Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  While I’m mentally sorting out the short discussion, Anya squeezes between my chair and Griff’s. “Mind if I join you guys?” she asks Trinity.

  While Trinity assesses the newcomer, Heidi’s more welcoming, patting the couch cushion next to her.

  “Hey, Anya,” I say.

  She scoots forward and gives me a quick hug. “I’m so happy you’re okay,” she gushes. “Rooster was a mess while—” her jaw drops and shakes her head. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Shoot, I’d rather people just openly say whatever’s on their mind than tiptoe around me like I’m made of glass. “I’m lucky Rooster was on the road with me and the club was nearby.” I glance at Trinity and Heidi. “And New York was willing to come all this way.”

  “Hell yeah.” Griff bumps my elbow. “We volunteered as soon as we heard Rooster needed the extra muscle.”

  My gaze skips over Griff’s granite-hard arms. An inappropriate, but welcome, fantasy of all the guys taking turns beating Martin Suggs to a bloody heap dances in my head for a few seconds.

  I hate that he’s turned me into such a vindictive person.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rooster

  Church is more or less the same at each charter. Sometimes it’s only open to members if there’s sensitive business to discuss. Other times, anyone wearing a Lost Kings patch is invited inside.

  This morning, Ice made it clear he expected me to attend. Shelby’s safe. She’s hanging out with Trinity and Heidi. Remy and Griff were told to keep their eyes on the girls and not let them out of their sight.

  As visiting brothers, Ice asked us to take spaces up front. I would’ve been happy blending into the background, but I’m not about to disrespect Ice in his own house. Jiggy took the seat to my right and Murphy’s on my left. Wrath’s holding up the wall across from me with Dex and Steer on either side of him. Not sure where Hustler ended up.

  I’m silent—and bored to death—while they go through business that only concerns their charter. Although, I do make a few mental notes of things to discuss with Z. About an hour into the meeting, Jiggy squirms in his seat and I bump his elbow as a reminder to settle the fuck down.

  “And finally, we owe thanks to Rooster for spending his time helping get Anya’s site running.” He holds up a sheet of paper. “Money’s already looking good.”

  Brothers clap and offer thanks.

  I hold up my hand and sit forward. “I’m the one who needs to thank Virginia. Thank you for having my back.” I turn toward Ice. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been so quick to help us search for Shelby.” I swallow hard, trying not to get choked up in front of everyone. “And calling in your favor with Jackson—”

  “I’m not so sure how useful he actually was,” Pants jokes.

  I kind of agree, but since Jackson’s basically a club asset, I’m not about to insult him. He didn’t get in my way, and that alone was a huge help. “No, brother. He made it look good for his people but he didn’t interfere. Didn’t hassle us about the condition Suggs was in when we turned him over, either.” I smirk at Jigsaw who gives everyone an ‘aw-shucks’ shrug.

  Ice taps the table. “We’ll keep tabs on the worm as he works his way through the system. You want him gone, all you have to do is say the word.”

  “They’re lettin’ Shelby go back on the road, right?” Pants asks. “Does she need to return if there’s a trial?”

  “Probably. Jackson knows how to reach her if he needs something.”

  “Anytime you need it, you’ve got a place to stay here,” Ice says.

  “Thanks, brother.” I drum my fingers over the table, not sure how to phrase my next offer. “I’m not clear on your arrangement with Jackson.” I hold up my hands. “Not prying for information. But I’d like to make a donation to help with any costs.”

  “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer,” Ice says.

  I’d feel better if Ice would take some cash to cover whatever bribe he pays Jackson, but I offered and he rejected. End of discussion. It’s disrespectful if I keep pushing in front of everyone. And I run the risk of offending Ice.

  “Rooster, you think you can pull your tongue out of your girl’s pussy long enough to party with us tonight?” T-Bone shakes with laughter.

  My upper lip curls into a snarl.

  “He ain’t wrong.” Jigsaw wiggles his tongue at me and adds some disgusting sloppy noises to draw the attention away from me gettin’ ready to pop T-Bone in the jaw for talkin’ about my girl that way.

  Brothers around the table laugh and lob some insults at Jiggy. He grins and takes it in stride.

  “Pussy patch!” a brother everyone calls Boots shouts. He slams his fist against the wood plank table. “That should be our next challenge patch.”

  I roll my eyes Jigsaw’s way. “Look what you started.”

  “Technically, it was T-Bone.”

  Guys start banging their fists on the table while chanting “Pussy patch!”

  Ice glances down and chuckles under his breath. “Jesus Christ.” He flicks a look at his VP. “That what you wanna spend your time doing?”

  Farmer sits forward and slowly rubs his palms together. “Yeah. We can have a little cat face patch made up.”

  “You wanna wear a fuckin’ kitty cat on your cut?” someone shouts.

  “Fuckin’ A.” Pants punches his fist in the air. “Great fucking story when someone finds the balls to ask one of us.”

  I don’t think their definition of ‘great story’ is the same as mine, but whatever. Not my club. Not my problem.

  While the organization as a whole has its rules for certain patches, other decorative—or frivolous—patches are up to individual charters to decide. Each still needs to be earned or given to a brother. Can’t just decide you feel like stitching something cute on your cut for shits and giggles. It’s gotta mean something.

  Even if it’s something filthy. Hell, especially if it’s filthy. The dirtier the story behind the patch, the better. Hence the old MC urban legends about “red wing” patches. Bikers are notoriously fond of sharing stories to mindfuck civilians.

  “Listen up!” T-Bone slaps his palm against the table to get everyone’s attention. “These are the rules. Every day for thirty days, you gotta eat some cat.”

  “Not a few token licks,” Boots adds. “You need to get the lucky lady off for it to count.”

  “Thirty days?” Wings asks.

  “What’s wrong, bro?” Boots taunts. “Weak tongue?”

  “Fuck off.” Wings reaches below the table, I’m guessing to grab his dick. Thankfully I’m not close enough to verify. “Where’s my patch for gettin’ my dick sucked thirty days straight?”

  “In your dreams,” Pants zings back.

  “Question.” Wings punches his fist in the air like that eager kid in class you always wanted to punch in the face. “Does it have to be thirty days in a row? Or can we like double-up on days?”

  I drop my head and rub my temples. Do I really need to be here for this?

  The guys argue the merits of thirty days or thirty acts of oral culminating in an actual orgasm. Someone else asks about thirty times in one day, which Boots determines should be its own separate patch.

  Once that discussion is finished—thirty days in a row is determined to be the harder challenge—T-Bone raises his hand in the air. “Dibs on Shonda.”

  Brothers around the room groan.

  “No way!” Boots pulls himself out of his chair and leans over the table so he can glare daggers at T-Bone.

  “They take their pussy seriously here,” Jigsaw whispers to me.

  “Apparently.”

  “You can’t call dibs,” Boots argues. “There ain’t enough girls to go around as it is.”

  Someone at the end of the table lifts a hand in the air. “Prez, is Anya—”

  “No,” Ice snarls before the question’s even out. The brother who asked puts his hand down fast. After a second or two, Ice wipes the
vicious expression off his face and adds in a milder tone, “Not unless you wanna film it for her site.”

  At least six guys raise their grubby paws. “Fuck yeah, I don’t mind having the whole world watch me—”

  “Settle the fuck down. Anya’s off-limits.” Pants glances at Ice who doesn’t respond one way or another. “She’s not free ass. End of story.” As SAA Pants’ word is law and no one else so much as breathes Anya’s name again.

  “We should do two patches,” Raze says. “Black cat if it’s a different girl every night. White cat if it’s the same chick.”

  “Don’t feel like explaining to the Mrs. where your tongue’s been?” T-Bone asks.

  “Eat my ass.”

  “That’s good. Maybe black cats with different color eyes.” Boots is fully immersed in this idea now. He rubs his hands together and reaches for a notepad and pencil from the center of the table. “We’ll pass out punch cards.” He lifts his hand in the air, opening and closing it a few times. “I’ll hand out heart-shaped hole punchers to the girls.” He glances up and sweeps his stern stare over everyone in the room. “No fucking cheating. No honorable brother wears a patch he didn’t earn.”

  That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I cover my face with my hands and fucking lose it. “Virginia is for lovers, all right,” I spit out through my laughter.

  “Anyone planning to warn the local ladies what’s about to go down?” Murphy snickers at his little pun.

  I hold out my fist for a bump. “Nice one.”

  Wrath’s squinting at the ceiling like he’s trying to do some quick calculations. “Make me up a lion patch.” He holds his hands out a few feet apart. “Got at least fourteen hundred days stacked up.”

  “Yeahhhhh.” Wings draws out the word slowly, adding in a dirty eyebrow wiggle. “If my girl looked like yours, I’d never let her out of bed.”

  Wrath’s glacial stare lands on the Virginia charter’s road captain. “Careful.” His low, rumbling voice holds a world of threat.

  Wings swallows hard and drops his pervy attitude. “Just payin’ your ol’ lady a compliment.”

  I lean over and whisper in Murphy’s ear. “You have to earn that patch, bro. Teller’s head’ll explode every time he sees it.”

  Nodding at my suggestion, Murphy covers his mouth with his hand and chuckles.

  Should I be stirring the shit? Probably not. Can’t seem to help myself, though. I love Teller, but his brotherly-love-hate-rivalry thing with his little sister’s husband is one of my favorite things about hanging out with the upstate charter.

  “Wives shouldn’t count,” T-Bone says. “They’ll punch those cards no matter what.”

  Raze leans forward. “Have you met Allison? She’ll hold my feet to the fire on this.”

  “Or your tongue on her clit,” Hustler adds from somewhere way at the end of the table.

  “That too.” Raze lifts a middle finger at Hustler.

  T-Bone holds out his arms like the gracious host he is. “New York, you’re all obviously invited to participate. You can mail your cards in when the thirty days are up.”

  “Hard pass,” Dex says. “But thanks.”

  Pants lifts his chin my way. “I’ll be on the road with you guys for a lil’ while. Shelby got lots of female fans hanging around?”

  “Yeah,” I growl, pissed he’s asking. “Most of ’em are little kids.”

  Pants curls his lip in disgust.

  “The headliner—Dawson—has tons of chicks hanging around. Don’t worry, bro,” Jigsaw assures him.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mumble. “Really?”

  “What?” Jigsaw shrugs. “Dawson can’t handle that much tail. There’s bound to be spillover.”

  Murphy’s laughing so hard, his arm knocks into mine. He swipes his cheeks. “This is gonna be so much fun. I’m sorry we can’t stay for the whole tour.”

  Ice hasn’t uttered a single word since his enforcer laid down the law about Anya. I glance over at him and he’s rubbing his forehead like he’s ready for an aspirin—or a shooting spree. Hard to tell which.

  A fucking pussy patch.

  I can’t wait to call Z and let him know what our charter’s been missing out on.

  Chapter Thirty

  Shelby

  “Hey, there’s a Fed Ex truck in the parking lot. Guy says he has a package for you, Heidi.” Griff scowls at the front door. “Are you expecting something?”

  Heidi jumps off the couch and eagerly rubs her hands together. “I sure am!”

  Trinity watches her for a minute, then shakes her head and returns to her magazine.

  “I wonder if it’s the stuff I asked Heidi to order for me.” Anya watches the front door. “I should probably help them out.”

  Before she has a chance to move off the couch, the door swings open again. Griff follows Heidi inside carrying a large, square cardboard box.

  “It’s all the goodies we ordered.” Heidi rubs her hands together and hurries over to us.

  Well, now I’m curious.

  As Heidi pulls out a small pocketknife, flips it open, and neatly slices through the tape sealing the box shut, I remember Rooster telling me Heidi has a side hustle. Selling sex toys.

  “Let me see what’s in here.” Heidi carefully checks each package inside against the invoice. “I ordered a few extra things.”

  “Thank you so much for this, Heidi.” Anya dives in, pulling out various boxes after Heidi’s checked them off her list. “Especially for getting it all delivered on short notice.”

  “Anytime you need something, let me know. I’m your girl.” And in an extra cheery tone she adds, “I work on commission.”

  “Am I looking at a giant box of…sex toys?” I ask, leaning over to peer inside.

  Anya waves an elegant pink and gold vibrator in my direction. “Rooster sort of sparked this idea for me—”

  “My boyfriend suggested you order a bunch of vibrators?” I ask slowly, dreading her response.

  A quick flash of guilt ripples over her face. “No, no. Sorry. I should’ve phrased that better.”

  Ya think?

  “He just asked me if I’m sure I want to be doing films forever, you know? Like it might hurt my chances of finding another job one day.” She shrugs. “He was really nice about it.”

  Well, shoot. That’s actually kinda sweet. And I can totally picture Rooster giving that advice. But can he get in trouble for talking her out of making movies for the club?

  “Anyway,” she continues, “it got me thinking of hiring some other girls and just sitting back to produce the content.”

  Trinity’s protective lioness instincts must’ve caught that last part. She lifts her head from the magazine and side-eyes Anya as if she’s worried Heidi and I are the ones Anya wants to hire.

  “I might return to solo stuff.” Anya taps the box again and hesitates. “Maybe. We’ll see. Or keep going with the more romantic, catering to the female gaze stuff. I need to track some stats on my site first.”

  Decisions, decisions.

  Since I actually like Anya, I’m trying hard not to judge. But I’m also finding it hard to come up with anything to add to the conversation that won’t sound snarky.

  “Do you honestly think you have a lot of female viewers?” Heidi asks, with what seems like genuine curiosity.

  “Some. They’re not like the guys who send me creepy emails and messages, but they’re out there.”

  A cold sliver of fear slices through me at the mention of creepy emails from male “admirers.” Have any of her fans ever tried to stuff her in a box? It doesn’t take a genius to realize adult films probably draw crazier fans than country music. No wonder Anya needs the support of the club to keep her safe.

  “You all right, Shelby?” Trinity asks.

  My tongue won’t loosen, so I nod quickly.

  Heidi continues pawing through the box and when she reaches the bottom, she hums a happy noise and pulls out a long, blue rectangular package and thrusts it in my dir
ection. “This one’s for you.”

  “I…uh, what?” I stare at the box for a few seconds.

  Heidi undoes the side flap and slides a long, metal cylinder out.

  “Is it a science experiment?” I joke.

  “Nope.” She unscrews the cap and pulls out a thick, iridescent blue wand with a black silicone head. A few other pieces slide into Heidi’s lap when she tips the container. “It’s rechargeable. And,” she flicks her gaze around the room and leans toward me to whisper, “it delivers orgasms in like twenty seconds.” A bit louder she adds. “Not the fireworks on the Fourth of July kind. More like the sparklers on your birthday cake. Still fantastic.”

  My oh my. Look at Heidi all knowledgeable about different kinds of orgasms. Heat sears my face from forehead to chin. “I didn’t even realize there were different kinds until, well… recently.”

  Anya chuckles and says in a low voice, “Go Rooster.”

  Heidi’s gaze strays to the side. Her lips curl up and I don’t need to turn my head to know she’s thinking of Murphy. “My husband’s extremely dedicated to this subject. He missed his calling as a researcher.” She giggles and waves the wand in the air between us. “Anyway. The company sent me an extra and it’s all yours.” She thrusts it into my hands.

  “What?” I take the wand, impressed by its weight. “Wow. This is serious equipment.”

  “Nice extra,” Anya says. “Those are expensive.”

  “There’s a red one in there for you.” Heidi gestures to the box at Anya’s feet. “But it’s a plug-in, so it’s a monster size-wise.” Heidi returns her attention to me. “Figured space might be an issue for you on the road.”

  “How…thoughtful.”

  “Ooo!” Anya squeals and yanks a large rectangular red box out, clapping her hands like a little girl unwrapping a gift from an extra-dirty Santa.

  This has to be the strangest event of my life.

  Okay, that’s not true. Being stuffed in my trunk and kidnapped was way stranger.

  My whole body shivers with the memory.