Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

“Hey, Rock.” Rooster leans over and shakes his hand.

“Good to see you, Rooster.” He nods at me. “Shelby.”

Surprised he remembered my name, I nod a quiet hello.

“Wrath come back with you?” Z asks.

“He should be here shortly,” Rooster answers in a wary tone.

Z seems to sense Rooster’s mood. “Go on. No club business tonight.” He nods at me. “Hey, Shelby.”

“Hi.”

Rooster picks up my hand and leads me over to the bar. A girl with short brown curly hair and a tight pink halter top smiles at both of us.

“You want a drink?” Rooster asks me.

“A coke.”

The girl behind the bar slides a can of Coca-Cola my way. Right. Coke in the northeast is cola. “Thank you,” I chirp.

I sip it slowly, savoring the cool bubbles against my tired throat while I take in the room around us. Two girls work their way through the crowd picking up the sea of party debris, keeping things neat and orderly despite the amount of people.

Two younger guys without leather cuts swagger our way. They stop in front of us and Rooster knocks knuckles with both of them.

“Where you been?” the one with darker hair asks.

“Aw, you been waitin’ on me, Remy?” Rooster reaches out and slaps the guy’s cheek a few times. “Country Fest, ya nosy little prick.”

Maybe he’s not as bulky as Rooster, but Remy’s certainly not what I’d call “little.” Seems more like Rooster’s way of putting this non-patch holder in his place for questioning him.

Remy doesn’t seem bothered by the treatment. “Feelin’ unloved by my mentors, that’s all.” He jerks his chin in Murphy’s direction.

“You talk to Z?”

“Yes, sir.” Remy smirks. “Spoke to Rock too.”

“Good boy.” Rooster sneers.

While Remy and Rooster verbally spar with each other, the guy at Remy’s side runs his gaze over me. Recognition flickers in his dark eyes but he doesn’t say anything.

Rooster slips his arm around my shoulders. “Remy, Griff, this is Shelby.”

The corners of Griff’s mouth curl up, like he’s happy his guess about my identity was confirmed. “Nice to meet you, Shelby.”

Remy just nods at me.

They talk in low tones for a few more minutes while I study the party and sip my drink.

“I’ll catch you two later.” Rooster takes my hand and leads me toward the staircase. He moves through the crowd easily—stops to shake a few hands or say hello but otherwise keeps moving.

Excitement bubbles up inside me. All night long I’ve wanted to be alone with Rooster. Truly alone. Who am I kidding? All night is a big fat lie. I’ve wanted to be with him since we parted ways in Texas months ago.

The fact that we’ve kept in touch, that he wanted to see me tonight, made the effort when he clearly doesn’t need to go far to be surrounded by beautiful women makes my foolish heart pitter-patter way harder than it should.Chapter ThirteenRooster

Some of the noise from the party retreats as we climb the steps to the second floor of the clubhouse. The heels of Shelby’s boots make a click-thump over the shiny hardwood floor as I lead her to the end of the hallway.

The night’s young. Even the “free” rooms are mostly unoccupied. We pass a few couples who haven’t quite made it to a bedroom. At least nothing has seemed to shock Shelby yet. While she saw plenty of this when we spent time together in Texas, the place I was staying down there belonged to a different MC. The atmosphere is a notch tamer tonight, but it’s still wild if you’re a sweet southern lass who’s not used to club life.

“This place is something else.” Shelby stares at each door we pass.

“Upstate’s done well.” Too bad she won’t be as impressed with downstate’s clubhouse, if I have a chance to take her there. Our last president, Sway, spent too much time and money fucking around instead of investing into the club he claimed to care about so much. While a lot of that’s changed under Z’s leadership and I’m committed to helping him build something like this for our charter, our clubhouse is nowhere near the setup Rock’s crew have built for themselves.

I stop at the last door on the left side before the president’s suite at the end of the hallway. This used to be Z’s room. I guess technically it should be Murphy’s now, but he has his own house, so tonight, it’s mine—or ours.

Trinity assured me someone had cleaned it up since Z was here last. I open the door and flip on the light and take a sniff. The room’s free of condom wrappers and strange smells, so that’s promising.

Shelby yawns and stretches once she’s inside.

“Are you tired?” I had a lot of plans in mind for us tonight. Sleeping was way, way down on the list.

“A little,” she admits. A playful smile curves her lips and she presses her palm against my chest, lightly pushing. Her soft touch couldn’t move a sprig of grass, but I rest my back against the door anyway.