Blood & Rust (Lock & Key Book 4)

by Cat Porter

  “You heading home?”

  “Yes, finally on my way.”

  “You had mentioned it the last time I saw you and Maddie in Nebraska.”

  “Right. Maddie.” I rolled my eyes, letting out a laugh.

  Grace’s little disguise when we had ended up at the Flames of Hell clubhouse several months ago, of course, hadn’t fooled Butler, who happened to be there, but he’d kept our secret.

  “I went to Racine to finish some business a couple of months ago and to bring back a few things that I had in storage,” I said. “You?”

  “Me what?”

  “What are you up to? How did you end up here, ten miles outside of Sioux Falls? You look tired.”

  He rubbed a hand across his scruffy jaw. “I’ve been on the road for a few days now. Taking the scenic route.”

  “Oh, really? From where?”

  “Ohio.”

  “Holy shit. On your bike?”

  He let out a rough laugh. “Yeah, Tania. Of course.”

  “Where are you headed? Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be asking, right?”

  “Going to Meager, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” His sky-blue eyes settled on me, and a giddy sensation fluttered through me.

  “Have you eaten, or did you just get here?” I asked, my hands smoothing over the paper tablecloth. “I ate. I was just about to pay my bill actually.”

  “I just ordered. Stick around.”

  “Thanks again for before, with that guy.”

  “Sure. Maybe we should stick together until we hit Meager, just in case you get yourself into more situations you need rescuing from.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Remember what happened last time you were on the road?”

  “Oh, I remember all right.” Kidnapped, almost sexually assaulted, found my niece, who was being held hostage…“Did you ever find Creeper, by the way?”

  “There’s something you shouldn’t ask me about.”

  The waitress brought over a coffee, plonking the steaming white mug on the table by Butler. He rubbed a hand up and down his arm, stretching his neck to the left and then the right.

  “You want a couple of Tylenol to go with that?” I asked.

  “You got a supply handy?”

  “Always prepared.” I unfastened my bag and fished a hand inside for the bottle. “I think you could use two.”

  “That good?” He chuckled.

  I unsnapped the lid of the medicine bottle and put two caplets in his open hand. He popped them in his mouth, chasing them with a gulp of water.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  “How’s Jill doing?” he asked. “Last time I talked to Boner, he filled me in on her being a surrogate for Grace.”

  “Jill and the baby are doing really well. She’s almost four months along now. Grace is flying.”

  “Taking Jill in was really generous of you.”

  “She seemed like a good person to me. She was in a really tough bind, and she is the mother of my brother’s daughter. The best part is, my mom actually likes Jill, and they get along great, which is huge now that they’re living together and looking out for each other.” I toyed with the fork before me on the table. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

  “How about you?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You. How are you doing?”

  “Me?” My eyes met his. Blue quartz. Clear, inquiring, dazzling. My fingers pressed down on the thin handle of the fork. “I’m good.”

  “So, why do you look like you could use a drink?” he asked.

  I averted my gaze. “I could use some sugar actually.” I flagged down the waitress. “Could I have one of those brownies with a scoop of vanilla ice cream?”

  “Sure thing, hon,” said the waitress before darting off.

  “Thanks.”

  “Decisive and very determined.” He sipped on his coffee. “That can only mean one thing.”

  “Says the expert on womankind.”

  Butler chuckled. “Yeah, that’s me.” He leveled his bright blue eyes on me again, eyes that made it hard for me to look away. “Come on, let’s hear it. Maybe I can offer you some advice from my side of the high stone wall.”

  “I don’t need advice.”

  “How about a new perspective?”

  A new perspective?

  Butler was a neutral bystander. He didn’t really know me; he certainly didn’t know Kyle. And I knew that Butler, the Lord of Shameless wouldn’t judge me. He would be respectful of my confessions. I hadn’t been able to discuss this with anyone. I hadn’t even really wanted to discuss it with Grace in much depth, which surprised me.

  An objective opinion, and from a man, might be a relief.

  “Okay. I’m getting a divorce, and I went back to Racine to pick up the last of my stuff and check in with my lawyer, but I ended up staying longer than I’d expected.” I bit down on the side of my lip and took in a small breath. “We made this last-ditch effort to try again, but it didn’t work for me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s a good thing.”

  “Did he cheat on you?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He slept with someone else after I’d left him, when my mom was in the hospital and I ended up staying in Meager for a couple of months with her and Jill. Kyle and I were officially separated, so…you know.” I shrugged.

  “Still sucks.”

  “Still sucks.”

  “Okay. Did he hit you?” he asked.

  “No, it’s not like that. We simply don’t mesh, don’t get along. We haven’t for a long time, but he’s not willing to admit it. We are the true definition of “irreconcilable differences.” He’s more than happy to keep rolling along. But it’s pretending, in my opinion. I can’t pretend anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  I let out a dry laugh. “Oh, yeah? Which part?”

  “You not willing to pretend. There comes a time when you’ve got to stop and get some real air in your lungs.”

  My shoulders relaxed. “I pretended for a long while there. You figure, we’re human, and things ebb and flow. But he and I have deeper issues, and he’s just not willing to go there.”

  “To the deep?” he asked, his eyes pinned on me.

  Butler was getting this. He was open to this conversation.

  I leaned over the table. “Look, I’m not saying I need to be philosophical and intimate every second of every day, but it was enough for him to just be under the same roof. To exchange basic information. To get along. To keep house. Well, to keep house his way. After almost ten years, whatever spark had been there was no longer there.”

  A large fudge square with a mound of creamy vanilla ice cream slid before me on the table. “There you go.”

  A golden omelet with bacon and whole-wheat toast appeared in front of Butler. “Enjoy.”

  The waitress disappeared once more.

  “Ah, breakfast for dinner? I like that, too,” I said.

  “One of my faves.” He grinned as he moved his dish closer. “So, you’ve been putting in the effort with…”

  “Kyle.” I drove my fork into the large brownie.

  “Right.”

  “I know it takes two to make it work, but he’s content in his bubble. I’m not. Plus, I don’t fit in that bubble.”

  Butler dragged his fork through his omelet and glanced up at me. “I don’t suspect you’d fit into any kind of bubble, Tania. Or am I wrong?” He chewed his food as he watched me, a slow smile lighting his face.

  Warmth swept through me at the sight, and I ran my fork into the ice cream. “Not wrong. Not wrong at all. One thing I realized was, I’d much rather be alone and lonely than be with someone and lonely.”

  He glanced down, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “That’s a heartbreaking place.”

  Something about the darker tone in his voice made me p
ause. That was certainly the voice of experience.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get heavy and—”

  “You’re being real. Best way to be.” He bit into a piece of buttery toast. “Lonely sucks.”

  “Maybe I expected too much out of the marriage.” I swallowed down the gob of brownie and ice cream in my mouth.

  “No, I don’t think so. Marriage isn’t supposed to be lonely and heartbreaking. It’s supposed to make you a better, happier you.”

  I blinked up at him, my heart in my throat. “Exactly. In the best of all possible worlds, yes. You were married once. Grace told me about your wife. I’m sorry.”

  Butler’s wife had died in a terrible bike accident five years ago, an accident he blamed himself for. A wife, Grace had mentioned, he’d never really gotten over.

  He shifted in his chair. “Caitlyn and I had it good—while it lasted, that is.”

  “You were fortunate.”

  He wiped his fingers on a napkin and crumpled it into a ball. “I was.”

  “You never found anyone else? I mean, I’m sure you’ve been with plenty of women since, but—”

  He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Not like that.”

  “Oh. Must get lonely.”

  “I do just fine.”

  I twisted in my seat. I’m sure you do.

  Butler was, in a word, gorgeous. He had to be at least 6’3”, and he obviously put in the time to work out. His chest and arms were defined, his torso firm. His blond hair streaked with gold was maybe a shade or two darker than what it used to be, but it was a showstopper along with those brilliant blue eyes. And I liked the lines around those eyes; with the years had come experience that had made its stamp. He still had that rugged rough and tumble exterior, but now, he was…intriguing. The kind of intriguing that was making my toes curl and my pulse jump at this very moment.

  Butler’s features creased under my scrutiny. “How’s that brownie?”

  I sucked fudge sauce from my fork. “Hitting the spot. Would you like to try it?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  An awkward silence stretched between us, and the chocolate flavor dulled in my mouth. The idea of Butler and what he must be like in bed was a much more exciting subject to dwell on than my marriage or the flipping fudge brownie.

  Much more exciting.

  His playfulness was still there along with the cockiness in the flick of those amazing eyes and that volatile flare in the press of his jaw. But there seemed to be a settled core to it all now, not only that I-don’t-give-two-fucks recklessness that he’d brandished twenty years ago when I had my initial taste of him.

  Yes, accent on taste, not the whole enchilada. My choice.

  Stupid girl.

  Back then, I’d been young, barely experienced, and full of my own steam.

  Hmm. Sort of like Butler at the time.

  “What are you thinking about?” His deep voice interrupted my drifting.

  “Huh?” I gripped my fork.

  “You’re scowling.” His lips curved up as he speared the last of his omelet with his fork. “I remember that scowl real well.”

  I met his gaze, and my stomach fluttered. We both knew what he was referring to.

  Over twenty years ago, we’d been different people, both of us raw, aggressive, full of ourselves, and full of shit. Both of us lashing out and using each other to do it.

  Both of us.

  THE SHORT CEREMONY HAD FINISHED, and Dig and Grace had been officially declared husband and wife to the roar of bike engines and cheers and whistles on the One-Eyed Jacks’ property.

  The loud party was in full swing, and I had drifted off from the raucous crowd. My spiked heel had ripped the hem of my dress, and I’d retreated into the repair shed to see to the damage. A good excuse to get away.

  “Nice legs.”

  My head jerked at the sound. There was no mistaking that taunting tone, that sexy I-don’t-give-a-shit ripple to Butler’s deep voice. My back went rigid as my fingers let go of the hem of my dress, the silky wine-colored fabric sliding down my bare legs as I straightened.

  Butler’s icy-blue eyes were trained on me through a cloud of smoke, his long and thick pale golden hair its usual mess around his head, like he’d just woken up after a night of debauchery. Knowing him, he probably had and was up for more.

  “What are you doing out here?” His gravelly, husky voice tightened my insides into a knot.

  “Huh?” was all I could manage. Every cell in my body screamed, Get the hell out of here! But I didn’t want to appear to be a scaredy-cat, not to him.

  “Nice scowl. You’re the maid of honor, Tania. Shouldn’t you be out there, all smiles, making a toast or saying something…spectacular?”

  I let out a small laugh, my shoulders dropping. “I don’t think anyone would notice at this point, do you?”

  Dig and Grace’s wedding had been going on for over three hours, and it was definitely nothing like the country-club wedding I had attended with my mother, sister, and brother the week before over in Rapid City.

  “What are you doing out here on your own?” I asked. “I thought you were a part of the inner circle or whatever it’s called.”

  He exhaled another stream of smoke, his head tilting back, his hand falling at his side, those piercing eyes following my every jittery move. “Not so much anymore. As if you didn’t know.”

  Oh, I knew all right. He’d gotten into trouble with Dig for coming on to Grace a couple of weeks ago, and he had gotten sent away up north to another chapter of the club.

  “How’s North Dakota?” I asked.

  “It sucks.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be. It’s my fault anyhow.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  His eyes narrowed at me. A soft laugh rolled from his sturdy throat.

  “They let you come back for this?” I asked.

  “Mandatory.”

  “Ah, a show of good faith.”

  “Something like that.”

  “But you’re hiding out in here to avoid everybody?”

  “I’m not hiding. I don’t hide.” He exhaled a long, thick plume of smoke. “Just lying low.”

  “Right.”

  “And what are you doing in here? Too many bikers out there for you? You never hung out with us too much to begin with.”

  “The crowd is a little overwhelming.”

  He stared at me as he drew on his cig again. “Why is that?” He shifted his weight, his intent gaze bearing down on me with even more weight. The sudden silence between us pressed in on my chest. “We too low-class for you?”

  “What?”

  “Too rough?” He pushed back from the wall, dropping his cigarette butt to the floor. “Too dirty?” He mashed the cigarette into the cement floor with the heel of his boot and stalked toward me.

  My breath hitched. “Give me a break, Butler.”

  He stopped before me, a hint of beer and cheap men’s cologne hovering between us. That trademark lazy smile of his that made girls titter for miles swept his face. “Do I overwhelm you? No, seriously, Tania, tell me.”

  “You are so full of shit. Are you flirting with me now?”

  He chuckled, his index finger flicking the end of my nose. “You’re nervous. Have you been nursing a little crush on me all this time, and I’ve failed to notice?” His warm fingertip crossed down the center of my lips to my chin.

  “A crush? On you?” I swatted his finger away. “Hell no.”

  “Oh, I’m such a freak, right?”

  “Yeah, you kind of are, Blondie.”

  He grinned, his white teeth adding a dash of danger to his allure. “I’m such an asshole.”

  “A swaggering asshole, to be exact.”

  He stood two inches from my face. “A real pain in your ass then.”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s a mighty beautiful ass, Tania.” His fingers skimmed over the smooth fabric hugging my rear.


  I jerked back, a cold shiver racing over my skin.

  He gripped my hip with his other hand, pulling me closer to his body, right up against his erection. My insides went haywire at the shocking contact, at his presumption.

  “No panties today?” he whispered roughly.

  I only shook my head.

  He lowered his head to mine. “You came here, to the club, to a party full of bikers from at least four different states, and you didn’t wear any panties?”

  I smacked his hand away. “It’s the dress, Butler!”

  His hand went to my ass again. “I’m talkin’ about the body underneath the dress, Tania.”

  I rolled my eyes, avoiding the fact that he was admiring my body. “With this dress, you can’t wear underwear.” I squirmed in his hold. “It shows all the lines and the…if you…”

  His hand slowly stroked the curve of my rear. Up. Down. My breath snagged. Heat radiated over my backside, seeping through my middle, riddling me with a series of explosions, like a minefield.

  “Get your hands off me,” I whispered.

  He gripped my ass cheek, kneading it. “Ask nice.” His voice was husky, that growliness of it more acute. Rough, playful, daring.

  I raised my chin. “Why should I? You should know better.”

  “I don’t know anything at all anymore.”

  Something in his words, in the raw edge in his tone, pulled me into him. The sculpted angles of his face and his square jaw were downturned. His usually gleaming eyes were now lackluster. Was this sadness, wistfulness?

  I touched his arm. “Butler—”

  He released me, snapping back from me on a slight shove. His laser shield had gone back up.

  Asshole.

  “What’s the matter? They not letting you into the playground anymore?” I asked, a sneer shading my voice. “Not the tough guy you thought you were?”

  He glared at me. “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck you, Blondie.”

  He leaned into me, the edges of his lips curled. “You jealous your best friend found the man of her dreams and got hitched?”

  “I’m happy that she’s happy!”

  His alcohol-tinged breath fanned my face. “Yeah, right.”

  “I am. He might not be what I wanted for her, but look at them—”

  We both turned our attention toward Dig and Grace in the distance through the open main door of the shed. Dig was on one knee, his hands stroking Grace’s thigh, as he tugged on her black garter belt with his teeth. Grace laughed, a hand on his shoulder, and the crowd whooped.