Dirty Desires (Devil Kings MC #3) - Nicole James Page 0,14
from Gypsy. As much as I don’t want anything to do with him—not really—I still feel bad that I’m basically using him.
The fire is still there; that much we proved.
I can’t let what happened at the rest stop happen again. I don’t know what came over me. When he admitted how attracted he was to me, how attracted he still is, I just got carried away. The things he admitted—how he’d searched for me, how he couldn’t get me out of his head—really got to me, and in the moment I acted rashly.
I never should have let him know I was still attracted to him. And above all else, I can’t ever let him know that the night we shared was the best I’ve ever had.
I walk inside and begin the ritual of security hoops I have to jump through before I can be admitted in to visit my father.
Twenty-three minutes later, I’m sitting at a table waiting with the requested beef jerky and two Mountain Dews. I even throw in a bag of cheese curls.
My father is the second one brought in. His step is a little lighter when he walks toward my table this time.
He’s reaching for one of the cans before his ass hits the chair. He pops the top and guzzles a good portion, then looks at me. “Well?”
“Gypsy drove me here.”
“Good, and?”
I lift my chin and raise a brow for effect. “He wants you to put him on the visitors list.
My father doesn’t say anything at first but reaches for the jerky and tears off a bite. He smiles as he chews it, and then nods. “You did good. What about that trip?”
I know he’s referring to information on the club’s Sturgis run. “I haven’t had enough time.”
He nods. “The prison has forms Gypsy will have to fill out. They’ll do background, but if I recall correctly, he’s never been convicted of anything. Roll of the dice, really, if they allow him in. But if they do, that would work to my advantage.”
“Then you could ask him all this stuff yourself.”
He focuses his piercing gaze on me. “Still want you diggin’ to see what you can find out.”
I sigh.
He eats some more jerky, then scans the room and asks, “How’s your mother?”
“Worried about you. Smoking too much. Not eating.”
“I wrote her a letter. Mailed it yesterday. No clue how long it takes to get through this joint and on its way to her.”
“I’ll tell her. She’ll be standing by the mailbox every day waiting for it, so I hope you’re not bullshitting me.”
“I’m not.”
“You could call her, you know.”
He curls up his lips. “Nah.”
“Why don’t you put her back on the list?”
He stares at me then. “You do well, maybe I will.”
I get the feeling he’s stringing me along. For my mother’s sake, I hope not.
An hour later I walk into the bright sunshine and drag in a deep breath of fresh air, glad to be outside again. I spot Gypsy’s truck just coming up the drive. He pulls to the curb, and I climb in, slamming the door.
“How’d it go?”
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, not answering his question.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I turn to him. “Have you ever been in prison?”
“Nope.”
“Ever visited someone inside?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a horrible place.”
He nods, the expression on his face saying he’s not sure how to make any of this easier for me.
“He wants me to come back next week.”
Gypsy looks out the window then at me. “How many times you plan on visiting?”
“You think I want to come back?” I snap, my nerves shot. I’m a nervous wreck the entire time I’m locked inside that place, and I know it will take hours to shake the effect it has on me.
“If you don’t want to do this, then don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
I stay quiet. How do I explain it? I feel dead inside.
He blows out a breath. “You hungry? Let’s get something to eat. I found a place a couple blocks from the riverfront.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, just starts driving, taking control, and I let him. I’m like a walking zombie, numb to everything.
We end up at a cute pizzeria on Broadway, a pretty divided boulevard with trees down the center and diagonal parking. We sit at an outside table. It’s quite pleasant with a pretty fountain and a guy playing a soft blues guitar. He orders a couple of beers, and we split a small loaded pizza.
By the second slice, I’m feeling myself again.
Gypsy leans back in