Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

I pump my fist in the air with appreciation at his attempt to cheer me up.

The guys are in their designated spots, and I murmur hellos. Trent tosses my favorite blanket at me, hitting me in the face with it. I hug it to my chest and stick my nose in the cozy fleece. “Did you wash it?”

He shrugs. “They had a washer and dryer on our floor.”

“Thank you.”

His shoulders jerk in another whatever shrug. I curl up in my seat, pulling my blanket around me. As much as I try to resist, I can’t help pressing my face against the window to spy on Rooster. The glass is tinted, so he can’t see me watching him as he talks to his brothers, flicking a glance at the van every couple minutes.

Come on. Hurry up. Why’d Greg call me over here if we were just going to idle for minutes?

James finally drops into his seat. Greg smacks the van door before jogging off to his own vehicle.

Even though, he can’t see me, Rooster lifts his hand as the van pulls out of the parking lot. I press my fingers to the glass and choke down a sob.

Maybe this is what my momma meant. This moment. Right here. Lost in the time Rooster and I were able to spend together, my brain buried how much it hurt when we’d said goodbye in Texas months ago.

Maybe she remembered how sad I’d been after Rooster left.

Back then, I had the upcoming tour and hours of rehearsals to pull me out of my funk. Now, I’ve got nothing but miles of road ahead of me to miss him and only warm memories to keep me company.Chapter Thirty-OneRooster

Watching Shelby’s van pull away is harder than I’d expected.

Can’t remember ever feeling this way about someone.

“You all right?” Dex asks quietly.

“Yeah. We made plans. I’ll see her soon.”

He claps me on the back. “That’s good.”

I side-eye him. “You’re not gonna tell me how whipped I am?”

“Nah, that’s Jigsaw’s job.”

“Who’s giving me a job?” Jigsaw wraps an arm around each of our necks. “What kind of job? Hand job? Blow job?”

“I’ll give you fuckin’ job.” I shake him off and stretch, already dreading the long drive ahead of me. Without Shelby by my side, being cooped up in a cage is intolerable. “Y’all ready to head back?”

“Aw, listen to that. Rooster said, y’all. Startin’ to sound like your girl,” Jigsaw says. “Is yeehaw next?”

“Fuck off.” I push my middle finger in his face and he slaps my arm away.

“You gonna be okay?” Jigsaw’s mouth turns down as if he’s feeling sorry for me. “You need to go to the bathroom and have a cry about missin’ Shelby? We’ll wait.”

“You’re extra-strength asshole today.” Dex pulls his keys from his pocket.

“Rooster knows I’m fucking with him.” He adopts a more serious tone. “Be straight with me. You all right?”

“Yes. Fuck. I’m fine.”

Jiggy crosses his arms and rests his chin in one hand, tapping his fingers against his jaw. “You worried she’s meetin’ up with her Ohio boyfriend next? I mean, she could be like most bikers we know and have a stud stashed in every state.”

“Fuck this.” I give him a quick shove and head toward the hotel. “I’m gettin’ a coffee for the road.”

Behind me, Jigsaw’s laughter rings out, then there’s an, “Ow! What’re you hittin’ me for?”

Dex’s heavy steps thud over the pavement until he catches up to me. “How have you not killed him yet?”

“I ask myself that every day, brother.”

“I’m sorry!” Jigsaw shouts as he hurries to my side. “Didn’t know you’d get so bent. I like Shelby. Any asshole can tell she’s into you.”

“And yet…”

“I’m not just any asshole.”

“Amen to that,” Dex mutters. “More like a special kind of jackass.”

The hotel clerk doesn’t look thrilled to have us in his establishment again. Ignoring him, I head for the snack bar and fill an extra-large coffee cup to the top. “You wanna stop for breakfast on the road?” I ask Dex. “Or wait ’til we get to Johnsonville?”

“Who’s riding my johnson?” Jigsaw quips.

“Did you strike out with the Demons’ club girls last night?” I ask. “You seem awfully frustrated this morning.”

Dex smacks Jigsaw’s shoulder. “The scary thing is, he didn’t. He terrorized…I mean, romanced at least two from what I saw.”

Jiggy scowls at him. “I don’t romance, bro.”

I let out a long, irritated sigh. “I honestly don’t care.”

“Sure, now that you have a steady supply of p—”

“Don’t,” I warn him.

“Pleasurable communication,” he continues, “you can afford to be smug. Don’t judge me. I’m a healthy young man. I need frequent release with various females as often as possible.”

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” Dex mutters, handing the scandalized cashier a couple of bills and telling her to keep the change.

Outside, I stop to sip my coffee and notice the other tour buses. Guess Dawson didn’t get an early wake-up. What the fuck was the rush for Shelby? I glance back at the hotel…