Rhythm of the Road Page 2

  Places In The Lost Kings Mc World

  I use a mix of real and imaginary names to describe the places in my series. Again, I bend and shape geography to my needs as this is a fictional world that I created.

  * * *

  Empire, NY: The territory run by the Lost Kings MC upstate charter. This is a fictional version of Albany, NY, the capital of New York State. Many of the Lost Kings MC’s businesses are located in Empire.

  Slater, NY: based on Schenectady County. Until recently it was run by the Wolf Knights MC.

  Ironworks, NY: based on Rennselaer County (Troy, NY) In the beginning of the series it was run by the Vipers MC. It is now the territory of the Lost Kings MC.

  Union, NY: A fictional area two hours south of Empire, NY where the “downstate” charter is located.

  Johnson County/Johnsonville: Fictional area where Heidi grew up. About an hour west of Empire. Where Strike Back Gym, The Castle and Zips are located.

  Zips: Racetrack owned by Eraser where all the illegal gambling/racing happens.

  The Castle: The building that houses the underground fighting ring run by Remy and Griff. Murphy used to fight here. Formerly a juvenile detention center. Located in the middle of nowhere NY, it once-upon-a-time housed Griff, Vapor, and possibly Teller during their “troubled youth” days.

  Kodack, NY: Another fictional NY area located in Western New York. Somewhere near Buffalo, perhaps. This territory is run by the Devil Demons, MC.

  Empire Medical Center: Local hospital where all the Kings receive medical treatment. Heidi also works there now.

  Other MC Terminology

  Most terminology was obtained through research. However, I have also used some artistic license in applying these terms to my romanticized, fictional version of an Outlaw Motorcycle Club. This is not an exhaustive list.

  Cage: A car, truck, van, basically anything other than a motorcycle.

  Church: Club meetings all full patch members must attend. Led by the president of the club, but officers will update the members on the areas they oversee.

  Citizen: Anyone not a hardcore biker or belonging to an outlaw club. “Citizen Wife” would refer to a spouse kept entirely separate from the club.

  Cut: Leather vest worn by outlaw bikers. Adorned with patches and artwork displaying the club’s unique colors. The Lost Kings’ colors are blue and gray. Their logo is a skull with a crown. The Respect Few, Fear None patch is earned by doing time for the club without snitching. Brother’s Keeper patches are earned by killing for the club. Loyal Brother: A brother with more than five years with the club.

  Colors: The “uniform” of an outlaw motorcycle gang. A leather vest, with the three-piece club patch on the back, and various other patches relating to their role in the club.

  Fly Colors: To ride on a motorcycle wearing colors.

  Muffler Bunny or “bunnies”: Club girl who hangs around to provide sexual favors to members.

  Nomad: A club member who does not belong to any specific charter, yet has privileges in all charters.

  Old Lady/Ol’ Lady: Wife or steady girlfriend of a club member.

  Patched In: When a new member is approved for full membership.

  Patch Holder: A member who has been vetted through performing duties for the club as a prospect or probate and has earned his three-piece patch.

  Road Name: Nickname. Usually given by the other members.

  Run: A club-sanctioned outing, sometimes with other chapters and/or clubs. Can also refer to a club business run.

  * * *

  I’m sure I’m forgetting something! But that should get you started!

  Chapter One

  Certain people who come into your life change you in ways you can’t fathom at the time.

  For me, one of those people is Shelby Morgan.

  Whether she’s changed me for the good or bad remains to be seen.

  Haven’t laid eyes on her since earlier this summer.

  But not a day’s gone by when she hasn’t been on my mind.

  Then, there are other people in your life. The ones who are hell-bent on annoying the shit out of you. That honor goes to my Lost Kings MC brother and road captain at the moment.

  “Oooh, Shelby, I loooove you.” Jigsaw hugs himself and kisses the air in front of him, earning laughs from the rest of the guys.

  “Shut the fuck up.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the road straight ahead, determined not to punch Jiggy this afternoon. No matter how much he’s begging for it.

  Where the fuck are they?

  I pull out my phone. No text from Murphy. No response to the last text I sent Shelby either. Not that I’m worried or anything.

  “You want to head up without ’em?” Jigsaw gestures toward the road. “I’ll tell Murphy you got tired of waiting.”

  “We all ride together.” Exasperation colors my refusal. The bond of brotherhood is the whole point of both charters riding to the country music festival together. Taking off on my own sends the wrong message.

  The rhythmic thrum of a half-dozen Harleys punctures the suburban quiet. I lift my head and slip my phone in my pocket. Finally.

  We have plenty of time to kill before Shelby goes onstage but I’m still itching to get on the road.

  A few minutes later, Murphy and Dex thunder into the parking lot with several other brothers and the club’s plain, black cargo van trailing behind them. They execute a lazy but loud circle around the building. Murphy pulls in near us and shuts down his bike. A few seconds later, he swaggers his big, ginger ass my way.

  “What’s up, brother?” he greets, tapping my knuckles and lifting his chin. He shakes a few hands and accepts quick back slaps from everyone else before returning to me.

  His wife, Heidi, bounces over and gives me a quick hug. “Are you excited to see Shelby?”

  I’m not touching her question. “How you been, little hammer?”

  Her lips curve into a sly smile at the new nickname she earned by being a badass ol’ lady. “Behaving myself.”

  “I doubt that.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out an envelope. “This is from Z and me.”

  She tilts her head and slowly takes it.

  Murphy raises an eyebrow while he waits for her to take a peek inside.

  “Oh my God!” Heidi squeals and flails her hands in the air. The envelope floats to the ground and I lean down to grab it.

  “Will you add it to your vest?” I ask. She’s not wearing her ‘Property of Murphy’ patch tonight—a civilian event like the outdoor music festival we’re attending just isn’t the place for it.

  “You bet I will.” She grins at the small rectangular patch embroidered with three symbols: a four-leaf clover, a crown, and a hammer. “Murphy’s queen carries a hammer.”

  “Yup. Swings it well, too.” I hand the envelope to her again. “You missed one.”

  “Rooster?” She pulls out my patch of a rooster wearing a crown. The king of cocky bastards. “You’re giving me your patch?”

  “I know you’re an upstate old lady and the officers there already gave you their patches a long time ago.” I glance at Murphy. “But the loyalty you’ve shown the club and the way you’re always there for your man—the world should know I’ll have your back if they fuck with you.”

  “Rooster, that’s so sweet.” She reaches up on tiptoes and gives me another quick hug. “Thank you.”

  Murphy holds out his hand. “Thanks, brother.”

  “Thanks for making the rest of us look like assholes,” Jigsaw says, joining us to inspect Heidi’s new patches.

  “You don’t need my help to do that.”

  Heidi frets for so long about where to put the patches so she doesn’t lose them tonight, I almost regret not giving them to her later. Murphy ends up stashing them in the pocket inside his cut.

  “I wish Z was coming with us too,” she says.

  “I don’t think he’s a country music fan.”

  “He was an admirer of fine ladies in den
im cut-offs,” Ravage says, joining our group. “Until he settled down with Lilly.”

  Heidi rolls her eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure Lilly will wear whatever he wants.”

  “More hotties for us!” Ravage and Jigsaw high-five each other.

  Murphy and I share an eyeroll.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Wait!” Sparky runs up and passes out homemade brownies wrapped in clear plastic to everyone.

  Jigsaw studies the treat. “Why now?”

  “Eat ’em in the parking lot before we go in.” He shrugs as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “They’ll get all mashed up on the way there if I hang onto ’em.”

  Stash shoves half of his brownie in his mouth and chews loudly. “Tastes like ass.”

  “You would know,” Ravage zings back.

  I don’t want to offend our club’s official stoner mascot, so I thank Sparky and stuff the brownie in my pocket.

  “Everyone have their tickets?” You’d think I wouldn’t have to ask a group of grown men that question.

  “Fuck,” Sparky moans. “They’re on my dresser.”

  “I have them right here,” Willow announces, patting her hip.

  Murphy lets out a long-suffering sigh that makes me chuckle. Guess it’s been like this all morning. No wonder they were late.

  Since our two charters are riding to Wellspring together, we switch up the formation. Murphy and I, as vice presidents, take the lead. Jigsaw and Dex fall behind us, then everyone else.

  We take it easy, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the Northway.

  The eager-to-see-her sensation rolling around in the pit of my stomach is a first for me. I’d love to blame it on Sparky’s pre-concert edibles but since I didn’t partake, I can’t.

  I twist the throttle, increasing my speed and to my left, Murphy does the same.

  Part of me wishes I’d come alone so when I finally get my hands on Shelby, I have her all to myself. Or maybe so there are no witnesses in case our reunion goes south.

  I’m keeping my expectations for tonight low. She’s on tour. She’ll be busy. While she’s aware I’m coming to the show, I don’t expect her to drop everything to cater to me. There’s a chance I won’t even be able to see her before her performance.

  In our daily text exchanges and frequent phone calls, she still sounds like the same sweet, sassy girl I left in Texas. Still doesn’t mean we’ll click the same way we did when we first met.

  We’re still twenty minutes from the outdoor venue where the concert’s being held when a blur to the right catches my attention.

  A bunch of people standing around, staring at the back tire of an older Ford Super Duty van.

  I slow the bike.

  One figure in particular catches my attention.

  Short, curvy, ass to die for, long legs encased in tight blue jeans, and plump thighs I’ve been dreaming about having wrapped around me for months. Long blond curls pulled into a high ponytail.

  Like I conjured her up straight out of my fantasies.

  Shelby.

  Can’t tell if anyone else recognizes her.

  That was Shelby, right? She’s on my damn mind so much, maybe I’m having hallucinations.

  Fuck it. Either way, someone’s broken down on the side of the road and could use our help. I signal to Murphy that I’m pulling over and guide the bike to a stop on the shoulder, leaving enough room for my brothers to pull in behind me.

  I barely have my helmet off when someone shouts my name over the crunch of gravel. I swing my leg over my bike and turn.

  Yep, that’s my girl.

  “Rooster!” she shouts again.

  I only have a few seconds to open my arms before she flings herself against me, knocking me backwards a step.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  She tips her head back and that’s all it takes. One look in her sparkling eyes and I slam my lips against hers without answering the question. She’s as soft as I remember. Tastes sweet and lemony too. I curl my arms around her plush body, dragging her against me while our mouths tangle. The hot summer sun beats down on us but it’s nothing compared to the heat and desire sparking between our bodies—ready to combust into white-hot flames.

  She angles her head, deepening our kiss, and I dive in. I’ve been starving for this woman for months and now that she’s finally in my arms, I plan to gorge myself.

  Unfortunately, we’re not alone.

  Nope, we’re on the side of a busy highway with a bunch of my club brothers and her entire band here to witness our reunion. Can’t speak for her band but my asshole brothers waste no time hooting and whistling at our ravenous greeting.

  It doesn’t stop me from kissing the fuck out of Shelby.

  Not even a little.

  Chapter Two

  People cross paths for a reason. I firmly believe that. Rooster and I were destined to meet. I believe that too. Whether he’s part of my future or will become part of my history, I’m not sure yet.

  What I do know is that he’s on my mind a lot more often than is probably healthy. This is the worst possible time in my life to be head over boots for a man, as my mother gently reminded me before I left home for my first national tour.

  This is a huge opportunity for me to grow my audience, connect with existing fans, and prove to people that I’m more than the cute blonde singer with the big tits who didn’t even win the lame reality show that made her famous.

  So, my mama has a point. It’s a terrible time to pine for a man.

  But Rooster’s not any man. Right now, with his tongue stroking mine and heat searing my skin, it seems like the perfect time to be caught up with this man. Which is why the second he pulled over, I raced over like a lunatic hell-bent on monkey-climbing his hard body as if it was my favorite banana tree.

  We part for a second and I blink up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  Ignoring my breathless question, he wraps his big arms around me even tighter, anchoring my body to his, and silences me with another sizzling kiss.

  The familiar tickle of his beard only makes me lean in closer. I can’t get enough. I’ve missed him so much. Threading one hand in my hair, he slides the other one over my ass, his fingers firmly and possessively digging in, claiming me in front of everyone.

  The long, loud honk of a tractor trailer horn tears us apart.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” I whisper, daring to peek up into his dark eyes.

  Applause erupts around us. Heat crawls over my cheeks. How’d I forget we’re surrounded by a bunch of his club brothers as well as my band?

  “Nine-point-five, brother. Shoulda used more tongue.” Jigsaw claps loudly, ramping up the embarrassment factor.

  Without shifting his gaze, Rooster answers with his middle finger.

  “Why are you out here on the side of the road?” He sets me down gently, still ignoring everyone else. “What happened?”

  I take a second to stare at him, running my gaze over all the familiar details. Neatly trimmed beard. Navy blue T-shirt, sleeves stretched over his rolling terrain of tattooed, muscled arms. Ink peeking from the neck of his shirt. His easy, casual stance and manner exudes masculine energy, reminding me the only attention my girly bits have had lately is of the battery-operated-boyfriend variety.

  “The stupid van broke down.” I finally stick my tongue back in my mouth and find some words. “I’m going to miss soundcheck if I don’t get to the venue soon.” Being late won’t exactly endear me to the biggest country singer on the planet. Dawson Roads was kind enough to take me out on tour this summer; I don’t want to disappoint him.

  “Hey, Shelby.” Heidi rushes over and envelops me in a hug. “How’ve you been?”

  Warmth seeps into my chest as she squeezes me tight. I don’t have many girlfriends. Heidi and I had gotten along well when we met in Texas. I haven’t kept in touch with her as much as I’ve been in touch with Rooster, but I’ve been lo
oking forward to seeing her.

  “Been better.” I flip my hand toward the van. “Overall, I can’t complain. Thanks for coming.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Trinity and Charlotte will be up later too.”

  I bite my lip, feeling shitty about my lack of perks as the opening act. I’d managed to wrangle exactly two tickets and two backstage passes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more tickets—”

  Heidi waves off my apology. “Hope’s bought me tickets to Country Fest for Christmas for the last couple years. The other guys have lawn seats. They wouldn’t want to be caged in anyway. It’s all good.”

  My gaze skips to Rooster’s brothers. A solid, protective wall of hard-faced men. I recognize most of them but can’t remember everyone’s name. I can’t believe they all came with Rooster. To see me or to support him?

  Or just to have a good time. Not everything’s about you, Shelby.

  “Hey, Shelby,” Jigsaw says, sliding up to Rooster’s side. “You’re looking as fine as ever.” With a playful smirk stretched across his lips, he opens his arms wide and takes a step closer.

  Rooster stops him with an arm across his chest. “Don’t,” he warns in a low tone.

  My heart does another little annoying two-step at Rooster’s possessive display.

  Jigsaw’s as mischievous as I remember and not offended in the least by Rooster’s implied threat. Hug thwarted, he grins and winks at me instead.

  Rooster slings his arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the van. “What’s going on here?”

  “Back tire blew.”

  He slowly turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “And?”

  My cheeks flame hot again, and I give him a sheepish shrug. “None of us know how to change a tire.”

  He chuckles then tips his head toward his brothers. One of them yells, “On it.”