Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

The overgrown grass and shrubs lining the clubhouse’s property comes into view. Much to Z’s irritation, we keep things looking a little raggedy around the edges to deter visitors. I flick the blinker on. Outside the newly installed gate, I have to stop and punch in a code.

“So much security,” Shelby comments.

“We just added this a little while ago.”

“Was there a reason?”

“Nothing specific.”

Shelby accepts that answer, which I appreciate. Few things she’s encountered about MC life seem to bother her. Unusual attitude for a woman who’s never been around a club before.

I park in the spot reserved for the VP, noting that Tawny’s big, black Cadillac is parked right in front of the large wooden clubhouse doors. Of course, the one chance I get to bring Shelby by the clubhouse the old president’s wife would be prowling around. Stirring up trouble, no doubt.

Upstate likes to joke about using Tawny as some sort of test for whether a woman will survive as a Lost Kings ol’ lady. Used to think it was kind of funny until right this second.

We haven’t been…whatever we are…long enough for Shelby to be subjected to Tawny yet.

I walk around and open Shelby’s door.

“Thought you said everyone was upstate?” She glances around at the few bikes and cars in the lot.

“Couple brothers stayed behind, and a few girls live here and help us take care of the place.”

A flash of…annoyance, maybe suspicion, crosses her face, but she doesn’t question me.

I pull open the heavy front doors and motion for her to go inside.

At least the place is clean and doesn’t smell like ass the way it used to.

“Give me a second.” I squeeze Shelby’s hand and duck into the office I share with Z.

Someone tossed a stack of envelopes on the desk. The red light on the phone blinks a steady, annoying red.

Junk mail.

Spam phone calls.

Nothing that needs my attention.

“You work here?” Shelby asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Work is probably stretching it.”

She raises her hands to her face, forming a little square. “Click.”

I set the phone down and come around the desk. “What’s that, chickadee?”

“Just taking a mental snapshot for my collection.” She mimes shaking out a Polaroid and tucking it in her pocket.

I grab her hips and yank her closer. “You’re fucking cute, you know that?”

She opens her mouth.

“Rooster!”

I cringe. Somehow Tawny’s husky voice—that I’m sure she thinks is sexy—is more like nails down a fucking chalkboard. “What are you doing here? Thought you boys were gone all weekend?”

Without bothering to introduce herself, she hip checks Shelby aside to hug me and press a kiss to my cheek, no doubt leaving hot-pink lipstick marks.

Sway may not be our president anymore, but it’s still customary to show his ol’ lady respect. No matter how much I’d rather not. “Where’s your ol’ man, Tawny?” Why are you running around unsupervised?

She points at the ceiling. “Upstairs. Resting.”

“Tawny.” I slip my hand around Shelby’s and tug her closer. “This is my girlfriend, Shelby. She’s only in town for the weekend, so I thought I’d bring her by and show her around.”

She rakes her gaze over Shelby. “Where you from, Shelby?”

“Texas.” Shelby slathers on the southern twang. Is she nervous or annoyed?

She curls an arm around my waist and pats my chest. “Rooster rescued me from drowning.”

Tawny nods. “Sounds like our Rooster.”

“Rooster!” one of the girls shouts. “Can you help me out a second?”

I glance over my shoulder at Delilah. “Be right there.”

Hopefully Tawny can behave for five minutes. And if she doesn’t, hopefully Shelby will forgive me.Shelby

“Aren’t you a cute little thing,” Tawny says, slowly assessing me after Rooster dashes away.

I study her tight red jeans, high-heeled sandals, ample cleavage, and helmet of shellacked red hair, and want to answer, “Well, aren’t you a scary bitch?” But my momma raised me better than that.

“So, what do you do in Texas?” she asks like Texas is located in the sewer instead of the south.

“I’m a singer.”

She raises an eyebrow. I’m guessing she’s not a fan of reality television or country music, which is oddly comforting. I’d rather she not have any pre-conceived ideas about me.

“You must be special.” Her lips curve into a cruel smile, and a lump forms in the pit of my stomach. “Rooster’s never brought a girl to the clubhouse he didn’t intend to share with his brothers.”

Eww. Gross. Really?

I flashback to the scene at upstate’s clubhouse last night. She’s probably not lying.

Doesn’t matter. Rooster and I can discuss it later. I can’t let this lady think she’s rattled me. This woman’s giving off serious spotted hyena vibes. If she smells fear, she’ll probably claw me to ribbons.

I shrug, all casual, like I couldn’t care less. “Well, he’s pretty snarly around most guys I encounter. And I don’t share, so, guess those days are over for him.”

“Well, just make sure they know it too.” She points one manicured finger in the direction of the two girls perched on bar stools watching Rooster carry a heavy stack of boxes. “They’ve probably both fucked your man at some point. You’ll want to make it clear he’s no longer free dick.”