“Still woulda been watching out for her.” Bane’s serious expression doesn’t change. “Come on. I’ll walk you guys back to her room. Greg was lookin’ for ya, Shelby.”
Rooster keeps his arm around me, tucked so tight to his body we keep bumping into each other.
“You wanna just pick me up and stick me in your pocket?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’d be easier.” He squeezes my hip. “Quit being a smartass.”
Bane stops at an unmarked white door and twists the handle, gesturing for us to go inside. “I’ll be right out here if you need something, Miss Shelby. Good to meet you, Logan.”
“Thanks, Bane.” I pat his arm as I pass him.
He closes the door behind us.
Rooster immediately searches the room. It’s not that big. Tiny window, way up high. Round table with two chairs. Long, steel rod for wardrobe. Small closet-sized bathroom with a large frosted-glass window big enough for a pony to fit through. Not much different from dozens of other dressing rooms.
Someone left my trunk on the table and I snap it open, pulling out dresses to hang on the steel rod. This is actually a nice change. I don’t always have somewhere convenient to hang up my stuff.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell Bane to get lost.”
He stops his search and narrows his eyes at me. “I may be an overprotective caveman, but I’m not fucking stupid, Shelby. I want as many people watching out for you as possible. I’d prefer to have brothers I know and trust, but I’ll take what I can get right now.”
“Well, I don’t know how long I’ve got Bane, honestly. He’s one of Dawson’s guys. The label’s been giving Greg the runaround about sending security.”
“Motherfuckers,” he grumbles. “That’s fine. Jiggy’s planning to come tonight.”
“Rooster, I can’t keep asking—”
“Shelby, we’ve already had this conversation. You’re not asking. I am. Trust me, Jiggy ain’t gonna complain about being on the road for a while, hooking up with chicks in every damn city.”
“But I thought you were planning to train him to do your bow-chicka-bow-wow stuff.” I punctuate the silly sentence with an obscene hip thrust.
He rumbles with laughter and yanks me closer. “Love you, chickadee.”
I reach up and trace the lines around his mouth. “Even though you’re still a little mad at me?”
He kisses my forehead. “You make it hard to stay mad.”
Rooster
My anger with Shelby for holding back the letters gives way to fear for her safety.
That and the desire to find whoever scared my girl and rip their arms off. While she’s downplaying the situation, I know it has to be bad if Dawson’s loaning out one of his bodyguards.
And I wasn’t lying. That warmth pulsing through my chest whenever I’m with her doesn’t leave room for anger.
As soon as she’s settled, I text Greg.
Me: We need to talk.
Greg: About time she told you.
“Even Greg said you should tell me, didn’t he?” I ask Shelby after showing her the message.
She bites her lip and glances away. “Well, yeah. Dawson did too.”
Huh. Guess I’ll have to be nicer to those guys.
“You want me to find some tea?” I ask as she starts humming her scales.
“If you don’t mind. Water too.”
“You got it.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Stay in here, okay?”
“Couldn’t sneak away if I wanted to. Bane will be planted there all night.”
“Good.”
As Shelby predicted, Bane’s standing in the hallway right across from her door. He’d have to be asleep for someone to slip in without him noticing.
“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” I ask him.
“No.”
“Where can I find Greg?”
“Logan!” Greg shouts from my right.
Bane’s serious mouth shifts into a half-smirk and he jerks his head to the side. “Right there.”
“Thanks.” I sneer.
I turn. Greg’s power-walking his way down the long white corridor, dodging several carts of equipment.
Without stopping, he grabs my arm, pulling me down the hallway and into the hospitality room. A few people wearing yellow and black polo shirts identifying them as employees of the arena are milling around, setting stuff up. No one even glances at us.
“What the hell?” I shake him off me. “You call and bug me when her phone’s off for five seconds, but you can’t give me a heads-up that someone’s sending her threatening letters?”
He stares as if he never considered contacting me. “I don’t know what the status of your relationship is exactly. She said she didn’t want to worry you. I work for her.” He scans me from head to toe. “Not you.”
I stalk over to one long table and search for a bottle of room-temperature water. “If you work for her, then your job is to do what’s best for her. And that’s get her some fucking security and let her boyfriend know what’s going on.”
It seems to take him a second to swallow that down. “The record company wants to ‘wait’ and see if she gets more letters before they do anything.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Where are the letters? How bad are they?”
“Sheesh,” he mumbles, pulling out his phone. “I had to dig the first one out of her bag. I have the originals somewhere safe.” He swipes across the screen and pulls up photos of the letters.
It takes me a second to mess with the screen so I can actually read them. “What the…?” I mutter flipping between the three different photos. “He likes the word cavorting, huh?”
“Yeah, he’s a weirdo with a big vocabulary.” Greg snatches his phone back. “I didn’t know about the first one until days later. The second one, the ticket office gave me. But they had no idea where it came from or who left it. Same with the third letter.”
“What kind of bullshit is that? They must have cameras all over these fucking places.”
“Not all of them.”
“Can you forward those pictures to me? They were all dropped off, right? None were mailed?”
“Correct.”
“So, he’s coming to her shows.” I pull out my phone and bring up the screenshots I took earlier. “This guy look familiar to you?”
He frowns at me before looking at the photos.
“He could be anyone.” He squints at the screen. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell. Where did you get that?”
“One of her followers who’s a bit off.” I shoot a glare at him. “She has a lot of weirdos following her. You really need to manage her social media better.”
“I check some things but it’s a losing battle. Trent maintains it sometimes. Shelby rarely looks at it.”
Huh, interesting.
“It’s better to ignore them anyway. Banning and blocking them only makes them nuttier.”
“Maybe.” I tap my phone. “This guy was at the Wellspring show and, it looks like, a lot of others. Don’t you think that’s weird for a single dude his age?”
“To be fair, I’m a single dude his age, and I’ve been to every show.”
“You’re her manager. Don’t be fucking dense, Greg. I’m not in the mood.”
“What do you want from me? You see how big these crowds are.”
“Give me time to think on it.” Staying at Ice’s place has given me a few ideas. “I’m going to need at least one extra pass for tonight and tomorrow.”
He reaches into his back pocket and hands me three passes on lanyards. “Those are for the whole tour. Keep ’em on you so you don’t need a new one at each venue.”
I slip one around my neck and stuff the others inside my cut. “This woulda been helpful a couple weeks ago.”
His casual shrug is completely unapologetic. “I wasn’t sure how often you’d be joining us.”
I almost laugh at the edge of sarcasm cr
eeping into his tone. Greg’s brave, I’ll give him that.
“Well, I’ll be joining you a lot more often, so get used to my pretty face. I’ll have one or two of my brothers here for these shows and then we’ll go from there.” I find the tea and pour some hot water into a cup. The lemon slices look like they’ve been sitting there for a few weeks, so I don’t bother with them. Can’t find any honey packets either.
Greg’s still annoyingly close when I turn around.
“I looked into your motorcycle gang, you know.”
I cock my head and stare him down until he glances away. He didn’t research us too hard or he’d know better than to refer to us as a “gang.” “Careful, Greg. It’s a motorcycle club. Not a gang.”
“Sorry, club. Lost Kings, New York. Except for a few random arrests here and there, not much information since the late nineties and early aughts.”
“Told you,” I shrug, “We’re just a club.”
“But I see some of your other charters have made headlines more recently.”
Seems Greg isn’t as dumb as he wants everyone to think he is. “Do you have a point?”
“My point is, I’ve been having nightmares about what kind of publicity your relationship will bring Shelby.”
You and me both. “You can always say you hired me to protect her.”
“Well, that won’t hold water when you keep having photos taken where it looks like you’re trying to eat each other’s faces off.”
I snort and glance away. “I already had a dad, Greg. I’m not lookin’ to replace him.”
He lets out a soft pfft sound. “I couldn’t give a fig about handing out parental advice to you or anyone else. The CMA nominations are coming up. Shelby should by all rights be up for Best New Artist. Having a biker boyfriend hanging around might hurt her chances. She’s afraid talking about the nominations will bring bad juju”—he waves his hands in the air dismissively—“or whatever, but I know how badly she wants it.”
Well, fuck.
“There isn’t another artist this year who deserves it more than Shelby. And I’m not saying that because I’m her manager.” He laces his fingers behind his head. “This isn’t the ideal time for her fling with a biker to be splashed all over the place.”
Can’t say I care for Greg referring to me as a fling. Like I’m a fleeting moment in Shelby’s life instead of a permanent fucking fixture.
“Not to mention,” he continues, “I now have her mother harassing me constantly.”
Shock takes me back a step. “About what?”
“You. She expects me to somehow ban you from the tour.”
Damn, Lynn. You’re starting to piss me off. “You can try.”
“I guess what I want to know is…” He drops his arms and spears me with a more probing look. “How serious is this between you two?”
For a second there, I thought he was going to try paying me to go away.
“Well, I’ve never dropped everything to follow anyone around the country before, so there’s that.” I cross my arms over my chest and cock my head. “Why don’t you ask Shelby?”
“Because she gets prickly when I pry into her personal stuff,” he answers in a tight, irritated tone.
I burst out laughing. “I think I’m offended that you’re more scared of Shelby than me.”
“She could fire me.”
“Yeah, but I could end you.” I keep my mouth in a straight line, with no hint of a smile to suggest I’m joking.
He screws his face into the scowl of someone who stepped in elephant shit. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this after you just threatened me, but I think it’s good for her to have you around.”
Now he has my attention. “How’s that?”
He shrugs. “Maybe it’s a fluke. The nights you’ve been here, she seems less anxious. More confident onstage. Subtle differences. No one else probably notices. All her performances are excellent,” he hurries to add, like he’s worried I’ll think he’s insulting her. “Don’t get me wrong.”
Damn. Not that I particularly care what Greg thinks of me or our relationship, but pride still prickles through my chest. I like helping Shelby any and every way I can, and knowing I make things better for her is worth putting up with annoying shit—like this conversation with Greg.
“I’m not here to cause trouble. I see how stressful all of this can be,” I say. “I want to help take the pressure off her where I can while spending time with her.”
He stares at me, like he’s weighing my words. “I’m also asking because I’m worried if you two break up it’s going to be hard on her.”
“And ruin your tour.”
“Her tour.”
He’s basically asking me not to break her heart. Same as Shelby asked me in the beginning.
“Talent isn’t enough in this business. She’s a strong girl who has fought damn hard to get here,” he says. “I don’t want to see anything change her trajectory.”
The guy isn’t entitled to my feelings about Shelby. I don’t owe him shit. But he’s trying to look out for Shelby in his own weird way. When you get right down to it, we have the same goal.
“Neither do I.”
He keeps staring at me.
“What do you want me to say? I care about her. I’m here for her. Unless she tells me to take a hike, I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes close and he blows out a long breath. “Then I’ll do what I can to manage the press and spin your relationship in a positive way.”
Well, fuck. I didn’t expect that.
He grits his teeth. “And I’ll keep dealing with Lynn. She means well. Even if she’s a pain in my ass.”
“You’re not gonna get your boxers twisted if I have one of my brothers travel with us and help look out for Shelby, right?”
“The scary one, or the friendly one who’s probably even scarier?”
I rumble with laughter at his descriptions of Jigsaw and Dex. “Jigsaw. He’s down here in Virginia with me. He went to the radio show with us this morning, actually.”
“How was the show?”
“Fucking awful. What did you expect?”
“I listened to the whole interview.” He frowns. “It sounded good.”
“Uh, it was crass as fuck. Not exactly great for her ‘image’ you’re supposedly so worried about. The guy put down her work with Dream Makers, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, that was a little tactless.”
“The worst was him trying to cop a feel while they were taking pictures after the interview.”
He drops his gaze and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t—”
“Nah, I didn’t do a thing. Shelby kneed him in the nuts.” I rub my hand over my chin, like I can’t remember all the details. “I might have had a chat with him after the blow to his balls.”
“Jesus Christ, Logan. What were—”
“He won’t do anything.”
“You’re killing me. It’s almost impossible to secure promotion for her as it is. If she gets a reputation for being difficult or as someone who can’t take a joke—”
“He tried to squeeze her fuckin’ tit, Greg. That’s not a joke. If she hadn’t kneed him in the junk, I would’ve broken his fucking hands.”
He snaps his mouth shut but doesn’t seem surprised.
“Are we done here?” I hold up the water bottle and rapidly cooling tea. “I need to get back to Shelby.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Sure, Greg.”
As I watch Greg walk away, I can’t help wondering what I’ve committed myself to, and I doubt this will be the last time I have to fight for us.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Rooster
I almost make it to Shelby’s door before I’m stopped again.
“Logan, good to see you back here.” Dawson stops in front of me. My hands are full, so we skip the handshake.
“Thanks.” I jerk my head toward Shelby’s dressing room. “Appreciate y
ou having your guy look out for her.”
“Not a problem.” He shrugs. “It’s probably nothing. I get kooky shit like that too, but I’d rather not take any chances.”
“Same.”
His lips curl up. “I reckon you’ll be on her like white on rice now, but I’m still gonna leave Bane with her for the time being.”
If he thinks I’ll object, he’s dead wrong. I wasn’t kidding about having as many people as possible looking out for her. “Thank you.”
“You got it.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll stop by and check on her a little later.”
Finally, I’m free to be with Shelby. I’m more focused and determined than ever to keep her safe.
Bane nods at me, knocks on the door three times and pushes it open for me.
Shelby’s on her mat, stretched out in what she’s explained to me is extended child’s pose. I still say it looks more like grab-me-by-the-hips-and-slam-your-cock-in-me pose, but what do I know?
“You all right?” I ask.
She hums a soft noise that sounds like a yes.
Not wanting to bother her, I take a seat at the table where I’m not staring at her ass.
“You can join me.” She lifts her head and smiles.
“If I join you, we’re going to create a whole new pose called ‘Rooster mounts a chickadee.’”
She laughs softly and drops her head down to the mat again.
Cute that she thinks I’m kidding.
“Dawson said he’s gonna stop by and check on you later.” The conversation with Greg’s still bouncing around in my head, so I don’t share any of it yet. It’ll probably just stress her out anyway.
She kneels, rests her hands on her thighs and twists to one side, then the other. “I hate that everyone’s making a fuss over nothing.”
Now that I’ve read the letters, I strongly disagree that they’re “nothing.” “Rather be safe than sorry.”
Someone knocks and Shelby jumps up, leaning over to quickly roll her mat.
Greg opens the door a crack, popping his head in. “They need you to come do sound check a little early.”
She glances down at her tight yoga shorts and tank top. “Let me change.”
“Hurry.” He slams the door shut.
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