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Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

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by Autumn Jones Lake




  Wheels of Fire

  Hollywood Demons #3

  Autumn Jones Lake

  Copyright

  Wheels of Fire

  Hollywood Demons #3

  Copyright ©2020 Autumn Jones Lake

  Cover Model: Megan Napolitan and Zack Bradford

  Cover Designer: Lori Jackson Design

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Edited by Angela James

  Digital ISBN #: 978-1-943950-54-6

  Paperback ISBN #: 978-1-943950-58-4

  Large Print Paperback ISBN #: 978-1-943950-59-1

  Audio ISBN #: 978-1-943950-60-7

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. This copy is intended for the purchaser only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  The Lost Kings MC is a registered trademark of Ahead of the Pack, LLC.

  Contents

  Also By Autumn Jones Lake

  NEWSLETTER

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  EPILOGUE

  Author Notes

  Also by Autumn Jones Lake

  Social Media

  Join us!

  About the Author

  Also By Autumn Jones Lake

  THE LOST KINGS MC SERIES

  Slow Burn (Lost Kings MC #1)– Free at all retailers!

  Corrupting Cinderella (Lost Kings MC #2)

  Three Kings, One Night (Lost Kings MC #2.5)

  Strength From Loyalty (Lost Kings MC #3)

  Tattered on My Sleeve (Lost Kings MC #4)

  White Heat (Lost Kings MC #5)

  Between Embers (Lost Kings MC #5.5)

  More Than Miles (Lost Kings MC #6)

  White Knuckles (Lost Kings MC #7)

  Beyond Reckless (Lost Kings MC #8)

  Beyond Reason (Lost Kings MC #9)

  One Empire Night (Lost Kings MC #9.5)

  After Burn (Lost Kings MC #10)

  After Glow (Lost Kings MC #11)

  Zero Hour (Lost Kings MC #11.5) - Free at all retailers!

  Zero Tolerance (Lost Kings MC #12)

  Zero Regret (Lost Kings MC #13)

  Zero Apologies (Lost Kings MC #14)

  White Lies (Lost Kings MC #15)

  Swagger and Sass (A Lost Kings MC Novella)

  Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC #16)

  Standalones in the Lost Kings MC World

  Bullets & Bonfires

  Warnings & Wildfires

  Cards of Love: Knight of Swords

  The Kickstart Trilogy

  Kickstart My Heart

  Blow My Fuse

  Wheels of Fire

  Paranormal Romance

  Catnip & Cauldrons

  Onyx Night

  Onyx Shadows

  Feral Escape

  NEWSLETTER

  Sign-Up here for updates about what I’m working on, alerts for sales and new releases, bonus scenes, and stuff I don’t share elsewhere! Delivered straight to your inbox!

  Acknowledgments

  This trio of books has been such an adventure and a joy to write during such a challenging time. As much as I’ve immersed myself in Mallory and Chaser’s world, their story wouldn’t have come alive without several key people.

  Thank you to Angela James for helping me tame this story and for your valuable input.

  Lauren McKellar, thank you for the weekly check-ins and keeping me sane during the writing process. I absolutely adore this story, and I wouldn’t have pulled it off without you guiding me along.

  Thank you so much to Lori Jackson for creating three beautiful covers and capturing what was so special to me about these books.

  Wander and Andrey thank you for being so patient and helping me bring the images in my head to my covers.

  Many thanks to LK Shaw for appreciating my snark, making me laugh, and always being willing to listen.

  Sue Banner, Sophie Ruthven, Melissa Machado, Tanisha Franzese, Athena Stephenson, Shawna Wood, Jennifer Furr, Laura Knowles, Elizabeth Kelley, Tammy Dalton, Sirenda McNece, Kathryn Linke, Tanya Skaggs, and Brittany Lehnhoff—there really aren’t enough words to thank you for sticking with me through so many books. For being so patient when I drop a book on you last minute or you have to remind me about promo graphics. I’m not sure how I got so lucky and I probably don’t deserve you, but I appreciate you so much.

  Jessica Alcazar, thank you for traumatizing—oops, I mean kindly pointing out a few flaws and suggestions on how to polish them. Thank you for your plot twists! and reminding me when I’m running behind.

  I really need to thank Samara, Rob, Lance, and Samantha for bringing Mallory and Chaser to life in the audiobooks. Deciding to produce my own audiobooks for this series was scary and I can’t thank you enough for making it such a smooth process.

  Last, and never least, thank you to Mr. Lake who is my rock. You never hesitate to kick my ass into gear or reassure me that I’m awesome when I’m in a spiral of self-doubt. Thank you for keeping me fed, caffeinated, rolling out my yoga mat every morning and doing…well everything else around here while I’m in deep writing mode. In a year full of so much uncertainty and distress, you continue to be my anchor.

  Dedication

  “Love does no
t consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

  —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

  Chapter One

  Chaser

  Sometimes the path to harmony isn’t in the doing of stuff, it’s in the undoing of the things that leave you unbalanced. The releasing of the people hanging around your neck. The albatrosses who drag you under. It’s a lesson I should’ve learned a long time ago.

  Instead, thanks to my druggie bandmates, I’m sitting in an austere six by eight cell. With no idea whether Andrew is alive or not.

  Fear digs the deepest graves. That's why I'm keeping mine in check.

  I’m innocent.

  This is all a big mistake.

  I’ll be out soon.

  “Adams!” an officer shouts.

  Please let that be someone coming to their damn senses and letting me out of here.

  I stand and wait by the cell door. The officer approaches, almost apologetically. “I gotta cuff you.”

  I hold my wrists out as he slides the gate open. “Do what you gotta do.”

  “Lot of us are fans,” he says in a low voice as he walks me through the corridors.

  “Thanks.” What the hell else do I say? You’d think growing up in an MC, I’d have a healthy hatred of law enforcement. And I do, to a certain extent. But my father always impressed upon me the importance of showing respect until it’s no longer an option. Law enforcement’s just doing their job.

  The grim vibe of the building doesn’t improve as I’m led away from the cells, down a corridor with painted cinderblock walls. All windowless and free of decoration. We stop outside a small room. Inside, a square metal table is bolted to the floor. A crabby-faced detective waits to interrogate me on the other side.

  He scowls as the other officer walks me to a chair.

  The guy is most definitely not a fan.

  Once we’re alone, he sits forward. “Let’s go over your story again, Mr. Adams.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I spread my hands on the table in front of me. “Test me for gunshot residue.”

  “You seem to know an awful lot about the process.”

  I roll my eyes. “While you’re wasting time busting my balls, the person who actually shot my friend is running around free.”

  “You and Andrew Lane are friends?”

  “Yes.” Most of the time I want to kill the guy but I haven’t made a serious attempt, yet.

  It’s probably better to keep those sentiments to myself.

  “A number of witnesses say you had an argument yesterday. Over your girlfriend.”

  “She and Andrew had a mild disagreement. We resolved it. Hell, I played on stage with Andrew last night.”

  “Another witness says you threatened to shoot Mr. Lane a few nights ago.”

  “Bullshit.” One of the only “witnesses” was Alvin and there’s no way he’d rat me out to anyone. Jacob and Garrett technically didn’t see anything. I can’t imagine the girl Andrew brought on the bus spilling the story so fast. And Mallory would never talk to the cops. That leaves someone who wants to feel important spreading second or third-hand information.

  “So you didn’t threaten to shoot him?”

  “We get into disagreements all the time. We’re a bunch of guys on the road cooped up on tour buses.”

  Unimpressed, he flips through his notebook. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  I shrug.

  “Does Andrew Lane have a drug problem?”

  Does he ever.

  “No idea.”

  “What about Jacob Whitfield?”

  He’s the whole reason we’re in this mess.

  “You’ll have to talk to Jacob.”

  “We will once we locate him.” He leans forward. “But come on, he’s your singer. You don’t know his habits?”

  “I’m not his babysitter.” Big, fat lie there.

  “He’s the one who called you and asked you to meet him and Andrew?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Any idea what they were doing in that part of town?”

  “I assumed they’d gotten lost.” While trying to score heroin.

  “Then what?”

  “When I got there, Andrew was already on the ground bleeding out.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, drowning in the helpless feeling of possibly watching a friend die.

  “And?” he prompts.

  I take a deep breath. “I put pressure on the wound and slapped Jacob to snap him out of his shock and told him to call 911.” Furious over the whole situation, I may have punched Jacob a little harder than necessary. But I’ll happily take the blame for the crime I actually did commit if Jacob has the urge to press charges.

  “Who else was there?”

  I close my eyes again, trying to remember details lost in the chaos. I’m pretty sure Vinnie and Garrett took off as soon as I arrived. It’s not in my nature to snitch or volunteer information to cops, though. “I’m not sure. Everything was crazy. I focused on getting Andrew help and didn’t pay attention to who was around us.”

  He rolls his eyes at what I’m sure sounded like a self-serving statement. “Where was your girlfriend during all this commotion?”

  Unease prickles down my spine. Mallory doesn’t need to be brought into this. “Asleep in our hotel room.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  He stands and knocks on the door. “All right.”

  “Are you letting me go?”

  “I’ll attempt to verify your version of events.” He jerks his chin up. “Someone will come in and test your hands.”

  “Good.”

  Raised voices in the hallway, draw our attention to the door a few seconds before it’s flung open. The detective barely has time to jump out of the way.

  “If you’re done violating my client’s rights, I’d like to have a word with him,” the intruder says.

  I drop my head, suppressing my laughter. Knew my girl would come through. After her initial confusion, when I called to explain what was happening, she bucked up and promised she’d track down my father. And fuck knows, Dad wouldn’t waste time finding me a lawyer the second he found out I was in jail.

  After the detective leaves, the man extends his hand to me. “Sloan Paxton, your father hired me to represent you.” He drops into the seat across from me. “I’ll need a little time to get caught up on your case. Speak to the detectives. See what I can find out. The victim is in critical condition—”

  “Andrew’s alive?”

  He pins me with a stare. “Yes.”

  “Thank God,” I breathe out.

  “These are still serious charges.”

  “I know that,” I spit out. “I was worried my friend was dead. No one’s told me anything.”

  “I’m not going to ask if you did it—”

  “I didn’t.”

  He holds up one hand and shakes his head. “Don’t.” He glances down at the papers in his hands. “Who’s Peter Carson?”

  “The band’s tour manager.”

  “Andrew’s band, or yours?”

  My brows draw down. Why the fuck’s he so interested in Pete? “Mine. Why?”

  “He’s the one who told the cops you tried to shoot Andrew the night before.”

  “Are you shitting me?” I jump up, stabbing my fingers through my hair. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

  “You tell me.” He studies a legal pad covered in chicken scratch that must only be legible to him. “Your girlfriend states Peter told her he had no idea where you were.”

  “That piece of shit.”

  “Easy. Let’s get you out of this jam.” He consults his notes again. “Do you own a gun?”

  “Yes,” I answer carefully.

  A slight downward twitch at the corner of his mouth says that’s not the answer he hoped for. “Where is it now?”

  “Locked up on the tour bus.”

  I swear he breathes a sigh of relief. “You never made it
back to the bus last night?”

  “I see where you’re going with this. No. The cops arrested me at the hospital.”

  “Good. Okay.”

  “Is Mallory okay? Have you talked to her?”

  Paxton shifts and won’t meet my eyes for a second. “She’s worried about you. She came down here with me but they won’t let her see you yet.”

  “She’s here? Get her back to the hotel. I need her to stay clear of this as much as possible.” Damn, knowing she’s so close kills me.

  “Is she involved?”

  “No and I want to keep it that way. She doesn’t need the bad press.” When will my shitty life decisions stop putting Mallory’s career in jeopardy?

  “Let’s continue. What is your relationship with Andrew Lane?”

  “We’re friends. We’ve collaborated on some songs. Our bands are touring together.” I shrug. That tour might be over. Hell, Kickstart’s entire career might be blown if the whole world thinks I tried to kill the legendary Andrew Lane.

 

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