Gypsy king

“Yeah. I’m not sure what that was. Strange feeling though.”

She gave me a sad smile. “Grief, if I had to guess.”

“Never goes away.”

Bryce drove a few blocks until we were on Central Avenue and headed for The Betsy. “Genevieve didn’t have a last name for Amina’s boyfriend. We’ll have to keep digging to find out who he is. If you even want to.”

“You’re assuming I don’t want Dad to go to prison.”

“I know you don’t,” she said. “You want the truth just as much as I do. Someone killed Amina, and that person deserves to be brought to justice.”

“Agreed.” I wouldn’t let that person threaten my family. Nick and Emmeline. Their kids. Emmett and Leo. Presley. They were the only family that mattered now. “How do you want to go about finding the boyfriend?”

“Genevieve didn’t have any pictures because I doubt Amina ever took them. Apparently, she didn’t talk about him much. All Genevieve knew was his name, Lee.”

“Genevieve.” Her name tasted bitter.

I hated her already.

It wasn’t logical, but emotions were gripping the handlebars today. Genevieve was no sister of mine. She was someone I’d do my best to forget was breathing.

“Yes, that’s her name.” Bryce frowned. “Before you condemn her for the actions of her parents, remember that she just lost her mother too. She’s a sweet person. Kind and genuine.”

“She means nothing.”

“She is your half sister, like it or not. Before this is over, she’s going to learn about Draven. About you. Right now, she thinks he’s responsible for killing her only parent. How do you think she’s going to feel when the man who she thinks murdered her mother is actually her father? Take it easy on Genevieve. She doesn’t deserve your anger. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Jesus,” I grumbled. “Do you always have to be so reasonable?”

“Yes.”

I fought a grin. “So now what? The daughter—”

“Genevieve,” she corrected.

“Genevieve is a dead end. What’s next?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Honestly, with everything that’s happened over the last couple of days, I need some time to think. To let it breathe until it comes to me.”

Breathing and time sounded good to me too.

The parking lot at The Betsy was nearly empty when we arrived. My bike was parked beside the building where I’d left it last night. No one who went to The Betsy would dare touch it.

Bryce stayed in her seat as she waited for me to get out of the car. “Bye.”

“Call you later.”

“You don’t have my number.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

I’d had her phone number memorized since the day she’d come to the garage for a fake oil change. Willy had given it to me when I’d called him. I doubted Bryce knew her employee had once been a frequent guest at our underground fights. He’d always bet on me and I’d made him a lot of money, so there wasn’t much he kept to himself whenever I called.

“Fine. Whatever. Call me later.”

She left me at my bike and I watched her drive away.

I waited a whole five minutes before digging my phone out of my pocket.

“Seriously?” she answered, a smile in her voice. “Do I need to be worried that you’re turning into a clinger?”

Yes. There was no keeping my boundaries with her. She’d stood by me these past twenty-four hours and things were different. From the begi

“Got a deal for you,” I said, straddling my bike. “I’ll fold the rest of your laundry if you cook me di

“I’m making breakfast for di

My mouth watered. “I could eat breakfast.”

“I’m making the biscuits from scratch. It’s a pain in the ass and makes a mess. Toss in cleanup with the laundry and you can come over at six.”

How was it this woman could make me smile after the afternoon we’d had?

Sorcery.

“I’ll be there.”