wasn’t taking any chances with my family, not after the losses I’d suffered.
Maybe I’d loosen up eventually.
Maybe not.
I was taking things one day at a time, doing my best to become a decent dad. Bryce told me constantly I was good with Xander, but the fuck-ups were coming. I’d do something wrong and take a misstep here or there.
But what I could do was protect what was mine. I’d failed once when Bryce had been kidnapped. That had been the first and the last time.
“He’s out.” Bryce pushed herself up from the chair, nodding for me to follow her to the nursery.
I grinned, walking close behind her down the hallway. At the door to Xander’s room, I placed my hands on her shoulders, bending down to drop a kiss on the bare skin of her neck. She’d worn her hair up in a ponytail today. Xander had just started to grab at things and her hair was his favorite thing to pull.
Maybe I’d wrap it around my fist too.
When she smiled over her shoulder, the blood rushed to my cock. We’d been working hard to make up for those six weeks postpartum when her body had been off-limits.
Bryce took Xander to the nursery, laying him in his crib. His arms immediately went above his head. Then she turned on his sound machine, the gentle sway of ocean waves filling the room. She tiptoed out, quietly closing the door.
I captured her hand, giving it a tug for the bedroom, but she stopped me.
“Wait. I need to ask you something.”
“What’s up?” My eyes scanned her from head to toe, making sure nothing was wrong. “You okay?”
She bit her bottom lip. “How would you feel about more kids?”
“Uh . . .” A deep conversation about our family wasn’t exactly what I’d planned to have during naptime, but the question was out there now. How would I feel?
Having Xander was amazing. Even as a baby who ate and slept his way through the day, he was a blast. And when he got older, we could do stuff together like play ball in the yard or build a tree house or build a go-cart to race like the ones I did as a kid. That would be incredible.
“Good,” I said, surprising us both. “Real good.”
“Phew.” Her frame relaxed and her smile was wide. “Great. I’m pregnant.”
“Say what?” I stuck a finger in my ear, clearing it out. “You’re pregnant? Already?”
“According to the tests I took this morning, yep. I mean, I stopped breastfeeding and didn’t get on the pill. I have the pack to start next week but I didn’t think it could happen so soon.”
Pregnant. Was I still scared? Definitely. But this time around, I wasn’t going to let the shock of her announcement chase me away. So I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in her hair. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” She melted into my chest, her arms snaking behind my back. “I was sure you’d freak.”
I chuckled. “Not this time. We’re going to kick ass with these kids.”
Bryce leaned away, rising onto her toes for a kiss. “Hell yes, we are.”
The Tin Gypsy series continues with Riven Knight. Turn the page for a preview.
Want more Bryce and Dash? Click here for a Bonus Epilogue.
Preview to Riven Knight
Please enjoy this preview to Riven Knight, book two in the Tin Gypsy series.
GENEVIEVE
“I’m disappointed.”
I’d take a slap across the face any day over that statement. It was especially sharp and painful today of all days, coming from Mr. Reggie Barker, a man I’d considered a mentor and professional hero.
“I’m sorry, Reggie.”
My boss—former boss—sighed on the other end of the phone. “Given the way you chose to leave the firm, I’m unable to give you a reference.”
I winced. “Oh, um . . . okay.”
Reggie felt that giving one week’s notice instead of two was a snub. It didn’t matter that I’d worked as his paralegal for the past four years, that I was the first person to arrive at the firm each morning and the last to leave each night. It didn’t matter that, while paralegals in the firm could study for their LSAT exams during work hours, I’d saved all my studies for home, ensuring every minute of my workday was dedicated to helping Reggie.
I’d pushed taking the exam four times because he’d cautioned me to be ready—stated in a way he didn’t think I was.
I’d trusted him. I’d valued his opinion above all others at the firm. I’d given him all that I’d had to give, and apparently, it wasn’t enough.
I was disappointed too.
I’d only called this morning because I’d forgotten to leave my office key behind. Now I wished I’d simply mailed it with a note.
“Best of luck, Genevieve.”
“Thank—”
He hung up the phone before I could finish. Twenty-seven was already shaping up to be a disaster.
Happy birthday to me.
I set my phone aside and stared through the windshield at the store ahead. I was parked in front of a small clothing shop on Central Avenue. It was the only store in Clifton Forge, Montana, that sold women’s clothing besides the farm-and-ranch-supply warehouse.
Clifton Forge.
My mom had gone to high school here. My grandparents, two people I’d never known, had been killed in a car accident and were buried here. Six weeks ago, the town of Clifton Forge was nothing more than a footnote in my family history.
Then Mom came for a visit and was viciously slaughtered at the local motel.
Now Clifton Forge wasn’t only a black spot on the past, it was also my home for the foreseeable future.
I longed to be at home in Denver, driving on familiar streets to familiar places. The allure of the highway had a strong pull. On the drive from Colorado, I’d been tempted more than once to turn around and never look back. To run and hide.
Except I’d made a promise to a perfect stranger, a man I’d known only hours. I wouldn’t break my word.
Not after what Isaiah had done for me.
So here I was, in Clifton Forge.
For months. Years. Decades. For as long as it takes. I owed Isaiah that time.
The queasy feeling I’d had for days surged, the bile rising in my throat. I swallowed it down, not wanting to think about a lifetime condemned to Montana. I didn’t have time to dwell on the possibilities—the consequences—of what was about to happen. I was supposed to meet Isaiah at noon, which only gave me two hours to get ready. So I steeled my spine, pushed the nerves away and got out of the car to do some shopping.
&nb
sp; I refused to wear jeans today.
In the past week, I’d packed up everything in my condo in Denver, much like I’d done with my mother’s home, though this time not quite as soul shattering. Still, it had hurt and I’d cried every time I’d taped a box shut. All this change, all this loss—I was drowning.
Most of my larger belongings had gone into storage. Some had been packed to ship. And the rest had been crammed into my gray, four-door Toyota, which I’d driven from Colorado to Montana yesterday.
Too frazzled, trying to pack and finish up my last week at work, I hadn’t thought to pack a dress. Maybe it was my subconscious protesting today’s nuptials.
But, like it or not, this wedding was happening, and I was not wearing jeans.
Especially on my birthday.
I’d taken extra care with my makeup this morning. I’d washed and styled my thick, brown hair using the expensive curling wand Mom had bought me last year.
It was the last birthday gift she’d ever give me.
My God, I missed her. She wouldn’t be here today, to stand by my side as I made arguably the biggest mistake of my life. She wouldn’t be here for any more birthdays, because a vile and vicious human had snuffed out her life. It wasn’t fair.
Mom had been murdered, stabbed seven times, left to bleed out in a motel room alone. She’d died, leaving behind a trail of secrets and lies that were ruining her beautiful memory.
Why? I wanted to scream it to the heavens until she answered.
Why?
I was so angry at her. I was furious she hadn’t trusted me with the truth. That she hadn’t told me about my father. That I was here in this shitty little town because of her bad choices.
But damn it, I missed her. Today of all days, I wanted my mom.
Tears welled behind my sunglasses and I blinked them away before walking into the clothing store. I put on the fake smile I’d been wearing for weeks.
“Good morning,” the clerk greeted me as the bell chimed over my head. “Please feel free to look around. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”
