Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“That’s…good.” I guess.

Some of Rooster’s club brothers are waiting outside the conference room and nod hello.

Jigsaw saunters over to my mother, a primal smile fixed on his face. “Morning, Ms. Morgan. You’re looking lovely today.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Rooster mutters at the ceiling.

“Good morning, Jensen. Nice to see ya again.” My mother seems…flustered? I don’t know. Whatever’s happening here ain’t right.

Before I have time to ponder it, Jigsaw’s hand lands on my shoulder. “How ya feeling, little songbird? Glad you’re out of the hospital?”

“Oh, yeah. I slept much better last night.” Didn’t even have any nightmares. I’ll need to jot that down in the ‘improvements’ column of today’s checklist.

He flicks a sly glance at Rooster. “I’m sure you did.”

My cheeks heat. That hadn’t crossed my mind at all last night or this morning. Guess I’ll have to mark that down in my ‘still broken’ column.

“Shut up.” Rooster shoves Jigsaw. “You coming with me or not?”

“Sure,” he answers smoothly.

Rooster takes my arm, pulling me aside. “I won’t be gone long. Wrath and Murphy will be here—”

“That’s really not necessary.”

He stares down at me. Obviously, this isn’t optional. “Trinity and Heidi wanted to watch the rehearsal if that’s okay.”

Sure, make it seem like a social call. “Yeah. Not sure how much rehearsing they’re gonna see.” I wiggle my stiff fingers. No magic. Nothing.

He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss over my knuckles. “You’ll get there. Give it time,” he assures me in a low voice not meant for anyone else to hear.

He jerks his head and Jigsaw says goodbye. The two of them wait for us to go into the room before pressing the button for the elevator.

Greg’s the only one here so far and he’s vibrating with excitement when his gaze lands on me. He rushes over, hands out in front of him, an excited manager personified.

“I have the most amazing news,” he says in a rush, not wasting time with greetings. “All sorts of offers are coming in, Shelby. The silver lining of this whole mess is starting to sparkle.”

Starting to sparkle? “Maybe you should dial down the coffee consumption, Greg.”

“Shelby.” My mother elbows me, then shines a sunny smile on Greg. “What kind of offers?”

“Interviews, endorsements, and a lot of other things we’ll sort through.”

“Wow.” I press my hand to my chest. “I assume some of those interviews are people who want ugly details?”

Greg gnaws on his bottom lip for a second. Too bad if he doesn’t appreciate the question. I have no intention of allowing anyone to exploit every creepy and grotesque moment of my ordeal so the general public can get their jollies at my expense. No way. I won’t relive the most terrifying moments of my life over and over to boost my career.

“We’ll vet the offers carefully, Shelby. I won’t advise you to accept any if we don’t think they’ll be respectful.”

Yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before. “I’ll tell you right now, any shock jocks can go take a suck.”

He flashes a tight smile. “Noted.”

“Morning, Shelby.” Even though I recognize Trent’s voice, I jump about a mile when his hand lands on my shoulder.

“Jesus,” I yelp.

“Nope, just me,” he teases, not questioning my overreaction.

“You guys have the space until eleven,” Greg says. “You sure you’re ready for this, Shelby?”

“Do I have a choice?”

His mouth works, like he’s trying to form an answer that won’t piss me off. I am being pretty awful this morning. I can’t seem to help it, though.

“Come on.” Trent takes my arm. “I have something I want to play for you.”

“All right.” I follow him to the small, raised platform. Kenny and Abram meet us, dishing out hugs and kind words. My bass player and drummer aren’t usually so touchy-feely and their effusive greetings further unbalance me.

Abram has his sticks but no one bothered to bring his drum kit inside. Interesting rehearsal this will be.

Trent strums three chords in D minor.

“Kinda melancholy.” It’s not the most popular chord to write songs in. Definitely not in country music. It matches my mood, though.

“Something I was playing with…while you were…gone.” His earnest emotion tugs at me. We’ve known each other a long time.

I reach over and press my hand to his. “You know you’ll never get rid of me.”

He lifts his gaze, staring at me long enough that I twitch, regretting the attempt at a joke. “Your man knew what to do right away. I hesitated. He didn’t. Went after that van like wildfire.”

I’m not exactly sure what he’s trying to tell me but I sense guilt of some sort. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’d be upset if you got hurt.”

He cringes and looks down.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

Maybe I’m not ready to hear what he’s trying to tell me.

He strums the same three chords, then moves on to a chord progression in C major. After a few notes, I recognize one of my favorite Carly Simon songs. I’ve sung You’re So Vain a million times. Know the words by heart. Normally, I’d jump right in.