She hesitated, the weight of everything suddenly heavier. “I think we should,” she said quietly. Then, with more force,“You may not like what I have to say, Nicolea.”
The namehit him like a hammer.She never called him that. Not even in front of his parents.It was alwaysbabeorGypsy.
Gypsy barely breathed as they hung up, the weight of her words sitting heavy in his chest. A million things ran through his head, a thousand worst-case scenarios,a hundred reasons why Quinn would want to leave him.
Cruise had told him once;You can’t fuck your wife twenty-four seven and expect that to be enough.
Had he built their marriage aroundone thing? Had he assumed the sex, the passion, the fire between them was enough to hold her to him?
Did she love him? Or did she just love what they had?
Gypsy closed his eyes.
Tabor passed him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Gypsy, you ready to go?”
Gypsy let out a slow breath."Fuck, let’s go."
He walked to his bike, the familiar weight of hiscuthanging off the handlebars.
For months, he’d been trying tochange the club, soften their image, play the part of the polished businessman during the day.But the truth was clear now.He was the fraud.
This—his club, his men, his life—this was who he really was. Gypsy slipped his cut back on, the leather settling over his shoulders like armor. The sophisticated businessman was alie.
He straddled his sled, firing up the engine. The pipes roared like thunder in the enclosed space, shaking the walls.
Gypsy had no idea just how bad things would get once they got the full story from the girls.But he knew one thing for damn sure—Tool was already looking for a fight.And when Tool wanted blood, things got messy.
Brandi wasn’t hisol’ lady,but that didn’t mean she was just some club girl. Tool had sworn to protect her, and everyone knew it.So why the fuck hadn’t he claimed her?No one knew what was holding him back, but maybe after tonight, he’d finally figure his shit out.
And then there wasLayla.
Gypsy cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on the throttle. He’d known the second she rolled into town that she was gonna be a pain in his ass. The girl couldn’tstay out of trouble for a single fucking day.
Maybe what she needed was afirm hand on that reckless ass of hers.Maybe then she’d finally learn.
His men werelined up behind him, eighteen strong, waiting for the signal.Every single brother had chosen to ride tonight. Not just for the women. Not just for revenge.For him.
Gypsy lifted his hand, signaling the roll-out. The moment they hit the road, his head cleared. Someone was going to pay for this shit.
And Gypsy wasdone playing nice.
After hanging up with Gypsy, Quinn hadone of Tailor’s men drag her troublemaking sister out of the restaurant.She’d thanked him more than once and even tried sending him and his brothers on their way, but the man had only smiled at her.
Instead of leaving, he’dstationed his men all over the B&B, covering every entrance and exit.No one was getting near their rooms—not tonight.
Layla was passed out on the bed, one leg hanging off the edge. Every time Quinn walked past, shekicked Layla’s foot justhard enough to jolt her.She hoped the damn thinghurt like hellwhen she finally woke up.
Maybe next time, she’d think twice before pulling the kind ofreckless, selfish bullshitshe did tonight. Quinn dropped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.How much longer before Gypsy got here?
And then she heard it. The sound of thunder.
She sat up, heart leaping, eyes snapping to her sister, who was still drooling into the bedspread. “I should’ve gotten my own damn room like the other girls.”
Jumping to her feet, she ran to the window, searching for headlights pulling into the lot. Disappointment hit fast and hard. Lightning cracked across the sky.
“Great,” she muttered, pushing away from the window. If they were about to be stuck inside all weekend while the weather turned to shit,she sure as hell wasn’t doing it with Layla bitching the whole time.
Quinn started repacking her suitcase.She wasn’t staying at the winery.
