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I bite my lip and continue studying the cards. Who would stab me in the back? Except for Trent, I’m not really close to any of the guys in my band. They were hired specifically for this tour. We get along okay but Trent’s closer to them than I am.
Greg hasn’t been my manager for long. I don’t always trust him. Then again, it’s hard for me to trust anyone. Always has been.
Except Rooster. I trust him more than I probably should.
Don’t go there. I asked a career question. This ain’t a love reading.
I jot down the cards and their positions in my notebook to study later.
The jumper card catches my eye and I flip it over.
The Devil.
My heart thuds louder, drowning out all the other noises. Never gotten that one before. It’s not as evil as it seems. But it can indicate addiction, obsession, or negativity of some sort in my life. Sometimes it can hint at self-destruction.
I jot a few notes and close my journal.
Another chill races down my spine and this time it’s got nothing to do with the air-conditioning.Chapter Forty-SevenRooster
The morning of Anya’s interview, the clubhouse seems to be empty. Guess Ice wasn’t lying when he said he had somewhere else to be.
I meet her at the bar. She keeps rocking from side to side on her feet and startles when I approach.
“Easy, it’s just me. You ready to go?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind taking me?” She drops her head, her long wheat-blond hair covering her face. “I just never know what I’m going to encounter. . .”
It’s not on the top of things I’m in the mood to do today but the whole point of me coming down here was to help out. Eventually, Ice needs to pick a brother he trusts to escort his stars but today, I’ll handle it.
“No problem.”
She glances toward the parking lot. “You got an extra helmet?”
“You’re not riding on the back of my bike.” That came out harsher than I intended. I tack on a, “sweetheart,” to soften the rejection. But no fucking way is anyone except Shelby claiming that spot.
Her wide eyes meet mine. Her slick red lips part but no words come out. Guess guys don’t say no to her often.
“Back of my bike’s for my ol’ lady.” Not that I owe her an explanation.
“Oh. Of course. I didn’t realize. I thought.” She blows out a breath and snaps her mouth shut.
“You ready?” I nod to her oversized, long-sleeve shirt and jeans. “We don’t have a lot of time if you want to change.”
“Oh.” She tugs at the hem of the shirt and laughs. “Yeah. It’s a radio interview. Those fuckers can pay if they want to see me naked.”
Can’t argue with that logic.
I grab the keys to one the club’s extra trucks and head outside. Anya hurries to catch up to me, her sneakers grinding over the gravel and sending little rocks skittering out in front of us. I point the remote at the line of trucks and hit the unlock button. A black Ford F-150 beeps and flashes its lights.
After a quick check that the lights and everything seem to be working—fuck knows so many arrests could be avoided if people bothered to check their damn tail lights—I motion for Anya to get in on the passenger side.
“Thanks for doing this.” She hands me her phone with the address for the radio station so I can plug it into the GPS.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
“A little.” She laughs. “I’ve only done one or two other interviews and the guys were gross.”
I grin at her. “Maybe don’t say that in the interview.”
“I won’t.”
“You know not to get into specifics about who bankrolls you, hosts your site, or anything like that, right?”
“Oh yeah. Ice was clear I shouldn’t ever mention the club.”
“Good.” This isn’t technically illegal. Still, the whole Lost Kings organization prefers to stay out of as many mouths and off as many radars as possible.
I pull into the parking garage and back the truck into a spot near the stairs. Anya blinks at me when I follow her into the stairwell.
“You’re coming in with me?”
“That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Otherwise, I could’ve just called you an Uber.”
“Oh, well.” She tips her head toward my cut. “Your patches. You said you didn’t want the club connected…”
Aw, ain’t that sweet? “Nah, financially the club doesn’t want to be linked. Don’t really care who knows you have the club’s protection.”
“Thank you.” Her tense smile fades. “I mean it.”
“No problem.” I gesture toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”An hour later, I’m thoroughly bored and reconsidering my love for our Virginia brothers. One of those motherfuckers could’ve played chauffer today. I glance at my phone. I can’t wait to be done with Mission Porno, VA edition.
I’ve only been half-listening to the interview. Every time I glance up, Anya has an attentive look on her face, or she’s laughing and twirling her hair around her finger.
