Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

The man who wears his motorcycle club’s cut with pride and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him.

I shift my gaze to the girl again.

This hundred-and-twenty-pound bag of hair worries him.

Why?

Rooster stops next to me, strong and steady. His calm mask has slipped into place. Almost as if I imagined the glimmer of fear.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he rumbles, low and ferocious.

As if he hadn’t even spoken, Ashley doesn’t take her eyes off me. “This guy. Your white knight,” she rolls her eyes, “is lying to you.”

“Horse feathers.” My whole body’s shaking. With fear or anger, I can’t tell. “You don’t know the first damn thing about us.”

“Well, I know one thing.” She finally slides her gaze to Rooster. A bitter smile twists her pretty face. “His name isn’t Logan Randall.”