Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

She grabs two bottles of Sprite, a pack of Twizzlers, and a bag of gummy bears. “I never eat this junk at home but out on the road is kinda like a vacation.”

“I’m supposed to be doing the opposite while I’m on tour,” I laugh, “but that’s kinda gone to hell over the last couple days. We were visiting my momma and I can’t say no to her cooking.”

She snorts and wags the bag of gummy bears at me. “This was my mom’s version of ‘cooking’ when I was a kid, so it’s basically comfort food.”

Single working mom or not, connecting with me over a hot meal was always important to Momma. I can’t imagine her ever tossing a bag of candy at me for dinner.

Feeling like I somehow jammed my boot in my mouth, I smile politely and accept the goodies she hands me.

We return to the back of the clubhouse, choosing a small table in the corner near the stage.

Anya happily stuffs her mouth full of gummy bears and eyes the pole like a challenge.

“You look like you’re up to something.” I tear into one of the red licorice strips, noting that it tastes somehow waxier but sweeter than it did when I was a kid. Yuck. I sip my soda to rinse the taste out of my mouth.

“I started my career on a pole just like that one.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I guess we all have to start somewhere.

“I was dancing when Ice found me.” From her blank expression, I can’t tell if it’s a happy or sad memory and it’s probably not polite to ask.

Searching for something to say to fill the silence, I blurt out, “I told Rooster I want to install a pole in the RV and learn. I’m not so sure he was crazy about the idea.”

“You’ve never tried pole dancing?”

“Just at the Royal Dolls last time we were in Deadbranch, and you saw how that turned out.”

“Well, no one’s taking pictures here.”

No one was supposed to take pictures there either.

“Come on.” She grabs my arm, dragging me toward the stage. “I’ll give you lessons.”

Before I can stop her, she whips off her dress and tosses it on our table, leaving her in a bra and thong. “It’s easier if your skin makes contact with the pole,” she explains.

“Yeah…” I glance around the semi-crowded clubhouse. No one’s really paying attention to us, yet. I’m sure that will change soon enough. “I’m not gettin’ down to my underwear. Sorry.”

“Rooster would freak, right?”

Sure, let’s go with that excuse. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s the beauty of not being tied down at our age, Shelby,” she sings-songs.

“You sound like my momma,” I mutter.

She bubbles with laughter. “Your mom would have to be nuts not to love Rooster. He’s so obviously smitten with you.”

“She’s finally warming up to the idea that we’re serious.” And hadn’t that been a relief.

In a blur, Anya grips the pole, jumping into an elegant spin-move, her long hair trailing behind her like ribbons.

I stand mesmerized as she executes a number of moves that have to be hard as hell. Somehow, she makes them look effortless. She’s at the top of the pole, hanging on by nothing but her thighs when someone drapes their arm over my shoulders. Thinking it’s Rooster, I lean back.

Nope. The body behind me is all wrong. Soft where it’s usually firm. Something hard poking me a few inches lower…what the hell?

I turn and glance up into the scruffy face of a biker I don’t recognize. He’s wearing Lost Kings MC patches, so that’s a good sign, I hope.

“You gonna take a turn up there?” he asks.

“Uh.” I try to shrug his arm off but he’s like a cement block. “No.”

“Her man’s VP of downstate, New York, so you might wanna back off,” Anya calls out.

He scowls at Anya, then me. His beady eyes scan my body, lingering on my chest for several seconds. “You’re not patched.”

Well aren’t you captain obvious.

I open my mouth to say something that’ll probably get me in trouble.

“Get the fuck off her,” someone growls behind us. “Now.”

Rooster.

Thank God.

My body sighs in relief and my mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it, Bonehead,” someone else adds.

Jiggy.

“Anya, get over here,” Ice barks.

She slides down the pole so fast, she probably got pole-burn on her thighs.

The arm weighing down my shoulders suddenly jerks away.

I duck and shuffle to the side—just in case punches are thrown.

Thankfully, Bonehead—is that actually his road name?—isn’t up for a fight. He holds his hands up in the air while Rooster, Ice, and Jiggy close in on him like a pack of angry wolves about to rip apart a rogue invader.

“No offense meant, brother. Didn’t realize she was with you,” he says to Rooster. “She ain’t patched.”

Rooster curls his arm around me, drawing me tight to his side, without taking his eyes off Bonehead. “She’s with me.”