Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“That’s good.” I take a second look at the basement. It’s probably stored a body or two. Bet they’ve used it to store guns at some point too.

“Let’s just say that soon, ATF will be busy focusing elsewhere and we’ll be free to handle whatever action we want, and Priest can’t say shit about it.”

Bad sign.

“You want back into guns?” I ask against my better judgment.

“I don’t like Priest telling us what we can and can’t do. Doesn’t that bug you?”

Yeah, but I’m also not eager to sign up for an extended prison stay, which running guns will bring us eventually.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “We’ve taken care of it.”

Uh, can we dig into that?

“Come on.” Ice slaps my shoulder and turns me toward the door. “I’ll take you to the house and show you around.”

Can’t wait. “I’ll start making up a list of the equipment we need.”

“Corporate names have all been filed. Bank accounts opened. Domain names registered. I’ll get you that info so you can order whatever you need.”

“Perfect.”

We follow Ice down the hallway. I yank Jigsaw closer. “Pay attention, brother.”

“Wouldn’t miss a minute.”

“Asshole,” I growl under my breath.

The main area’s filling up with more people. Mostly girls. T-Bone gestures to a cluster of women sitting on top of the bar. “We have our choice of talent right there. Every night of the week, brother.”

“Yeah?” I sweep my gaze over the group. “Every one of them cool with filming themselves and throwing it out there for the world to see?”

“You’d be surprised.” Ice flicks his presidential glare T-Bone’s way. “We’re trying to run this thing as professionally as possible. Signed contracts, profit splits. I want everything spelled out. No wiggle room.”

Smart man. “That’s probably for the best.”

Priest sure as fuck won’t be happy if they go from ATF watchlist to getting sued by random club girls who catch a case of porn star’s remorse after their parents find their biker bangfest online. A story that salacious might actually bring more than the prying eyes of ATF.Chapter Thirty-SixRooster

The rental house Ice takes us to is nothing remarkable. There’s no neon sign outside announcing it’s about to be turned into a den of sin. Four bikers tearing through the quiet, suburban neighborhood probably isn’t appreciated, though.

Ice pulls into a long, wide, freshly blacktopped driveway and shuts down his bike. The rest of us pull up next to him in a neat line. I survey the area—large yard, lots of space between the house and the nearest neighbor. Good signs.

How long’s Ice been planning this porn paradise? Or did he buy the place for some other reason?

The answers don’t matter and have nothing to do with why I’m here. Help the club set up their new business. That’s all I need to do. The rest isn’t my concern.

“Nice area,” I say to Ice when he approaches. “Neighbors aren’t too close. Should cut down on noise pollution and any complaints.”

He glances around at the manicured lawns and perfectly planted shrubbery. “That’s the idea.”

He pulls out a key and leads us in through a side door. “Anya’s not here right now, but she’s been working on each room.”

Kitchen—complete with counters at a fuckable height. Table and chairs—sturdy. Laundry. A room in the back set up like an office, with an ornate desk, high-backed leather chair, and built-in bookcases. Plenty of office “romance” potential. I flick a few switches. Decent overhead lighting.

“Bar stools for anal scenes,” T-Bone points out as we return to the kitchen. “Adjustable height.”

I flick my gaze to the ceiling. “Classy.”

He smirks and hurries to catch up with Ice.

Jigsaw shakes with laughter and gives one of the stools a spin.

I elbow him and we find our way into the living area.

T-Bone spreads his arms wide. “Orgy room.”

Jiggy studies the low, flat L-shaped sectional. “Looks like a giant bed.”

“That’s the idea.”

Upstairs is more of the same. Three bedrooms and even the bathroom staged with filming in mind. A pink, frilly room with a double bed covered in stuffed animals—which is honestly more creepy than anything. One room with two twin beds and a desk, which I suppose resembles a college dorm.

The last bedroom on the right has a more lived-in feel. It’s decorated in white, peach, and soft tan colors. A leather jacket tossed over the back of a chair. An ornate vanity overflowing with cosmetics. Closet doors open wide, with clothes, purses, and shoes spilling into the room.

“Does she live here too?” I ask.

“Most of the time,” Ice answers evasively.

The room across from that one is the largest and still empty. “Not sure what she has planned in here,” Ice says.

I check out the wide, bay windows. Probably has good sunlight early in the morning.

“Well, what do you think?” Ice asks.

“You’re further along than I expected. Place looks great, honestly. She has a good eye for detail.” I glance at the windows again. “You’re going to need more lighting throughout the house. Really blow out each location you’re going to film in with light.”