Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Shelby asks.

“Probably not.” The less details she has, the better.

Because as soon as I find this fucker, he’s dead.Chapter SixtyRooster

Laptop is all set in her dressing room. I’m bummed that I’ll have to watch it instead of Shelby’s performance tonight. Jigsaw’s at the table, already fiddling with the tablet he’ll use to keep track of things.

“I’m sorry I’m gonna miss your show.” I hug Shelby around her waist and lean down to kiss her forehead.

“You’ll be able to hear me.” She lowers her voice. “There’s no one else I trust more to help me end this.”

“I’m gonna try my damnedest. I can’t guarantee he’ll show up. But if he does—”

“I’m gonna boil his fucking teeth for scaring you, girl,” Jigsaw promises, not even glancing away from his screen.

“That’s…macabre.” Shelby wrinkles her nose. “But thank you.”

The doors to the arena opened an hour ago. I’ve been studying footage of fans popping in to view the video ever since. The camera’s motion-activated and only records for a short time. But it’s enough to get what I think we need.

We capture a lot of kids and teenagers. Mostly girls. I delete those clips right away. Our stalker has to be a guy, so any male eighteen to sixty-five who sticks his head in that booth is getting added to our files. The rest don’t matter.

It’s time for her to go.

“Stick with Bane after the show,” I remind her. “I’ll tear down the booth and meet you back here, okay?”

“All right.”

I curl my hand around her neck, guide her head up, and slide my mouth over hers, tasting her and torturing myself in the process.

By the time she pulls away, I’m hard enough to pound nails through concrete. I lean down and brush my lips against her ear. “We skipped your pre-show orgasm. Tonight, I’ll owe you double.”

She slicks her tongue over her bottom lip. “I can’t wait to collect.”

I hate letting her go, but I release her with one final kiss on her cheek. “You’ll be awesome tonight. I know it.”

“Thank you.”

“Kick ass, Shelby.” Jigsaw barely glances up.

She throws us one last “thank you” before slipping out the door.

Feels like my heart went along with her, leaving me behind.

“Did I miss anything good?”

Jigsaw studies his screen. “Bro, there are a lot of hot moms here. I never suspected this would be such a—”

Here I am thinking he’s taking this seriously. “Focus, please.”

We’re both quiet after that. The roar of the crowd and echo of music along with Shelby’s muffled voice filters down to us, and my lips twitch.

“You want to go watch her? I can keep an eye on this,” Jigsaw offers.

“Not tonight. Once we work out a system, I’ll feel more comfortable.”

“Shit, Rooster. I hope this isn’t gonna go on much longer. She can’t deal with that stress on top of the pressure of the tour and performing every night.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have threatened to skin him earlier. “I know.”Thirty-five minutes later, I’m seriously doubting this “genius” idea of mine. Kids. Parents. Teenagers. College kids. A bunch of frat-boy-looking types who whoop it up, high-five each other and make jerk-off hand motions about Shelby’s yoga video. Clearly, the yoga was a terrible idea. How did I not see that coming? Makeup tutorials and music sessions, it is from now on. Thank fuck there’s no sound, or I’d probably be out there on a murder spree.

A sweaty, older man pops onto the screen. Finally, the demographic I’ve been looking for all night. The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

“Jiggy, come here.”

He stands behind my chair, leaning over to see better.

“Bring up the other video.” Without taking my eyes off the screen, I tap my phone, sitting on the table next to the computer.

He pulls up the video Greg sent me earlier and examines it for a few seconds before studying my screen. “Could be.”

I trace the image of the guy on my screen with my finger. “Height’s about right. Set and size of his shoulders. I wish I had set this up to capture people walking away.”

“What’s he doing?” Jigsaw taps the screen. “Is that an envelope he’s taking out of that…bag? What is that? Is he leaving a fucking letter right now?”

“No,” I mutter, concentrating on the images. The lighting isn’t the best. It’s dark around the edges and the booth itself is black so I can’t tell if it’s one of those black envelopes in his hand or something less sinister.

The guy finally leaves, and a twenty-something couple takes his place.

“She’s almost done. Let’s get up there and break it down.” I stand and close the laptop just in case any of the venue staff come into the room. We never asked the arena’s permission. The camera will continue recording clips and storing them online.