Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

I wrap my arms around his neck and fuse my mouth to his. He lets out a surprised rumble and my back hits something hard and cool. The wall.

Rooster draws back. “Careful.” He sets me down. “You don’t need more pictures leaking on the Internet.” He takes a quick glance around the corridor. While it’s busy, full of workers, roadies, and other people lingering, no one seems to be paying attention to us.

“Good job, Shelby!” Greg shouts.

“Were you watching?” I ask when he gets closer.

He jerks his head toward the stage. “Out front. I set up an interview for you after the Columbus show. Wanted to send them a video clip.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Greg glances at Rooster. “Thank you for your help tonight.”

“No problem.” He squeezes my hand.

“We’re not rolling out until tomorrow morning, Shelby,” Greg says. “We’re all staying down at the Hilton.” He glances at Rooster. “I didn’t know if—”

“I got her.” Rooster doesn’t bother to hide his eagerness. “What time does she need to meet you?”

Greg’s either tired or given up trying to corral me. He texts the information to Rooster, including the hotel’s address.

“Thanks, man.” Rooster shakes Greg’s hand.

I’m wired and buzzy while we walk down to the dressing room to grab my stuff, excited I have more time with Rooster.

Except I’m afraid it will make it all that much harder to say goodbye tomorrow morning.Chapter Twenty-EightRooster

I’m here for Shelby, but I can’t forget that my president also asked me to handle business while I was in Chaser’s territory. Since Shelby’s dressing room wasn’t the appropriate place for that conversation earlier, it’ll have to be now.

“Hey, you heard Chaser invite us to their clubhouse before. You mind if we stop by?” Shit, I hate asking, since all I want to do is be alone with her.

“Really?” Her eyes go big and her lips curl up. “Sure. Maybe I can pick his brain.” She wiggles her fingers. “About technique.”

I huff out a laugh. “Maybe.”

“Shoot.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “He’s president of his club? So…would that be rude, if I ask him about…music stuff?”

I love that she seems to understand how important respect is in my world, but also hate her being so nervous. “We’ll see how busy it is, but I don’t think he’ll mind.” I hesitate for a second. “I do have a few things I need to discuss with him, though.”

Her lips curl into a teasing smile. “Biker business?”

“More or less.”

“That’s okay. I know how to entertain myself.”

“I need you to stick with Dex or Jigsaw. Or Chaser’s wife if she’s around. It’s not the kind of place I want—”

“Me roaming around by myself.” She leans in and nudges me with her shoulder. “I understand.”

“Thanks.” I press a quick kiss to her forehead.Shelby

When Rooster said the clubhouse wasn’t far, that wasn’t quite accurate. After leaving the bustling area around the fairgrounds, we drive through a lot of dark, twisty back roads with Dex and Jigsaw ahead of us.

Finally, light spills through the trees. The guys slow.

A large metal gate stands wide open. Two men in black leather cuts step out of the shadows with flashlights and approach Jigsaw and Dex’s bikes.

Rooster tenses, his hand straying toward the middle console.

“Everything all right?” I ask.

He doesn’t take his eyes off his brothers. “Yeah, they’ll know who we are.” His flat tone doesn’t exactly comfort me.

Rooster’s a dangerous man. Why is that shocking? I never gave the risk of dating a biker a lot of thought before.

Yes, he’s big, heavy, muscled, thick, and hard. But he’s always been sweet and gentle—almost reverent—in the way he treats me. Yes, I’ve seen him take action to protect me from men when they’ve been inappropriate. But that didn’t strike me as odd or dangerous—more like the gentlemanly thing to do.

Tonight, the danger seems to be all around us. And dangerous men tend to hang out with other dangerous men.

Jigsaw and Dex are allowed to pass the two guards and continue into the compound.

Rooster eases the truck up a few inches.

“Name?” one of guards barks. He casts a dismissive look at the truck.

“It’s Rooster.” His deep, rumbly voice forces the guard’s head to snap up, eyes narrowing while he studies Rooster for a quick second.

“Fuck, man. Sorry.” He ducks his head and waves us forward. “Go on. Chaser said to look out for you.”

Rooster dips his chin. “Thanks.”

The truck bumps over the uneven ground, the headlights bouncing up and down and illuminating the area in bits and pieces.

A glimpse of the sign on the front of the building announces the clubhouse belongs to the Devil Demons MC.

I sure am getting an education on the outlaw clubs of New York tonight. Red Storm MC ran Texas for years, and those were about the only bikers I ever saw until Savage Dragons MC and Iron Bulls MC showed up and pushed ’em out. Now here I am, discovering more about this world.