Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Probably today, actually.”

  “I like Dex. He seems trustworthy.”

  “He is, absolutely.”

  “I get the impression you and Jigsaw are a package deal.”

  Rooster pats my leg. “Yeah, plus, he doesn’t like lettin’ Shelby too far out of his sight.”

  “Aww,” I sigh.

  “Can’t you tell?” He raises an eyebrow. “You see him handin’ out cute lil’ nicknames to anyone else? Or rushing in with a baseball bat if he thinks someone’s after them?”

  Now that he mentions it, no.

  “Y’all must be havin’ a time on that RV,” Dawson says.

  “Not like that,” Rooster growls.

  “Easy, I’m kiddin’. Now, Steer—that dude looks like he could put a hurtin’ on someone. And he’s already been helping out during my set and at my meet-n-greets, so I know he pays attention to details.”

  “He’s our SAA for a reason,” Rooster agrees.

  “Will you let me make them the offer?”

  “I don’t have to let you do anything. They’re free to do what they want.”

  “But they’re here because of you. I’d be steppin’ on your toes if I asked them without talkin’ to you.” He stares at me for a few seconds. “To be honest, I’d rather put the four of you on my payroll.”

  Rooster’s quick to shake that off. “No offense, but I’m here for Shelby, Dawson. If it’s a choice between her or you, I’m picking her every time, no matter how much you’re paying.”

  “As you should. Wouldn’t respect ya otherwise. But it looks like her record company ain’t coming through. And to be honest, it’s my tour. My name’s on everything. It don’t look too good when stuff happens to my opening act.” Dawson smiles wide enough for little crinkles to form at the corners of his eyes. “Don’t know if anyone’s gonna accept a slot opening for me next summer. You might be stuck with me again, Shelby.”

  My heart thumps. Is this his way of asking if I’ll tour with him again? “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “Yeah? Even knowin’ my ex might still be stewing?”

  “Fuck her,” I blurt out. “Sorry.”

  “Nope. I like your spirit, Shelby.” His expression turns more serious. “I’m not talking opening for the opener here, either. You’ve paid your dues. You’re never late. Always accept the soundcheck when I run over my time. Never run over your set. You do a hell of a job promoting the tour with your fans and stuff. It’d be an honor to have you go on stage right before me.”

  I’m under no illusions that I’ll be ready to headline a tour on my own by next summer, so this is definitely the next best thing. “Thank you. Yes, of course I will.”

  “We’ll talk to Greg and get that sorted. Still got plenty of dates left on this tour to worry about.” He turns to Rooster again. “Now, about that payroll. How ’bout you set up something official and I’ll get that over to my accountant. That way I’m not feelin’ like a schmuck when your guys are helpin’ me out and stuff.”

  My phone vibrates, drawing all of our attention.

  “You plannin’ to answer that?” Dawson asks me.

  “No, it’s Greg calling to yell at me.”

  “He better not yell at you.” Rooster snaps up the phone and hits accept.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Shelby?” Greg moans. Guess he and Miranda aren’t planning to give me some leeway on this one.

  “You got Logan.”

  “And Dawson.” He leans forward and shouts at the phone. “Don’t be yellin’ at the lady, Greg.”

  “Where’s Shelby?” Greg asks.

  I lean closer to the phone. “I’m right here. And I didn’t do anything to you, Greg. I went out with my friends.”

  “Can I talk to you privately?” Greg asks.

  “Sure, sure.” I grab the phone from Rooster and scoot to the other side of the bed, scurrying into the bathroom.

  I need to pee and since Greg’s kinda pissed me off this morning, I feel it’s acceptable to do it while he’s still ranting. I mute my end of the conversation, though. I’m a lady after all.

  “Greg,” I cut in when I’m finished but he’s still rip-roarin’ mad.

  “Did you see the pictures of you smiling and twirling around the pole like a…like a…”

  “Like a girl having a good time? You know pole dancing is actually a sport, right? Maybe I was trying to get in shape since all these magazines keep insinuating I’ve got too much junk in my trunk.”

  “No one takes pole dancing lessons from half-naked strippers in what looks like a damn whorehouse, Shelby. You know better.”

  “Dawson was there too.” Damn, I hate that whiny tone to my voice. “Why isn’t anyone bent about that?”

  “He’s a man. I thought you’d come to terms with how this business works?” He blows out an annoyed breath. “Why are we having this conversation? You want to win that CMA award, this isn’t the way to do it, Shelby.”

  Shoot. The double-standard burns my ass, but he’s right. I still have to work within the confines of the industry if I want to reach my goals. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

  Rooster pushes the door open and snatches the phone out of my hand, flipping the speaker on again. I don’t even bother to protest.

  “It’s my fault,” he rumbles. “No one should’ve been taking photos there.”

  “The video and photos are shit,” Greg concedes. “So it must’ve been a customer or something sneaking the shot.” His voice gets distant likes he’s looking at something on his screen while he’s talking to us. “Hardly even looks like Shelby. If it wasn’t for the clear shot of you in the parking lot, I’d go with a ‘that’s not even her’ defense.”

  Oh, hell no. I can already see the tracks Greg’s thought train is barreling down. “I won’t lie or apologize for going out and having fun with my friends.”

  “Shelby—”

  “No.”

  “Where’s Dawson? He still there?”

  “No,” Rooster answers. “He had to run.”

  Greg grumbles. “This might kill your chances at the CMAs. Hell, you might not win that Small Screen award either, Shelby. That show’s coming up soon.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I take a deep breath. “But I’m not apologizing.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Rooster

  After such an eventful morning, it’s almost anti-climactic when we finally roll into National’s parking lot.

  Shelby’s so happy to see the RV she runs inside of it to change and I follow.

  “Babe, I’m gonna run inside. I need to talk to Priest.”

  She emerges from the bathroom in shorts and a tank, her face damp and hair in a ponytail. “I might take a nap. Is that okay?” She eyes the bed longingly.

  “You want to use the cabin? I still have the key for it.”

  “I kinda wanna sleep in my own bed. But I also want to take a bath.”

  I turn on the fan. “Why don’t you nap here. I’ll come get you when I’m done. We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning. Plenty of time to bathe you.” In fact, I’m looking forward to it.

  “All right.” She yawns and pads over to the bed. I pull back the covers and tuck her in, stopping to kiss her cheek.

  “Better?”

  “Mmm.”

  Chuckling, I step outside, closing and locking the door.

  “Is she okay?” Jigsaw asks.

  “Shit. Why you sneaking up on me?”

  “Everyone else went inside,” he says, ignoring my question. “You need me to talk to Priest with you?”

  I appreciate the offer but I’m not dragging Jiggy into this conversation. “Nah, that’s all right.”

  “You planning to tell him everything?”

  I’d gone back and forth about it the whole ride here. Ultimately, Priest ranks higher than Digger in the hierarchy of who I owe my loyalty. Plus, I’m still fuckin’ pissed that Dawson got drugged and almost robbed bl
ind. And I’m absolutely furious someone took pictures of Shelby and leaked them to that stupid blog.

  “Digger’s a fuckup ten different ways,” Jigsaw says. “You’re not throwing him under the bus. You’re protecting the whole club.”

  “My guilt vanished the second I saw that damn blog this morning.”

  Jiggy wanted to go back to Digger’s and interrogate everyone to find out where the pictures came from. But it wasn’t worth the extra time. I wanted to get as far away from that place as possible before anything else happened.

  Inside the clubhouse, Jiggy and I part ways. I travel the long corridor to Priest’s office and knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he calls.

  Valentina’s on his desk with her back to the door but turns and smiles when she sees me. “How was your trip?”

  “Eventful.”

  She slides off the desk, stopping to give Priest a lingering kiss. Nice to know they’re still into each other after decades together.

  Shit. That’s what I want. I want that with Shelby.

  It hits me so hard, I almost run back to the RV.

  Relax. Get this over with first.

  Valentina stops in front of me. “Glad you’re back, Rooster.”

  “Thank you.”

  She closes the door behind her and Priest offers me the seat in front of his desk.

  “Well, how’d it go?”

  I tell him the whole story. From Squiggy’s possible disappearance, Dawson’s adventure in fuck-up-land, and the photos of Shelby. I make sure to throw in a few compliments about how nice the place looks. I’m not a total dick.

  Priest blinks and sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together over his chest. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he finally says.

  “Wish I was.”

  “Did that fuck things up for your old lady? This guy’s basically like her boss right now, isn’t he?”

  I don’t usually think of their arrangement in those terms, but yeah I guess so. Dawson holds the power to hire and fire. Somehow, even after that messed up night, he hired both of us. I still haven’t sorted all that out.

  “I’m impressed with the way you handled the situation,” Priest says, pulling me away from my thoughts. “You kept a level head. Didn’t let things escalate or get out of control. That’s how a good leader handles a complicated situation.”

  I don’t think I did anything that special. Nothing any one of my brother’s wouldn’t have done. “Z’s been a good mentor.”

  His mouth quirks and he stifles a laugh. “That’s interesting.”

  “How’s that, Prez?”

  “Sway was your president for years. Z’s been your president for a few months. Yet, you seem to have more loyalty to Z.”

  Well, shit. I didn’t even think about the words before they came out of my mouth. “No disrespect to Sway was intended. I’ve—”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me, Rooster. It’s obvious I should’ve replaced Sway years ago. I always figured with Rock nearby, I didn’t need to look at New York too closely.”

  Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

  A bolt of unease ties my stomach in a knot. Saying the wrong thing here could bring unwanted attention from National down on Z’s head. Rock’s too.

  “You made the right call, Prez. Z’s brought a lot of good changes to our charter. We’re in good hands now.” Please don’t visit us more often.

  “I know. I was impressed when I visited. Hopefully, we’ll be able to drop in again soon.”

  Z and Rock are gonna kill me.

  “He still mad about leaving upstate?” Priest asks.

  “I don’t think Z was ever mad. Disappointed, maybe. I don’t want to speak for him. It’s brought both clubs together. We never realized how much Sway did to fuel the animosity between our clubs. He never wanted us to trust Rock and his crew. So we all kinda kept our distance.”

  Priest grunts and waves his hand in the air. “That was ancient bullshit that Sway should’ve gotten over years ago. I’m glad Rock never indulged him in that petty crap.”

  “Yeah, that’s before my time, so I can’t speak on that.”

  He nods and sits back. “I like that about you, Rooster. You don’t talk to hear your own voice.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “They say it’s the quiet ones you’re supposed to look out for.” Priest’s evil grin should be enough to make me shit my pants but I don’t move a muscle. I have nothing to hide or worry about. I’ve never betrayed my club in any way.

  When I don’t react, he nods. “Instead of Rooster, your road name should’ve been Hawk. Quietly observing. Waiting to swoop in and make the kill.”

  He’s got me all wrong. I run my hand over my beard slowly. “What’s on your mind, Priest?”

  “You think Digger’s gettin’ too old for the job? Too soft?”

  “I can’t make that call. I spent less than twenty-four hours there.”

  “Sometimes your caution is frustrating.”

  I can’t win today, can I?

  “That’s not my intention.” I blow out a breath and recall the savage look on Digger’s face when he was making the decision of who to turn over to the cops. “Soft? No. He handled the situation with the girls like a boss.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know if it has anything to do with age.”

  He smirks. “Speak freely, Rooster. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

  “It might be that he’s got too much on his plate. He had a call from the credit card company but didn’t investigate. His SAA’s missing but he’s not concerned. He might have reasons I’m not aware of, though. But if it were me, I would’ve checked on him sooner.”

  “So would I.”

  “That’s your call, Priest.” Just leave me the fuck out of it.

  If I had to guess, Blink and at least one other brother will be on the road to Deadbranch by tonight.

  “How long you plannin’ to be on the road?” he asks.

  Shelby’s tour is all sorts of fucked up thanks to the delays but I don’t want to get into specifics with Priest. “At least another month or two. Then she’ll be recording her album.”

  “You got any control over those dates?”

  “Not really.” I shrug. “She’s the opening act.”

  “But some of those dates bring you close to our charters, right?”

  Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he’d already looked up every date on the schedule. “Yes, sir. Of course, I’ll stop by and pay my respects.”

  “I don’t doubt you will.” He pauses and studies me for a moment. “What you did in Deadbranch probably saved this club a lot of fucking trouble. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Uh, I guess.”

  “I realize it cost you personally, and I’m sorry.”

  Damn. I highly doubt Priest apologizes often. “Club comes first, Priest. I know that.”

  “It does. But our brothers’ happiness is important too.” His gaze shifts to the door. “And ain’t no brother happy if his old lady ain’t happy.”

  I laugh with him. “She handled it okay. Her manager’s still not pleased about the exposure, but he’ll get over it.”

  “Still, if there’s a way to make amends, I want you to tell me.” He holds up his hand. “Think on it. I don’t need an answer right now. I owe you one, though.”

  “Okay.” Priest owing anyone a favor probably happens about as often as a total solar eclipse. “I will.”

  “One last thing, what’s our relationship with the other clubs in New York looking like?

  At least I don’t have to hesitate. “Good. Wolf Knights are still moving out of Slater County.”

  “What about the Devil Demons MC?”

  “Solid.” I gesture toward the door. “Actually ran into their prez at one of Shelby’s shows. He called to offer some help during her…what happened.”

  He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Chaser? That right?”

 
; “Yes.” I have no idea how much of Chaser’s background Priest is aware of. “He has some entertainment connections. Hooked me up with someone who could help Shelby. Also said he’d introduce me to some Demon brothers if I need a hand with security at any of her shows.”

  “Very nice.” His wide eyes and thoughtful nod say he’s impressed and not annoyed that I’m cozy with the president of what’s technically a rival MC. “That might come in handy on the West Coast where the two clubs’ relationships haven’t always been as…harmonious, shall we say, as they have on the East Coast.”

  “Sure.”

  He narrows his eyes. “And I assume any work you have would be offered to Lost Kings.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Washington’s your home charter, right?”

  Technically, I grew up in Northern California and then Oregon. Spent very little time in Washington. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the turn our conversation just took. “Yeah.”

  “You know we’ve had issues there. Any chance you can stop in. Just observe, the way you did in Deadbranch.”

  Yeah, because that worked out so well for me. This time, I’m not taking an entourage.

  “Absolutely, I was planning to stop there. Shelby’s got dates in Spokane and Tacoma.” There isn’t a whole lot of wiggle room in the schedule around those dates, but I’ve got time to figure it out. Obviously, this visit isn’t optional.

  “Good. Bring her with you. Introduce her so they get to know your old lady.”

  I hesitate, not sure I should even mention this. “Unfortunately, sometimes it draws attention to me. Being photographed with her.”

  He searches through a stack of papers and uncovers the damn copy of Glow with Shelby and me on the front.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  “Who’s the largest one-percenter club in the country?” he asks. “Fuck, the whole world?”

  I’m not sure what that has to do with the magazine but the answer rolls off my tongue easily. “The club we never name.”

  “Right. You notice how pervasive they are these days? They’re everywhere. Insidious. In the Nineties they started treating the club as a business entity. Now, they’ve wormed their way into all facets of pop-culture. Built up a ‘mystique’ around the outlaw life.”