Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3)

by Cat Porter

  And you reached.

  Grace and Lock had finally reached, and they had it now.

  Grace let go of my jacket and wiped at her eyes. Her gaze snagged on something over my shoulder.

  “Oh, nice.” She moved toward a row of plush rocking chairs beckoning to her from across the aisle. She glided her hands over the deep back cushion of an oak-stained one, a small smile blooming on her face.

  Something shifted in my chest.

  Grace was smiling over baby furniture.

  I crossed the aisle and joined her. She sat in the chair and smiled again as she rocked. Fuck, this was a hell of a difference from over seventeen years ago—when she had been lying in a hospital bed, wanting to end her life, after she’d lost her first love and their unborn baby and had been told she’d never be able to carry another one after the emergency surgery she had to have.

  Grace had begged me for a way to end it, so I brought her the pills. I didn’t want her to suffer anymore. I only wanted to give her what she wanted. Grace was the one who held us together, and I’d never seen her like that before—no anchor, tossed on the sea, blind, drowning, no will to lift her head up, to even take her next breath.

  I was tempted to end it with her that black night of a hundred horrors. She took the pills I’d brought her, and she made me leave.

  Butler’s wife, who ended up staying with her that night, figured it out though. The doctors pumped Grace’s stomach, and thank God, she made it.

  It was her choice, but I’d made it happen for her. And the unsuccessful attempt only made her more miserable than before, if that were at all possible. I hated myself for it even more, and we could barely face each other after that night.

  A month later, without a word, she left South Dakota and all of us behind. All I knew was, with Dig dead, their baby lost, and Grace gone, too, I’d lost everything that meant something to me all over again. Yeah, I still had the club, my brothers, but the meaning of it had been ripped away, broken.

  Just like it had been in the aftermath of Hurricane Inès.

  Months had gone by after Grace had left without a word, but I had to know, I had to see her, and I was real determined. I’d kept tabs on her sister and stolen her mail a couple of times. I’d finally found a card from a post office box in Dallas under their mother’s name.

  I went down there and waited for Grace. One day, she showed up to check her mail—thin, spooked, blank. I followed her home to this tiny studio apartment, and I broke in, not wanting to take a chance that she wouldn’t open the door if I rang the bell like a normal visitor. She was actually glad to see me once she’d gotten over the shock. We got wasted, strung out on booze, weed, and regret—talking, talking, talking—and we ended up kissing. We stopped it and fell asleep on the sofa, holding on to each other.

  When I woke up the next morning, she was gone.

  I was destroyed, stranded. Again.

  But I knew she was right for leaving. We’d only called the ghosts back up that night. It hadn’t been comforting. It had been haunting, and it’d sliced deep and hurt in new, fresh ways.

  It had been dangerous to see each other again.

  If I brought her back to Meager or stayed with her, we would have only clung to each other, making us something we weren’t, something we weren’t meant to be, and it would have been out of our pain and loneliness, not something whole but something made up of missing.

  She had been right to cut us off and cut us up into pieces, but it sucked all the same. It hurt deep.

  At some point though, I had to crawl out from under the grief. We both did.

  I didn’t see her or hear from her for over fifteen years, not until the night she strode back into the clubhouse last year and asked me to pour her a whiskey.

  One of the best moments of my life.

  When she told me she’d stayed away because a club out west, a rival MC, forced her to, that had made me crazy all over again. Why hadn’t I seen that? Why hadn’t I figured that out? I could’ve stopped it, helped her, unraveled it for her. It was what I did, what I’d always done.

  But when my emotions were wrapped up in someone, I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t read the usual signs.

  Inès had proven that to be true.

  I suppose there were times when only we could extricate ourselves from our own ravel in order to make it stick.

  Now, here at a baby store, of all places, all these years later, I got to bear witness to Grace’s renewal, this turning over of her soil. All her fragmented ends and splintered edges had been smoothed, her smoldering cinders doused with cool water. Hers and Lock’s. All of that was in this smile of hers because of a piece of furniture, and my heart swelled at the sight of it.

  I sniffed in a breath. “You’re into this nesting thing now, aren’t you?”

  She eyed me. “How the hell do you know about nesting?”

  “I saw an article about it at the doctor’s office when I went with you and Jill.”

  “Nesting is real, and it’s here to stay. Miller’s eyes now glaze over when I start with how many blankets the baby might or might not need, which bottle warmer is more efficient, blah, blah, blah-di-blah-blah.”

  “On that note, where’s the crib?”

  She rolled her eyes. “They’re over here.”

  We moved through the rocking chairs into the crib area.

  “We saw this one online and really liked it.” Her fingers curled over the rail of a dark wood sleigh bed–style crib. Blue-and-yellow fluffy bedding accented the piece, which was trimmed with a matching quilted panel all around. A small stuffed gray elephant and a brown velvety dachshund stuffed animal had their arms around each other in one corner.

  Something crimped in my chest.

  Jill would be giving this baby life. And after it was born, that baby would be in this crib in Grace and Lock’s house. What was that going to be like for Jill?

  My gut clenched. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to share that with her, make it better—whatever it was going to feel like. It might not be all good. Who the fuck knew?

  “Boner, you like it?”

  “What?”

  “The crib, hon. We don’t know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl, so I figure, this design is a good neutral, not feminine but not too plain.”

  “You don’t want to know yet, do you?”

  “There are so few true surprises in life anymore, and that is surely one of them—if not, the best. We want that surprise.” The edges of her lips quivered slightly. “We need it.”

  I slung my arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “I know you do.” I gripped the wooden rail of the crib. “I like it. It’s a good crib.”

  I wanted that kind of surprise, too.

  I wanted to feel Jill’s hand in mine, to go to sleep with the sound of her even breathing in my ear and the weight of her relaxed body in my arms. I wanted to hear her laughter ring within the walls of my house, to eat good food with her, to have Becca throw her toys around my living room and make a mess and hear her cry or laugh down the hallway.

  What would that feel like, look like on an everyday basis? I didn’t know, and I fucking wanted to know.

  I wanted to feel it in every corner of my house, in every corner of my soul.

  An urge to see Jill overtook me.

  Spending time with her, just the two of us, had been proving to be a challenge. She had to live at Rae’s house and take care of her. Plus, she had Becca. With Tania working late hours of the day and night to get her potential store organized while also going through Wreck’s shit, Tania’s availability to Becca-sit and Rae-sit had been rare the past couple of weeks. Then, I was working at the shop, going on runs through North Dakota and Wyoming, checking in on our operations.

  Jill and I had been a bunch of stolen moments.

  And still, those stolen moments had been better than any random fucking where me and whoever it was would get off. I’d zip up, she’d clean up, and we’d eventually stumb
le our separate ways.

  Each and every time Jill and I had been together, I was filled with a new hunger, a new desire, a more urgent need demanding to be satisfied again and again and again. It wasn’t only a release, a consumer necessity.

  Shit, Jill and I hadn’t even had sex yet—like real-fucking-penetration-of-prime-body-parts sex.

  I fucking needed to fuck my woman already, for fuck’s sake.

  “Grace, I need your help with something.”

  “Ohhhhh, really? Must be important for you to actually ask me for a favor.”

  “Very fucking important.”

  “Will you stop cursing in here?”

  “Are you gonna fucking help me?”

  “Boner!” She pinched me again.

  “Cut that out!”

  “DELIVERY!”

  I knocked on Rae’s kitchen screen door.

  Jill was crouched in front of a kitchen cabinet, scrubbing it with a small towel. She swiveled around, gasping, her body jerking back against the cabinet, a wide-eyed look on her face.

  “Babe, it’s me. You okay?” I pushed at the door handle, but the door was locked.

  She let out a deep breath, clutching the towel in her grip, her shoulders tense. “Sorry!” She took in a gulp of air and stood up, a hand over her chest. “You just spooked me. Come in.”

  “Screen door’s locked.”

  “Oh, right.” She bit her lip and tossed the towel on the counter. Her face flushed, she came to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open.

  “What’s wrong?” I entered the kitchen, and she closed the door firmly behind us.

  “Nothing.” She pushed the hair from her face. “I was just daydreaming, and I didn’t hear you.”

  “You didn’t hear me pull up on my bike?”

  Her gaze darted to the full plastic bag in my hand. “What’s this?”

  “I heard you had a craving for Chinese food.”

  “I do?”

  “Sure you do.”

  “You’re a nut.”

  “Should I take my nut and my Chinese food and get out of here?”

  Her eyes flared. “Hell no. Give me that bag!”

  “Give me a kiss first.”

  She pressed her lips against mine. My heartbeat clanged like a bell bonging in my chest.

  I tracked into Rae’s gleaming kitchen. The food brought in a harsh smell in contrast with the lemony-lavender fragrance that filled the space. Clean and inviting. Jill.

  I plopped the full-to-bursting plastic bag on the counter. She rifled through it as if it was a gift bag from a fancy jewelry store. I was claiming my opportunity today. If your planets don’t align, you need to make it happen for yourself.

  Jill faced the counter, her back to me, as she went through the food boxes. “Sesame chicken, pork lo mein…”

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a selection.”

  She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Shrimp and broccoli.”

  “I saw Becca heading home with Auntie Grace. She said Rae went to the movies with a friend?”

  “Yeah, they just left. It was very last minute. Ah, Mongolian beef.”

  “Lose the shirt.”

  Her fingers gripped the white food container in midair. She turned and stared at me.

  My head slanted. “Do it.”

  Jill put down the small white box of food and ripped off her blouse, exposing her full round breasts in a pink bra.

  My lungs squeezed. Her eyes transfixed on my gaze caressing her tits, her breathing deepening.

  I raised my chin. “Go through the food. Tell me what you find.”

  She swallowed and turned back to the food on the counter. “Chicken and cashews.” Her voice was suddenly breathy.

  I stood behind her and leaned over, taking in the warmth of her skin, nuzzling the tousle of her freshly-shampooed hair. Flowers and sunlight.

  My lips brushed the curve of her shoulder. “Take off the shorts.”

  The swift rip of her zipper set off a fireball in my veins. My dick pulsed at the sight of her pushing the denim over the curve of her hips. Her shorts thudded to the floor, and I kicked them away. Her plump, firm ass peeked out from a delicate pink thong.

  “Dumplings.” She let out a laugh.

  I laughed, too.

  I pulled on the thong string along her ass crack, applying pressure on her pussy, and she let out a whimper.

  “Keep going,” I said. “There should be…”

  “Sesame noodles.”

  “That’s the one.” I snapped the thong back against her ass, and she let out a gasp. My fingers skimmed her skin until they reached her bra strap and unhooked it. Goose bumps rose over flesh. “Take this off.”

  She twisted the bra off her body and tossed it to the side. I cupped her full tits and pressed against her. She let out a cry, her ass moving back against my cock.

  Both my hands sank into her silky wetness. “There’s my girl. Fuck yeah.”

  We both groaned, and she leaned her head back against my chest. “Bone…”

  “Grab the sesame noodles,” I whispered in her ear. Releasing her pussy from my grip, I nipped at her earlobe.

  She grabbed the container, and I led her by the hand to the round table Rae had in the middle of the kitchen where I lifted her up onto it, laying her on her back. Her lips parted as she stared at me.

  Full anticipation. Just the way I wanted her.

  “This is my favorite,” I murmured.

  I scooped up a strand of noodles slathered in the spicy sauce with my finger and tucked it in my mouth. Her forehead bunched, her heavy gaze fixed on me.

  I sucked on my fingers, the spicy mixing with her tang on my tongue. “Sesame Jill.”

  She let out a low moan and squirmed on the table, her legs falling open, her head sinking back.

  I held out a noodle and laced it over a breast, around the nipple. “What should I do now, baby?”

  “I think you should eat.”

  “I think I should, too, but ladies first.”

  I held another noodle over her mouth, and she opened wide, her tongue stretching to meet it.

  My pulse pounded at the sight, my balls seizing in my jeans. “You hungry?”

  I touched the noodle to her tongue and then pulled it away. Her back arched, her tits jiggling with the movement.

  “Take it.” My voice caught in my throat as I dropped the noodle in her mouth.

  She savored it as if it were a rare, exotic delicacy, her eyes on me.

  “You like it, huh?” I asked, my fingers trailing down her middle to her pussy.

  She nodded, licking her shiny lips.

  I gently circled her clit over the fabric of her panty. “I’m fucking hungry, too. So fucking hungry.”

  Removing my hand from between her legs, I leaned over her chest. My tongue swirled around a pebbled nipple, and she moaned loudly, her body jerking at the contact. I traced wet circles over her and finally sucked on the noodle, nuzzling her skin. I lapped at the spots of spicy sauce on her tit, kneading it hard, getting it in my mouth.

  My other hand pressed between her legs, rubbing over the slippery fabric. Her pelvis rocked, desperate for more friction. The satiny material under my fingertips grew wetter and wetter, and Jill shuddered on Rae’s old kitchen table.

  She was at my mercy, aching for what I could give her, adoring my touch, relishing my desecration of her absolute perfection.

  No, I’m making her more perfect.

  My fingers stroked the unbelievable softness between her breasts. “I just want to sink my teeth into you.”

  Her brows jumped, a wicked smile sweeping her lips. “Do it,” she whispered.

  My middle finger brushed over a rough bump. “What’s this?”

  “What?” She raised her head, her eyes squinting at the spot where I was rubbing over her skin. Her head fell back. “An old scar. It’s nothing.”

  “Here, on your perfect tits? How’d that happen?”

  “Feed me
some more. I’m starving.”

  “Jill? Tell me.”

  “Please.” Her fingers flexed and curled into fists at her sides. “Not now. Not now.”

  “Jillee?” I gently cupped a breast. “You can tell me anything, baby. Anything.”

  Her head sank back against the table. “The jerk who took me years ago. I don’t even want to say his name.”

  I closed my eyes. Mole. The fucker who’d kidnapped Jill and kept her tied up on a motel bed for two days. The fucker whose body I had destroyed and gotten rid of. If I had known then that I’d be feeling this mess of emotions that I was feeling for Jill right now, I would’ve taken more time and much more pleasure in dealing with his corpse.

  “Boner—”

  “Nobody will ever hurt you again. I promise you,” I breathed against her warm skin before planting gentle kisses over the white bumpy scars. “You hear me, Firefly? I want you to forget that fucker and every goddamn evil thing he did to you.”

  “I don’t want to forget.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  Her hand came to my beard, her fingers running through it. “The details have dulled over the years, and I don’t dwell on them like I used to. But I do remember that there is such a hell out there. It makes the good in my life so much sharper and in focus. Becca, Rae and Tania, Grace and her baby. And you. You’re so clear to me. And I want you all to stay that way.”

  There it was again. That strength, that shining vitality that would blow me away each and every time she wielded it like a lightsaber in a dark galaxy.

  A slight smile swept over her gorgeous lips. “Either feed me or fuck me until Rae comes home from the movies. She might get tired and come home early, and before she does, I want you to come inside me.”

  I stared at her as the endless possibilities, the anticipation, were eating me up. I’d won the lottery and couldn’t decide how to spend my winnings.

  “Help me up.”

  I scooped her off the table and set her down on her feet. Her hair was mussed, her eyes dewy, lips red and swollen.