Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

“Ah, shit.” I didn’t want to dwell on it at the show but it sounds like Trent’s absence will be a huge problem.

“Glad you made it, Logan!” Dawson’s hearty voice booms and something slaps my shoulder hard.

He drops into the chair next to me. “Why so glum, boys? You’re supposed to be celebratin’.” He lifts his glass high in the air.

“Trent had to go home,” Greg explains.

By his blank expression, I think Dawson needs a minute to remember who Trent is. “Shelby’s guitarist. Right. She told me. He comin’ back?”

“We don’t know yet,” Greg says. “He’s Shelby’s writing partner too.”

“Oh, shoot. Right.” Dawson sits up, the humor vanishing from his expression. “She’s recording next week.”

“Yes,” Greg says in an extra-patient tone.

“I can find her some studio musicians.” Dawson snaps his fingers. “No problem.”

“It’s not just that. They write together.” Greg glances over his shoulder. “She’s better than she thinks she is, but they’ve always had a certain system.”

“Well, I got a few days scheduled for us.” Dawson taps my arm. “Got your buddy Chaser flying in to work with me.”

“That’s good.” Damn, it’s fuckin’ weird to picture the Devil Demons MC president hanging out in Nashville writing with Dawson. But good for Chaser, I guess.

“You’ll have to come out to dinner with us one night,” Dawson offers.

“Uh, sure.” I cough. “I’m supposed to head home for a few days. Figured she’ll need the time to focus on the music and everything.”

“True. True. I don’t know how Shelby writes but when I’m in the zone, those can be some crazy, up-all-night late sessions. Don’t know if I’m comin’ or goin’.” He slaps my arm. “You’re coming back for the CMAs, though, right? Shelby said you’ll be attending.”

Sorry, Dawson, you’ll need to find your own date this time. “Yeah, I’ll be back.”

He runs his gaze over my T-shirt, jeans, right down to my boots, like he’s cataloging my fashion taste and finds it underwhelming. I glance around the party. Lots of cowboy boots, tucked shirts, and hats. Shoot me.

Greg captures Dawson’s attention and the two of them start discussing music stuff I feel free to tune out. My gaze wanders to the other side of the roof. Steer talking to a redhead in a rhinestone-studded bra and tiny red shorts. Jigsaw and Pants talking to what appear to be a set of blonde twins dressed in identical pink dresses.

I scan the rest of the area. No sign of Dex. Wouldn’t surprise me if he stayed in his room.

My eyes land on Shelby. Smiling, laughing, and chatting with the journalist. Perfect.

Greg stands and walks away to talk to someone else, leaving Dawson and me alone.

He turns toward me. “Hey, I was thinking, if you’re heading home and Shelby’s writing partner won’t be around, she can stay at my place.”

What now?

The scowl on my face must speak volumes.

He holds up one hand. “Whoa. Let me rephrase. I have an estate outside Nashville. Whole downstairs is a studio. That’s where I’ll be working. We’ve got several guest cottages. I’m offering Shelby one of those. If she wants it. I assume you’re riding home? You can park your rig at my place while you’re gone.”

I had been worried about the place Greg lined up for Shelby and Trent to stay while they were recording. I also wasn’t looking forward to finding a place to park the truck and RV.

“That might work.” I don’t want to jump at the suggestion without running it by Shelby. “Thank you for offering.”

I study Dawson’s profile while he talks to some suit who approached him.

Uncle Boone taught me that it was easy to judge a man’s character by how he treats people who can’t do anything for him. In my experience, that translates into men who bully the powerless, or hurt and demean women, are of weak character and completely worthless.

Dawson’s always been respectful of Shelby. Never inappropriate. Never seen him be inappropriate with any woman, actually. Hell, he didn’t even have harsh words for the strippers who tried to rob him at Digger’s club. He treats the people who work for him with fairness and respect. Steer doesn’t like many people outside the club, yet he was willing to work for Dawson on the tour.

Staying at Dawson’s compound might be the safest place for Shelby while I’m away.

“You wanna talk security, Logan,” Dawson says as soon as the suit moves on to someone else. “My place is gated. Private. No one gets in. She’ll be safe there. It’s quiet, so she can get work done. She can rent a car and come and go as she pleases.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” His mouth twists down and he drops his gaze. “Hell, Logan. I still don’t feel like I’ve made up for what happened to her. Admire her resilience too. Coming back from something like that ain’t easy. She’s got a bright future and solid career in front of her.”