Rust or Ride – Lost Kings MC Read Online Autumn Jones Lake

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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Murphy leans over and says something against Teller’s ear and the two of them share a quick laugh.

“Do we know how Digger actually died?” Grinder asks.

“Probably a heart attack,” Rooster says. “Anyone ever have a meal with that man? He never met a piece of meat he didn’t want to dip in batter, fry, and shove down his cake hole.”

Jigsaw squeezes his eyes shut and shakes with laughter. “Mean. But true.”

“Maybe one of the customers his dancers were rolling shot him,” I suggest, leaning forward to nod at Rooster. “I still can’t believe that clusterfuck hasn’t somehow bitten the whole organization in the ass. Priest owes you more than a few empty compliments for discovering that mess.”

Rooster nods. “I keep waiting to see something about it in the news one day.”

“No point in speculating,” Rock says. “I’m sure we’ll find out at the funeral. Let’s worry about conducting ourselves appropriately.” He pauses to scan the table, meeting each of our stares.

Rock’s gaze lands on Z last and Z nods. “No one from New York is going to cause any problems or dishonor our patch in any way.” Z’s statement feels more like the warning you’d give a group of rowdy frat brothers before taking them to the opera.

“A funeral for one of our presidents is not the place to confirm all the lies law enforcement likes to spread about us,” Rooster adds.

“Other local clubs will be there to pay their respects,” Grinder says. “Digger moved in the MC world for decades. He knew a lot of people. All beefs need to be set aside.”

“Deadbranch getting this same lecture?” Hustler asks.

Z’s frosty glare settles on his treasurer. “I’ve spoken to Steer.”

“We’re going to support our Deadbranch brothers, conduct ourselves like men worthy of wearing this patch, and celebrate Digger’s life. That’s it,” Rock says.

“Like him, love him, disagree with him or whatever, Digger was a loyal brother for a lot of years,” I say, nodding at Rock. “We all respect that.”

Murmurs of agreement go around the table.

“We’re not there to hook up, either,” Z adds.

“Easy for you to say when you’ve got a hot as fuck ol’ lady,” Butcher mutters.

“Watch yourself, fucker,” Z warns. “I haven’t decided who’s staying home, yet.”

“Yeah, don’t threaten me with skipping the funeral, Prez,” Butcher sneers.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Grinder’s deadly tone settles over the table like poison mist, silencing everyone. “Fuck around elsewhere. At this table you speak to your president with fucking respect, or I’ll yank out your goddamn tongue myself.”

Butcher holds up both hands, his nervous gaze darting between Z and Grinder. “No disrespect intended. I go where Prez tells me to.”

“Good to know,” Z answers with enough sarcasm to make Butcher squirm in his chair.

Rock taps his knuckles against the table. “All right. Whether you want to admit it or even recognize it, having a brother die—no matter his age or health status—puts us all on edge, questioning our own mortality. It’s only human nature.”

In another life and different circumstances, Rock would’ve been a great psychiatrist.

“The long ride to Deadbranch should help give all of us some clarity and settle down before we get there,” I say.

Rock nods at me. “Exactly.” He scans the length of the table one last time. “All right. You’re free to go. Z and I will let everyone know when we get dates and times from Priest. I’m sure we’ll have a few more sit-downs about logistics between now and then.”

The volume of chatter increases as everyone stands and starts discussing the ride.

Teller must still be smarting over having to stay home. He and Rock move away from the table, talking to each other in low voices.

Murphy fixes his troublemaking eyes on the two of them and stands.

“Don’t,” I warn.

The mischief melts from his expression. He nods at me and leaves with the others.

I approach Rock and Teller slowly, assessing their interaction.

Rock squeezes Teller’s shoulder and Teller nods. Since things look civil, I join them.

“Do you want me to give Malik a heads-up that most of the club will be away?” I ask Rock. “Or just tell him I’ll be out of town?”

“Have him call me if anything comes up,” Teller says. He’s not as sullen as he was at the table, but annoyance seems to linger in his expression.

I rest my hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never forgive yourself if Charlotte goes into labor early or something happens with those babies.” My voice drops to a dull rasp. “Trust me. You’re needed here more than you’re needed to wish Digger a bon voyage into the afterlife.”

“Thanks, brother.” Teller nods once. “Appreciate that.”

“I’ll kick Murphy’s ass if he needs it,” I promise.

That finally makes Teller laugh. “Perfect.” He taps Rock’s arm with his fist, then mine, and heads out of the war room.

Rock watches him leave with an unreadable expression. When we’re alone, he settles his gaze on me. “Thank you for that. I didn’t want to spell it out for everyone at the table. But there’s no way I’d drag him down to Tennessee right now.”


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