Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Shelby sticks her tongue out. “Hurry,” she mutters.

  She searches through her trunk, tossing clothes around until she settles on a denim skirt and flowered blouse. I keep my ass planted where it is, watching her every move but staying out of her way.

  “It’s cute you’re dressing up for a fifteen-minute soundcheck.”

  “This isn’t dressing up.”

  I shrug, still amused. Shit, is there anything about her I don’t find fucking adorable and charming?

  She hurries into the bathroom and since I don’t know who’ll be walking in next, I restrain myself from following her. I use the time to text Jigsaw and remind him what time he needs to be here.

  “Ready!” Shelby announces a few minutes later. She slips on her brown, fringed boots and holds out her hand to me.

  Outside her dressing room, I let go of her hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Greg’s worried about your reputation if you keep getting photographed with your big, bad biker.” I try to keep my tone light and teasing, so she knows I’m not mad about it.

  She blinks. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” She snatches my hand back.

  I draw her closer. “I appreciate that but I want to do what’s best for you. As long as you’re all mine when we’re alone—”

  “That’s really sucky and not the way I want to live.” She gives me a tug. “Come on.”

  I nod to Bane and he follows us down the hallway. Signs point us in the direction of the stage.

  “Shelby!” Greg calls out. “Hang on.”

  His sneakers squeak over the shiny floors as he jogs up to us. “Guys are already up there. They’re having a few issues.”

  He falls into step with us, explaining sound stuff I don’t follow along with.

  At the entrance to the stage, Shelby drops my hand and leans up to kiss my cheek. “Will you watch?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her band starts with “Big Lies” and she waits a few minutes before jumping in and singing the first line. She frowns and asks the band to start over more than once.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask Greg.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  Once Shelby’s satisfied, we head back to her dressing room. Outside her door, she stops to talk to Greg and Trent.

  While the hallway’s busy enough, no one watched Shelby’s room while we were gone. Since she’s occupied, I slip inside and do a quick sweep. Everything seems fine. Untouched.

  Until my gaze lands on a black envelope with silver writing waiting on her makeup chair.

  “Motherfucker.”

  I open the letter carefully.

  * * *

  Dearest Shelby,

  I was so relieved to learn of your charity work with Dream Makers. I will admit that I had my doubts after all your indiscriminate behavior. Now I feel reassured that you will be an appropriate mother for our children.

  See you soon.

  M

  * * *

  “Fuck!” I drop the letter and storm out of Shelby’s dressing room, on the hunt for someone to fucking murder.

  “What’s wrong?” Greg raises his hand in a ‘stop’ motion.

  Shelby’s bottom lip trembles, fear dancing in her eyes. “There’s another letter, isn’t there?”

  Shit. I need to control myself. She still has a show. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head, then motion for Greg and Bane to follow us into the room.

  “How the fuck did this get in here?” I point to the letter I’d left on the makeup table.

  Greg leans over and scans the note. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. What the fuck? Can anyone just walk around backstage?”

  “They shouldn’t be able to,” Greg says.

  Bane studies the letter for a second. “Where was it?”

  “On her chair.”

  He turns to Greg. “It could’ve been like before. Someone might have left it up front and one of the employees dropped it off.”

  “You’re going to need to start calling ahead to each place and give them a heads-up,” I say to Greg.

  “Heads-up to what?”

  “To be on the lookout for anyone dropping off fan mail for Shelby. Detain them or get a name. Something.” Why is he so slow to see this as a problem?

  “Detain them for what?” Greg places his hands on his hips. “They’re creepy, sure. But there’s no threat.”

  Shelby raises her hand. “Uh, the ‘see you soon’ feels like a threat to me. Not to mention this letter reeks of reproductive coercion.” She hugs herself and shudders.

  I squeeze her tighter. Forget my whole caveman brain shorting out over some psycho thinking he’s going to have babies with my woman—I know how much the subject freaks her out in general and that’s way more important than my inner barbarian’s instincts. “I’m gonna kill this motherfucker.”

  “That’s not helpful.” Greg wags his finger at me.

  “Sorry, Greg.” Bane snorts. “I’m with Logan.”

  Behind us, there’s a knock and Dawson pushes the door open. “What’s everyone doing in here?”

  “Just admiring the latest missive Mr. Creepy left for me,” Shelby mutters.

  “Shit.” Dawson closes the door behind him. “Are you serious? How the fuck are they getting to her, Greg?”

  Greg backs up at the accusatory tone in Dawson’s voice. “I’m not responsible for what the venue does.”

  “Where were you?” Dawson slaps Bane’s shoulder.

  “With her at sound check.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He lifts his chin at me. “You sticking around tonight?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Where you taking her after the show? I’m thinking she shouldn’t stay at the same hotel as the rest of the band and crew.”

  “My club has a charter not far from here. She’ll be safe there.”

  Dawson nods. “Good.” He focuses on Greg. “I need a word with you.”

  Bane follows Greg and Dawson out, promising to remain outside the door. Finally, it’s just the two of us. Shelby buries her face against my shirt.

  I curl my arm around her. “Come here.”

  “I’m so creeped out that this guy was in here.”

  I sit in the corner of the couch and pull her into my lap. “We don’t know that. It could’ve been staff who dropped it off.”

  “I guess.” She drapes her arms around my neck and rests her head on my chest. I hook my arm under her knees, pulling her legs up.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For being here.”

  “Nowhere else I wanna be, chickadee.”

  “Don’t feel…obligated to come on tour with me because of this.”

  “Hey.” I pull back and wait for her to look at me. “We talked about this. I was already planning to come with you.” I tickle her side. “Remember? You were hiding this from me and I didn’t know until this morning.”

  “I wasn’t hiding—stop, that tickles!”

  “Why do you have such a hard time believing me when I tell you stuff?”

  She shrugs and glances away. “There haven’t been a lot of people in my life I could depend on.”

  “I get that, but—”

  Someone knocks and Shelby jumps.

  “It’s me!” Cindy calls as she opens the door. “Ready?”

  “Shoot. Yeah. Sorry.”

  Cindy’s gaze pings between us. “Everything okay?”

  “I got another letter,” Shelby mumbles.

  “Oh my God, are you serious?” Cindy sets her case next to the dresser. “Shoot, honey. I’m really worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Shelby forces a bright smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  While they’re doing their thing, I check messages. I also take a look at Shelby’s Instagram. Good response to her post about the radio interview. No creeps. I guess that’s something. An announcement about the show tonight and what time she goes onstage. Lots of people
responding with, “Can’t wait” or “Wish I could be there,” comments. I scan each one quickly.

  My phone buzzes, and a message pops up.

  Jigsaw: I’m here.

  Thank fuck.

  I slide my phone in my pocket and stand. “Jiggy’s here. I’m gonna go meet him so he doesn’t get into trouble.” I rest my hand on Shelby’s shoulder, watching her in the mirror for a few seconds. The tense set of her jaw pushes me into murderous rampage territory again. She needs to focus on her show not worry about stupid letters. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she assures me.

  “I’ll be here with her,” Cindy adds.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  On my way out, I check with Bane that he’s not going anywhere. Poor dude’s probably sick of me asking. Tough shit. I navigate the long corridors and finally find my way outside just as Jigsaw’s coming up the concrete steps of the loading dock.

  “Sup, brother?” He grabs my hand and yanks me closer, patting my back.

  “It’s been a fucking day.”

  “Same.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Well, Ice put those cameras to use at the porn palace.”

  Shit. I haven’t finished setting stuff up there yet. “Did he touch the stuff I bought?”

  “No. The security cameras that Pants told us about are fully functional. Caught some guy breaking into the place. Anya was there. Thought Ice was gonna lose his fucking mind.”

  “Shit. Sorry I wasn’t there. Is it taken care of?”

  “Oh yeah.” His eyes widen. “Big time.”

  “Is Anya all right?”

  “She was shaken up but otherwise, fine. She’s at the clubhouse now.”

  “What was he doing? Monitoring the feeds from his office?”

  Jiggy pulls out his phone. “Phone and office, I guess.”

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  He slaps my chest. “We gonna stand out here yapping all night? Where’s our little songbird?”

  “Getting ready.” As we make our way to Shelby’s room, I fill him in on the stalker letters and everything else that’s gone down.

  “Holy fuck. Here I thought you were hanging out having a good ol’ time.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a blast.” I roll my eyes.

  I nod to Bane and introduce him to Jigsaw before stepping into Shelby’s room.

  Cindy’s already sticking her makeup brushes back into their slots and tucking them into the train case she always carries.

  Jigsaw stops in his tracks, eyes bugging wide, and clutches his heart.

  Jesus Christ. Why didn’t I see this coming?

  What passes for a flirty smile curves his mouth up. “Who’s your lovely friend, Shelby?”

  “Hi, Jiggy,” Shelby drawls. “This is Cindy, our makeup artist.”

  Cindy flicks her gaze over Jigsaw and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Well, aren’t you a lucky girl, Shelby.”

  “The luck’s all mine,” Jigsaw says.

  “Please stop,” I say under my breath.

  “Ease up, fella.” Cindy holds up one hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to be your mother.”

  Shelby cough-laughs.

  “I don’t discriminate, Cindy,” Jigsaw assures her. “I’m a big fan of females in a more experienced age range.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I mutter.

  Cindy chuckles and seems more amused than offended, thank fuck. I bet this would fall under behavior Greg considers inappropriate.

  “What did I tell you?” I growl after Cindy leaves.

  “I couldn’t help myself.” He shrugs. “She’s hot.”

  Shelby stands and moves to her massive trunk, searching through her clothes. “Cindy’s real sweet and she’s had some shitty men in her life, so please don’t.”

  “I’m not shitty.” His outraged tone doesn’t quite match the you-caught-me smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  I give him a quick shove. “You’re the definition of shitty.”

  “If a woman has expectations, then yeah, I suck. But a one or two-night thing? Totally five-star rated.”

  “Good grief,” Shelby mumbles.

  “I’m kidding. I won’t bug her, Shelby. Promise. You doin’ okay?”

  A serious Jigsaw is terrifying. I whap the back of his head. “You feeling okay, bro?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Shelby sets down the pile of clothes in her arms, comes over and gives Jigsaw a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for being here tonight. I guess Rooster told you everything?”

  “Just the highlights. He tell you he’s stalking your social media and has a few names on his list already? My boy will find this creeper in no time.”

  I smack Jigsaw. Will he ever learn to shut his mouth?

  “I thought you didn’t like social media,” Shelby says.

  “I don’t. I have to use some stuff for work. Decided to keep an eye on yours too.”

  “Trackin’ me with the porno princesses. Great.” Her mouth twists.

  Huh. Here I thought it didn’t bug her that much.

  It doesn’t matter. She needs to get ready for her show. We can talk it out later.

  “Finally told her about our porn empire? That’s good. Fun day for both of ya, right?” Jigsaw grins at us. When neither of us return the gesture, the smile slides off his face. “No? Not fun? A little tense? Still working through it?” He edges toward the door. “You know what? I’m gonna go sit in the hallway with your mountain-man buddy. Give you two some alone time.”

  Shelby chuckles as she watches him walk out.

  “Do you need help?” I nod to her pile of dresses, still determined not to touch the porno princesses comment.

  She stares at the door like she’s contemplating her escape. “I feel like a wet washcloth that’s been wrung out one too many times.”

  Shit, I hate this. I’m smart enough to know that unless something major happens, she won’t cancel the show, so I don’t bother suggesting it.

  “Don’t let this get to you. It’s going to be fine. I promise.” I step closer. “What can I do to help?”

  One way or another, I’ll get her through tonight safely.

  We’ll worry about the rest of it tomorrow.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Rooster

  After Shelby’s set, everyone follows us back to her dressing room. It’s not a big space but I’m not willing to leave her side, and Greg apparently wants to go over a game plan for tomorrow.

  Hate to break it to him but I already have a plan.

  Bane leans against the wall by the door. Greg takes the chair at Shelby’s makeup table. Trent sits in one of the chairs at the small round table. Jigsaw drops down on the couch, kicking out his feet.

  Someone knocks and Bane cautiously opens the door. His tense posture relaxes when Dawson strolls in. Bane closes the door and puts his back to it.

  Shelby’s gaze bounces around the room. “Appreciate the after-party, guys, but I’m beat. Dawson, don’t you have a show to get ready for?”

  “I got time, darlin’.”

  Her pleading eyes meet mine and I slip an arm around her shoulders, walking her to the bathroom door. “You shower, change, get ready to go. Let me talk to them.”

  “Logan—”

  “I promise I’ll share all the details with you later.”

  She scowls up at me. “I don’t know how I feel about you swooping in and trying to take over things, but I’m too exhausted to give a damn.” She rubs her throat. “And my voice isn’t feelin’ right.”

  I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Even more reason you should let me handle this for you.”

  “Fine.”

  I wait until the shower screeches to life before taking a seat next to Jigsaw.

  “All right,” Greg starts the conversation. “The venue says they might have video. They won’t be able to let us look at it until tomorrow morning, though.”

  “That’s a start.�
�� My gaze shifts to Dawson, unsure of why he’s even here, then back to Greg. “Is there any extra room in her merch booth?”

  He eyes me suspiciously. “Why?”

  Ignoring his tone, I go right for it. “I want to set up a small viewing booth. We’ll post on her social media that Shelby has an exclusive message of some sort for her special fans. They can come check it out at her merch booth for free. A different video in each city. I’ll set up some cameras and we’ll record everyone who stops by. We’ll keep a log and be able to check them against each location. See who shows up over and over. You know this guy won’t be able to resist.”

  “Shoot, that’s brilliant,” Dawson says. “I should have you running my security team.”

  “Shelby’s my priority,” I say without looking at him. “We’ll work out the details.” I slap Jigsaw’s back. “And one of us will review the footage each night.” Jiggy’s annoying attention to small details is about to come in handy.

  Greg rubs his hand over his chin for a few seconds. “I don’t know if the venue will allow—”

  “It’s not their fuckin’ business,” I growl. “This is a huge place. There’s no reasonable expectation of privacy at a merchandise booth. And we’re not cops.” Nor are we going to turn the stalker over to the cops, but mentioning that won’t help Greg accept my plan, so I don’t bother saying it.

  “Furthest thing from cops,” Jigsaw adds.

  “There’s no issue.” I ignore Jiggy’s contribution. “If you ask their permission, they might stall us, and I’m not in the mood to deal with any bullshit. Not when these letters are escalating in the sicko factor.”

  Dawson slaps Greg’s shoulder. “Ask forgiveness, not permission, buddy.”

  “Will you still be saying that next year when they won’t let us book a show here?” Greg asks.

  Dawson busts out laughing. “Please. We sold out two nights in a row. It’s not an issue.”

  Greg knows he’s lost this battle but he still needs me to give him an extra push. “It’s not much different than having cameras to stop people from boosting her T-shirts.”

  “All right. I’ll get you the space. What footage of Shelby are you going to use as your bait?”

  “I’ll think of an angle. It’ll have to be video they can’t find anywhere else. Something cute and personal her fans don’t know about her maybe.”