Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“Jackass,” I grumble.

Shelby pokes a finger in my side. “Be nice.”

There’s no sign of Greg yet. Shelby sends a text to let him know we’re here. I want to set up my “viewing booth” as early as possible but I need to know which part of her merchandise table I can monopolize. For now, Jiggy and I drop off everything in her dressing room.

Trent leans against the doorframe. “Morning. Greg’s down at security, checking out tapes from yesterday.”

At least he’s being useful.

A few minutes later, Greg stumbles into the room with a book tucked under his arm. Dark shadows under his eyes, wrinkled pants—doesn’t look like anything good kept him up all night.

“Morning, Shelby. You ready for tonight?” His forced, upbeat tone fires up my danger radar.

“I will be.”

“Logan, can I talk to you out here for a sec?” Greg motions me into the hallway. Jigsaw follows. Trent stays behind with Shelby.

Greg pulls a black envelope out of the book he’s carrying.

I swear under my breath. “How? When?”

“Trent found it on the van’s windshield this morning,” he says in a low voice.

“At the hotel?”

His grave expression doesn’t change. “Yes.”

“Bro, this is bad.” Jigsaw elbows me. “Thank fuck you brought her to the clubhouse last night.”

“I have to agree.” Greg’s gaze drops to the envelope. “He’s escalating.”

I snap the envelope out of his hand and open it carefully.Dearest Shelby,

Your voice is such a lovely gift. It’s a crime to share it with a world that does not appreciate you. Up close, you remind me of a soft, tiny rabbit. Cautious, yet unaware of the dangers that surround vulnerable creatures in need of the safety of a cage.

You seem awfully cozy with that big, bearded man. A man that crude can’t possibly provide the discipline you require. Or supply you with the proper intellectual stimulation you have been lacking.

Worry not—I am capable of providing for you and our children. You won’t need to pursue anything else. Your heart will be content where you belong. You were built to properly care for your husband and children. I will lavish you with all the attention you require. In case you misunderstood my other letters—you belong to me, Shelby.

Very soon.

MFear—something I haven’t felt in a long time—snakes through my insides, followed by mind-melting rage. I’m going to gut this motherfucker and hang him from a fucking tree as a warning to every other sicko.

“Bro, what the ever-loving fuck?” Jigsaw’s low, disbelieving voice is almost as disturbing as the letter itself. Not much shocks him. “This dude’s fifty kinds of twisted.”

“It’s bad,” Greg agrees. “I’ve never seen anything quite that…unsettling before.”

“You’ve had other clients deal with stalkers?”

“Obsessed fans that get carried away.” He stops and seems to consider the question carefully. “No one that seemed to mean actual harm. This guy is several Fruit Loops short of a cereal box.” He slips the letter out of my fingers and tucks it back inside the book. “Dawson sweet-talked the hotel manager into letting us go through the security footage. It’s hard to tell from the angle of the camera and where we were parked, but it looks like it was this guy.”

He turns his phone my way and a grainy picture fills the screen. From the width and set of the shoulders, it’s almost certainly a man. He’s average height, judging him against the vehicles in the background. On the heavier side. Wearing a windbreaker with the hood obscuring his face. The image is one fucking notch above useless.

“It’s not great.” Greg echoes my thoughts. “I have a copy of the video, and I’ll send it to you to compare against the ones from tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Local PD won’t do anything. I think they figure we’re rolling out of their jurisdiction tomorrow, so it’s not their problem.”

“Big surprise.”

“I have an FBI contact but until there’s more of an overt threat, they won’t get involved either.”

“That’s just fucking great.” Jigsaw smacks my arm. “We’ve got this, bro.”

“You got some space for me up front?” I ask Greg.

“It’s all set up. The girls working the table know you’re installing a booth but they don’t know about any of this. Just that it’s for the fans. Anyone is allowed to stop in and check it out.”

“Good.” This is better than I’d hoped for. I’d fully expected Greg to dick me around all morning. Guess this letter finally woke his ass up.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell Shelby about this now.” Greg lowers his voice. “Not before her show.”

Fuck. I don’t want to keep stuff from her, but I’m not sure what good it will do to terrify her when she needs to start shifting her mindset to going onstage. “I’ll bring her up to speed tonight.”

Behind us, the door opens and I quickly stand back, hoping Shelby didn’t overhear us. But it’s Trent. He lifts his chin my way. “She’s looking for you.”