Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

My heart thumps wildly out of control.

“Remember when we talked about this?” he asks, slowly unfolding the black leather vest. “And what it means?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Last time I was home, I asked Z to order it for me.” He spreads the vest over his lap so I can inspect the Property of Rooster patch on the back.

My throat tightens with emotion. “You want me to wear it?”

“Yes. From now on, every MC we visit, I want everyone to know you’re my girl.” He captures my right hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Will you?”

Laughter and happy tears bubble up inside me, freeing my voice. “Yes! Of course I will!”

He kisses my hand again.

“Aw, shit. Now I’m gettin’ choked up,” one of the guys mumbles, but I can’t take my eyes off Rooster to figure out who it is.

“Wait.” My fingertips graze the sides of the vest, quickly counting up all the different patches. Keenly aware of all the eyes on us, I lower my voice. “I thought you weren’t going to ask the brothers to vote on me?”

“I didn’t. They did it because they trust you.”

I stroke my fingers over the green four-leaf clover. “This must be Murphy’s.” I lift my gaze, finding him on the couch next to Heidi. He flashes a thumb’s up.

My eyes return to the vest, touching the star. “This has to be Wrath.” My gaze lands on him and he nods.

“How’d you know?” he asks.

“From Trinity’s vest.”

He and Ice share a grin.

“The compass. That’s Dex’s?”

“It is.” Dex nods and a teasing smile plays over his lips. “How’d you guess?”

“Well, it’s on your cut for one thing.” I gesture toward his leather vest. “But a compass provides a sense of safety because it always points you in the right direction. It signifies independence too, that you’re not afraid to travel alone. And that fits you, Dex.”

“Damn girl. You could’ve just said because he’s road captain,” Steer says.

“I could’ve.” I shrug. My gaze lands on the bull horns. “The horns are yours, right, Steer?”

“You got it.” He taps the larger version of the same patch on his cut.

“The bull represents strength and power, but also confidence,” I wink at him, “things you seem to have in abundance.”

“And now he’ll have a giant ego to match,” Z says.

“Already had it, Prez.” Steer shoots his president a smug smile.

“Hmmm.” I press my fingers against my lips and study the last few patches. This feels like the most important test I’ve ever taken. But I want Rooster’s brothers to understand how much I appreciate their trust in me.

I also don’t want to offend anyone with my analysis.

I should’ve done the patch of the skull holding the knife in its teeth first. “The dagger in the mouth of a skull means someone brave who’s ready to face any situation without fear. That’s Jigsaw to a T.”

A slow smile spreads over Jiggy’s face, warmth shining in his eyes. “Thank you, songbird.”

The trust the guys have placed in me makes it easier to share this with them. “When I…had nightmares after the kidnapping,” I force a smile, not wanting to drag down the festive mood, “Jiggy was right there at the edge of our bed with a baseball bat ready to help me slay my demons.”

“Damn right.” Jiggy nods at me.

Rooster squeezes my hand.

“Oh, please,” Pants groans. “He was trying to peep Shelby in her nightie and we all know it.”

I burst into giggles. “Wrong. I don’t wear nighties to bed.”

The girls crack up and the guys tease Rooster.

While they’re still joking around, I eye the remaining patches. Ice and Pants.

Shoot.

The dagger through the heart can have several meanings and I don’t want to poke around at any of Ice’s sensitive spots. Then again, he wouldn’t have chosen it as his patch if he worried about how people saw him. Heck, he wouldn’t be an MC president if he gave a damn about outsider’s opinions. Still, I go with a looser meaning.

“The heart can represent the seat of our emotions and inner desires. The dagger represents ruthlessness, sacrifice, death, or a fighting spirit. I think that fits, Ice.” I tap my chest. “You’re a ruthless fighter who sacrifices for his brothers, right down to your core.”

The corners of his mouth curl up and he nods slowly.

“And Pants.” I turn my gaze on his expectant face. “The happy face with a bullet hole in the forehead is most fitting for the man who can make people shit their pants with just a look.”

“Hell, yeah, Shelby!”

“Wait a minute,” Ice says. “I thought you got that name because you’re lactose intolerant?”

That’s it. The room explodes with laughter. The brothers unleash their verbal abuse on Pants.

Rooster stands, his body brushing against mine. “Let me put this on you,” he says in his low, raspy voice.

He holds it out and I turn around, slipping my arms through the holes.