Tool (Gypsy Kings #11)

Prologue

Brandi

Brandi walked along the quiet sidewalk, the soft tap of her boots mingling with the low hum of the town easing into the afternoon. The weather was warming, bringing a steady stream of tourists into Lampsing’s growing streets.

Every so often, she stepped aside to let other pedestrians pass.

A family of three approached—a mom wrangling two lively kids.

As they passed, the mother offered a bright hello.

Brandi smiled warmly, recognizing them from the ice cream shop.

She waved back, feeling that familiar flicker of connection that came from running a place people loved.

Lampsing had changed a lot in the few years since she first called it home. New businesses filled once-empty storefronts, giving the town a fresh kind of energy without losing its old charm.

She slowed as she passed the new boutique, Vintage and Fresh, admiring the latest window display.

Mercury Silva, the owner, had a gift. Every button, every zipper, every outfit Mercury put together spoke to what women wanted—to feel bold, beautiful, and a little bit unstoppable.

No wonder her displays had already become the talk of the town.

Brandi drifted past The Grind, the wine and cheese shop with its rustic, welcoming feel. Stepping inside she said hello to the owner and picked up her order she’d made earlier.

When she stepped back out onto the sidewalk she passed Decadence, where the rich scent of chocolate hung sweet in the warm breeze.

She smiled to herself, thinking about the cup of hot chocolate she'd had there—thick, silky, and just a little spicy from the pinch of cayenne Quinn worked into the recipe, a secret passed down through generations.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and picked up her pace, the familiar corner of The Coffee Bean coming into view.

She was coming back from her lunch break at Lulu’s Diner, and it was time to get ready for the after-school rush.

Kids would be piling in soon, noses pressed against the glass, deciding between double scoops and sprinkles.

Brandi smiled to herself. It was a good day for ice cream. Her smile faltered as her gaze drifted across the two-lane highway that cut through the heart of town.

In front of the local garage, she spotted Tool, leaning into the open window of a shiny red Corvette.

Her heart gave a traitorous skip when he straightened, revealing a dark-haired woman behind the wheel, her smile wide and easy.

Brandi stood frozen, the warmth of her earlier contentment draining away as she watched the woman hand Tool something small and white—probably her number, Brandi thought bitterly.

A knot tightened in her chest. Why couldn’t she just get over him?

Because every time she was close—every damn time—Tool would show up, flashing that playboy grin, knocking down all the shaky walls she built around her heart.

And she would doubt herself all over again.

Doubt whether she was really ready to move on.

Doubt whether anyone else would ever make her feel the way he did—with just a glance, a laugh, a memory she couldn’t seem to outrun.

Jaw tight, Brandi tore her gaze away and continued walking towards The Coffee Bean, forcing her steps into a brisk, steady rhythm.

But halfway to the door, she made the mistake of glancing back over her shoulder.

Tool was still there, standing on the curb, one hand shoved into his pocket, the slip of paper tucked into the other. He wasn't looking at the Corvette anymore.

He was looking at her.

For a heartbeat, Brandi couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The world narrowed down to the distance between them—a few yards, a lifetime, and a thousand what-ifs.

She turned away first, the chime above the shops door jingling as she pushed inside, the bittersweet taste of regret sharp on her tongue.

The familiar scent of fresh-brewed coffee and sugar cones wrapped around her the moment she stepped inside, but it did little to steady her. She blinked against the sudden sting behind her eyes and pasted on a smile as the shop's warmth closed in around her.

"Brandi! You’re back just in time!" Lilly, called from behind the counter, waving a scoop in the air like a white flag. "We’ve got a field trip coming through in about ten minutes. A bus load of elementary students!"

Brandi nodded, hanging her purse on the hook behind the register, slipping seamlessly into motion. Busy was good. Busy kept her from thinking too much.

She tied on her apron with practiced hands, but her gaze snagged, just for a second, on the front window. The street beyond it. The place where Tool had been.

Focus, she told herself sharply.

With a deep breath, she turned her attention to the ice cream case, forcing her heart to slow, her mind to clear. If nothing else, today would still be a good day for ice cream—even if her heart wasn’t in it yet.

Tool

He watched the brunette drive away, the Corvette's engine roaring like it was trying too hard to be impressive. The business card flipped between his fingers, the sharp edge scraping calloused skin.

The brunette was a friend—from Locke and Key, a sub. He hadn’t been there in almost a year. Not since Christmas. His mind was on a constant merry-go-round and the reason was Brandi. He needed—wanted, to pull the trigger.

His problem wasn’t her per say. It was what he want to do with her—to her. He’d been down that road years ago. And it didn’t work in his favor.

Tool let it drop into his pocket. His smile faded. He wasn't looking at the car anymore. Something else caught him. Someone else. Not brunette. A Redhead. Brandi. It was like he summoned her with his thoughts.

He either needed to pull her in tight or shove her out for good.

No more riding the middle. Because the way things were slipping, it wasn’t just his personal life on the line. It was bleeding into the club.

And if he didn’t get a handle on it, the brothers would start asking questions. Questions he didn’t have good answers for.

Gypsy said they were good with her. Maybe they were. But what happened if he claimed her—made it clear she was his? Would the brothers still have his back? Or would it tear apart everything he’d bled for?

And truth was, the real problem wasn’t them. It was him.

He wasn’t built for easy love. He’d tried before and wrecked it—wrecked her. He was possessive, controlling, too much in all the wrong ways. He liked to think he’d changed.

But when it came to Brandi... he didn’t know if he could keep that darkness in check. And if he lost control with her... he wouldn’t survive it.

“Hey, brother. You gonna stand there staring at Brandi all day or actually get back to work?” Wrench asked, stepping up beside Tool as he lit a cigarillo.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Tool muttered, eyes still tracking her.

Wrench smirked. “No, you’re not.” He exhaled smoke through a laugh. “But I bet if you took her home, you would be.”

Tool shot him a look that could peel paint. That was all the answer Wrench needed. The brother was stuck—twisted up in it and too damn scared to do anything about it.

Wrench understood. He’d been there once, bleeding out and high as a kite when he first laid eyes on Frisco. He had an excuse. Tool didn’t. Tool was just scared.

Tool didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back. He just turned and headed for the garage, boots hitting the pavement with sharp, heavy steps.

Wrench stayed where he was, watching him go with a low chuckle. He took one last drag off his cigarillo, crushed it dead against the sole of his boot, and flicked the butt into the street.

Then he followed, smoke still clinging to his cut as he disappeared inside.