Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  The band keeps playing even though I’ve missed my cue.

  My mouth opens.

  No sound comes out.

  This is bad.

  I’m better than this. The urge to stamp my foot in frustration sizzles down my leg. Instead, I beam at the crowd. My smile falters, some people are startin’ to look at me a lil’ funny.

  I glance over my shoulder. Rooster’s waiting, blocking the entrance to the stage. Murphy’s inconspicuously tucked into a corner—well, as inconspicuously as someone his size can be—his black leather cut almost blending into the stacks of equipment, light glinting off his dark red hair. My gaze pings to the right. Wrath and Pants are stationed on the opposite side of the stage. Wrath’s heavily muscled and tattooed arms are crossed over his broad chest, his gaze scanning the crowd while Pants’ bulky frame blocks the entrance to the stage.

  I turn to Rooster. He flashes a confident smile, nods, and gives me a thumbs up. “You’ve got this,” he mouths.

  I glance at the space below the stage reserved for photographers and other show workers. Trinity’s crouched with her camera, aimed and ready. Heidi stands behind her, weighed down with two bags of equipment, alert and waiting, cheeks pink with excitement.

  An awful lot of people here to watch me choke.

  So much for my victorious return to the stage after my “horrible ordeal,” as Miranda keeps calling it.

  The more I worry about embarrassing myself, the harder it gets to open my mouth.

  Finally, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  “Sometimes your white knight rides a Harley,

  Sometimes he saves you from drowning

  When you’re only in three feet of water…

  I’ve had a lot of dreams come true,

  But none as sweet as your rescue

  Hello, stranger,

  Am I in danger?

  Only of losing my heart,

  I knew it from the start

  Soon I’ll be singing in different towns,

  And you’ll give some other girl your crown

  I knew I was in danger,

  Of losing my heart to a stranger…”

  As the last words leave my lips, I stand in the middle of the stage, head bowed, absorbing the crowd’s appreciation. The realization of how much my life has changed since I wrote “White Knight” washes over me.

  I haven’t lost my heart. I’ve given it freely and willingly to a man who supports me without reservation.

  In fact, there’s a damn good chance I wouldn’t be on this stage tonight if it wasn’t for Rooster.

  I tip my head to the side and find him still standing in the same spot. Now he’s clapping and cheering as loudly as any member of the audience.

  “I love you,” I mouth the words slowly so he can catch each one.

  “Love you too!” he shouts.

  Laughing, I turn back to the crowd and raise my arms over my head. “Thank you so much! How y’all doing tonight?!”

  I pull the microphone from its stand and pace a few steps to the left. “Phew! It feels good to be here!”

  A wave of shrill whistles and screams from the audience enthusiastically agrees.

  After I banter a little more with the crowd, the band launches into “Big Lies.”

  This time, I don’t miss my cue.

  We run through my short set list and by the end, my cheeks ache from smiling so much.

  I’m okay. I did it! I survived.

  Waving to the crowd, I run off the stage, right into Rooster’s waiting arms.

  “You were amazing!” he shouts.

  “I almost choked.” I bury my face against his chest.

  He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Couldn’t tell. Just sounded like you were giving the band an extra-long intro for the song.”

  I pull back and stare at the hard line of his jaw. Teasingly, I jab my finger in his stomach to lighten him up. “So you could tell.”

  His serious expression doesn’t shift. “Only because I know you and I’ve watched you perform the song. No one in the crowd noticed. And if they did, fuck ’em. I’d like to see any of ’em get back on stage so soon after what you just went through.”

  “Good show.” Murphy walks over to us and gently pats my back. “Atlanta loves you.” He points toward the sliver of the crowd visible from back here to a group of people holding up a huge sign proclaiming, “Atlanta’s got Shelby Morgan’s back.”

  Between the bright lights and the anxiety over screwing up the show, I’d been blinded to everything in the crowd. Now, I’m able to stop and observe the little details I missed. “That’s so sweet.” I duck my head, heat stinging my cheeks. My gaze swings between Murphy and Rooster.

  “Thanks for sticking around. I felt so much better knowing you guys were here.” Working for free, I add to myself. But Rooster’s said over and over, it’s a non-issue, so I won’t bring it up again.

  Wrath ambles up to our small group, holding Trinity’s hand. Heidi runs up to Murphy, excitedly sharing her experience in the “pit.”

  Rooster checks his phone. “I need to go check out the meet-and-greet room.” He glances up at Wrath and then Murphy. “Stick with her?”

  They agree. Rooster gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off with Jigsaw and Dex.

  “Can I ask you something, Shelby?” Wrath rumbles. I crane my neck and study his serious expression. Depending on the situation, I’ve noticed he’s either full of humor or so terrifying, I want to pee my pants and run away when he settles his scary eyes on me. Tonight, he seems more thoughtful than fearsome.

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Empty Room. You write that?”

  I swallow hard and drop my gaze. That song is so intertwined in the deepest parts of my soul. I should probably stop playing it live. Every time, it drags me back to losing Hayley and leaves me raw. I don’t think I can stand to have one of Rooster’s brothers ridicule something so personal. “Yes,” I answer carefully, bracing myself.

  “What’s it about?”

  My expression hardens as I tip my head back and meet his questioning eyes. “My little sister. Why?”

  “It’s hard to get all the words with everything going on.” He tugs on his earlobe. “But I thought it was something like that.”

  “I probably shouldn’t even play it. It’s too personal.” My way of warning him not to give me any snarky feedback.

  A flash of sympathy creases his brow. “No, you should.” He taps his chest. “It’s honest. And it probably helps people more than you realize.”

  “Oh.” I blink and glance away. Honest. I like that. “Thank you.”

  “Must be hard for you to play night after night.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Shelby! Oh my God, I love you!” A shrill voice screams, interrupting our conversation.

  Moving quick for someone of his size, Wrath turns, blocking me from view. Trinity squeezes in behind him, flanking my other side.

  “Shelby will be signing down there in a few minutes,” Murphy says, smoothly pointing her down the hall.

  “But I don’t have passes for that,” she whines.

  I tap Wrath’s arm and he peers at me over his shoulder. “I can sign something for her.”

  He nods and nudges Murphy aside. The two of them provide a narrow passageway for me to say hello, sign a T-shirt, and take a quick selfie.

  “Thank you so much, Shelby.” She flashes some serious stink-eye at Murphy before taking off.

  “Sorry. Rooster didn’t tell us what he wanted to do if that happened,” Murphy says.

  “It’s fine. We’ll get the hang of it.”

  Wrath grumbles something I can’t quite catch.

  Rooster returns, holding out his hand to me. I curl my fingers around his gratefully and he pulls me into the middle of a circle of protection. I doubt anyone can even see me but people sure move out of the way.

  Inside the room, Rooster stops to give the guys som
e instructions. Trinity nudges me. “I have a sign up. If people give me their email, I’ll send a picture to them.” She holds up her camera.

  “You don’t have to do that. That’s a lot of extra work.”

  She shrugs. “That or I can set up a page where they can download their picture. Newsletter. Something.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You were amazing!” Greg slides by Trinity and wraps his arms around me. “I’m so proud of you,” he says in a low voice. “How do you feel?”

  “Good. Better than I expected. I was a little freaked out at first.”

  “But you blew them away.” His expression shifts, something more concerned replacing the pride. “Now, are you ready for this interview tomorrow? It’s early. They have a table reserved at the hotel restaurant.”

  “I’m going to be way too nervous to eat.”

  “Well, the meal’s on them, so order big and take it with you.” He grins. “Logan has the info but I sent it to your email too.” He casts a suspicious look at Wrath and Murphy and sighs. “I assume Logan will be attending the interview with you but do all the bodyguards need to be there? It’s really not the message I want to send—”

  “They’ll be nearby but it’ll just be me at the interview, Greg,” Rooster says.

  “Well, I’ll be there too,” Greg huffs and tugs at the collar of his shirt. “They want to interview Trent and the guys as well. I’ve already spoken with them. They’re supposed to stick to the tour and how much they love touring with you. Nothing more.”

  I can’t imagine the guys saying anything bad about me. But who knows? Maybe they’re pissed that we lost a bunch of tour dates and got grounded in Virginia for so long. While I was recovering at the clubhouse, they were stranded at the hotel. Then again, they were stranded with Dawson and his crew, so they should’ve had plenty of time to do some networking or line up other gigs.

  I’m probably lucky I still have a band at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Shelby

  The trees. I have to make it to the trees.

  I’m running, running, running. Rough, uneven ground grabs and twists at my boots, tugging and pulling. I’m going to fall. He’ll catch me the moment I hit the ground.

  Breathing hard, panting, working my arms and legs so fast they burn. No matter how fast I run, I can’t seem to get away. Did he already drug me? Why won’t my legs move? The trees are just out of reach.

  Something catches my hair. Tugs. My body flails, falling backwards into a wild abyss of nothing but fear.

  He caught me.

  I scream and scream but no sound comes out of my mouth.

  “Shelby! It’s okay. Shelby. Wake up, baby.”

  I blink and slowly the inside of the RV comes into focus. Rooster’s strong arms anchor me. I rub my fingers over the soft sheets, faintly picking up the cheerful flamingo print in the murky darkness.

  “You okay?” Rooster rasps, reaching for the light switch.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I think so.”

  “Who are we killing?” another voice asks.

  A short scream tears out of my throat. My body jumps, poised to run into the night.

  Warm, golden light fills the area around Rooster’s side, illuminating Jigsaw standing next to the bed with a baseball bat in his hands.

  “The fuck, man?” Rooster grumbles.

  “I heard Shelby screaming.” Jigsaw’s gaze lands on me. “You all right?”

  Heat stings my cheeks. It’s bad enough being weak in front of Rooster, but now Jigsaw’s witnessed me having a panic attack and heard me screaming in my sleep like a little girl.

  My tongue’s too twisted with embarrassment to answer. But my gaze lands on his shirtless torso. Before I can stop myself, I’m staring at his overstuffed boxer briefs and muscular thighs.

  Jigsaw clears his throat.

  I lift my gaze and Jigsaw pins me with mischievous eyes. “See anything you like?” He props the bat against the floor and lifts his arm, showing off the rest of his physique.

  “Could you put on some damn pants?” Rooster growls, slapping Jiggy with a pillow. “No one needs to see that in the middle of the night.”

  “Wrong.” Jigsaw wags his finger in Rooster’s face. “Many females would kill for—”

  “Sorry I woke you,” I whisper, thoroughly embarrassed.

  Jiggy drops the playful attitude. “It’s okay, songbird. I was just worried.”

  “Thank you.”

  He turns away and my gaze lands on the crisscross pattern of scars lining his back. Even covered in ink, they’re noticeable. I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp of surprise. I turn my questioning eyes on Rooster but he shakes his head at me. His eyes seem to plead with me to not ask any questions.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “It’s all right.” Rooster holds out his arms. “Come here.”

  I snuggle closer and he reaches out to snap the light off. “You want to talk about your nightmare?” he asks.

  “Not really.” The awful feeling of being chased won’t go away. “I think maybe I’m worried about the interview. I don’t want to rehash all the stuff that happened to me. If they ask for details—”

  “Hey,” he says in a soothing voice, “Miranda said she gave them clear guidelines on what they could ask and what was off-limits. If they step out of line, I’ll be right there to yank ‘em into place. They keep it up, we’ll walk out. End of story.”

  I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “You’re totally safe, Shelby. I promise. Get some sleep.”

  I’m already drifting. At least this time, a sense of calm follows. Who knows how long it will last.

  Rooster

  Haven’t made it to the bathroom to brush my teeth yet, but Jiggy’s already in my face. I blink my bleary eyes. “What?”

  “She okay?” Jigsaw asks.

  I glance over my shoulder. “She’s still sleeping.”

  He’s waiting for me when I come out of the bathroom. “You’re like a really annoying jack-in-the-box this morning,” I grumble.

  One corner of his mouth turns down ever-so-slightly. A sure sign I touched a nerve.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “She scared the shit out of me last night.”

  Even though I can guess the reasons why Shelby screaming in her sleep got under his skin, if I coddle him, he’ll just get pissy with me. “Well, I guess you should’ve chosen to sleep at the hotel or outside with the others, then.” I point to his shirtless torso. “She might ask you about your back if you keep parading around like that.”

  A sly smile replaces his grim expression. He slides his hands over his abs and pats his stomach. “Jealous? Worried she’ll get an eyeful of all this perfection?”

  “No. Since your annoying personality is attached, I don’t have anything to worry about.” I point the coffee pot in his direction. “Did you hear what I said?”

  He shrugs and glances over his shoulder. “Tell her. I don’t care.”

  That’s a first. “Not my story,” I mutter.

  He retreats to the back of the RV and returns with a shirt. “Happy now?” he asks, slipping it on.

  “Just trying to look out for you, bro.” You know, like I’ve been doing since we were kids.

  I glance at the clock. “Shit. She needs to be there in like an hour. Finish this for me?”

  “Sure.” He snatches the bag of coffee and the scoop out of my hand. “Go have glorious morning snugglefucks with your hot, famous girlfriend. I’ll stay out here and play houseboy.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I grumble, walking away and yawning. “You’re too old to be so passive-aggressive.”

  I’m pretty sure he flips me off but don’t bother turning around to confirm. Instead, I stop by the side of the bed and stare at Shelby for a few seconds. Hate like hell to wake her after she worked so hard last night. First, fighting her fears and getting back on stage, and
then signing autographs and talking to fans until her voice went hoarse and I had to shut things down. Then her nightmare last night. She needs her rest. But if she blows this interview, it’ll fuck up a lot of shit she’s worked hard for.

  “Shelby.” I sit on the edge of the bed and gently run my hand over her back. “Baby, it’s time to get up.”

  “Hmmm?” She burrows under her pillow.

  “Come on.” I glance at Jigsaw who finally has the coffee brewing. “You’ve got the interview.”

  “Shoot,” she murmurs and flips onto her back, slowly stretching her arms over her head. “Ouch. I hurt everywhere.”

  I check the time again. “You have a few minutes for some yoga. I’ll kick Jiggy outside.”

  “Hey!” Jigsaw yells.

  She laughs softly and sits up, kissing my cheek. Her gaze slides to the clock “Crap. I don’t have time for yoga. I barely have time for makeup.”

  “You don’t need makeup. They said they were bringing someone, remember?”

  “Yeah, I don’t trust them.” She reaches for an elastic and pulls her hair into a messy half-knot, half-ponytail. “What if they take one of those ‘celebrities who look like ghouls without their makeup’ gotcha photos?”

  “Then I’ll hunt them down and beat them senseless.”

  “Amen!” Jigsaw shouts.

  Shelby chuckles and tosses back the covers to scoot by me. Tucking her elbows tight to her sides, she covers her face and runs by Jiggy. “Don’t look, don’t look!” she yells, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

  I sigh and join him in the kitchen. “I didn’t really consider how close quarters this would be. For her, I mean.”

  “You’re used to me in your face every waking hour.” He grins and pops half a muffin in his mouth.

  “You have no sense of decency or shame.”

  “True story.”

  “Or boundaries,” I add.

  “One hundred percent,” he agrees.

  “Dick.”

  He shrugs and finishes the other half of the muffin. “You want me to go outside?”

  “Gee, would ya?”

  He ruffles my hair, grabs a cup of coffee and marches outside.