Gypsy Soul: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 3) Read online

Her skin is barely flushed, and the pupils of her eyes are deep, dark pools.

  Yeah. She doesn’t want me around at all.

  I tip her under the chin with one finger before grabbing one of the beans Jill made, then turn away from the first woman to set me on edge.

  Hell, the first person to set me on edge.

  I shove the bean between my teeth and hold it there, wishing it was one of the cigarillos I’ve been working so hard not to smoke.

  Maybe that’s my problem.

  I glance over one shoulder as I make my way to where Tracker sits on the couch. My eyes immediately catch Felicity’s and the pressure of my blood kicks up instantly.

  Probably not the smoking that’s the problem.

  “Hey, brother.” Tracker gives me a wide grin. “How’s it going?”

  “Shut up.” I fall onto the large sectional.

  “That one there is a handful.” His gaze moves past me, probably to rest on Felicity.

  And it fucking pisses me off.

  Thinking about Felicity trying to fuck Tracker sends me right back up off the couch and straight to the door leading to the back yard. I shove it open and step outside, finally giving in to the monkey on my back. I pull out the carton of smokes I’ve carried for days without touching and pull one out. The first hit is heaven. The smell, the taste, the burn.

  It almost makes me forget what’s waiting for me on the other side of the door.

  “You gotta check your girl, Gypsy.”

  Years of practice hide my surprise at Butch’s presence. It’s one of the most important rules of the life we all lived.

  Never let anyone know they got to you.

  And I’m breaking it with every breath I take these days.

  “She’s going to get hurt.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I take another pull on my cigarillo, letting the smoke roll around my mouth before slowly blowing it out.

  “I think she needs to know that.” Butch drops down to scrape the end of his cigarette on the concrete patio. “If you can’t get her under control then you’re going to have to come up with a way to get her away from here.”

  “You want me to kidnap her?” I can only imagine the reaction Felicity would have to being taken against her will.

  Hell, maybe we should let King try to come get her. She’d probably slaughter him.

  “Don’t see that going well.” Butch glances through the sliding glass door. “Did you forget to unhook her battery?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  And thank God for that, because the sight of her ass bent over the engine of her car, wiggling around as she proved to be more than I expected, isn’t something I would ever want to have missed. “She hooked it back up.”

  Butch’s brow lowers as he looks back inside. “You’re kidding.”

  I puff at my cigarillo. “Definitely wasn’t her first time either.”

  I like the shift of his expression, moving from confusion to admiration. “Good for her.” He turns to me. “Not so great for you. Probably means she’s capable of shit you won’t see coming.”

  God I hope so.

  “Probably.” I stare across the lawn, imagining all sorts of things Felicity might be able to do.

  Most of them dirty as fuck.

  “Then you definitely gotta do something about her, man.” Butch rests one hand on the door. “Cause I’m pretty damn sure you don’t want her getting hurt because of you.”

  I nod, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

  He goes inside, leaving me alone on the patio, trying to figure out what in the fuck I’m going to do with this woman.

  She’s too smart for her own damn good. Definitely smarter than I am.

  I expected her to try to take off at some point. Being babysat doesn’t usually go over well. Especially with women like Felicity.

  So I unhooked the battery on her car, never in a million years expecting she would be able to figure out what was wrong, let alone fix it.

  Butch is right.

  She’s dangerous as hell, and the only person she’s going to end up hurting is herself.

  “Gypsy honey.” Jill pokes her head out the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

  She pats my back as I walk in. It’s the sort of touch I hadn’t experienced before Jill took us all in.

  As grown men. Treating us like we were all hers.

  And to be honest, we are.

  “I’m so glad you two came over tonight.” Jill directs me to the stool right next to Felicity, smiling wide as I sit down. “Eat up.”

  She moves away, making her way around the room, checking to be sure everyone has enough on their plates.

  Felicity watches as Jill goes, an emotion I can’t put my finger on hazing her blue gaze.

  I lean in, wishing I knew what she was thinking. “You okay?”

  She watches Jill a second longer before turning her attention to the food in front of her. “I’m fine.”

  But she doesn’t seem fine.

  “How are things at the warehouse?” Hawk stands across the island from where Felicity and I sit, Shelly pulled in close at his side.

  “Busy.” I take a bite of the chili Jill made for tonight’s dinner.

  “Too busy I think.” Tracker comes to stand beside him, his own bowl of chili in hand. “Might need to look into adding another building to our holdings.”

  If King could see us now, he’d lose his fucking mind.

  Hell, maybe that’s what’s happening.

  We’ve taken what he started and turned it into a legitimate business. One that is growing faster than we might be able to handle.

  “Is there another building close by?” Jill edges into the conversation. It’s a move some people might mistake for simple interest.

  I know better. All of us do.

  Jill spent most of her life like we did, under King’s control, bound by the ties he put on us, real and imagined.

  And like the rest of us, the second King was gone she took off running.

  And she’s smart as hell. Just like Felicity.

  “There’s a few that might work. I need to make some calls. Take a look at them.” I spoon another bite of chili into my mouth.

  “If you need any help let me know.” Her lips curve into a smile. “I’m always happy to help my boys build their empire.”

  Felicity’s gaze lands on me for a second before moving to the faces around us.

  It’s an odd situation. I know that. Definitely for someone who’s never been where we’ve all been.

  Someone like Felicity.

  It’s why I let Crow and Cook keep an eye on her after the fight we had at Hawk’s. I knew I should stay away from her. She’s not the kind of woman who should be tainted by the filth my past is covered in.

  It’s why I should have them step back in. Especially after today.

  I’ve clearly lost my grip on the situation.

  Hell, maybe just lost my grip in general.

  But I won’t. The thought of another man being in her place, breathing her air, makes me fucking crazy in a way I’ve never been before.

  The rest of the night passes like all the others. We help Jill clean up. Take care of anything else she needs. I swear she makes shit up so we feel useful. Or maybe so she can feel cared for. It’s not something she’s felt much in her life.

  Like the rest of us.

  We finish up as the sun goes down. I go to find Felicity, ready to take her home and have a talk.

  Because I can’t go on like this.

  But she’s gone.

  “Goddammit.”

  I catch Tracker smiling.

  “Did you see her go?”

  He nods. “Don’t worry. Cook’s out there keeping an eye on her while she tries to figure out what happened this time.”

  That’s when I hear her.

  Screeching at the top of her lungs.

  I open the front door, mentally digging in my heels as I prepare to go head to head with her again.

/>   But Felicity’s already got someone filling that position.

  “Calm down.” Cook’s hands are up, like he thinks surrendering will solve the problem.

  I march down the stairs, past Cook. “Go inside. I got this.”

  Felicity’s wrath immediately turns to me. “Where the fuck is it?”

  “Gone.” I don’t stop walking toward her, but I keep a close eye on the wrench in her hand. That thing is coming my way any second now and I’m not interested in a concussion tonight. “Stop screaming.”

  “I’ll scream if I want.” She pulls her arm back, ready to let the metal tool fly.

  I pick up my pace and grab her, one hand gripping her wrist and the other wrapping around her back to fist into her long hair. I’ve got to have the upper hand with her, and making sure she can’t move is my only option.

  But Felicity doesn’t back down. “Where is my battery?”

  “I told you. Gone.”

  Her nostrils flare and the rage in her eyes could start a fire. “Give it back.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “I hate you.” She spits the words at me. It’s not the first time Felicity has made the claim, but I think it might be the closest it’s ever been to being true.

  And maybe it’s better that way.

  Felicity is more than a man like me should even try to want.

  And I do more than try.

  “You still only leave here with me.” I let her wrist go, sliding the wrench from her grip before releasing the soft strands of her hair. “We’re going to go back inside, say our goodbyes, and then I’m taking you home.”

  Her eyes burn into mine. “Maybe I’ll have Cook take me home.”

  She’s baiting me. I know she does it, and it still works every fucking time. “No.” It comes out sharp and short.

  Felicity huffs out a breath, her shoulders squaring as she continues to stare me down. “Fine.”

  I know this isn’t over. It didn’t take long for me to realize Felicity never backs down.

  She only changes tactics.

  I watch her stomp inside, taking a second to reign myself back in.

  I learned early on it is best to just let shit roll off your back. There’s not much in this life that matters, and there’s no reason to get wound up about shit you can’t control.

  And I sure as hell can’t control Felicity.

  But hell if I don’t still have to try. It’s the only way to keep her safe.

  I make my way back inside, ready to continue the battle I started when I had Tracker go out and take her battery all the way out. I search the crowd milling around saying their goodbyes for Felicity’s dark head. She shouldn’t be hard to find. She’s the tallest of the women here.

  But once again, there’s no sign of her.

  I lift my brows at Shelly. “Where is she?”

  Shelly points down the hall. “Bathroom.”

  Tracker’s eyes catch mine. “You might want to check on her.”

  He would know.

  I go down the hall to where the half bath door stands open, lights off, no sign of Felicity.

  Because of course there’s not.

  This is why I can’t be the way I used to be. Because she pushes and pushes and pushes, shoving me to a place I didn’t know I could be.

  I run back through the house and out the front door, Tracker and Cook on my heels as I race down the steps just in time to watch my El Camino peel out and race down the road, one long, lean hand shoved out the window, middle finger high in the air.

  Tracker shakes his head. “You might win this, brother. I think you got us beat with that one.”

  I don’t think this is a contest I want to be a part of. “I’m not sure I can handle her.”

  Tracker laughs. “I think you’re the only one who can.” He slaps me on one shoulder. “If she can make you lose your shit then the rest of us would have already strapped her to a chair and left her there.”

  “She’d get loose.” I keep staring down the road where my car disappeared.

  “Don’t doubt that for a second.” He shakes his head. “I got no ideas for you.”

  “Butch says I need to get her out of here. Take her someplace else for a while.” I scratch at the short growth covering my face and neck.

  Tracker tips his head from side to side as he considers the option. “That might be the best thing with that one.”

  “Where the fuck do I take her though?” I’ve got no one but the men in the house behind me. No family to help hide her away.

  Nothing.

  “I’d take her someplace nice. Maybe somewhere she can shop and sit by the pool. Women like her love that shit.”

  I’m not sure he’s right.

  At the beginning of this I might have thought the same way, but after watching Felicity for weeks, I’m not so confident she’s what she pretends to be.

  Unfortunately, I think the woman I saw tonight might be closer to the truth.

  It’s the best, worst thing. Worst because this woman is hard to handle.

  Best because this woman is hard to handle.

  “You need a ride?” Cook comes out of the house, jingling the keys to his ugly-as-fuck truck.

  I wipe one hand down my face, trying to figure out what in the hell I’m going to do about her. “Yeah.”

  I’ve only got one option right now and I don’t fucking like it.

  But I promised I would do whatever it took to keep this woman safe.

  I follow Cook to his truck.

  “And I need a favor.”

  5

  COOK LIFTS A brow at me from his truck.

  Asshole.

  I drop the shade on the front window of my townhouse.

  He fucking passed me off.

  Apparently men get pissed when you steal their car.

  Which is gone now. Along with my car.

  I blow at the loose chunk of hair falling into my face. It flaps around for a second before falling back over my eye. I swipe at it with both hands, smacking at the damn thing.

  Like that’s going to help.

  I take a deep, hopefully calming breath, before carefully pulling the elastic from my hair and remaking my ponytail, this time being careful to get everything caught in the band.

  I don’t care that Gypsy is obviously exactly what I thought he was.

  Just like every other man.

  It’s fine.

  I stomp back up the stairs and throw open the door to the spare bedroom I’ve been avoiding all week.

  I haven’t gone in it since Gypsy essentially moved in.

  And then back out apparently.

  Only all his stuff is still here. The prick hasn’t even had the decency to come get his shit and finalize his exit from my life.

  All the others at least did that.

  Guess I’ll have to do it for him.

  I walk to the closet and grab an armful of the clothes hanging there, each shirt perfectly aligned with the one beside it. I pull them free of the rod, taking some of the hangers with me, and stomp back down the stairs and out the door. I stare at Cook as I walk to the spot of sidewalk right in front of his Frankentruck and drop the pile.

  Then I go back for more.

  It takes three trips to empty the room of everything Gypsy owns, and when I’m done I slam the door behind me, expecting to feel lighter without all that unwanted shit in my place.

  But I don’t feel lighter at all.

  So I go back to the room and rip the covers off the bed, tipping my head back to avoid the smell of him left from the nights he spent laying in them.

  Probably naked.

  I force the heat the image brings into anger instead of lust.

  “Dick.” I shove the linens into my washing machine and pour in detergent, setting the temperature to hot, hoping it will wash away the last of him from my life.

  But the room still smells like him.

  I open the window and turn the ceiling fan on high as I spray the whole thing down
with Febreeze.

  Finally he’s gone.

  I force on a smile.

  Because I’m happy, damn it.

  I go to wash my hands in the bathroom, flipping on the light.

  “Motherfucker.” I probably yell it a little too loud, but...

  But motherfucker.

  I pull the trash can from under the sink and start knocking Gypsy’s toiletries into the bin one by one, the loud thunk of the containers hitting the bottom of the empty can completely unsatisfying.

  I grab the towel he used and drag it behind me as I take one last trip to the sidewalk, shaking the shower gels and cologne onto the pile littering the concrete as Cook watches, still sitting in his damn truck.

  I lock the door behind me and add the towel to the washer, slamming the door back in place before pacing through the downstairs.

  I feel like a caged animal. At least when Gypsy was here I wasn’t alone. I had something to do besides stare at these damn walls.

  But he left me. Just like they all do. Probably decided the same thing as all the rest.

  That I’m too high-strung.

  Too demanding.

  Too much.

  At least this time I knew it was coming.

  So I guess I’m better than I was.

  My skin is tingling with unspent energy as I go upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I shut the window and close the blind in Gypsy’s—

  No. My spare bedroom.

  I turn my attention to the treadmill in the corner. I haven’t used it in weeks. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.

  I just need a good workout.

  Five miles later I’m sweaty and exhausted.

  And still pissed.

  I drag open the blinds on the window and stare down at Cook’s truck. The mess I left in front of it is gone.

  Good.

  Fine.

  I drop the blind back and go take a shower, feeling fine that it no longer smells like him.

  Good.

  Fine.

  It’s not like I care that he abandoned me. Broke his promise to be the one to keep me safe.

  He said no one else would be the one to protect me.

  Over my dead body.

  Those were his exact words.

  Well the bastard isn’t dead so that makes him a liar.

  Just like all the rest.

  Well fuck him. Fuck all of them.

  I pull on a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt.