Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (24 page)

But Stephan had been the only one to ever worry about me.

“Welcome, Richard Thunder Kichú,” the pastor pronounced, dribbling water over the baby’s forehead.

The pastor gestured at all of us, and we repeated after him, “Welcome, Richard Thunder Kichú.”

Grace, her face beaming down at her son in Boner’s arms, who slowly rocked him from side to side. A tiny baby fist reached up, and Grace snuck a finger inside that fist, and the little man held on. Jill, who stood on the other side of Boner, grinned. She and Boner were the kid’s godparents.

“Dad would like to say a few words.” Pastor Brad gestured at Lock, who took his son in his arms from Boner and turned to us, Grace at his side.

“Our son is a gift—
kichú
in Lakota. More precisely, a gift that is given back to one’s own. His coming into this world, to us, was a secret wish, a prayer answered and, ultimately, a sacred gift.” Lock swallowed hard. “Our son is also like the thunder that rolls through our sky, signaling a storm ahead, a sign of something greater than us that we have no control over. Ever. There may even be no storm—we don’t know—but the thunder reminds us of the mystery of the Great Spirit in our lives.

“This thunder reminds us that a greater power works in this world,” Lock continued. “A force that has its own logic, authority, and a terrible beauty. And, along with the storms it heralds, it offers us such
kichú
,
and we are able to offer
kichú
in return to each other.”

Boner tucked Jill’s hand in his, his body at attention, his eyes on Lock.

“Thunder fills us with awe when we hear it, even for a tiny moment,” Lock said. “And, in that moment, we acknowledge its power and our powerlessness before it. We feel its rumble inside.” Lock glanced down at his son, laying his big hand on his baby’s tiny chest. “Our son is that thunder in my and Grace’s sky.”

My chest constricted; my motherfucking heart hurt.

Grace wiped at the tears streaking through her smile. Lock took her hand in his, kissed her forehead, and led her back to the front pew, Jill and Boner following.

My gaze fell to my boots, and I choked down a swell of tears I hadn’t known I had.

I felt empty, but that was an understatement.

I felt full, but that was also an understatement.

That I was here at all, to witness this, alive and a part of this circle of
kichú
, was a gift. I rubbed the back of my hand across my mouth. Tania, who was seated in the second row of pews, whispered to Grace’s nephew—her late sister, Ruby’s, son—Jake and to Jill’s daughter, Becca, whom she held in her lap.

Pastor Brad came forward again, clearing his throat. “Richard Thunder Kichú is given new birth through the water and the Spirit.
Baptism is the beginning of a lifelong journey of faith…”

Faith, affirmation, covenant, vow, tradition, love.

I closed my eyes and let Brad’s words seep through me. Yes, they all made sense to me.

A special sense. A One-Eyed Jack sense.

Hadn’t I run after Boner and pulled him from setting himself on fire months ago? That was love, a vow of brotherhood.

Hadn’t I gone along with every little crap job Jump could think of for me these past months? That was my covenant with my club, each job a show of faith, an affirmation of my commitment.

Hadn’t I created a much-needed bridge for our club to another club, establishing new cash wielding opportunities? That was me continuing the tradition of our brotherhood, moving us all toward something better, something more for the Jacks’ future.

Nina uncrossed her legs, a leg bumping into mine, and I sank back against the hard wood of the pew.

Hadn’t I done right by Nina, who’d needed my help to escape from her private hell? That was compassion, a kind of love.

My eyes slid to Tania once more. Black-haired beauty. Cranky Scarlett.

She rocked Becca in her lap, Jake leaning his head against her shoulder, all three of them listening to Brad.

Tania had bolder makeup on today, like at her art gallery party. She’d made a special effort for this special occasion, enough to accent her beautiful features without going overboard and coming off like a jangly bad chord your fingers had mistakenly stumbled over on a guitar. No, she was a perfectly tuned, perfectly elegant composition.

She turned her head, her gaze meeting mine, as if she’d heard me across the church. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

Scarlett.

My seductive dream. My other could-be life.

I miss you. I—

Her sexy lips turned up at the ends, a dark eyebrow lifted. She was happy to see me and teasing me all at the same time. I smiled back, enjoying the odd spiral of heat in my chest. She returned her attention to Becca, and something dimmed inside me.

That was too brief, but that was what it was—unattainable and out of reach. A bolt of lightning before me on the highway. Startling. Unsettling. Breathtaking. Then, in an instant, it vanished; it was gone.

“With baptism, we become a part of the body of Christ in the world.” Brad’s raised voice brought me back to the ritual at hand. “Our name is written in the book of the Lord. We are named. We are commissioned to use our gifts to strengthen His church and to transform the world.

“Richard Thunder Kichú, go forth with the love and the support and commitment of your friends and family gathered here today. God bless you, and may God bless us all. Amen.”

“Amen,” people repeated out loud through the communal murmuring and shuffling.

Grace took her son back in her arms, and Boner swung an arm around Lock. Jill wiped tears from her face and scooped her daughter up into her embrace. Jake hopped up from his seat, joining Grace, his face craning to check out his baby cousin, with his granddad—Grace’s father—at his side.

Grace and Lock had a family. Death, alienation, betrayals—none of it had twisted them in the end. They were the victors.

My eyes clouded; my throat thickened.

I stalked outside of the small church, avoiding the greeting line. I got on my bike and lit a smoke as I watched Tania help her mother into another elderly lady’s car. They took off, and Tania turned and opened her car door. Travis came up behind her, saying something, a crooked grin twisting his mouth. Tania swung around, her face drawn tight.

Always ready for a fight, aren’t you, Scarlett?

Her shoulders dropped, and she broke into a huge smile, her beautiful dark eyes hanging on Travis.

Son of a bitch.

Tania’s face lit up. They talked.

Her face lighting up for me outside that dilapidated house we’d picked over flashed in front of my eyes. Her appreciation of my interest, of any knowledge or history I’d shared with her that she wasn’t aware of, our quick way of teasing each other, the jokes—all those moments seemed so far away and so goddamn precious right this very second.

Travis got closer to Tania and said something. Her eyebrows quirked, her mouth twisting in a perfect combination of,
You must be kidding me
, and,
You’re turning me on
.

I tossed what was left of my cigarette on the ground.

Once Tania and I had gotten back to Meager and she had found out about me and Nina, I’d thought I’d have a female shitstorm on my hands, its sour aftereffects lasting for weeks, if not months, on end. But I’d been so wrong. Tania was bigger than that. I’d seen her face at the club that day as I entered the clubhouse. Her features had been still, registering what she’d just heard. Then, she’d squared her shoulders, turned her back, and moved on.

It should have been a relief to me. Done and dusted.

But it wasn’t.

A deep gouge had ripped through my gut as I was led back inside the clubhouse. Bothered. Disappointed. And fucking confused. Being with Nina was all about no emotional complications, not wanting or needing a real relationship, and knowing I was better off without one. I’d lost Caitlyn. I’d fucked up with Grace. Pain, humiliation, blindness. So much arrogance. Being with Nina was a solution.

Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Inside the clubhouse, my brothers and I’d partied, celebrating my return. I’d been so looking forward to that moment, and instead of enjoying myself, feeling the fucking high, I’d felt an odd desolation deep in the pit of my soul that seeped through every cell and vein in my body.

Tania was interesting to talk with, entertaining, thought-provoking, and to top it all off, she was fucking hot. A hot that was intriguing and complex, a hot whose layers I wanted to uncover and explore and get singed from doing it.

In our petty youth, I had kicked her to the curb at Grace and Dig’s wedding. I’d flirted with Tania by taunting her and coming on strong, plowing right into her. My hands had grabbed at her flesh, as if I were shoplifting and my life depended on it. And she’d backed out at the worst possible moment. We had been fucking, and she’d panicked, deciding she didn’t like what I had been giving her, deciding she didn’t want it. Or maybe she didn’t want it from
me
.

Back then, she’d always looked at me with hints of distaste, dislike, disgust even. If we hadn’t been ignoring each other, we’d been shooting off biting riffs here and there. We’d gotten tangled in each other’s barbed wire. She wouldn’t back down, and I hadn’t quite realized it then, being the self-involved ass I was, but I liked that about her.

In those days, her every glance had been like a scraping over my skin, like she was analyzing me or trying to.

“Let it go, baby. Live and let live,”
I had told her on several drunken occasions.

She’d only rolled her huge dark eyes at me and taken off in the opposite direction.

So, at Dig’s wedding, when she’d stood before me in the repair shed, snarled up in awkwardness—same as me—looking sexy as fuck in that tight dress with, obviously, no underwear underneath, I had gone for it. Or maybe a better description would be that I’d dived for it headfirst.

And she’d taken me up on it.

I had known I was her taste of the lowlife, a secret escapade, a dirty fling, and I’d liked that. That was what most women had wanted out of me anyway. That, I had known how to do and do it well. I’d been with plenty of women, both way younger and way older than me, single and married, regular and rich, all of whom had wanted a bite of the other side. And I’d never said no to providing them with what they wanted. But to toss Tania into that category and to shift blindly into fifth gear with her from the get-go had been stupid.

At Dig and Grace’s wedding, I’d been heaving in a tornado of irritation and tension that whole day, and lashing out at Tania had been entertaining, a distraction, a fleeting remedy. I’d wanted to feel like a king again even if it was only for a moment. I got her on that damned couch, and we got busy. Just as I’d started coming, she had pushed at me, panicking. She’d thought better of it, of me. Fuck, I had been a self-centered lay back then. I couldn’t say I remembered it much, but I was sure I’d just hammered away at her, getting my rush on.

In the end, I’d gotten left with my wet dick in my hands and hurled bitter words at her for it, letting her know how ridiculous I thought she was before I’d stalked off.

Ugh.

“Butler? Let’s go. Come on.”

Nina climbed on the back of my bike, her hands latching on to my sides.

I started up my bike and sped out of the church parking lot, swinging by Tania’s Yukon. Travis had one arm planted over the door of the vehicle, leaning down toward her open window, the two of them chatting.

Tania’s dark eyes darted over at me as I zoomed past in a blur.

“
THINGS WITH JUMP
any better?” I asked Alicia.

“Nope.” Alicia’s matte mauve lips pursed together. “He’s moved on from feeling bad already. Can’t say I have.”

“Another shot, ladies?” asked a young blonde with a dozen full shot glasses on the serving tray she held before us.

“Sure,” I said, taking two glasses and handing one to Alicia.

The weather had cooperated beautifully for the christening party at the club. A grand buffet table stood at one end of the center of the track, and Alicia and I sat at the other long table opposite, which was for the guests to sit and eat.