Blood & Rust (Lock & Key Book 4)

by Cat Porter

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Time to change the subject.

  “I saw that snowmobile Lock mentioned. That’s yours?”

  “Yeah. Boner kept it for me while I was away. I got to take it out of the storage unit and check it over. It had a few problems this winter, needs more work.”

  “You going to give me a ride?”

  “You been on one before?”

  “Let’s see. Born and raised on a farm in South Dakota. What do you think?”

  “I think yes.”

  “Who do you think gave Catch his first taste of speed?”

  “You?”

  “That’s right. My dad had us on snowmobiles since we could walk. He taught me and Penny, and I gave Catch his first ride. He must have been no more than three years old. We’d go really slow, and he’d scream. He loved it. He loved helping me commandeer the combine, too.”

  He gave me a wide-eyed look.

  “What is it?”

  “Trying to picture you as a farm girl.”

  “My mother’s got the photos, if you need hard evidence, mister.”

  “I believe you. You can show me what you’re made of next snowfall.”

  “Deal.”

  He studied me, his teeth dragging along his bottom lip. “I’m sure Grace is gonna have you bake cupcakes or something for the go-kart event. You a good baker, Tan?”

  I made a face. “Hmm. Not really.”

  He grinned. I was entertaining.

  “You going to come root for my team? It should be good.” His voice had quieted.

  “I just might.”

  “You’d better.”

  A flutter swung through my tummy. I missed this—talking with him, laughing with him.

  He’s taken, he’s taken, he’s taken.

  I took in a breath. “If you’ve got a minute, there is something I’d like for you to look at actually.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “That wood crate in the corner over there.” His gaze followed to where I pointed. “It’s really heavy. If you could get it open? I haven’t had a chance to tackle it yet. I don’t think Lock’s ever opened it either. It looks untouched.”

  He brushed a hand over the old crate. “I’ll get a few tools. Be right back.”

  He left and returned a few moments later with a short crowbar and a hammer. I dusted off my hands as I watched him levy the crowbar in the wood, under the old nails. He pushed and pulled, his shoulders and arms straining with the effort.

  Popcorn would be good about now.

  Creaking and Butler’s low grunts filled the room. Wood split and cracked.

  “There we go,” he muttered.

  I stepped forward and reached for the top of the crate from his hands.

  His brow furrowed. “Don’t touch it. You’ll get bad splinters.”

  He lifted the top, placing it against a wall, and we both peered into the crate.

  Balled-up wads of yellowed paper separated different automotive parts, tanks, motors.

  “Ah, fuck me.” Butler leaned over and pulled out one large piece from the wadded paper.

  “What? What is it?”

  “It’s a Harley motor.” His fingers brushed over the thick metal.

  “Oh?”

  “But…um…”

  “Is that a good or bad but?”

  Butler lifted the heavy piece of crafted metal, setting it on the floor. “No wonder he had it crated and packed.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s from the twenties at least. A Harley J engine. It’s got a generator, carb. No cracks. Could retail up to five thousand bucks at least.” He went back to the crate. “Motherfuck, there’s another one, too.”

  I bent over the crate. “There’s a tank here. Two of them.”

  Butler put down the motor and joined me at the crate, shuffling the paper around the box. “Tania, go get Willy. He was cooking in the kitchen before I came in here. He’s got to see this. He’ll know exactly what’s what. I’m telling you, this is precious metal you’ve got here.”

  Willy was the eldest member of the Jacks. He and Wreck had been very close.

  Butler and I grinned at the crate, and we grinned at each other, like two kids who had just discovered a litter of puppies in their backyard.

  “Jesus, there’s another engine in there. Plus, four original headlights, pre-World War II.” He shuffled through the wads of old paper. “And here are a bunch of Indian head badges, a few carburetor covers.”

  “Oh, Wreck,” I murmured.

  “Scarlett?”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m feeling the zing.”

  I leaned into him. “Feels good, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned at me, slow, warm, and satisfied.

  I soaked in the rays of that sun.

  He reached over and carefully lifted one of the Harley fuel tanks out of the crate.

  He muttered to himself, his focus intense on the tank.

  “What is it?”

  “This is original paint. Babe, go get Willy.”

  My heart squeezed. I could hear it in his voice. That zing. Our zing.

  And I liked it.

  THE ONE-EYED JACKS had landed in my art gallery.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  Butler held the door open as Boner and Dready hauled toolboxes and cables and digital equipment. Willy strode in with Clip and their own tools and ladders.

  “Butler, what is going on?”

  “You’re opening a business. We’re here to help,” Butler said, ripping off his jacket.

  Speechless.

  He leaned into me. “Dready and Dawes have a security business with the club.”

  “They do?”

  “Yeah. Club’s got a lot of businesses going.”

  “We’ll be setting up an alarm system and your Wi-Fi,” said Dawes, taking a large box from Boner.

  “And a bitching sound system.” Dready winked at me as he pulled his dreadlocked long hair back in a tie. “Shit’s gonna rock this space.”

  Boner glanced at me as he flipped open a box, a you-better-believe-it grin on his face.

  “And you know that Willy is a master craftsman carpenter,” added Butler.

  As if on cue, Willy came up to me. “What do you need, baby girl? Shelves? Display cases? Front counter for a desk? Talk to me.”

  “Um. Well…”

  “It’s an amazing space. You did good. Gracie told me all about it a while back. I’m going to take a look around, take some measurements. Then, we’ll discuss.” Willy strode off into the back of the space, glasses on, measuring tape in hand.

  I turned back to Butler. “You don’t have to do this. Really.”

  “We’re here; we’re doing this.”

  “Butler”—I took a few steps toward him—“I can’t afford this right now. Not all of it.” I lowered my voice. “I’m on a strict budget.”

  “Don’t worry about that now. If it makes you feel better, you can pay for some of the materials at cost whenever you can, but the labor is free.”

  “But I’ve got—”

  “You’ve got what, Scarlett?” Butler’s lips twitched. His face was relaxed. He was enjoying this.

  My shoulders dropped, my eyes darting around the space, to the men settling into working. “I’ve got good friends,” I replied.

  “Yeah, Scarlett, you do.”

  “Can I get everyone coffees? Breakfast?” I said.

  “Sounds good,” replied Dready, his white teeth visible in his wide grin. “Triple espresso for me.”

  “Got it.”

  Jill entered the store. “Hey, everyone.” She went to her husband and gave him a quick kiss. She glanced over at me. “We all set?”

  “Did you do this?” I asked.

  “Me?” She fluttered her eyelashes at me. “All I did was express my enthusiasm for this new adventure in your life. This is all Butler.”

  My eyes slid to his and took in his grin.

&n
bsp; “Tania! Come on back here. I have a couple of questions,” called Willy.

  “Jill, could you pick up coffees and breakfast for the guys? Whatever they’d like. There’s money in my handbag.”

  “Oh, I already put in an order with Erica on the way over here,” Jill replied, putting her thick mane of strawberry-blonde hair up in a fat ponytail. “She’s having it delivered.”

  Always good to have a personal in with the owner of the best coffeehouse in the state.

  “Sweet Lord.” I turned to Butler. Thank you, I mouthed silently.

  He raised his chin at me, those icy blues shining. Once again, those sweet, delicate strands of appreciation and positivity threaded between us, connecting us, taking my breath away, filling my insides with warmth.

  “Tania!” called Willy.

  “Coming!”

  “TANIA, THIS LOOKS WONDERFUL.” My mother stood with her walker before her in the middle of my store, her large dark blue eyes taking in every detail.

  I was almost ready for tonight’s opening.

  I had artwork and antique pieces in specially designed groupings around the space. Willy was making adjustments to the custom shelving we had designed together weeks ago for one of the walls, the golden afternoon sun streaming over his gray hair and all down his back as he worked.

  “Can’t believe this is the old five-and-dime,” Rae murmured.

  “Part of it, but, yes, it’s Dillon’s. One and the same. The owners took longer than expected to separate the old store into three retail spaces, but the timing worked out for me.”

  Her face broke into a smile. “I used to come here with my daddy in that old Chevy pickup. You remember the one?”

  “Of course I do. Dad used it, too, for a while. We’d come here together in that truck, tool around town, go to the luncheonette.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Our eyes lingered on Lock’s hand-painted mural on the wall behind the long front desk. A painting of a great big pulsing heart that was worn and rust-colored on the edges but a deep silky blood red at its living center. An original work of art that Wes had helped him with.

  “Stunning,” Rae murmured.

  “The painting was Lock and Grace’s gift. I still pinch myself every time I look at it. What do you think of the front desk, Ma? Willy created it out of an old vintage front door I had found in Iowa, and he made the legs using pieces from an iron gate I had found at a house demolition years ago.”

  “It’s beautiful. He does amazing work,” she murmured, a hand smoothing over the top of the desk.

  “He does. We’ve had a lot of fun working together.”

  My mother’s eyes roamed over every part of the store. Her shoulders rose and fell with the effort of moving with the walker as her guide, the walker bearing the brunt of her emotions.

  “You did this, baby. You did. How I wish your daddy were here to see it. He’d be so proud of you. He always said you’d do great things in your own way, in your own time. You certainly have here.”

  “I wish he were here to see it.”

  “Oh, I think he can. I know he can feel it.”

  I slid my arm through hers as she wiped at her eyes.

  “You think this is nuts? Doing this here in Meager?” I asked.

  She turned to me, adjusting her grip on the walker. “A little bit of nuts can have its merits, Tania. You have that, and you used it wisely. It shows. Otherwise, you never would have gotten this off the ground.”

  “I had a lot of help from my friends. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

  She gave me a pointed look. “Those are good friends to have.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  For the first time in a very long time, I felt absolutely confident in my decision to open my own store. Knowing I had the support and care of this amazing band of people behind me made me proud and made my heart so very full.

  “I only wish I could have helped you.”

  “I know, Mom.” I rubbed her arm. “It’s okay. Knowing I have your support is what’s important to me.”

  “Oh, honey, you’re my precious daughter, and you will always have my support. I know things have been difficult with you having to come home, the divorce, but I didn’t want you to uproot yourself.”

  “Mom, I didn’t leave Racine because of you. I left because I wanted to. You needing me was the best sort of impetus, the best shove in the rear. It made me look at everything differently. For the better. Believe me.”

  “Well, I’m glad something good’s come out of it at least. I haven’t seen you like this in a long while.”

  “I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. It feels good.”

  “As it should.”

  “Sit here, in your grandmother’s chair.” I patted the cracked leather of the armchair.

  “Oh, look at that! You buffed it up. It looks good here.”

  “I’ll make us some tea. I have Earl Grey, some sort of Chai thing Jill likes, and jasmine.”

  “Jasmine, please.”

  I helped her settle in the leather easy chair and went to the back storage area where I had a small table with an electric kettle.

  “I’m glad you brought Grandma’s chair. It’s so good to sit in it, use it again, isn’t it? I haven’t been able to get over to that house at all. Maybe you’ll take me one morning? I should go. I’d like to.”

  “Of course. The house is full of things you should look over. What do you think of Great Grandma’s piano over there?”

  “Beautiful as ever.”

  “I just got it tuned yesterday,” I said, both our gazes pinned on the freshly polished dark wood upright piano on which Rae, Penny, and I had all taken lessons once upon a time.

  “Is this Jill’s jewelry? She’s been working like crazy, you know.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I placed a mug of tea on the small table by my mother’s side. “I wanted to feature local up-and-coming artisans. That was part of my idea for this store. I also wanted to have other more portable and more affordable options available in the store alongside the antiques. Jill’s handmade trinkets are perfect.”

  “I’m glad the two of you are working together.”

  “Me, too. I need someone I can trust in here. Jill’s going to work here part-time for now and then give me more hours once Becca goes to preschool in the fall.”

  “She’s very excited. She’s been talking nonstop about it.” Mom blew over the hot amber liquid and took a careful sip. “I wish I could come tonight, but I just get too tired in the evenings. It’s your big night. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

  “I’m glad you came now to see it. I like this—sitting with you.”

  Rae set her tea back down on the table. “We’re not usually this quiet, are we?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “That used to drive your father nuts.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You and me—loud, stubborn, full of intent to prove our points, day in, day out.”

  “Ah, he liked opinionated women, Ma. He loved that color in his house.”

  “He did. See? That’s where nuts is good, too. I want you to have that kind of nuts in your life, baby. This is important”—her gaze met mine—“but it isn’t everything.”

  “I know.”

  She grinned, her head slanting toward Willy and Dawes working at the back. “Those Jacks are another breed of men.”

  “Mom!”

  “They are, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see it in Grace’s eyes. In Jill’s, I saw it from the first. Like a fresh drift of snow you wake up to in the morning. Absolutely clean, bright with sparkles as far as the eye can see. She thought she was hiding it from me, but you can’t hide that.”

  “Boner is good to her.”

  “He is, and it shows. She deserves it. Just like Grace.”

  “They certainly do.”

  “So do you, honey. I know Kyle disappointed you in many ways. Maybe he
even hurt you. He must have for you to pick up and leave. You dust yourself off and walk ahead. Come what may, let it come. That’s what you do, all your life. That’s what you’ve been doing.”

  “Mom—”

  “You need to take care of you right now, and all else will fall into place. Hopping into bed with someone is easy. Anyone can give you a good orgasm. You know what I mean?”

  “Holy shit, Rae.” I plonked my mug down on the table.

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But if you find someone who can give you a really, really good one…” I said, my insides clenching at the memory of Butler’s sensual talents.

  “Oh, well then, yes, he’s worth a second look. Absolutely.” She laughed out loud, and I joined her.

  I stretched out my arms and legs and heaved a huge sigh. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

  “Baby, you have a good head on your shoulders, and you’re no flighty young girl, never were to begin with. You’ll meet someone else, and you’ll know.”

  “I will. And I’ll know,” I repeated quietly.

  I had already. But I had to let it go.

  “You like someone, don’t you?”

  “Mother—”

  “When you turned forty, you complained that things would be so dreary and horrible. But the heart still pumps, and the heart still desires. It still calls.” She glanced up at Lock’s heart mural. “You’d better listen and pay heed to the call.”

  “Pay heed to the call, huh?”

  “Yes, indeed. Your father and I raised you to be alert and smart, didn’t we?”

  “You did, Mrs. Reigert.” I picked up my tea mug and saluted her with it. “You certainly did.”

  TANIA HAD GIVEN HER gallery a name. A good name.

  The Rusted Heart.

  An hour into the opening, and the Rusted Heart was packed.

  A huge arrangement of white roses towered over a round wood table at the front of the space where Jill had placed rows of clear plastic cups filled with white wine. A shorter, stocky, dark-haired woman who looked oddly familiar helped her.

  The woman suddenly stepped in front of me, a cup of wine in her hand. “Welcome! Would you like some wine?”

  “Uh, no. Thanks,” I replied.