Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

“Don’t worry about that.” I drop down on the edge of the bed, running my hands over my jeans, carefully considering my next question. “You want to go look for some luggage maybe?”

She taps her fingers against her thigh. “I didn’t think of that. Where’d all the rest of my stuff end up?”

“I think Greg and Trent shoved everything in some plastic bags and tossed it in the van.”

“Shoot. All my clothes are gonna be wrecked.” She moves closer and drops down onto the bed next to me, staring straight ahead. “I can’t…I’ll miss my trunk. I’ve had it forever, but I don’t think I’ll ever look at it the same way again. Although I’m sure the FBI don’t plan to give it back any time soon.” She flashes a pained smile. “You’re right. I need a suitcase or something. But no luggage I can fit inside of.”

It’s too early for me, but I’m glad she’s able to joke about it a little. I reach over and take her hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Think we can find a Walmart or something around here?”

“We can do better than that. You need something sturdy for all the traveling you’re doing.”

“I can’t afford sturdy.”

For now, I let it go. Shelby’s proud and I respect that. But she’s dating the wrong man if she thinks I’m not going to take care of her needs.

“Let me fix my hair and then I want to track Greg down to find out where my stuff is.”

“All right.” While she’s in the bathroom, I pull out my phone and google luggage for touring musicians. I search through a few suggestions, finally deciding a hard-side case with spinning wheels will probably work best for her. The one that’s rated the highest even comes in Caribbean Blue. Looks close enough to Shelby’s favorite color—electric teal.

Done.

Next, I search for any locations near us that actually has the set. One of the malls has it, so while Shelby’s still occupied, I give the store a quick call to confirm they have each piece and ask the salesperson to set them aside for me.

Luggage issue solved.

“All ready.” Shelby drifts over, brushing her leg against mine. “Who were you talking to?”

I click my phone off. “No one. Ready to go?”

Suspicion glitters in her eyes but she nods.

“How do you feel about staying at the clubhouse tonight?” I ask. “Ice said they’re having a party and strongly hinted he’d like to see my face.”

“Sure. Of course.”

I pack the few things I brought with me. Shelby gathers her stuff and meets me at the door.

Greg lets us onto the van to grab Shelby’s stuff. I drag the garbage and tote bags over to the truck.

“My dresses are a wreck.” Shelby paws through one of the giant plastic bags, sighing and frowning at the jumble of clothes.

The other bag must have all her shoes in it. It’s lumpy and already has heels and toes poking through the sides. Now that I have a better idea of how much stuff she has, I consider calling the store back to see if they have two sets of the Caribbean Blue hard-side cases.

“We can have the hotel dry-clean your dresses and pick them up tomorrow if you’re doing rehearsal here again.”

“Shoot, you know how much a hotel’s gonna charge for that?”

“It’s kind of a business expense, isn’t it?”

She scowls at me. “I guess. Maybe we’ll stick it on Greg’s tab, since he made this mess.”

“Works for me.”

“I’m kidding. I wouldn’t do that.”

I shrug. “We’ll work it out later. Grab the stuff you need cleaned.”

Inside the hotel, while Shelby’s talking to someone in guest services about her laundry, I text Greg to give him the heads-up about the massive fee that’s about to be tacked onto his bill and to let him know we’re staying at the clubhouse tonight. He responds with a time for her to be here for rehearsal in the morning.

“You’re awfully intense.” Murphy’s rumbling voice pulls me away from my phone and I set it down.

I stand and slap his outstretched hand in hello. “Where you been hiding, fucker?”

One corner of his mouth lifts, and he strokes a hand over his beard. “Just enjoying kid-free time with the wife.”

“Where is she?”

“In our room.”

“Poor Heidi. Can she even walk?”

He lifts his hand, wobbling it from side to side. “I came down to find some Gatorade.”

“Jesus Christ.” I laugh and shake my head. “Too much info.”

“You need to get back to that?” He nods at my phone that’s now blinking and buzzing across the table.

I check the message from Greg, send a quick response, and set it down again. “Her manager.”

“You’re like her go-between now.”

“I guess.” I glance over his shoulder, watching Shelby still chatting about her dresses. “Someone needs to be. After everything she just went through, I don’t want her to feel pressured, you know?”