Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Something warm and solid lands on my shoulder. “Everything all right?” Rooster asks.

  His presence chases the unwanted memories and fear away.

  Pink spreads over Heidi’s cheeks. She grabs the wand out of my hand and stuffs it back into its packaging.

  “What’s that?” Rooster asks. The question comes out innocent enough but by the tilt of his lips, it’s clear he knows exactly what he’s looking at.

  “Heidi’s handing out presents like she’s appointed herself the naughty elf of our little group,” I explain.

  Rooster’s gaze narrows on the colorful boxes scattered on the couch and floor around us. “Really?”

  Heidi hands over my gift and I hold it up for Rooster to inspect.

  “Very nice.” He runs his hand over his beard a few times. “We’ll put that to good use. Thanks, Heidi.”

  “You’re not bothered or threatened by toys in the bedroom?” Anya asks.

  Rooster snorts. “No.” Thankfully, he doesn’t elaborate. I’m ready to melt into the floor as it is.

  Anya bundles everything together into the larger box and thanks Heidi again.

  “Wait, no gifts for Trinity?” I ask.

  One corner of Trinity’s mouth lifts and she nods to where her husband’s standing across the room talking to Ice and Murphy. “My husband keeps my toy chest well-stocked, don’t worry.”

  Rooster reaches for the box in my lap. “Do you want me to put that away?”

  “Do you really want to be seen carrying it around the clubhouse?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I’m worried?” He wiggles his fingers in a hurry-up-and-hand-it-over sort of gesture.

  I pass him the box.

  “I’m going to put it in the RV.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you feel like trying it later.”

  “How loud is it, Heidi?” I ask.

  “Not that bad.” She glances around the clubhouse. “I don’t really think you need to worry about it here, though. Not like anyone will notice. Or care.”

  “If you’re heading out to the parking lot, will you help me load this in my car?” Anya kicks the box by her feet.

  “Sure.” Rooster leans over and kisses my cheek. “You good?” he whispers.

  I nod quickly.

  “I’m going to plug this in while I’m out there.” He presses another kiss to my lips. “So it’s charged and ready to go.” His eyes meet mine. A bolt of desire electrifies me. Why exactly was I being so uptight about this again?

  “Sounds good.”

  He grabs Anya’s box and hefts it into his arms as if it weighs nothing. “Be right back.”

  “You two are so adorable together.” Heidi claps her hands. “Rooster’s such a good guy. I’m so happy you two met.”

  “Technically, he fished me out of the water,” I joke.

  “So romantic.” Heidi sighs.

  “Who’s romantic?” Murphy’s voice rumbles from behind us.

  Heidi nods to the clubhouse door. “Rooster.”

  Murphy throws himself down onto the couch next to Heidi and wraps his arm around her. “Not much romance happening in this clubhouse for a while.”

  “Lies,” Jigsaw says. He rests his hip on the arm of my chair and peers down at me. “Where’d my boy go?”

  “Parking lot. Helping Anya load her car with some stuff.”

  He tilts his head. “You’re okay with that? Why didn’t he ask me to do it?”

  “I don’t know. You weren’t here. He wanted to run out to the RV anyway.” I shrug. “If I’m gonna worry about my boyfriend banging someone every time he’s out of sight, we probably shouldn’t be together. That is what you were implying I might be worried about, yes?”

  He taps his forehead, then mine. “Ah, songbird. We’re like one mind sometimes.”

  I slap his hand away. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Why are you annoying my girl?” Rooster’s voice hovers between amused and annoyed.

  “Why’d you leave her alone?” Jigsaw responds, jumping away from my chair.

  Rooster glances at me and I shrug. “Jiggy’s just looking out for me.”

  Murphy points at Rooster, then me. “Did you have the decency to warn your girl about what’s going down here?”

  Rooster shoots him a cool look. “Not yet.”

  “Ooo, what’s going down?” I ask Rooster.

  “Everyone,” Jigsaw quips.

  “Later.” Rooster touches my shoulder. “The PR woman got back to me. She has an opening in her schedule. Ice said we could use his office.”

  “Now?”

  He slaps Jigsaw’s back. “Don’t worry. This fuckwit will still be around causing trouble when we’re done.”

  “All right.” I glance at Heidi and Trinity. “Guess I’ll be back later.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Shelby

  Miranda, who is apparently my new public relations specialist to help me ward off any bad press from my abduction, is full of ideas.

  I’m exhausted just listening to her.

  On the computer screen, she comes across as tiny but feisty. Maybe a little older than my momma, with black hair slicked into a bun so tight it gives her eyes a catlike appearance. By her confident, cut-throat tone, I don’t doubt she knows her business.

  “Congratulations on your nominations, Shelby. This is a huge thing and could really help bury this whole nasty kidnapping, Glenna Wilson fiasco.”

  She makes it sound like a trivial event instead of the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me.

  “Now, hear me out,” she continues in her bubbly voice. “I’d really like to see you attend the Small Screen Music Awards that are coming up. It’ll be a nice dress rehearsal for you before the big show.”

  Sounds like she’s worried I don’t know how to behave on a red carpet or something. “But I only have one video. For Big Lies.”

  “That doesn’t matter. The SSMAs don’t hold the same prestige they did back in the Eighties. Today, getting nominated is more of a who-you-know situation. But it’s a fun event where you’ll be photographed a lot.”

  “Okay,” I answer slowly. “I’m on tour now.”

  “I know.” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Let me see what I can do. Dawson’s probably up for a few nods himself. So maybe you both can work it into the schedule.”

  I don’t think I like where she’s going with this, but I don’t want to piss her off yet. I’ll have to reserve judgment for later.

  “Now,” she says, briskly transitioning to the next item on her list. “The Glow magazine interview is scheduled. They’re going to meet with you the day after the Atlanta show.”

  “I thought that show got canceled?”

  “Well, Dawson says it’s on or it’s been rescheduled.” She waves her hands in the air as if it doesn’t matter, which I suppose it doesn’t. I don’t wanna bring another lick of negative attention to myself on this tour. No matter how understanding Dawson’s been, if people start to think I’m a magnet for trouble, I’ll never be invited onto a major tour again. And Lord knows, I’m not big enough to headline my own shows yet.

  Unless I want to be kicked back to my roots of headlining bars and honky-tonks, shut up and deal is my new motto.

  A flush of fear ripples over my skin. How can I be so excited to get back on the road and terrified at the same time?

  Next, Miranda relays an obscene amount of money Glow wants to pay me for the interview and reminds me that interviews aren’t usually paid but they’re willing because this is a “special circumstance.”

  I take that to mean they expect the goriest of details no matter how uncomfortable it makes me to relive the kidnapping.

  “You made it clear to them that they need to be respectful, right?” Rooster says as if he’d read my mind.

  “Yes, of course,” Miranda huffs. “But they will pose serious questions. It’s probably better if you’re not there to alter the vibe of the—”

  Rooster
laughs, low and threatening. “Yeah, not happening.”

  “Mr. Randall—”

  “I won’t open my mouth and say a word, unless I have to. But Shelby’s not doing any interviews alone.”

  Under the desk, I slide my hand over his leg to let him know how much I appreciate that. He reaches down and squeezes my hand.

  “Shelby,” she protests.

  “Nope.” I lift my chin. “That’s non-negotiable.”

  “Fine.” She tips her head down, furiously scribbling over her notepad, adding what looks like a dozen exclamation points. “All right. Dream Makers. I’d like to set something up and—”

  “Not gonna happen. I don’t use those visits for publicity. Never have. Never will.”

  “Jesus,” she grumbles. More strokes of fury with her pen. “All right. I think I saved the best for last.” Under her breath she mutters something I can’t make out. “Diamond Tough Denim—you heard of them?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Since I couldn’t afford many—or any—brand name stuff growing up, I’ve never paid much attention to labels. Even now, it’s not something I care about. Why waste time wanting stuff I can’t afford?

  “They’re an old company. All American-made, so they’re on the pricier side. Quality stuff. They used to lean more toward work clothes for, you know, rich people who wanted to play dress up and pretend they were stable workers or whatever.”

  I can’t really make sense of what she’s yammering about, but I nod along, waiting for her to get to the point.

  “Well, they’d like to break into a more youthful, fashionable market and they’re looking for someone to help them influence that transition by targeting their ideal demographic.”

  “Okay…”

  “They want you to wear their pants in public, on your social media, on stage, and take some photos in them for money, Shelby,” she spits out in an exasperated rush.

  “Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

  “They think you’d be perfect. You’re very down-to-earth and have that graceful, Southern belle vibe.”

  No one’s ever confused me for a Southern belle. This lady sure has some strange ideas about the South.

  “And of course, country music is very popular. So you hit all their sweet spots.”

  “Great.”

  “You’re open to it?” she asks with two delicately penciled, hopefully raised eyebrows.

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “No nudity or anything gross, though, right?” I mean, from her description, it doesn’t sound like it will be a problem, but I feel compelled to throw that out there.

  “No, honey. That is absolutely not what we want for your image. We’ll need to find you some people to go over these contracts. But I’ll get working on this now. I don’t want them to offer it to anyone else.”

  This sounds great and all but before we go any further, I need to clear something up. “We haven’t discussed your fee yet, Miranda—”

  “You and I can discuss that later,” Rooster says to the screen.

  I choke and turn his way but before I open my mouth, Miranda whistles for our attention. “My fees have been covered for now.”

  What? “By who?” I sputter.

  “Dawson,” she answers matter-of-factly.

  “What?” I half-jump out of my chair. Except, where exactly do I plan to go? I sink back down in my seat. “Why would he do that?”

  “We had a long discussion. I understand he feels guilty about all of this. Glenna being his ex and all.” Miranda shrugs. “Does it matter?”

  I guess it doesn’t. I side-eye Rooster and he nods.

  “Thank you, Miranda.” Even though the situation is weird, my momma raised me with manners after all.

  “The agent and lawyers will probably want a percentage but you’ll work that out,” she says.

  Great. More people taking a cut of what I work my ass off for.

  Why is this so complicated? I don’t want to prance around in jeans. I want to sing songs.

  And buy my momma a house one day.

  “What do you think?” Rooster asks after we log off the call with Miranda.

  “That was…exciting and a little weird.” I’m still staring at the computer monitor which is just a screen saver of a Harley now. “She’s intense.”

  “Chaser says she has a good reputation and a long list of A-list clients.”

  “Thank you for setting that up.” I slap my hands on my thighs. “Damn, you’ve been busy. Buying vehicles and sorting my career—”

  “It’s not my intention to interfere with anything. I wanted to help.”

  I grab his hand between mine and hold his gaze. “I know that. I’m trying to thank you. Sorry if it didn’t come out that way.”

  He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “It scared me and pissed me the fuck off that Glenna had a part in this but somehow she could make you look bad. Ruin all of your hard work. I don’t want to take any chances.” He clenches his jaw tight. “After what you went through. What that psycho did. No one’s taking your career away from you or fucking with it, Shelby. The security stuff, I can handle. I will handle it. But this—” he waves his hand at the screen. “I can’t do a damn thing for you on that end.”

  There’s a whole lotta love and faith running through all his words. I’m so close to tears, I bite my lip to hold them back. “Thank you.” After a few seconds, I’m calm enough to ask my next question. “Did you ask Dawson to cover her fees?”

  “Hell no. I got her name from Chaser. But since he’s not really in the country music ‘scene,’ I asked Dawson for his opinion. He knows her and must’ve spoken to her. I was going to cover whatever she charged until you get rollin’.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t.” He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I don’t like letting another man take care of anything for my girl. But I also feel like he owes you. So for now, it’s fine. The second you feel there might be a conflict of interest, though, you fire her and we’ll find you someone else. Okay?”

  I’m impressed with Rooster’s mercenary attitude.

  There’s a knock at the door, drawing our attention away from our moment. I rip off the few pages of notes I’d taken during the call and stuff them in my back pocket.

  The door opens and Anya’s gaze pings between the two of us. “Is now okay, Rooster?”

  “Yeah, we just wrapped up.” He waves her inside. “Sorry,” he says to me in a low voice. “I promised Ice I’d finish up here and Anya needs me to help her with something.”

  “Oh. Of course. No problem.” I stand, feeling sort of awkward.

  Anya flashes a quick, warm smile. “You don’t have to leave, Shelby. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “No, I, uh, that’s okay.”

  Rooster works his jaw from side to side. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me or the situation. His fingers fly over the keyboard, tapping hard enough to bend plastic. Within a few seconds a log-in page pops up on the screen.

  A few more clicks of the keyboard and we’re all staring at what must be Anya’s porn site. It’s a lot slicker and more professional-looking than mine, I’ll give her that. A lot more skin on display too.

  I move behind the chair I’d been sitting in, offering it to her. “Maybe you should sit here.” I motion toward the small love seat against the wall closest to the desk. “I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks, Shelby.”

  Rooster clicks through a few pages, enters some more info. He’s so focused and intent on each action. Finally, he arrives at a screen with nothing but rows of numbers and charts.

  “Yes!” Anya bounces in her seat. “This is what I didn’t know how to access.”

  Rooster walks her through the process slowly. She grabs the notepad I’d used earlier and diligently writes down everything Rooster explains. He’s a patient teacher. Doesn’t get annoyed or act superior when she asks him to r
epeat a few points like a lotta techy guys would. He glances at me over her head and raises an eyebrow, checking in to make sure I’m okay with all of this.

  Can I be any more head over boots for this man?

  I blow him a quick kiss.

  “Okay.” Anya reaches forward and taps the screen. “How do I get the details for a specific scene? I want to look at the most recent one I posted.”

  “You want analytics, here.” Rooster slowly clicks through a series of links until we’re staring at a still shot of two guys and Anya. Correction, two naked guys and a naked Anya. Color me not shocked—Anya’s even more flawless with her clothes off.

  Fabulous.

  Rooster skims his finger along a line chart underneath the video. “This is what you want, right?”

  “Yes! Can you click on that giant peak, right there?” She vigorously taps the screen with one long, red fingernail. “I have a hunch.”

  Rooster flashes an apologetic look my way. A few seconds later moaning, groaning, and slapping noises accompanied by wild female shrieks of pleasure fill the room. All the naked flesh on the screen is misty with sweat. Everyone’s working hard.

  The tall, thin, heavily tattooed guy on the screen rhythmically thumps into Anya from behind while the shorter, heavily muscled and tattooed guy standing in front of her leans down, one hand on her chin, tilting her face up while kissing and talking to her softly.

  “See? That’s the peak. I knew it.” Anya all but pumps her fists in the air.

  She half-turns in her seat toward me. “When they switched places, Aaron accidentally bumped my chin with his knee. He felt bad, so he stopped to check in with me. Normally, you’d edit that stuff out but I left it in because it was a sort of sweet genuine moment—”

  I’m not sure if sweet and genuine are the words I’d use, but okay.

  “That I left it in. And I was right. That’s the most-watched part.” She taps the screen triumphantly. “I used to work with this producer who told me stuff like that was stupid and no one wanted to see it. But I was right.”

  Yay for trusting your instincts?

  Rooster traces the whole raised portion of the bar graph. “This entire section has the most activity.”