Jiggy slaps my shoulder. “I’ll ride with you two. Make sure our little songbird’s okay.”
“Thanks, brother.” I nod to Pony. “The rest of us whole?”
“Pants took a bullet in the shoulder but he’ll be fine. Doc will meet us at the safe house and take care of him.”
Shit. Shoulder injury’s going to make riding difficult for Pants.
Dex, Jiggy, and I return to our bikes. Pants is leaning against his ride, clutching his shoulder while Heather ties a strip of fabric around the wound to slow the bleeding.
“Logan!” Shelby darts past the others, charging over the pavement until she’s close enough to throw herself at me. “Are you okay?” She pulls back, patting and touching me all over, searching for injuries.
“I’m fine but I’m not gonna argue if you want to check a little lower.”
She smacks my chest. “Not funny.” Turning away from me, she reaches for Jiggy and Dex. “Are you guys all right? I heard shots and was so worried about y’all.”
Shelby’s distressed voice wipes the cocky smirk off Jigsaw’s face. “Yeah, songbird, we’re fine.”
Dex pats her on the shoulder. “Sorry about that, darlin’.”
“Hey, if you’re finished with the circle-jerk, you wanna ride back to the clubhouse with us or not?” Acorn shouts.
Pants shoots a glare at Acorn. “Thanks for the concern, bro. No worries. Just got a bullet in me.”
“You’re all set.” Heather pats his uninjured arm. “I wish you’d come back to the clubhouse, though. I’m worried about you riding like this.”
“No can do. But thanks for patching me up, sweetheart.”
Acorn narrows his eyes. Christ, next he’ll be throwing punches at Pants. Actually, I’d pay good money to see that. Pants will permanently knock the attitude out of him in one hit.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” I nudge Shelby toward my bike.
I need to know she’s somewhere safe before I deal with whatever’s going on here.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shelby
My heart won’t stop its frantic hammering as I climb on the bike behind Rooster.
He revs the engine a few times, nods to Acorn and Jiggy, then takes off.
I squeeze him tight the whole ride.
At the clubhouse, he’s eager to rush me inside but I dig in my heels, forcing him to stop his ruthless pace.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I need to talk to you for a second.” I’m still so rattled from what happened, my hands won’t stop shaking.
Concern darkens his features and he rests his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I never want you in the middle of any of that.”
“Does it happen a lot?” I remember hearing about turf wars between clubs all the time back home. Quite a few made the headlines. Witnessing one firsthand is a whole different experience.
“Not a lot. But it happens.”
“And now what?”
His gaze shifts to the side. “We’ll have a talk with them. Find out if anyone else from their club’s riding through here. I’ll chat with ‘em about those Texas rockers too.”
“Are ‘talk’ and ‘chat’ your gentle way of saying ‘execute’ and ‘bury’?”
He snorts but there isn’t a lot of humor in the sound. “No, chickadee. Can’t speak to Pony’s plans, but mine revolve around actual conversation. I’m a communicator, not a killer.” His lips quirk. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Holy hell. How do I interpret that?
His jaw twitches as if he’s carefully considering his next words. “When we met I was in Texas doing business with other clubs.”
“Right.” How could I forget the giant ranch way outside San Antonio and all the bikers? Although, at the time, it looked like more of an outdoor orgy than a business meeting.
“Well, our alliance with them is important. Handling this strengthens those relationships for my club.”
“Would they do the same for the Lost Kings?”
His mouth curves up. “Fuck, I love you for asking that question.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He runs his hand over his beard a few times. “I like to think they would. Either way, I’ll do it because it’s the right thing. What they do is up to them.”
While Rooster’s moral compass for doing the right thing might be skewed, I respect him for wanting to do what he thinks is right, even if it’s not easy. “Please, be careful.”
“I will.” He glances at the clubhouse doors. “You mind hanging out here a bit with Heather?”
Rooster’s question seems normal enough but his expression is all apologies.
Last thing I want to do is stress him out more than he already is, even if I’d rather gargle with glass than be trapped with one of his exes. At least this one hasn’t thrown off crazy mean-girl vibes like Ashley. “Yup. We’ll be fine.”
He walks inside with me, stopping to talk to three prospects who’ve been tasked with staying here to look after us.
Jiggy meets us by the bar. “You all right, songbird?”
“I’ll be fine as long as you guys take care of yourselves.”