Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (21 page)

“I haven’t, no,” I replied.

“Me either,” Butler said. “Something up?”

“He was supposed to be here an hour ago, so I could show him how to use the airbrush. First time since he started working for me that he hasn’t shown without a word.”

Jump and Alicia’s son, Wes was a handsome, tall seventeen-year-old. His parents’ severe falling out after Jump had screwed two club girls at a party when Alicia was out of town was an extreme blow to their only child. A son who spent a lot of time with his dad and at the club in between school and football. A son who loved his mother and was now very disappointed in his father.

“That’s not good. I’ll keep an eye out,” Butler said.

“I’ll try calling him again. Not sure I want to call Alicia, upset her.”

“Yeah, give it another hour,” said Butler. “Maybe he’ll slide on in.”

“I hope so. On top of the deadlines we got here, he’s been on board to help with the kids’ designs for the Go-Kart Championship. I need him. Beyond that, he made promises to those kids, and they look up to him.”

“You’re right,” Butler said.

“And, hey, don’t forget about your snowmobile, man.”

“Will do.”

Lock tipped his chin at us. “Later.”

Butler pulled out his phone and dialed, waited, and shut it down again. He let out a huff of air as he typed out a text.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“It’s Wes. I’m concerned.”

“That bad?”

“Not sure.”

“So, tell me about the Go-Kart Championship,” I said.

“Lock and Grace got the town to agree to a race for the junior high in town. It’s part art project, part learning seminar on cars, practical teamwork. Mostly a good time. We’re gonna have it here on our track.”

“Oh, right. Grace had mentioned it to me a while back. You’re going to raise money for a Moms with Cancer support group she helped put together in Ruby’s memory at the hospital, right?” Grace’s sister Ruby had passed away from lung cancer almost two years ago.

“Yeah, it should be good. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You like working with the kids?”

“I do. I actually like helping them and teaching them. It’s satisfying in a different way from just doing the work to make a buck.”

“That’s great. You must be a real car and bike expert after living and working here all these years?”

“I was before I got here, Tania. My dad had his own auto parts store and repair shop back in northern California. This shit’s in my blood. It’s funny because my dad and my brother were real close, but Stephan hated the work. I was the one who liked it, was good at it, but it didn’t bring me any closer to my dad.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. What does your brother do? I’m assuming he didn’t take over your dad’s store?”

His head snapped up at me. He looked lost, like a child who hadn’t realized he had wandered off in a store. His features tightened, and that lost child vanished. “Stephan died when we were in high school. A car accident.”

“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.

“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!”