Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“Did you know his parents?” I’ve never asked Rooster for more information about his family and I’m suddenly feelin’ all kinds of guilty about that.

“For a while,” he answers carefully.

I’m not sure how to take that answer. “Rooster said they passed away? How old was he?”

Jigsaw backs up a step. “That’s really not a thread you should be tugging at behind Rooster’s back.”

Behind Rooster’s back? He makes it sound so underhanded. “I was just wondering.”

“If and when he wants to tell you the story, he will.”

“Okay. Sorry.” My cheeks heat with shame. It was stupid to ask Jigsaw instead of Rooster. I sure am a selfish girlfriend. Always spilling my troubles to Rooster but never asking him about his past pain. Take, take, take, and never giving.

“Don’t apologize.” His fists clench at his sides. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“No, you’re right.”

A few more tense seconds of silence pass between us.

“He really loves you, Shelby. I’ve never seen him like this over anyone.” He waves his hand around, indicating the RV.

My cheeks warm even more and I look away. “I love him too.” Shoot, does Jiggy think I’m taking advantage of Rooster? “I didn’t ask him to do this, you know. I want to pay him back. If I ever can.”

“He ain’t taking money from you. Anyway, I’m not talking about money.” He waves that concern away. “I mean everything. Just…no matter what happens, don’t forget that.”

No matter what happens? What does that even mean? “Wait, do you think I’m going to get famous and drop him for someone else?”

The puzzled expression he gives me kinda stings. Maybe that sounded haughty of me.

“I don’t think you’re that type of girl, Shelby.”

The door swings open and Rooster steps inside, ending our conversation. His gaze slides over Jigsaw, then me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Jigsaw takes his mug and retreats to the dinette table.

“Morning.” Rooster runs his hand up my thigh and leans in to kiss my forehead. “He behaving?” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been a perfect gentleman,” Jigsaw says.

Rooster growls at him over his shoulder.

“Gentleman is probably stretching the truth.” I wink at Jigsaw. “But we’re good. Where’ve you been?”

“Taking care of some issues.” He picks up my coffee and sips it slowly. His face screws into a scowl. “You don’t use sugar, do you?”

“I’m sweet enough.” I take my cup out of his hands.

“That’s true.”

I slide off the counter and pour coffee into the big rooster mug I found for him on our last shopping trip and hand it over.

“Aww, you two are domestic bliss.” Jigsaw lets out a dramatic sigh. “You warm my dark and blackened soul.”

“Don’t start with me today,” Rooster warns.

“Why you still pissed? You got to bust a nut, didn’t ya?”

I choke and gag on my coffee.

“Asshole.” Rooster looms over the table, close to punching Jigsaw.

Jigsaw holds his hands in the air but doesn’t seem all that concerned that Rooster wants to clean his clock. “What? I apologized to Shelby.”

Rooster turns and raises an eyebrow at me.

“He sure did,” I confirm. “But he didn’t have to.”

He shoots a glare at Jigsaw but steps away, returning to my side. “Yes. He did.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Now, Logan, you have to admit we weren’t being respectful of our guest last night.”

Jigsaw ducks his head and snickers into his hand.

“I’m not admitting shit,” Rooster grumbles. The sweet way he reaches out and curls his arm around my shoulders negates the harsh statement. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something, okay?”

Dread curls in my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“I talked to your mom this morning.”

“Really? Is she okay?”

“Suggs sent her a letter.”

“What?” I stagger into the counter, sloshing coffee all over my thumb and wrist. Rooster pries the mug from my hand, setting it on the counter, and thrusts my arm under the faucet. Cold water blasts my warm skin. “I don’t think it was hot enough to burn,” I mumble.

Instead of answering, he shuts off the water and dries me with a small kitchen towel, carefully inspecting my skin for injuries.

“What do you mean he sent my mother a letter?” I ask when he’s finished. “What did it say?”

“Same crazy sort of crap as before. Nothing you need in your head. She didn’t even want me to tell you.”

“Like hell.”

“Yeah, I figured. I spoke to Jackson. He’s sending a field agent to collect the letter from your mom. He’s supposed to check with the jail too. Suggs shouldn’t have been able to get that letter out in the first place.”

“Great,” I grumble. Just what my momma needs. Feds knocking on her door.

“He’s not getting out, Shelby. If anything, this will strengthen the case against granting bail.”

“I hope so.”

“She really wants to talk to you. Why don’t you hop in the truck so you have some privacy and give her a call?”