Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“Better. She woke up a bit.” My lips twitch as I remember Shelby telling off one of the nurses who came in to check on her.

“Sorry we couldn’t get down here faster.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. “You made good time, brother.” My gaze lands on Trinity, standing slightly behind Wrath. “You came too?” I can’t help but be a little choked up that my brothers and their old ladies dropped everything to be here. “Thank you.”

Trinity squeezes me in a quick embrace. “No problem.”

Dex steps forward to hug me as well.

“Shit, brother, you have a lot on your plate at home. Thank you for coming down,” I say.

“You got it.” He slams his fist into his open palm. “Wish we’d gotten here sooner to help you find this guy.”

I glance around the room. Jackson has a way of blending in, and I don’t want to say anything he’ll overhear. “He’s on the loose right now. But Feds are on it.”

Dex’s face remains impassive. “Good to know.”

Griff shakes my hand next. “Whatever you need. We’re here for you, Rooster.”

“Jumping right into the support club gig?” I pull him in and slap his back.

“Nah, man. When we heard what happened…” He glances over his shoulder at Remy. “We just wanted to help out if we could. That’s really fucked up.”

It’s bullshit—Griff and Remy definitely want to know how far the club will go to protect what’s ours. Probably want to get a feel for being on the road with the club and visit one of our other charters, too, before they commit to forming a support club. It’s what I’d do in their position, so I’m not offended.

I flick a quick glance at Dex, who nods. Yeah, this might be a sign they’re moving closer to forming the support club. “Appreciate it.” I slap Griff’s shoulder, then Remy’s. “Thank you. Glad you’re here.”

Steer and Hustler try to crack my ribs next with their enthusiastic embraces. Guess I’m missed in New York. I rough my hand over Steer’s big, bald head and plant a loud, sloppy kiss on Hustler’s cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

“Z was frothing mad he couldn’t ride down with us,” Steer says carefully.

“I understand.” Without Z’s help, we wouldn’t have found Shelby so fast, so I’m sure as fuck not complaining about his absence.

“What a lovely family reunion.” Jackson’s sarcastic comment silences the room.

In a brave, bold move, he pushes his way into the middle of our group while slow-clapping his hands together. “Why exactly are so many of you needed down here?”

Wrath scowls and tosses a who-the-fuck-is-this-joker look my way.

Jackson scans us again. “Two different charters from New York, huh?” He tilts his head in my direction. “You must be awfully important to your club.”

Ice grips my shoulder. “Fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.” It sounds more like he’s warning Jackson than explaining the basics of club life.

“Still, I don’t see any of your Mississippi brothers here?” Jackson makes a big show of checking out the room. “Florida?”

“Congrats, you’ve done your homework,” I say in a dry tone. “You in charge of the National MC Threat Assessment report this year or something?”

Wrath smothers a smirk and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “This is purely a social call,” he says to Jackson.

Jackson eyes Wrath, then Trinity. His gaze skips to Steer. “Both of New York’s enforcers here.” He fake bites his nails. “Whoever will protect the club in your absence?” He finishes the dramatic performance in a high voice.

Jackson’s either a brave motherfucker or he has a death wish.

None of my brothers take the bait.

“Another New York brother and his wife are sitting with Shelby now.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “If you want to go harass them too.”

“I wouldn’t,” Remy warns with a big, cocky grin. “Murphy’s an ex-fighter. He might fuck you up if you bother his wife.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jackson sneers. He scans our group again. “Where’d the other one go—Jensen? What’s he doing?”

“He left to meet Shelby’s mom at the airport.” I cock my head. “We need a hall pass from you or something? I’m plannin’ to stop by the men’s room next. You wanna come hold my dick?”

Everyone except Jackson laughs.

Ice nudges me and inclines his head toward the exit. I turn and follow him out of the room. We pass a few local cops who scowl our way but don’t say anything. Guess they’re the reason Jackson was laying on the asshole performance extra thick.

“Whoa!” Jackson calls out behind us. “Where are you two going?”

“Told ya.” I point toward the men’s room door. “I was only joking about holding my dick, Jackson. Didn’t think you’d take me so seriously. But, I mean, if you really wanna come watch…”

“Don’t get cute.”

Ice slaps his palm against Jackson’s chest and leans in close. “I understand you need to put on a show for the locals, but remember who you’re dealing with.”