Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  And this right here is why I wasn’t lying when I told Shelby I’m not interested in going to strip clubs. Way too many girls end up so bitter and jaded after the shitty treatment they get from customers and the owners of the clubs that they see nothing wrong with robbing a guy blind. Or in this case drugging him until he passes out and stealing everything he’s got.

  For your regular married guy, who doesn’t want his wife to know, it’s bad enough.

  For a celebrity like Dawson, it could probably end his career. Even if he gets the girls locked up, the damage will be done.

  In this case it’s even more complicated because this is my fault. I brought him into my club’s place, thinking they’d respect that he was my guest.

  “What was the fucking plan?” I ask just to be clear.

  “Michelle said he’d wake up in a little while with a headache and fuzzy memory. We’d tell him he must’ve had too much to drink, give him a lap dance, make sure he signed his credit card tab, and send him on his way.”

  “Shit. Fuck.” Digger pulls me aside. “I got a call from one of the credit card companies earlier this week. Several customers disputed their bills in the last few months. Figured it was just clients who had buyer’s remorse and were trying to get out of paying.”

  I lift my chin at Presley. “How long they been running this scam?”

  “I don’t know.” Her pleading eyes land on Digger but he won’t look at her. “I haven’t worked here that long. Michelle and Josh have always been tight though. The girls all gossip about it. Said they were probably fucking.”

  Digger nods. “She’s new.”

  “Where’s his stuff?” I ask Presley.

  “In here.” She reaches into the black ottoman that she’d opened earlier, pulling out a thick wad of cash, a cell phone, and some rings.

  Digger glares at her and she hurries over to Dawson so fast she almost slips in the pile of puke on the floor. He lifts his head and stares at her.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Roads.” She holds out her hands overflowing with the shit they jacked off him.

  He plucks the rings out of her hands first and slips them on. “That’s not mine,” he says, tapping the bracelet.

  “Jesus Christ,” Digger mutters.

  Dawson checks the cell phone before stuffing it in his pocket. He takes the cash and counts it quickly, pulling off a couple hundreds and handing them to Presley.

  “I reckon that’ll cover the part of the evening I did enjoy,” he says to her with a smile.

  All things considered, it’s a classy move. Can’t say I’d do the same in his boots.

  Digger tucks his revolver away. “Go home, Presley, and wait for me to stop by. You try running, and I will hunt you the fuck down. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stops her at the door. “Do not talk to anyone else in this club. Go to the dressing room, collect your shit, and go home. Understood?”

  “Wait, let me have Pants walk her out.” I send him a quick text. “Go over to our table and ask for Pants,” I tell her. “He knows you’re coming. He’ll walk you out so no one bothers you.”

  “All right.”

  After she leaves, Digger cocks his head.

  “You don’t know for sure some of the other girls aren’t involved.”

  “Good point. Thanks, brother.” He slaps my shoulder.

  Dawson groans as he stands. “I’m gonna take my sorry ass back to our table and let you gentlemen speak.”

  “Mr. Roads, I apologize profusely,” Digger says, groveling a little harder than I expected. Good. “This isn’t how I run my establishment.”

  “Shit happens. Ain’t easy to find good help these days. I know that better than anyone.” Dawson flips his wallet open. “I am still missing a black AmEx card, though. Your guy, Josh, took it before he allowed me back here.”

  “I’ll get it,” Digger promises. “I’ll make sure all the charges are reversed too.”

  “Appreciate it.” He nods to me. “Rooster.”

  “Dawson.” Fuck me. If Shelby’s gonna stay on this tour, I see a whole lot of groveling in my future.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Rooster

  Now that we’re alone, I feel free to lay into Digger.

  “Brother, you’ve got a serious problem here. If the credit card companies are already onto this, it’s only a matter of time before the FBI is knocking on your door. And you know how Priest’s gonna react to that.”

  “I need to get ahead of it.”

  “No shit. This Josh, how much does he know about stuff that goes on here?”

  “Rooster,” he says in a mildly impatient tone. “I realize this fiasco might give the impression that I’m sloppy, but I don’t share club business with civilians. Ever.”

  “Easy, I wasn’t saying you did.” Not quite, anyway. “Listen, I think if you want to keep the club out of it, you’re gonna have to turn one of them over and let them hang for the theft charges. Whoever you think won’t have anything to rat to the cops about.”

  “Skyler. She hasn’t worked here that long.”

  Neither of us say it, but Josh and Michelle probably have dirt naps in their future. But that’s Digger’s problem, not mine.

  “Now, I gotta deal with this fuckin’ mess and hope my old lady doesn’t get kicked off her tour.” I pin him with a hard stare. “I brought my friends here thinking since my club owned the place, they’d be safe.”

  “Fuck, brother. I’m sorry. You know I’d never disrespect you like that. I don’t know what to say. What can I do?”

  “Nothing more than you’ve already done. Just make sure whatever got charged to his card tonight is reversed. Wipe their phones for any photos they might’ve taken too.” Fuck, why didn’t I think of that before?

  “They’re not allowed to have phones with ‘em on the floor.”

  I stare at him.

  “Yeah, yeah. I see your point.”

  “Look, Jenny mentioned she had some guy stalking her. You might want to see if she’s in on this little drug and steal operation. Maybe the guy was after her because they drained his bank account. And if he’s just a run-of-the-mill stalker, then you need better protection for your girls.”

  A flash of annoyance wrinkles his forehead. Maybe he doesn’t like having a younger, lesser patch from a different charter telling him what to do. But too fucking bad. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  I slap his shoulder and dial down my anger. “You got a lot on your plate, brother.”

  “After all this, I hate asking, but you’re traveling with a few brothers. You think any of them would mind sticking around for a couple of days to help me sort this?”

  When we left Virginia after the kidnapping, the large entourage made sense. Now, it’s a bit much. And I’m getting the sense some of the guys are bored. Wrath and Hustler were planning to head back to New York from here. Pants and Dex had been talking about visiting another club we’re friendly with in Arizona. Honestly, Dex would be the best one to leave here since he has experience running a strip club and is frankly far better at it than Digger.

  “I might be able to spare a few guys. Let me talk to them.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He hesitates again. “Where y’all staying tonight?”

  “Hadn’t decided yet.”

  “Let me call in a favor at a local place. I’ll cover the rooms to make it up to you.”

  It’s gonna take more than a night at some cheap motel to make up for this fuckery but I’m not about to spit in his face when he’s doing what he can to make this right.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Shelby

  Someone’s beatin’ on a bass drum inside my skull.

  My mouth tastes like cotton balls and sweaty socks.

  Heavy. My body’s too heavy to turn over.

  “You okay?” Rooster’s low rumbling voice reassures me I’m still alive.

  “Blargh,” I mumble.

  Something cool and smooth pre
sses against my hand. “Here, drink this.”

  I peel my eyes open and stare at the short, stubby glass of water Rooster’s holding out to me. “Where are we?” I whisper.

  “Hotel. Come on. Drink.”

  I take the cool glass and sip the water slowly. Flashes from last night return. Did I try to pole dance?

  When I’m finished, I hand him the glass and he sits on the bed next to me. “Better?”

  “A little,” I whisper.

  My phone’s on the nightstand and I reach for it, turning it on. About a dozen messages pop up one after the other.

  Miranda: You need to call me.

  Greg: Where are you?

  Miranda: Call me right now!

  Trent: Shit! What did U do last night?

  I blink and stare at the screen.

  “What’s wrong?” Rooster asks, reaching for my phone.

  “I don’t know.” I show him the messages.

  Since Greg and Miranda seem in a yellin’ mood and my head’s pounding, I ask Trent what’s up.

  Trent: How’d I miss this last night?

  There’s a link attached.

  Shelby Morgan off the rails!

  Exclusive footage of her stripper pole escapades.

  Has Shelby Morgan gone from country music’s sweetheart to bad girl? Shelby seems to have gone off the rails since her kidnapping ordeal. Keen-eyed readers spotted her at the Royal Dolls Saloon, an upscale gentlemen’s club rumored to be owned by associates of the new cowboy in her life.

  In the one performance she probably hoped no one would ever see, Sippin’ on Secrets has obtained an eye-popping video of the country music darling taking lessons on how to ride a stripper pole from scantily-clad dancers and more!

  While the night started off as a fun time off from a rigorous touring schedule, it was Shelby’s sultry performance that left tongues wagging.

  According to insiders, Shelby arrived at the club around 11 p.m. surrounded by four men, an unidentified woman, and members of her band. Dawson Roads, accompanied by his bodyguard and his band, arrived shortly after.

  The group was there to let loose, ordering expensive drinks and getting rowdy.

  The Royal Dolls Saloon is no stranger to X-rated romps. Their advertising claims customers are given the royal treatment and a sensual experience from the most beautiful women in the country. Private dances start at $100, according to regulars, making Shelby’s freebie performance a bargain.

  Was this a once-in-a-lifetime lapse in judgment or has Shelby Morgan found a new career gyrating on a stripper pole and collecting dollar bills?

  Oh, it’s all coming back to me now. I rub my forehead and scan the article again.

  “Are you fucking kiddin’ me?” I toss the phone on the bed and fall back against my pillows.

  My head throbs. This is why I don’t drink often.

  Rooster sucks in a sharp breath.

  I open my eyes and find him holding my phone in a white-knuckled grip. His jaw’s set in a tight line as he reads the article.

  “Don’t bother,” I mutter.

  After a few tense minutes of silence, he sets the phone down. “I’m sorry. I never would’ve taken you there if I thought that would happen. It shouldn’t have. They usually keep things under wraps. But last night was nothing but nonstop fuckery. I’m really sorry.”

  “I don’t care. I’m a grown-ass woman who can go wherever the hell I dang well please. I wasn’t naked or even topless. Notice it’s all about judging me being there. Barely a mention about Dawson who got a freakin’ lap dance from three girls.”

  He winces at the mention of Dawson’s name but I don’t bother to stop my tirade and ask why.

  “Like, it’s perfectly acceptable for him to be in a strip club but God forbid I have fun one night. Fuck them. I hate the double-standard more than anything.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “I love your spirit but it’s still not the kind of bullshit you need right now. And that’s my fault for gettin’ you mixed up in my club’s business.”

  I reach out and rub my hand over his thigh. “I woulda been plenty pissed if you’d gone without me. I saw those girls eyein’ my man and didn’t like it one bit.”

  His mouth stretches into a pained smile. “Nothing interested me there. Trust me.”

  “Where’d you go, anyway? When Jiggy tore me off the pole, you were gone. Shoot, I barely remember you carrying me out of there and the ride here.”

  He groans and scrubs his hands over his face. “I told you I needed to talk to Digger, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, he asked me to walk one of the girls out to her car. Some guy had been harassing her and he was short on people.”

  “Aw, that was sweet of you.”

  He peers down at me. “That was like five minutes, max. But she kinda hinted at something related to what I was there to talk to Digger about so I stopped in his office. Had that talk.”

  “Get what you needed?”

  “Yes and no. When I came out you were sort of out of it. I realized Dawson was missing. Guys said he was still gettin’ a lap dance.” He goes on to explain what’s probably a sanitized version of what went down when he found Dawson.

  By the end, I’m sitting upright with my hands covering my mouth. “Oh. My. Lord. I’m dead. I’m so dead. He’s gonna kick me off the tour, isn’t he?”

  “No.” He pries one of my hands away from my face. “I talked to him last night. And I’ll talk to him again later today. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “Shoot, I remember those girls.” I squeeze my eyes shut trying to recall some details. “They made a beeline straight for him. I even wanted to take a picture and send it to Glenna just to be a bitch.”

  He snorts. “Well, you’re not supposed to take pictures inside the club.” He taps my phone. “But obviously that’s bullshit.”

  “Oh, yeah! Some guy was taking pictures of me. Jiggy went after him and took his phone. They kicked the guy out.” I reconsider the order of events last night. “It was after I was up on the pole, though. So maybe someone else took the pictures sent to the blog.”

  “The whole place is sketchy as fuck and I’m fuckin’ pissed I brought you there.”

  Since Rooster can be so hard on himself, I inch closer to wrap myself around him and let him know I’m not mad. “It’s not your fault. Besides Dawson, I think everyone else had an awesome time. I even had fun until I thought I was gonna puke.” I glance at my phone. “I look pretty hot in those pics, so I don’t care. Maybe I’ll tell them I was trying out for a part in a movie, generate some Hollywood buzz for myself.” I squeeze his arm. “That might be fun.”

  He grunts and noncommittal noise.

  My phone buzzes and I finally pick it up.

  Miranda: We need to talk about this.

  Another message from her pops up with a link to the same article.

  Me: Already read it.

  Someone knocks on our door. Rooster slips on his jeans before answering.

  “You see this?” Dawson rasps.

  “Come on in.” Rooster steps aside.

  I glance down, not even sure what I’m wearing. One of Rooster’s T-shirts. Still, I pull the sheet up around me and put my back against the headboard. “Mornin’.”

  “Mornin’, Shelby. Sorry to intrude.”

  His flat tone’s hard to interpret. Fear flutters through my belly. Is he here to fire me from the tour?

  “You all right?” He drops into a chair a couple feet from the bed.

  Rooster sits next to me, resting his hand on the sheet over my leg. It’s a simple, lovey-dovey gesture. He always touches and connects with me in little ways. But for some reason, with Dawson here in our room, it feels possessive and primal. So, so sexy.

  This isn’t the time to get hot and bothered, you nympho.

  I realize they’re both staring at me, waiting for an answer.

  “What?
Oh, yes. I’m okay. Are you?”

  Dawson shifts his gaze to Rooster. “Guess you told her?”

  “Just the highlights.”

  Dawson’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Not my finest moment.”

  “I’m sorry I suggested we go there,” Rooster says. “That’s all on me.”

  “Logan, I’m a grown-ass man. I had one of my security guys with me—who, by the way, I’m gonna fire.”

  “Shit,” Rooster mutters.

  “Don’t feel bad for him,” he says in a much harsher voice than I’ve probably ever heard Dawson use. “You’re the only one who bothered to look for me. That’s what he was gettin’ paid to do.”

  Rooster doesn’t say anything.

  “If you hadn’t been there, that coulda been a real disaster.”

  “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been there at all,” Rooster counters.

  Could we please stop reminding him of that fact?

  Dawson slaps his thigh. “Shit, you think that’s the first titty bar I been to in my life, Logan?”

  The two of them share a laugh.

  “Here’s the thing,” Dawson leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The security experts were fine. We all learned some stuff from ‘em, yada, yada. But you and your guys are street-smart and you pay fuckin’ attention.”

  Rooster glances at me and I see the guilt flashing in his eyes. Dammit. He’s still blamin’ himself for Suggs gettin’ his grubby hands on me. I just know it. I can’t say anything to contradict whatever bullshit’s in his head right now. Not in front of Dawson. So, I curl my fingers around his and squeeze tight.

  “Here’s what I’m proposing,” Dawson continues. “Any more side trips or adventures like that, I want to hire one of y’all to be my guard.”

  “You don’t have to pay any of us to be your friend, Dawson. The guys like you fine.”

  He chuckles. “I get that. Other things might not be as entertaining, though.”

  “You need one of us to hold your hand at the dentist or something?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” He sits back in the chair, resting his elbows on the arms. “I’m guessing Wrath’s only looking out for his lady. Besides, he mentioned they’re headin’ home.”