Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“You all right?” He drops into a chair a couple feet from the bed.

Rooster sits next to me, resting his hand on the sheet over my leg. It’s a simple, lovey-dovey gesture. He always touches and connects with me in little ways. But for some reason, with Dawson here in our room, it feels possessive and primal. So, so sexy.

This isn’t the time to get hot and bothered, you nympho.

I realize they’re both staring at me, waiting for an answer.

“What? Oh, yes. I’m okay. Are you?”

Dawson shifts his gaze to Rooster. “Guess you told her?”

“Just the highlights.”

Dawson’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Not my finest moment.”

“I’m sorry I suggested we go there,” Rooster says. “That’s all on me.”

“Logan, I’m a grown-ass man. I had one of my security guys with me—who, by the way, I’m gonna fire.”

“Shit,” Rooster mutters.

“Don’t feel bad for him,” he says in a much harsher voice than I’ve probably ever heard Dawson use. “You’re the only one who bothered to look for me. That’s what he was gettin’ paid to do.”

Rooster doesn’t say anything.

“If you hadn’t been there, that coulda been a real disaster.”

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been there at all,” Rooster counters.

Could we please stop reminding him of that fact?

Dawson slaps his thigh. “Shit, you think that’s the first titty bar I been to in my life, Logan?”

The two of them share a laugh.

“Here’s the thing,” Dawson leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The security experts were fine. We all learned some stuff from ‘em, yada, yada. But you and your guys are street-smart and you pay fuckin’ attention.”

Rooster glances at me and I see the guilt flashing in his eyes. Dammit. He’s still blamin’ himself for Suggs gettin’ his grubby hands on me. I just know it. I can’t say anything to contradict whatever bullshit’s in his head right now. Not in front of Dawson. So, I curl my fingers around his and squeeze tight.

“Here’s what I’m proposing,” Dawson continues. “Any more side trips or adventures like that, I want to hire one of y’all to be my guard.”

“You don’t have to pay any of us to be your friend, Dawson. The guys like you fine.”

He chuckles. “I get that. Other things might not be as entertaining, though.”

“You need one of us to hold your hand at the dentist or something?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He sits back in the chair, resting his elbows on the arms. “I’m guessing Wrath’s only looking out for his lady. Besides, he mentioned they’re headin’ home.”

“Probably today, actually.”

“I like Dex. He seems trustworthy.”

“He is, absolutely.”

“I get the impression you and Jigsaw are a package deal.”

Rooster pats my leg. “Yeah, plus, he doesn’t like lettin’ Shelby too far out of his sight.”

“Aww,” I sigh.

“Can’t you tell?” He raises an eyebrow. “You see him handin’ out cute lil’ nicknames to anyone else? Or rushing in with a baseball bat if he thinks someone’s after them?”

Now that he mentions it, no.

“Y’all must be havin’ a time on that RV,” Dawson says.

“Not like that,” Rooster growls.

“Easy, I’m kiddin’. Now, Steer—that dude looks like he could put a hurtin’ on someone. And he’s already been helping out during my set and at my meet-n-greets, so I know he pays attention to details.”

“He’s our SAA for a reason,” Rooster agrees.

“Will you let me make them the offer?”

“I don’t have to let you do anything. They’re free to do what they want.”

“But they’re here because of you. I’d be steppin’ on your toes if I asked them without talkin’ to you.” He stares at me for a few seconds. “To be honest, I’d rather put the four of you on my payroll.”

Rooster’s quick to shake that off. “No offense, but I’m here for Shelby, Dawson. If it’s a choice between her or you, I’m picking her every time, no matter how much you’re paying.”

“As you should. Wouldn’t respect ya otherwise. But it looks like her record company ain’t coming through. And to be honest, it’s my tour. My name’s on everything. It don’t look too good when stuff happens to my opening act.” Dawson smiles wide enough for little crinkles to form at the corners of his eyes. “Don’t know if anyone’s gonna accept a slot opening for me next summer. You might be stuck with me again, Shelby.”

My heart thumps. Is this his way of asking if I’ll tour with him again? “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah? Even knowin’ my ex might still be stewing?”

“Fuck her,” I blurt out. “Sorry.”

“Nope. I like your spirit, Shelby.” His expression turns more serious. “I’m not talking opening for the opener here, either. You’ve paid your dues. You’re never late. Always accept the soundcheck when I run over my time. Never run over your set. You do a hell of a job promoting the tour with your fans and stuff. It’d be an honor to have you go on stage right before me.”