Gypsy king

“No.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry. It’s true. He’s your father. Your mother asked him to come to the motel to tell him about you.”

“No,” she hissed, the word a combination of anger and despair.

“Draven was the president of a motorcycle club. They called him Prez.”

“That nickname could be for anything.”

“Genevieve.” I gave her a sad smile. “You have his eyes and his hair. You even look a little bit like Dash.”

“Who’s Dash?”

“My boyfriend. And your half brother.”

She leaned away from me, twisting to look the other direction. Either I’d done the right thing by telling her the truth, or I’d pushed her too far. I only hoped that she’d inherited some of Draven’s strength because when I made a run for it, she was coming with me.

“I think this guy, the one who took us, is the one who killed your mom.”

She shook her head, her eyes still squeezed shut. When she opened them, a new wash of tears fell. “Why?”

“I think it has something to do with Draven’s motorcycle club. Some old grudge that never got settled. Somehow, we landed right in the middle of it.”

She swallowed hard, sucking the tears back. “I just wanted to see Mom’s grave.”

“You will.” I scooted into her side. “We’ll get out of here. Dash will come for us.”

I only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

We sat quietly, Genevieve’s head probably spi

“Do you think he can see us?” I whispered.

“Maybe. But I can’t see him.”

“We have to get our legs free. He used duct tape. We can probably unwind it or cut it or something. But if he can see us, I don’t want to try.”

“Let’s go pee.”

“Right here?” Gross.

“Let’s tell him we have to pee. Maybe he’ll untie our legs.”

“Oh.” I relaxed. “Good idea.”

My leg was falling asleep and tingling, but changing position seemed to make the cold seep deeper into my bones. We waited until the man emerged from behind a tree about fifty feet away. I hadn’t seen him duck behind it. He walked toward us with sure strides, a man confident his infallible plan was coming together.

Chances were, it probably was. We were probably going to die today, but not without a fight.

“I need to pee,” I said as he got closer.

“Then pee.”

“Here?” I gaped. “And sit in it?”

He shrugged. Minus a few words here and there, he’d been mostly mute.

“No, thank you.” I gritted my teeth again, the anger roaring to new life. I wasn’t a violent person, but damn, I wanted to steal this guy’s knife and stab him in the eyeball. I squirmed. “Please? Call it a last request. Don’t make me die covered in urine.”

“Fine.” He took that enormous knife from its leather sleeve and brought it over. The metal seemed to find the only flicker of sunlight, glinting as it came toward my legs. One fast swipe and my ankles were free.

“Can I go too?” Genevieve looked at him with those big eyes, weepy and seemingly pathetic. She put on quite the act.

He swiped the tape at her legs too, then motioned for us to stand.

My legs were wobbly and stiff, my arms tingling with sleep. Walking would have been hard on a flat surface, let alone the uneven ground of the forest floor. Ru

Was this hopeless? Were we going to die soon?

The man took his gun from his holster and pointed it at my nose as I found my balance. “Go.”

I nodded, shuffling two steps away. “What about my hands? I can’t get my jeans undone.”

He frowned and came over, but instead of releasing my hands, he jerked the button and zipper on my jeans free and dragged them down to my knees. He did the same for Genevieve.

It was humiliating, having this man see me squat, my bare ass freezing in the cold air. Genevieve took her steps in the opposite direction. Her eyes squeezed shut as she squatted.

I did the same, pretending I was hovering over a toilet in The Betsy, not a pinecone. When we were done and he’d yanked our pants back in place, he pushed us back into the tree.

Please don’t tape us again.

He reached for the backpack he’d brought, likely going for the tape.

“You sent that picture to Dash, didn’t you?” I hoped the question would distract him. Maybe if I could keep him talking, he’d forget the tape.

“I did. Left him enough clues to find your body.”

My heart jumped into my throat. “You’re going to kill us and leave us here?”

“Just you.” He pointed to Genevieve with the gun. “Dash will kill her for killing you.”

I didn’t need to ask why. This asshole was clearly good at framing others for murder, and he was banking on the fact that Dash would take his revenge, that no matter how much Genevieve pleaded and begged for her life, he’d kill her.

“But why her? She didn’t do anything.”

He stared at her and the muscles in his face behind the mask seemed to tense. “I have my reasons.”

This had to be about Amina, right? Her murder had started this whole thing. I’d thought all along she was the key, but I was missing the co

How had this man known when Genevieve was going to be in Montana? Did he know she was Draven’s daughter? The paper hadn’t gone out yet. If he did know, it meant someone in the garage had been talking.

But I couldn’t believe that Emmett or Leo would let it slip. Had Draven told anyone? Maybe he’d confided in an old friend that he was a father to an unknown daughter.

Dad’s face popped into my mind. Did he wonder why I hadn’t shown up at the paper for delivery prep this morning? Was he worried? Whatever happened, I hoped Mom and Dad knew I loved them. If I did die today, I was glad we’d had di

I pushed away the thought of never seeing them again and focused on keeping this guy talking. He hadn’t gotten out the tape yet. “Are you doing all this to start up an old war between clubs?”

“Not start. Win.”

Then what was he waiting for? Why not kill us now and disappear? I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d sent Dash the picture, but it had to have been at least an hour.

He shoved his gun in his jeans and took out his phone. “Think we’ve waited long enough.”

“For what?” I asked.

He nodded to Genevieve. “For them to find her and kill her. Can’t have her get too far away.”

Genevieve flinched, leaning closer to my side.

“Stand up.” He reached for Genevieve, dragging her to her feet.

Then he did the same to me, hauling me up so fast I was dizzy. My heart raced. We needed more time.

Hot streaks raced down my cheeks. Tears streamed down Genevieve’s too.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, taking out his pistol.

I was too scared to defy him. I dropped onto my knees but kept my eyes on Genevieve. She was going to see the worst, wasn’t she? He’d make her pull the trigger. He’d make her see the blood and watch me die.

I gave her a sad smile. “It’s okay.”

A sob escaped her lips and her shoulders shook violently as he cut the tape to free her hands.

The man wrapped his arms around her, making her cry out. She fought him, twisting and turning, but he was too strong. With a tight squeeze, he held her to his body until she gave up the fight. One by one, he put her fragile hands on the gun. She shook her head, over and over, her hair falling into her face.