Gypsy shrieked, beating her small hands against my back. “Fang, put me down!”
“No.” I slapped her ass. More than one pair of eyes had turned to stare at us. There were smirks and laughter, but no one stood up and tried to stop me as I walked across the bar towards the back staircase that would take us to Gypsy’s little apartment.
Melanie’s face was the only one who didn’t look happy at the sight of me manhandling Gypsy. And I didn’t give a shit if she wasn’t happy about it.
“I’m off to show my woman how much I’ve fucking missed her,” I declared to the room.
* * *
“I don’t knowwhat’s got into you, Fang, but I like it.” Idly, Gypsy’s finger slid down my cheek. I was laying on her lower stomach, not moving a muscle and just enjoying the feel of her skin under my face as I fought to catch my breath.
“You got into me.” I sighed happily. “But we should probably talk. I don't want you to hear things from someone else. I had a wife.”
I expected her to blow up. Any other woman in her position would have. Gypsy sighed and her hand stilled but she didn’t push me off her.
“Corinne, I know. We have spoken about her.”
I blinked rapidly in the dark room, lifting myself up and I stared in her general direction. Had we spoken about Corinne? I racked my brain to remember. Of course we had, not in any depth but we had. I had just been so intent on Gypsy that I had forgotten.
“Bobby told me you lost her.”
Fucking Bobby and his big mouth. “I didn’t lose her, Gypsy, she died.” My voice came out harsher than I meant it to but still, she didn’t recoil back. Part of me, the sick part that believed I didn’t deserve happiness, wanted her to pull back from me. At least then I would have the perfect excuse to ruin things between us. Which I was bound to do sooner or later.
“I know Fang.” Gypsy's finger found my face again, swirling back and forth over my skin. “Do you want to talk about her?”
It was the last thing I expected her to say. We were naked in bed together after I had just fucked her brains out, and she was telling me it was ok to speak about another woman. A woman she must know I had loved.
“You want to talk about my wife?”
Sighing, Gypsy’s head dropped back onto the pillow. “She is important to you, Fang, so yeah, if you want to talk about her then I want to.”
How had I got so lucky? The guys had been right, Gypsy was perfect for me. I opened my mouth to tell her that when someone pounded on the door. Groaning, I rolled off her.
What was it with people interrupting us?
“What?”
“There’s been an incident at the clubhouse,” Hansel’s gruff voice called back. My back stiffened. There was always some kind of fucking emergency right then.
“What's happened?” There was no way I was leaving Gypsy’s bedroom unless I absolutely had to.
“Someone broke in, knocked one of the prospects out with a bat and trashed a few bikes. They…” there was a pause, “took something.”
“Took what?” My interest was piqued now. It had been a long time since we’d had so many attacks in one go. But it seemed kind of anti-climactic to knock over a few bikes when they had shot the place up only a few days ago.
“Shit.” Hansel sounded tortured. “They took Gypsy's dog. They took Woofy.”
28
Gypsy
Hansel had been playingit down.
Sure, it was bad enough that one of their prospects was in the hospital, and that several bikes had been damaged, but he had neglected to mention one key fact.
The word WHORE, written in three-foot letters across the front wall.
This hadn’t been an attack on the Savage Sons, it was an attack on me.
