Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4)

by Cat Porter

  “Why don’t you come with us?”

  “To South Dakota?”

  “Yeah, prospect for the One-Eyed Jacks. Give it your best shot.” His lips twitched. “You got a best shot to give?”

  “Sure. Of course I do.”

  “We make our own rules. Live by ’em our way. But with that freedom comes responsibility to each other. We don’t break our own rules, because that only leads to death or prison. We ride together, we fall, we pick each other up. That’s what brothers do.”

  I swallowed past the clump of wet sand in my throat and averted my gaze. “That, I know. I know what brothers do.”

  His hand patted my chest. “Ah, you’ve got a heart in there, huh? You’re trying to hide it, is all.”

  “It got ripped up,” I breathed. “Blood fucking everywhere.”

  “Yeah, there’s always lots of blood. Life sucks ass, Markus, and it’s up to you to hang on and ride through it. For me, it’s only bearable with good men at my side and at my back. You know what that’s like?”

  My eyes followed the delicate pinks and soft blues staining the early morning sky over the water. “I used to. Not anymore. Not for a long time now.” I glanced up at his hard profile. “What’s it like for you?”

  A slight smile curled his lips. “One word.” Dig leaned into me. “Fearless,” he whispered roughly.

  A sharp shiver tore up my spine like a razor blade, and I met his gaze. Thrill, danger, unpredictability.

  “There’s a big raw world out there.” He gestured in the opposite direction of the ocean. “And you can be and do whatever you want in it. That makes me fucking high every morning I wake up and realize I’m still alive.” He let out a small laugh. It was dark; it was hopeful.

  I swallowed, not knowing what to say to that.

  “Anything or anybody keeping you here? Except for these waves, that is,” he asked.

  Keeping me here?

  I had no brother, no mother, no father. No girlfriend I cared about. A few pals I hung with, but no one I’d miss—or, more importantly, no one who’d miss me.

  No one.

  A grin split his face, and he dropped his head back, as if begging the first rays of the sun breaking through the pink-blue sky to bless him. “Out in the Dakotas, we’ve got plenty of lakes, waterfalls, reservoirs, swimming holes. Which means plenty of girls in bikinis. You wouldn’t be missing that, not by a long shot. If that’s what’s really keeping you here.”

  “Shit, you read my mind!”

  We laughed.

  “Well, we got to roll,” he said. “Liked hanging with you, Markus.”

  We shook hands. He slapped me on the back, and I thumped his. My fingers sank into the thick leather of his patched jacket with that incredible star-eyed skull on it.

  “Thanks again for the good time and for getting that bike part, man. You saved our asses, done right by us. Appreciate it.” He squeezed my arms.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “We ever come back this way, and you’re still around…” He shot me a look.

  Was that a veiled insult? A provocation? A challenge?

  Dig flicked a hand at me and strode off toward his bike.

  My stomach dropped.

  Would they ever come back? And where would I be if they did? Still here? Paddling out, hunting the waves, the ride? Working at the 7-Eleven?

  He swung on his bike, his crazy-eyed buddy with the wacky nickname and the long dark hair revving his engine next to him.

  My chest squeezed, and my skin got clammy.

  Wreck, the big guy with the bandana who took care of their bikes and navigated, was at the rear, and their prez, a heavy-set older man, was up at the front. Shit, they rode in a formation. They were a unit. Order, respect, honor.

  Dig glanced at me, slid his Ray-Bans over his eyes, and fit his gloves on his hands. Every hair on my body stood on end, as if jolted by electricity, by a once-in-a-lifetime last chance. A signal flare of hope in a dark sky over the ocean, and I was alone on a leaky raft.

  He started his engine and hit the throttle.

  That blare of disruption, of arrogance, that noise of protest, that declaration of everything he was, that the Jacks were, right there, ripped through the tender dawn and through my soul.

  “Hey!” I charged toward him, my heart banging in my chest. “Wait! Wait up!”

  Dig grinned from behind those shades.

  He knew.

  Dig leaned back in his saddle, a hand planted on his thigh, his engine rumbling thunder. That grin of his only grew wider. “You coming?”

  I closed my eyes and made a wish on this very same beach. The beach where it’d all begun and ended for me three times over—when I’d given up, when I’d chased after hope, and now, when I was carving that hope and new dreams into a solid reality.

  My fingers brushed over the silver hummingbird skull that hung against my chest.

  I held Tania’s hand in mine and made that wish of thanks, of gratitude, to him, my friend, my brother. I prayed for his peace as the relentless waves of the vast blue crashed and broke before us.

  “Butler, you okay?” Tania squeezed my arm.

  I held her eyes, which squinted in the sun. Her face was flush with heat. Her white dress billowed behind her in the wind, her bare toes in the sand.

  Fuck you, Romeo, and your dagger and your poison. I unlocked that gate myself, I got back into Verona, and got my girl.

  I crushed Tania’s mouth with mine and kissed my wife.

  The next day, I took Tania to see my parents. It had been almost twenty-five years since we’d last seen each other. They were shocked. They were pleased. Tania did all the talking until Mom, Dad, and I got a handle on the situation.

  As we sat together in that same living room on that same furniture, my mom offering us those same Italian cookies that were her favorites on those same daisy-trimmed dishes, we relaxed and began to talk.

  Tania held my hand and didn’t let go.

  I took Tania south along the California coastline. We swam in the cold ocean, Tania’s body sliding against mine in the water. I got her on a surfboard, and she didn’t do half bad for a first-timer.

  We’d run on the sand in the mornings, and she'd watch me as I hit the waves. I’d lift the board out of the water and make my way back to her on the beach where she waited for me with a towel, a huge smile on that gorgeous face.

  Our last night in California, we hung out on the beach checking out the stars in the night sky, enjoying the sound of the surf. I sang her favorite ballad to her as she nestled into my chest. When I got to the end of “Black,” Tania joined in with the background vocals, and we laughed.

  In that full, rich laugh of my wife’s, the sadness and loss and longing of that song had been erased. There was only joy, because we had that beautiful life together, and Tania was that star in my sky, and I was hers.

  “BABY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS.”

  Butler’s eyes flashed at me. “Tania.”

  He lifted me in his arms, climbed the porch steps, and swept us through the front door of my great-grandmother’s Victorian house in Pine Needle.

  Our new home.

  “Welcome home, Scarlett.”

  “Welcome home, Rhett.”

  We kissed.

  After we’d gotten back from California, Butler had moved into my mother’s house, and we’d used my old room. However, along with my mother, we’d decided that instead of knocking down a wall to create a large bedroom and bath suite, we would instead spruce up the house and put it on the market. We had, and we’d ended up getting a good price on it.

  In the meantime, we’d also put our resources to work in my great-grandmother’s house. I’d brought Butler and my mother to see it, and Butler had fallen in love with the house.

  We’d hired Willy to oversee the contracting and to take care of the finer details. We’d transformed the large formal dining room on the ground floor into a bedroom and bath for my mother and converted the large living roo
m and kitchen—which Mom and Penny and I’d had fun modernizing—into a single great space that was open and airy. The area was easy for Rae to maneuver in, especially once she would have to use a wheelchair full-time at some point in the future.

  Along the way in this project, I’d found lots of architectural motifs from my and Butler’s sporadic pick travels for us to use in the house and in the large garden. Willy and I’d soon realized that we had a good thing going and put our heads together. I’d amped up those sorts of salvage picks and found him a hell of a lot of one-of-a-kind pieces. He’d used them to create unique furniture and home accents, combining wood and metals, like antiqued bronze and copper and iron. I’d featured his work in my store, and they’d become wildly popular with many professional interior designers from all over the country.

  The house had been in good condition, and our renovation had only taken about four months to complete. Up next was building an extra garage for Butler’s bikes and our two snowmobiles. We were all moved in. At last, we had our own family home.

  Today, a beautiful warm spring day, was housewarming party day. Today was also Thunder’s first birthday.

  Butler set me down in the entryway, and I peeked over his shoulder. Boner had my mother’s arm in his and helped her up the ramp that he’d installed himself by the front steps. Becca came up behind them, holding Thunder’s hand. Grace’s son toddled through the great room, his tiny feet stamping in the new red high-tops I’d bought him, his eyes wide as he took in the house. He let go of Becca’s hand and laughed as he tore around the kitchen island, his long black hair swinging behind him.

  “Becca, go get him. Keep him out of the kitchen, so he doesn’t see his birthday cake!” Grace laughed, her eyes on her son, as he zoomed past the corner where Butler’s acoustic guitar stood on a stand alongside a new electric guitar in between a pair of leather armchairs.

  “Thunder! Wait!” shouted Becca, chasing him.

  “I already feel the spills coming on,” Grace said. “I’m going to get out more paper towels to be ready.” She opened the pantry closet.

  “They’re on the bottom left,” I said from the sink where I washed a serving platter. “There should be three jumbo rolls.”

  “Tania?”

  “What is it?”

  My gaze darted to the pantry closet where Grace gestured at the ten large containers of Ghirardelli sweet ground chocolate and cocoa gourmet powder.

  “What the heck are you doing with so much sweetened cocoa? Have you been baking? You hate baking.”

  My face flared with heat. “Rae really enjoys a good cup of cocoa, and she got me and Butler addicted. I found a huge sale online. You know me and a sale. I couldn’t resist stocking up.”

  “I’ll have to try it.”

  “Very tasty. Very high quality.”

  “Uh-huh.” Grace eyed me as she ripped open a new roll of paper towels.

  I dried the serving platter and handed it to Alicia.

  Alicia and Ronny, who were now living together, set up the truckload of food they’d brought from a friend’s restaurant in Deadwood. Jill and Boner and Dready had brought the beer from Miner Brewery, a local craft brewery in Hill City, and the wine from its sister company, Prairie Berry Winery. We loved supporting our local businesses.

  Aunt Charlotte and Penny had baked an endless array of pies and cakes and beautifully frosted cupcakes for the kids that were spectacularly laid out on the old oak dining room table that Willy had restored.

  I cornered Jill by Aunt Charlotte’s blackberry buckle.

  “What’s going on with you, hmm?” I asked, slanting my head.

  Her eyes slid to mine. “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t touched any booze at all today. Highly unlike you. Highly suspect. I noticed this the other night at Pete’s, too.”

  “I was the designated driver!” She threw her hands in the air.

  “And you hate being designated driver, and yet this time you volunteered. Spill.”

  Jill bit at her lip, putting down her glass of iced tea. She leaned into me. “We’re trying to get pregnant.”

  “Honey!” I grabbed her in a huge hug. “I’m so excited!”

  A huge smile blazed over her face. “We talked about it a while back, but I think Boner didn’t want to pressure me. He can’t wait though, and frankly, neither can I. The timing feels right, especially with Becca acclimated to school now. The business is on steady feet, too, right?”

  “Very right.”

  “We started trying over a month ago. So far, nothing yet, but we’ll see. I didn’t want to say anything yet.”

  “Of course.” I hugged her again. “Good for you.”

  “Look at him.” Jill picked up her iced tea and gestured across the room with it, toward where Boner sat with Lock on our long sofa, Thunder in his daddy’s lap.

  The boy screeched as Boner tickled and teased him.

  “You see that light in his eyes?” Jill said softly, a wistful tone in her voice. “That’s a special kind of joy, and I want him to feel that every day, in his own home, with his own child in his arms. I want to give him that.”

  “You will. Give it time.”

  My gaze fell on Wes, his arm around his mother, talking with Butler. “Can’t believe that boy is off to college next week.”

  “University of Arizona, watch out,” murmured Jill.

  “Amen.”

  Jill let out a breath. “This is going to be hard on Alicia.”

  “I know. Butler and I are going to go down to Tucson with her and Wes, help set him up, hold her hand.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Because I can’t imagine Ronny can get away now, right?”

  “Did she tell you that she finally got him to open a second tattoo shop after all these years, and in Meager?”

  “Ronny just told me. I’m so excited.” Jill smirked. “There’s no stopping her. Ever.”

  The party ran on. My brother and Nina arrived with their son, Joe. Becca immediately took her little brother in hand and brought him to sit in his grandmother’s lap.

  “Grandma misses you. You need to come visit more often.”

  Joe only stuck a finger in his mouth.

  Boner brought out Thunder’s birthday cake that he’d gotten from the Meager Grand—a double layer chocolate cake decorated with blue and green fondant for wild grasses with two horses grazing on the very top. Thunder was obsessed with horses.

  I lit the single sparkly candle and Lock held his son as we all sang Happy Birthday to our favorite little one year old boy in the whole wide world.

  Thunder’s eyes widened and he hopped up and down in his daddy’s arms.

  “You ready, Thunder?” Lock asked, his wet eyes glimmering. “Did you make your wish?”

  The boy nodded and together with his mommy and daddy, he blew out his birthday candle, and we all cheered.

  The party started to wind down once my mother gave sloppy kisses and big hugs to her grandchildren and Thunder and retreated into her room.

  An hour later we said our good-byes to our guests. Grace and Lock were the last ones to leave.

  Grace and I hugged each other tightly.

  “A perfect day in a beautiful house.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Are you crying? Why are you crying?” I whispered.

  “Because I’m so happy that you two found each other. So happy for you both. And I’m glad that we’re all here together. I found out the hard way—”

  “Shh.” I hugged her again. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Grace planted a kiss on my cheek.

  Lock held his son in his arms while Thunder leaned forward and planted a juicy kiss on Butler’s cheek.

  “Oh! Thank you,” said Butler. “Bye, Thunder.” He held out his hand to the birthday boy.

  “Bye!” Thunder high-fived Butler, and my husband smiled at him.

  “Later, man.” Lock shook Butler’s hand, his son’s arms wrapped around his neck.

  Bu
tler rubbed a hand down Thunder’s back. “He’s tired, huh?”

  “Best party ever,” said Lock.

  “Yes, it was,” murmured Butler.

  Lock and Grace descended the porch steps, fastened their son in his car seat, got in their truck, and took off, waving at us.

  Butler slung an arm around my waist. “Mrs. M, we should hit the hay. We got an early start tomorrow morning on that bike of mine.”

  “I’m looking forward to Montana. An early night sounds very good. Now with the house totally done and the party down, I am so ready to relax under your magic spell.” I squeezed his ass.

  “Who said anything about a spell? My magic cock, you mean.”

  “Your magic cock has me under its spell, baby.”

  “You’re not too tired, I hope.”

  “Me? No.”

  “That’s good because I didn’t have any desserts today. I saved my sweet tooth for you, Scarlett.”

  I leveled my eyes at him. “Did you?”

  He let out a laugh, his tongue lashing out at my lips. “Get upstairs. I’ll lock up, put the alarm on, and then I’ll bring us some dessert we can share in bed. That was chocolate ganache in that cake, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hmm. Get moving.”

  I darted up the stairs, a huge grin on my face, and I waited for my old man in our brand-new king-size bed.

  “Scarlett, it’s a ’32 Roadster.”

  “A what?”

  “A 1932 Ford Roadster—the inspiration for the Beach Boys hit ‘Little Deuce Coupe’?” My pulse raced as Tania’s face struggled to register. “Baby, you remember John, the cool dude, in American Graffiti?”

  “Yeah, of course. He was the ultimate cool dude. Very sexy.”

  “This is cool dude’s hot rod.”

  Her eyes popped open wide. “Oh my God! That car is an icon.”

  My hand passed over the rusted hood of the ancient vehicle. “This is so fucking rare. Jesus.”

  We were in a dilapidated garage piled high with all manner of goodies and junk belonging to an elderly man, a die-hard collector of everything under the sun, in the middle of Montana where Lock had asked us to go and look at a ’67 GTO and a ’51 Mercury for Eagle Wings. Lock didn’t want to leave home so frequently anymore, so he’d asked me and Tania to take a look for him.