Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“Ooo! I like your shirt. Pretty.” She taps the flamingo on my chest.

“Thank you.” I lift my chin toward Trinity who’s talking to the girl’s mom and showing her some of the photos she took. “My friend Trinity made it for me because she knows I love flamingos and cowgirl boots.”

She tugs on the hem. “I want it.”

“No, honey.” Her mom hurries over to us, taking her daughter’s hand. “You can’t have Shelby’s shirt.” She gives me an apologetic laugh-smile.

“I can have one made up and send it to her,” Trinity offers.

The mom protests but Trinity wins in the end, jotting down their information.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Trinity after they say their goodbyes. “I’ll pay you whatever it—”

“It’s fine,” Trinity cuts me off. “I was talking to her mom. They’ve been through so much. I wanted…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I don’t know how you do this on a regular basis.”

“All right! Clear out!” one of the security guards yells. “We need to set this up for Thundersmoke.”

“We’re going!” I wave at the guy. “Sheesh,” I mutter under my breath. “Every dang night.”

Heidi’s busy collecting my stuff from the table, while Trinity packs up her camera equipment. Wrath scowls at the guard who yelled at us and I tap one of his tree-trunk arms to get his attention.

He raises one blond eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You sure you guys have to go home tomorrow? Trinity and Heidi are the best damn helpers. You too, of course.”

He rumbles with laughter, and thoughtfully strokes one hand over his neatly-trimmed, dark blond beard. “Murphy and Heidi have to get back. Trin and I could be persuaded to stick around for a few more days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“What’s up?” Rooster asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Nothing.” Wrath winks at me. “Your girl thinks I’m a better bodyguard than you.”

Rooster slowly looks him up and down. “Well, you’re built like a fuckin’ tank, bro.”

Wrath drops his cocky smirk. “No, seriously. I was thinking, it’s fuckin’ stupid not to drop in and say hi to Priest if I’m this close.” He jerks his head toward Pants and Steer who have joined our conversation. “Blink’s been wanting to meet with Steer and me for a while. Might as well get it over with.”

Pants cocks his head. “Blink never reaches out to me.”

“We’ll fix that while we’re there.” He reaches over and slaps Pants’ cheek hard enough to rattle some teeth. “Can’t have you feelin’ left out.”

I assume this is all club business stuff. But no one tells me to get lost, so I just stand there enjoying the way they all joke around and tease each other. All good-natured, well, sort of. No one gets bent out of shape. They laugh every insult off. Everyone takes it as hard as they dish it out.

“All set!” Heidi hands me a tote bag with all the supplies I brought.

“Shoot. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Party time!” Pants shouts, marching out the door with his arms raised over his head.

Heidi laughs. “One last party before we head home.”

“Aw, come here.” I envelop her in a hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

She squeezes me just as tight. “Me too.” She pulls back. “Hopefully you’ll come through New York often.” Her gaze skips over my head. “When you’re not on tour.”

I’ve been trying hard not to think about it but the worry always beats at the edge of my mind. Between recording the next album, going home to help my mom, and getting ready for the next tour, I won’t have a lot of free time.

“I’ll try like hell.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

Truth is, I won’t be puttin’ down roots anytime soon. And what are the chances Rooster will be able to keep following me around the country?

Chapter Forty-One

Rooster

“You’re up, Dawson!”

The flickering firelight plays over Shelby’s face, gleaming off her glossy lips. We’re way out in the middle of nowhere on some guy’s ranch. Got the truck and RV parked a good distance from the fire. My brothers are busy carrying on with the roadies, band members, and the ladies who followed us out here. At the moment, I’m sitting next to Shelby nursing a beer and watching her shuffle her Tarot cards.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Hit me!” Dawson’s definitely knocked back a few bottles. I was a little surprised he agreed to a Tarot reading. Although it’s not as lengthy as other ones I’ve seen Shelby do. She’s pulling one card for what she called a “quick, focused” reading.

“You have to pull the card.” Shelby cocks her head. “Try to have a clear question in mind when you do.”

“That might be difficult,” I mutter loud enough that Dawson hears me and grins.

“Thought bikers liked to party?” he shouts even though I’m less than three feet away from him.