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

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)

No matter how hard he tries, the road captain of the Lost Kings Motorcycle Club can’t resist falling in love in this captivating installment of the Lost Kings MC series by USA Today bestselling author Autumn Jones Lake.
Dixon “Dex” Watts has traveled a road full of painful twists and turns. He found love young, lost it, and swore to never give his heart to another woman. He’s devoted his life to the only family he needs—the Lost Kings MC.
Emily isn’t just another woman. She’s the best friend of a brother’s wife. Not someone who should spark emotions he thought had rusted out years ago. But when he finds Emily stranded in a cemetery, his hardened heart starts to thaw.
Tragedy has followed Emily like a shadow. She’s committed to protecting and raising her teenage sister on her own. Dating and relationships don’t fit into her carefully constructed world. Besides, no man has ever met her high standards or earned her trust.
But Dex isn’t just any man. He’s obscenely hot, overprotective, and has a moral compass that often points in a gray direction. On the outside, everything about him should scream danger. But Emily slowly discovers the truth is more complicated.
No matter how hard they try, neither of them can ignore their burning attraction. They may be complete opposites with painful pasts and incompatible lives, but once the spark ignites between them, the flames can’t be extinguished.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



First rule of life: Never let anyone get the jump on you.

Especially in a cemetery.

I take another look around. Rows and rows of headstones. Not another person in sight.

Above me, a crow circles and lets out a mournful caw.

“Me too, buddy,” I whisper, and I sink to my knees on the hard ground.

Cool air drifts over my face—another cruel reminder of all the things we’ve missed. Fall, then the holidays, riding down to Florida for the worst of winter. So many things.

Cold, damp earth soaks through my jeans, chilling my knees and shins. The familiar itch to outrun bad memories tingles in my hands—the urge to twist the throttle, ride the wind, and remind myself that I’m still alive.

After this visit, it’s time to hit the road. Concentrating on the pavement ahead always eases the pain of my past. Quiets the noise in my head. Never quite fills the hole in my heart, though.

“Dex?” A soft voice breaks the silence.

Like a tornado, I jump to my feet, reach under my cut to grab my pistol, and face the intruder.

Short, wavy red layers fall past her chin, dusting her shoulders to frame her perfectly heart-shaped face.


A violent wind sweeps through the air, picking up the long skirt of her dress and tossing it around her legs. She slaps her hands against her thighs, halting the material’s wild dance. A hesitant smile lifts the corners of her mouth. So unlike her. Every other time we’ve run into each other, she’s been confident and unafraid to speak her mind. An undercurrent of darkness that calls to my own always seems to flow under her words and actions, though.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a biker in a cemetery?” I growl, irritated by the fondness I seem to have for this woman who should be off-limits to me.

I shove my pistol back in its holster and fake a smile to take the sting out of my violent reaction. Emily’s important to a brother’s ol’ lady. She’s under my club’s protection. I need to reel in my irritation. It’s not her fault I’m so agitated.

Why is she here of all places? Why today of all days did I have to run into her?

“I…well. . .” Her anxious words are almost swallowed by another sudden gust of wind.

My gaze slides over her curvy figure without my permission. The long, black dress seems out of character for her bold personality. Then my brain kicks in. We’re standing in a cemetery, for fuck’s sake.

“What happened? Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes. Well, no.” She glances down at her dress as if she’d forgotten what outfit she chose this morning. “It’s my parents’ anniversary.” She sweeps her arm toward the long rows of grave markers behind us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Her nervous gaze slides to the headstone where I’d been paying my respects. I shift to block it with my body.

“What’s wrong?” I hate the sharp, impatient bite to my question but can’t seem to control my mouth this morning.

“I…I’m so embarrassed. My car won’t start.” She waves her phone in the air between us. “I was walking around trying to get a signal. I saw the motorcycle…thought I recognized you…” Her voice falters as if she wishes she’d never started this conversation. “God, I’m so rude. Please forgive me.”

Guilt prickles over my scalp. Grinder would kick my ass up and down the Thruway if he knew I was being so disrespectful to Serena’s best friend.

I swallow the agony and anguish that wrapped around my throat the second I rode through the cemetery gates. “Let me take a look at it,” I offer.

“No hurry. Take your time,” she says in a nervous rush. “I’m way over there.” She waves wildly toward the dirt path that serves as a road through the cemetery.

“I’m done.” I jerk my chin. “Lead the way.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” She twists a loose chunk of hair around her finger then tucks it behind her ear. Again, she tries to peer over my shoulder and again, I block her view.

Pink spreads over her cheeks and she turns. The bottom of her dress sweeps over the too-long blades of grass. Someone needs to cut the grass, show some damn respect for the dead.

The burst of wind dies down, now only a ruffle through the trees. I scan the rolling green hills. We seem to be the only people here.

Suddenly, Emily tips to the side, arms flailing in the air. I hurry to steady her with a hand at her waist.

“Careful,” I warn.

Gingerly, she wiggles her foot and tugs the heel of her shoe out of the soft earth.

Against me, she’s warm and soft. Her head barely reaches my shoulder. She turns to peer up at me, the ends of her hair sliding over my leather cut. A hint of sugary vanilla tickles my nose.