Swagger and Sass (Lost Kings MC 14.5)

a number, bro. I don’t discriminate.”

"Tell me, is your ass jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth?" Murphy asks.

I snort and give him a fist bump before answering Jiggy’s question. “Yeah, she could be Shelby’s older sister.”

“Bring her.”

“Yeah, I’ll put that at the top of my list.”

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” someone yells out right before something soft hits me in the back of the head.

“What the fuck?” I bend down and pick up the bundle of koozies Ravage tossed my way. They’re neon pink and have three symbols printed on the front: an eye, a heart, and a rooster. “The fuck is this?”

“I love cock,” Ravage answers, sounding out each syllable like he’s talking to a moron. “For the party.”

I vaguely remember talking about this with him before we left New York. At the time, it seemed like a funny idea. Hand them out to chicks, then go up and tell them my name’s Rooster. Something stupid like that. I was probably high when Ravage brought it up.

When I don’t show the proper amount of enthusiasm, Ravage snatches the package out of my hands. “Ingrate. More for me.”

“If we weren’t in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Murphy mutters, “Heidi and I would’ve stayed at a hotel.”

Ravage shoves Murphy to the side. “Fuck you, bro. You got a nice cushy room in the fancy part of the ranch.”

“It’s Dad alley down there.” Jigsaw shakes his head. “Nothing but our fallen, castrated brothers. We don’t want to be anywhere near there.”

Murphy clasps his hands under his beard prayer style. “Please say that to Rock’s face and let me know how it works out for you.”

Ravage taps his chin. “Our prez is likely to gut a motherfucker for even looking at his wife.”

“She’s quite MILF-y, so I get it,” Jigsaw says.

“Bro, you need to go rub one out before we sit down?” I slap Jigsaw’s chest. “You seem awfully one-track minded today.”

“Nah, Lala sucked me dry when we got back.”

“Way too much info.”

Ravage scowls at me as if he’d planned to ask for details.

“You fuck Shelby or not?” Jigsaw asks.

“None of your business.”

“You did, didn’t you? Was she a firecracker?”

“Shut up.”

Murphy shakes his head in disgust. “I’ll see you at the table.”

Ravage watches Murphy talk to Lilly for a minute, then drags Heidi into the house. “Teller’s been bitching all day that their room is right next to his.” He laughs. “Should be an eventful afternoon.”

“Christ, I feel like I walked into a fucking soap opera,” I grumble.

“Lost Kings MC: Road Trip Season.” Ravage spreads his arms out wide. “It’s awesome.”

Chuckling, I slap his shoulder and make my way over to Z.

“Hey, hero.” He grins at me. “Everything go okay?”

“Eh, got a ticket from the cops.”

“Get the girl home all right?”

My mouth curves up. “Yeah, she’s nice. Thinking of having her up on Saturday.”

He nods and searches the grounds. “Keep an eye on her. We got a lot of out-of-town bikers here we don’t know. Couple different clubs.”

“I will,” I promise. “I heard Blaise pushed back the meeting?”

“Yeah, he had something going on. Dante’s supposed to call everyone when they’re ready.”

Only the officers of each club would be sitting down at the big meeting. Then each club will discuss the details of what went down. More efficient. First time we’ve ever done this. It’ll be good for all four organizations if we can make it work.

Give us easy passage and alliances throughout a huge portion of the country. All of us want it to go smoothly.

When we all finally sit down, it’s clear Lost Kings have the best operation. Yeah, I’m biased, but we do. Upstate has their weed operation. They run that shit tight. Sparky’s the genius behind their grow-op. Downstate, we have our porn studio that brings in the majority of our cash. Some other side ventures, too, but they have nothing to do with this meeting.

Iron Bulls MC runs narcotics and probably guns down to Mexico. Devil Demons MC runs narcotics into Canada. Savage Dragons MC—I’m not really clear what the fuck they do. But they’re a close ally of the Iron Bulls, and one of them owns this ranch, so that’s how they ended up here. While my club has no interest in the heavier end of the criminal spectrum, we want to keep relationships with these clubs running smoothly. Sparky’s been helping the Iron Bulls set up their own grow operation, and he goes into a lengthy lecture about strains and growing techniques that puts most of us to sleep.

My treasurer, Hustler, lays out some details about the porn proposal we put together. We held some stuff back, naturally. Kings first and all that. Iron Bulls have some connections to talent in California that we want, and we work out a deal on that.

Once business finishes, it’s time to party.

And I’m wondering if there’s any way Shelby can get off work a little early.

Chapter Eight

Shelby

I’m feeling like ten miles of bad road when I clock in at the diner. A steady stream of customers comes and goes all night. Even so, my shift seems to drag on and on.

Rooster: You never told me where you work?

Me: Is your meeting over already?

I shove my phone back in my apron pocket and finish placing the giant five-pound cinnamon roll on a plate before carrying it over to one of my tables.

After another lap around the room, refilling coffees and clearing empty plates, I finally have a second to text Rooster back.

Me: Auntie Eclair’s diner.

It’s too far out of his way to worry about seeing him tonight.

Two hours later, I realize my assumption was dead wrong. The parking lot vibrates with the rumble of dozens of motorcycles. Okay, dozens might be stretching it, but there are a lot of them pulling up.

Customers glance out the windows and cast nervous glances around.

Rooster walks in the door first and smiles as soon as he sees me.

I recognize Jigsaw and Sparky from earlier, but at least ten more don’t-fuck-with-me type of men wearing leather vests crowd in behind them.

“Hey.” I rush over and greet Rooster. “Give me a second to put enough tables together for you.”

“We can do it.” He nods to an empty section in the back of the diner. “That okay?”

“Perfect.”

He pats my shoulder and stalks past me. Jigsaw nods as he passes. “Evening, Shelby.”

Sparky stops in front of me. “Tell me there are more of those cinnamon buns.”

“Yup. Got at least a dozen fresh ones in the back.”

“Bring all of them to us.”

“They’re like fifteen dollars apiece.”

He smirks as if he’s insulted. “Coffee, too,” he adds, before following his brothers.

The rest of the guys nod at me as they go by. I’m too flustered to bother reading their patches and learning their names. I do notice that not all of them belong to the same club as Rooster. They all seem friendly and familiar with each other. That’s a good sign, right?

My manager steps out and assesses the room. “Friends of yours?”

“Sort of. Well, one of them is.”

“Make sure it stays civil.”

Yeah, because a bunch of beefy bikers give a damn what I have to say about anything. “Of course.”

Positive Sparky was kidding, I only bring two of the cinnamon buns to the table. He makes sad puppy eyes at me. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Are you sure?”

He glances at them again. “Box up the rest, we’ll take ’em home.”

One of his brothers slaps his shoulder. “Wrath will kill you if you bring all that sugar back.”

Sparky shrugs. “We’re on vacation.”

One of the

other bikers pipes up, “I wouldn’t need sugar either if I was married to a sweet piece of ass like his wife.”

Sparky shoots a glare down the table.

I rest my hand on Rooster’s shoulder. “Couple pots of coffee for the table?”

“That’d be perfect.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” someone else calls out.

It takes forever to get everyone their coffee, water, and other drinks. I’m praying no one wants any real food because the kitchen is almost shut down. But they seem content with the cinnamon buns and coffee.

About a quarter to midnight, Rooster and Jigsaw get up and do a lap around the restaurant, eyeing my straggling customers in an unfriendly way.

“You trying to slash my tips in half tonight?” I whisper, when he stops by the counter.

“We’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need charity, Rooster.”

“You’ve earned every penny taking care of a big party like ours right at the last minute.”

He says it in a sweet way that doesn’t make me feel like he looks down on me for being a waitress. “Thanks.”

He leans his elbows on the counter. “You need a ride home?”

The low rumble of his voice suggests he has more than dropping me off at home in mind. “I have my mom’s car.” If I’d known he was stopping in, I would’ve walked the seven miles here. “But she’s out tonight if you want to come over and watch a movie or something.” A movie sounds safe. I mean, I can’t openly invite him over for sex, right?

“I have to be up early for my other job,” I add. Technically, it’s a rehearsal, but I don’t know how to say that without inviting questions I’m not ready to answer.

His mouth turns down as if he’s disappointed. “You work two jobs?”

Maybe he’s more concerned about how hard I have to hustle. “Sort of. More when I can.” I shrug. “I try to help out my mama as much as I can.”

“I get that.” He places his warm hands over mine, drawing them closer. “Sure you’re not too tired? You’ve had an exciting day.”

Exhaustion tugs at me, but I grab his beard and give it a gentle tug. “You did offer me a ride earlier.”