Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC, #18)

by Autumn Jones Lake

She taps my nose with her finger. “You shouldn’t be mean to Jiggy.” “Aw, you two are so sweet.” Jigsaw holds out his cup. “Can you stir your finger around in here since there’s no sugar?” Shelby pulls a few little white packets from her back pocket. “I could,” she sings in a teasing tone and waves the sugar in his face. “But I bet you’d like these more.” “You’re a goddess.”

“You know what I bet would work really well?” I ask like the best idea just happened to pop in my head. “Do tell.” She sits back on her heels and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m breathless with anticipation.” I sit up, grab her by the waist and drag her closer. “The weight of a little chickadee.” “It’s yoga time, not sex time.” I slap my hand over my mouth as if I’m completely scandalized. “You have such a dirty mind. I need a more professional instructor.” She ducks her head and laughs. I pat my thigh. “Come on. Help me out here.” Bracing herself on my chest, she throws her leg over my hips and hovers. “For this to work, you have to actually put your weight on me,” I encourage.

“He all right?” I ask Jiggy. He shrugs. “I don’t think he knows what to do with himself if he’s not working.” “No wonder he fits in so well upstate.” Rock’s crew is known for working harder than they party. “We’re not exactly slackers.” I cock one eyebrow. “We?” “I work.” “Yeah, my last nerve.” He cracks up laughing. “I walked right into that one.” I slap his shoulder and wish him luck.

Rooster lunges at him, but I grab his arm. “All things considered, Jiggy’s being rather polite. For him.” Jiggy rests his hand over his heart and bows forward slightly. “She’s right. I’m exercising great restraint here, brother. I haven’t even cracked a single can-I-join-in-next-time joke.” “That’s it.” Rooster charges Jiggy. This time I can’t stop him. Jiggy runs across the parking lot laughing his fool head off with Rooster hot on his tail. Dammit. I left my phone inside. Otherwise, I’d video this for later.

“Is that how you write songs? Collecting little nuggets to dust off and polish into a diamond later?” I blink and stare at him for a second. “Damn, if that’s not the best description of song writing I’ve ever heard.” He grins at me. “See, I’m useful for stuff.” I pull my notebook out and flip it open. “Say it again. I want to write that down.” “I’m useful?” “No, the diamond in the dust thing.” Jiggy repeats the sentiment pretty close to what he said the first time, and I hurry to scribble it down. “Look at that,” Rooster announces. “You managed to redeem yourself.”

“I’m out, chickadee. I tried.” “My momma can handle herself fine.” She shrugs. “I don’t think she’s gonna be upset about three hot bikers fightin’ over her attention.” I peer down at her. “Three hot—what?” She widens her eyes, mocking me. “What?” “We should stay at a hotel.” “And leave her unsupervised? I don’t think so.” “Hey, at least I listen.” Steer holds up his hands. “Thank you, brother.” “I’ll wait until they fuck shit up and make my move then.” “That’s touching.” Shelby glares at him. “Thanks.”

Before I can contemplate it further, there’s a commotion at the door. “What now?” Shelby asks with wide eyes. I’m taller, so I can see over the group crowding the front door. Priest. Son of a bitch. So much for leaving and going to our hotel anytime soon. Blink and Niner follow him inside. Don’t see Valentina anywhere. The national president, vice president, and SAA showing up with no old ladies makes it clear this isn’t a friendly social call. Not a good sign for Deadbranch. Then again, Priest’s a lot closer to Deadbranch than New York, so maybe he visits solo often.

“What are you trying to do to me, chickadee?” he whispers against my lips. “Make you miss me.” “Already do.”

Tell the world I did you wrong. Even fuck every guy you meet.” I chime in with, “Bitch, you need to take a seat,” without even thinking about it. Slightly embarrassed by my outburst, I slump in my chair and shut my mouth. “Woo!” Dawson whistles. Genuine laughter pours out of him, erasing my doubt. “Damn, girl.” Grinning wide, he sets down his guitar. “Nice, sassy line, Shelby,” Chaser says. When the two of them stop laughing, I jerk my chin toward Dawson’s notebook. “I’m pretty sure you can’t use the big F, Dawson.” He shrugs. “I got the fire of rebellion in me now.” “Screw is a good alternative,” I suggest. “And it feels more country.” “She has a point.” Chaser’s still smiling. “Let Shelby have the sassy line. It’ll be a nice contrast.” Dawson nods, mouths a few words to himself, scribbles down a note or two, then picks up his guitar again. “Tell the world I did you wrong. Screw all the guys you meet.” He raises his eyebrow at me. “Bitch, go on and take several seats.” This time, I stand and add some wild hand gestures. Chaser doubles over laughing, but Dawson continues the song. “You caught me by surprise. No amount of pretty outside can hide. You’re the devil in disguise.” “Oh, that’s good. I like that,” I encourage. “I don’t want no olive branch.” He stops, face in deep concentration. “You can stick it up your ass?” I hope to heck he realizes I’m kidding. Dawson and Chaser crack up. Shaking his head, Dawson slaps his leg. “I like that, but it might be one too far.” “Sa...

Did the Duke of Tacky Interiors just pay me a compliment while puttin’ down my momma’s dressmaking skills?

“You okay?” Rooster asks. I fan my hand in front of my face. “Hot. Overwhelmed.” “Let me get you some water.” “I don’t want to have to pee in this dress.” He bites his lip, trying not to laugh. “I guarantee it’ll be worse if you get up on that stage and pass out from dehydration.” “I’ll probably pee myself when I hit the floor.”

Grinder Silence. Pure, unadulterated silence. I blink open my eyes and stare at the unfamiliar ceiling. Inhale the crisp forest air. Freedom. Finally. Best sleep I’ve had in years. I groan as I roll over and pull myself off the cot Wrath and Trinity set up for me on their screened-in porch last night.

“Morning, Grinder.” I turn and find Dex walking out of one of the garages. He crosses the parking lot quickly and bounds up the steps, slapping my back in greeting. “How was your first night home?” “Best damn sleep I’ve had in years.”