Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Miss Shelby Morgan!”

  Blinking, I raise my hands over my head and smile wide.

  Nerves have no place here. I’m Shelby fucking Morgan, and I’ve got this.

  Slowly, so I don’t bust my ass, I sway down the metal staircase.

  “Ain’t she pretty?” Dawson piles on the good ol’ southern charm. “Y’all enjoy her show earlier?”

  The crowd responds with a thunderous ‘yes.’ I’m sure it has more to do with pleasing their country music idol than admiring my talent, but I smile and gush an extra twangy, “Thank y’all so much!”

  Dawson leaps up the last few steps and offers me his hand.

  “Such a gentleman,” I coo into the microphone, batting my fake lashes.

  “Anything for a pretty lady, darlin’.”

  Oh, he’s really ramping up the cheese factor tonight.

  He stares at a spot above my head, but I’m sure that to the audience it looks like he’s staring deep into my eyes. Slowly, he croons the first line of the song into his microphone.

  My heart thumps with nerves, listening carefully for my cue. I’m determined to nail every word this time.

  Tonight, Dawson wants to play it up for the crowd more. He holds onto my hand longer than seems necessary while singing all the sweet words to convince me to stay wrapped up in his arms all night long. I get into the role, making cow eyes at him and belting out every note of the excuses for I have to leave perfectly. Every time Dawson swaggers closer, I sashay away—a perfectly choreographed game of cat and mouse.

  Before I know it, the song’s over. The stage goes dark, then the lights blink on. “Shelby Morgan, everyone!”

  Sweat rolls down my forehead and into my hair and I’m still panting from bopping around the stage but I smile bright and wave big to the crowd.

  Dawson kisses my cheek. “Thanks, darlin’. You were fantastic,” he whispers in my ear before sending me on my way.

  “All right, Shelby!” Rooster picks me up as soon as I clear the stage. “You nailed it.”

  “Yeah?” My laughter rings out as he gives me a quick spin.

  “Yeah. You were incredible.”

  I glance down, and there’s nothing but pride shining in his eyes. No jealousy. He understands that was all for show.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and fuse my mouth to his. He lets out a surprised rumble and my back hits something hard and cool. The wall.

  Rooster draws back. “Careful.” He sets me down. “You don’t need more pictures leaking on the Internet.” He takes a quick glance around the corridor. While it’s busy, full of workers, roadies, and other people lingering, no one seems to be paying attention to us.

  “Good job, Shelby!” Greg shouts.

  “Were you watching?” I ask when he gets closer.

  He jerks his head toward the stage. “Out front. I set up an interview for you after the Columbus show. Wanted to send them a video clip.”

  “Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

  Greg glances at Rooster. “Thank you for your help tonight.”

  “No problem.” He squeezes my hand.

  “We’re not rolling out until tomorrow morning, Shelby,” Greg says. “We’re all staying down at the Hilton.” He glances at Rooster. “I didn’t know if—”

  “I got her.” Rooster doesn’t bother to hide his eagerness. “What time does she need to meet you?”

  Greg’s either tired or given up trying to corral me. He texts the information to Rooster, including the hotel’s address.

  “Thanks, man.” Rooster shakes Greg’s hand.

  I’m wired and buzzy while we walk down to the dressing room to grab my stuff, excited I have more time with Rooster.

  Except I’m afraid it will make it all that much harder to say goodbye tomorrow morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rooster

  I’m here for Shelby, but I can’t forget that my president also asked me to handle business while I was in Chaser’s territory. Since Shelby’s dressing room wasn’t the appropriate place for that conversation earlier, it’ll have to be now.

  “Hey, you heard Chaser invite us to their clubhouse before. You mind if we stop by?” Shit, I hate asking, since all I want to do is be alone with her.

  “Really?” Her eyes go big and her lips curl up. “Sure. Maybe I can pick his brain.” She wiggles her fingers. “About technique.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Maybe.”

  “Shoot.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “He’s president of his club? So…would that be rude, if I ask him about…music stuff?”

  I love that she seems to understand how important respect is in my world, but also hate her being so nervous. “We’ll see how busy it is, but I don’t think he’ll mind.” I hesitate for a second. “I do have a few things I need to discuss with him, though.”

  Her lips curl into a teasing smile. “Biker business?”

  “More or less.”

  “That’s okay. I know how to entertain myself.”

  “I need you to stick with Dex or Jigsaw. Or Chaser’s wife if she’s around. It’s not the kind of place I want—”

  “Me roaming around by myself.” She leans in and nudges me with her shoulder. “I understand.”

  “Thanks.” I press a quick kiss to her forehead.

  Shelby

  When Rooster said the clubhouse wasn’t far, that wasn’t quite accurate. After leaving the bustling area around the fairgrounds, we drive through a lot of dark, twisty back roads with Dex and Jigsaw ahead of us.

  Finally, light spills through the trees. The guys slow.

  A large metal gate stands wide open. Two men in black leather cuts step out of the shadows with flashlights and approach Jigsaw and Dex’s bikes.

  Rooster tenses, his hand straying toward the middle console.

  “Everything all right?” I ask.

  He doesn’t take his eyes off his brothers. “Yeah, they’ll know who we are.” His flat tone doesn’t exactly comfort me.

  Rooster’s a dangerous man. Why is that shocking? I never gave the risk of dating a biker a lot of thought before.

  Yes, he’s big, heavy, muscled, thick, and hard. But he’s always been sweet and gentle—almost reverent—in the way he treats me. Yes, I’ve seen him take action to protect me from men when they’ve been inappropriate. But that didn’t strike me as odd or dangerous—more like the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Tonight, the danger seems to be all around us. And dangerous men tend to hang out with other dangerous men.

  Jigsaw and Dex are allowed to pass the two guards and continue into the compound.

  Rooster eases the truck up a few inches.

  “Name?” one of guards barks. He casts a dismissive look at the truck.

  “It’s Rooster.” His deep, rumbly voice forces the guard’s head to snap up, eyes narrowing while he studies Rooster for a quick second.

  “Fuck, man. Sorry.” He ducks his head and waves us forward. “Go on. Chaser said to look out for you.”

  Rooster dips his chin. “Thanks.”

  The truck bumps over the uneven ground, the headlights bouncing up and down and illuminating the area in bits and pieces.

  A glimpse of the sign on the front of the building announces the clubhouse belongs to the Devil Demons MC.

  I sure am getting an education on the outlaw clubs of New York tonight. Red Storm MC ran Texas for years, and those were about the only bikers I ever saw until Savage Dragons MC and Iron Bulls MC showed up and pushed ’em out. Now here I am, discovering more about this world.

  Rooster parks near Dex and Jigsaw and turns to me. “You okay?”

  “A little nervous.”

  “Don’t be. We’ve been friends with this club for years.”

  Jigsaw and Dex are laughing as we approach.

  “You make the prospect piss his pants?” Rooster lightly punches Jigsaw’s shoulder.

  Jigsaw touches his chest briefly. “Who, me? Naw, I was nothing but sweetness.”


  Dex rolls his eyes. “Poor kids. Surprised a full-patch isn’t supervising them.” He lifts his chin at me. “Didn’t think you’d be seeing this much of backwoods, New York, did ya?”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Not really. It’s pretty out here, though.”

  “Hey.” Rooster leans closer to the guys. “Keep an eye on her, okay?” His gaze shifts to Jigsaw. “I know you’re dying to fill your wet dick bingo card but control yourself.”

  Jigsaw blinks. One corner of his mouth curls up. “Always, brother.”

  Together, we approach the front of the club. Two more bikers in cuts study us under the bright security lights before pulling the doors open wide for us to enter.

  It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The entryway opens up to a wide main room full of bikers and scantily clad women. I glance down at my denim skirt, flamingo tank top and cowgirl boots. Maybe not the best biker girlfriend’s outfit.

  Men acknowledge us as we pass.

  The threat Rooster poses is reflected in the eyes of the bikers of this club—in the respect they offer when they nod and shake his hand. The tension that ripples through the air as we move through the clubhouse.

  In Rooster’s world, these men know who they can and can’t fuck with. In my world, some men are too stupid to figure out when danger’s walking among them.

  If my father could see me now, hanging out at Chaser Adams’ motorcycle club. The thought of my father dampens my enthusiasm for the evening ahead. Pisses me off too.

  Chaser’s imposing figure is easy to spot by the bar. Even his own MC brothers keep a respectful distance around him and the blonde at his side.

  Rooster taps Jigsaw and Dex. When he has their attention, he jerks his head in Chaser’s direction.

  “We need to say hello.” Rooster leans closer to me. “Pay our respects to our host.”

  “Sure.”

  “Rooster!” Chaser shouts over the crowd when he spots our little group. He raises his hand high in the air, motioning us over.

  “Glad you made it.” Chaser takes Rooster’s outstretched hand and pulls him in for a friendly pat on the shoulder.

  “Thanks for the invite.”

  Chaser wraps his arm around the beautiful blonde woman next to him. “Mallory, this is Shelby. Shelby, my wife, Mallory.”

  Mallory reaches for me before her husband even finishes the introductions. “Welcome. It’s so nice to meet you. Angelina came home all excited from the show.” She squeezes me tight.

  At least this president’s wife is nothing like Tawny. Mallory’s bubbly and kind, turning us toward the bar and signaling for the girl behind it to bring us drinks. “This is your first tour, right?” she asks.

  “Yup. So far it’s been an adventure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rooster

  Whether or not it was calculated to give Chaser and me space to talk, I appreciate Mallory being so friendly to Shelby.

  “Everything go all right at the show?” Chaser asks.

  “I think so.” I slap Jigsaw’s shoulder. “He helped scare the gropers away.”

  Jigsaw laughs.

  “You ever need some help when she’s traveling in one of our areas, say the word. I can ask a few brothers from one of our other charters to help you out.”

  No doubt there will be strings attached but I appreciate the offer. “Thank you.” Fuck, I don’t have all night to initiate the delicate conversation we need to have. Any second, he’ll probably grab Mallory and take off. “How are things around here?

  His friendly smile freezes in place.

  He’s gonna make me get specific first. It’ll annoy Chaser more if I beat around the bush, so I guess I’m diving in. “How’s your father-in-law? We kind of cut off our assistance abruptly.”

  Chaser snorts. “He’s not holding a grudge against your club. Don’t worry.”

  And yet, I don’t have a warm, fuzzy reassuring feeling in my chest.

  “How are things with Z at the head of your table?” he asks.

  It’s unusual for bikers to stick their noses in other club’s business. Since I poked into his business first, he must’ve decided to break the code. “Good. We’re lucky to have him.” Even if that were a lie, it’s not like I’d talk shit about my president to another club. Chaser knows that.

  Chaser sips his drink slowly. “Can’t imagine that’s sitting well with Sway.”

  Bold statement. I shift my jaw from side to side as a few answers roll through my mind. “He’s still focused on his recovery.”

  “That’s good. Fuckin’ miracle he survived.” He gives me another pointed look. “You ever catch the shooter?”

  Jesus Christ.

  I keep my expression blank and shrug. Explaining such a troubling internal battle to an outsider isn’t happening.

  Still, Chaser’s not dumb. I’m sure he can put the pieces together without me drawing him a damn map. Sway got shot…old VP went “missing”…I’m suddenly wearing the VP patch. A two-year-old could connect the dots. It only helps our reputation. If the Lost Kings are willing to brutally punish a brother for misconduct, what the hell would they do to an outsider?

  Chaser moves in closer. Jigsaw shifts his body, brushing his arm against mine.

  “Settle down.” Chaser smirks at him before focusing on me again. “Truth is, my father-in-law is retiring.”

  “Well, shit. Never thought that would happen.”

  “You and me both.” He laughs.

  “He planning to head down to Florida and get a place next to your father?”

  He busts up laughing. “Fuck no. They’d both be dead within a week.”

  “DeLova gonna move into your house?”

  Mallory reaches over and flicks my arm. “Bite your tongue.”

  Obviously, she’s keeping tabs on our conversation. I grin at her.

  “He’s staying close,” Chaser says.

  That must be a delight.

  “Who’s taking over their action?” Jigsaw asks.

  Chaser doesn’t blink at the nosy question. “We’ll see.” He nods at Mallory. “Her cousin’s been running some aspects for a while. My club obviously has a large part of it.” He studies us for a few beats. “There will be room for Lost Kings at the table.”

  That’s not something I can consider without talking to the rest of the club.

  “Not the collection bullshit Sway was doing for my father-in-law before,” Chaser adds when I don’t respond right away.

  Devil Demons have always been into riskier ways of earning money than Lost Kings, at least as far back as I remember. With Priest pushing us away from stuff that might bring law enforcement knocking on our doors, I can already guess what Z’s answer will be. But I don’t want to insult Chaser after his generous offer.

  “I can take it to the table. We have a lot going on right now, though,” I add.

  His mouth curls up. “How much are you really earning with the film company?”

  You’d be surprised. “It’s lucrative. Low risk.” I hook my thumbs in my pockets. “Lot of pain-in-the-ass maintenance, though.”

  “I can imagine.” He slaps my shoulder, then Jiggy’s and Dex’s. “Enjoy the party.” He reaches for Mallory’s hand, tugging her closer. “We need to check on a few things. You want a room later, talk to Stoner. He’ll hook you up.”

  I have no idea who the hell that is but I nod anyway and shake his hand one more time.

  Jiggy waits until Chaser and Mallory are out of earshot before moving close. Dex closes off the circle.

  “The fuck?” Jiggy says in a low voice. “You know that’s getting a thumbs-down from Z.”

  “No shit. Thought it would be rude to say that right to his face.” I lift my chin. “You catch all that, Dex?”

  “Every word.”

  I glance over. Shelby’s a few feet away, facing the bar, fidgeting with her can of soda. “We’ll talk about it later.” I reach over and curl my finger in the waistband of her skirt, dragging
her closer. “Sorry about that.”

  “Pfft.” She waves off the apology. “You’ve spent the last couple days waitin’ on me. I know you have business to take care of. I’m fine.”

  I lean down and press a quick kiss against her lips. “Thank you.”

  Something hard slams into my arm and I growl. I turn and Jigsaw grins at me. “Am I off the clock now, brother?”

  Dex meets my eyes. “Bingo time.”

  I chuckle at the joke. “Yeah. Go on. But for fuck’s sake, stay away from anyone’s ol’ lady or—”

  “Bro.” Jiggy waves his hand at the room. “Pretty sure Mallory was the only ol’ lady in attendance at this party.”

  “Go on.”

  Dex watches Jigsaw for a second before clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

  I don’t bother issuing any warnings to Dex. He doesn’t need ’em.

  “You all right?” I ask Shelby.

  “I’m fine. Mallory was so sweet. Like, polar opposite of Tawny.”

  I snort at the comparison. “You’re not kidding. She’s definitely got more in common with Lilly and Hope.” I run my gaze over Shelby again. I’m dying to be alone with her, acutely aware we’re running out of time. Since I took care of what Z asked me to do, I feel entitled to take off.

  Shelby

  I haven’t felt this relaxed in months. It’s an odd feeling to have at an MC clubhouse. But no one’s gawking at me, I’m not expected to serve the drinks, and Mallory assured me no one would try and sneak pictures here. I’m free to blend into the scenery.

  Guilt presses down on me. Am I really bellyaching about being recognized? Everything I’ve wanted since I was ten years old is slowly coming true. I have no right to complain.

  But it sure does feel good to have time off.

  “You want to go outside?” Rooster asks. “It’s a little smoky in here.”

  Touched he remembered what I’d said about my voice, I nod and take his hand. Two younger bikers hold the front doors open for us. The cool wash of night air slips over my skin and I inhale deeply.

  “They have some tables and stuff set up around back,” Rooster says. Our boots crunch over the gravel. Voices carry through the night. The bright orange glow of a fire lights what looks like a picnic area. We climb up on a wooden table near the trees and I lean on my hands to stare at the sky. “I don’t want this night to end.” I turn and stare at Rooster. “Is that selfish?”