Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (26 page)

Butler flexed his bloodied right hand—
my brother’s blood
—his face grim, as the weight of all eyes were on him. What a combo of public revelation and personal humiliation. After all these years of him being unattached, his new old lady—his hot, fresh young thing that he’d brought all the way out here to South Dakota—had been caught cheating on him.

Butler raised his chin at Dready and Bear, and the men dragged Catch off, away from the track and further into the property where I knew the rocky, grassy terrain met a dense patch of trees on the border of their land.

My brother’s grunts faded as my heart banged louder in my chest.

Butler turned to Jump. “Let go of my old lady.”

All eyes went to Jump. The amused snarl on his face only deepened. He didn’t let go.

“Let. Her. Go.” Butler’s voice simmered with viciousness.

“Jump!” shouted Alicia.

Jump shoved Nina, and she sprawled onto the ground at Butler’s feet. Butler immediately pulled her up. She clutched at him, her chest heaving with jagged breaths and cries.

“He forced me,” she spit out. “Catch came out of nowhere, and he-he tried to—”

My blood jammed in my neck. “No! No fucking way!”

Butler wrapped his arms around her, his jaw tight. “It’s all right.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

That woman was not going to accuse my brother of trying to rape her. No fucking way. There had to be an explanation.

I pushed past Butler and his old lady and took off for the woods—for my brother. Two massive hands grabbed me and pulled me back into a wall of hard muscle. I recognized the scent of the animal.

“Don’t do it, Tania. Do not,” Boner hissed in my ear as he held me tight against his chest.

I struggled in his hold. He was leaner and thinner than the rest of the Jacks, but he was very, very strong. “My brother would not try to rape her, for God’s sake! That’s insane. Makes no sense. She’s lying. She’s a lying little whore.”

His green eyes glimmered as he leaned in closer to me. “Don’t make this any harder for Butler.”

“Fuck Butler!” I shouted loudly.

Butler caught my feral gaze over his old lady’s head.

“Fuck Nina, and fuck you, too, Boner.”

Boner dragged me away from the crowd, and I squirmed in his hold.

“Listen to me! Calm down, damn it.”

I pushed against his chest.

“Tania!” He grabbed my arms. “The sooner you calm down, the quicker I can get over there and make sure your brother stays in one piece, you hear?”

I stopped, gulping in air. “It’s not like they’re going to give him a chance to explain himself, are they?”

“No, but I can make sure they don’t go overboard.”

“That bitch is lying, Boner!”

“Calm the fuck down, and stay with Jill.” He squeezed my arms and released them, charging toward the woods.

“Alicia, get Nina inside,” Butler muttered.

Alicia led Nina to the clubhouse.

“You gonna let her slide?” Jump asked, his voice raised. “You gonna believe her story?”

“My old lady, my way,” Butler replied, his voice leaden.

Jump let out a grunt, his arms folding across his broad chest. “You couldn’t give it to her the way she wanted, huh? She had to look for it elsewhere? Too bad she’s so stupid that she picked a Flame to fuck. You’d think she’d know better. But, you see, once a Flame always a Flame. You’re learning your lesson now at least.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Butler’s voice boomed.

My breath caught, and needles shot up my spine. Jump only laughed and headed out to the woods where the men were holding Catch.

A cacophony of muffled groans and grunts rose in the distance. Bear’s deep laugh howled in the night air along with sickening thuds and a string of curse words and taunting threats.

Nausea swirled in my belly as Butler stalked off toward the woods.

I ran and grabbed his arm. “What are you going to do? Are you going to kill him?”

Butler’s grim eyes leveled on mine. “Go home, Tania.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” My fingertips dug into his flesh. “You can’t kill him. You can’t!”

Butler only pressed his lips together, putting his hand over mine on his arm. His eyes were clouded, dark, revealing nothing. He detached my grip from his arm and strode away, leaving me standing alone in the dark.

“Drew, stupid Drew,” I muttered to myself, my hands shaking. I balled them into fists.

The music rose in the courtyard. AC/DC pounded in my skull. Men from all the charters of the One-Eyed Jacks ran after Butler, after my brother.

I stepped back and bumped into the buffet table laden with empty food bowls and dishes, strewed with wilting flowers, littered with the small smooth rocks Jill had calligraphed in gold with wishes for the baby.

On the turn of a dime, everything had become ugly.

“Tania?”

I gulped in air and swiveled around. Lenore stood with Jill, the two of them clutching each other, stiff as boards.

“Let’s get out of here, Tania,” said Lenore. “There’s nothing we can do.”

The hell there isn’t.

“I’m staying. Can you take Jill to my house? My sister should be there with Becca and my mom by now.”

“Tania, come with us,” said Jill.

“I have to stay.”

Lenore’s jaw tightened as she took Jill’s hand in hers. “Let’s get out of here, honey.”

“How could he be so stupid, Tania? How?” Jill’s voice shook.

“Did you know anything about him and Nina?” I asked. “You talk with her. You—”

“Not a thing. Didn’t even suspect. She’s been keeping to herself a lot lately, and I thought that was strange.” Jill wiped at her hair, pushing it behind her ears. “But how could he do this? Even if he didn’t attack her, and I doubt he did—”

“I’m not buying it.”

“I don’t want to stick around for whatever’s coming next,” Lenore muttered. “Let’s go.”

“Lenore’s right. You two go. I’ll call you, Jill.”

“You sure? Please come with us. I don’t like this,” Jill replied.

“Go.”

Lenore and Jill receded into the shadows of the track.

I glanced at the clubhouse. The huge central door was now closed, and six or seven prospects from all the different chapters were smoking and laughing at the entryway. Good times in Bikerland. They were probably laying bets on my brother’s survival about now. He was the main attraction at the carnival.

I didn’t want to see my brother tortured, maimed, or end up dead at the hands of the One-Eyed Jacks. And I certainly didn’t want his foolishness to be the cause for some sort of interclub vendetta yet again. This drama could get out of hand really quickly; and it usually did.

I untucked my cell phone from my tiny crossover bag. I stared at the dark screen.

One night at a high school keg party when we were sixteen years old, I had yelled after Grace as she ran toward the One-Eyed Jacks, toward Dig.

“Grace! Don’t you dare!”
I’d shouted after her.

She hadn’t listened to me, and she’d run over to them to beg for help to save her sister, Ruby, from getting beaten up and probably gang-raped by a group of arrogant football players. I’d thought going to those bikers was only asking for more trouble. They were dangerous. I’d warned her. I’d tried to stop her with logic, with my shout.

But even then, Grace had understood that
to dare
,
to fly
in the face of the unknown,
to take a risk
had merits, especially if the reason was so very important, and her sister’s safety most certainly was.

Life sometimes demanded that you make a leap. No thinking, no weighing rights and wrongs. Only believing.

Believing in your own instinct.

Respecting the boom of that thunder Lock had talked about earlier at the christening.

I had been such a skilled speculator and a comfortable spectator as a teenager and a young woman. Not much of a risk-taker. But that was a long time ago, and I’d grown up since then. The irony was that in recent years, since I’d gotten married, I’d slid back into that passivity, and I’d been bruised by
not
making those leaps, by turning away, by staying still, by not answering that demand.

Now, I was here, in this moment.

Yes, I fucking dare.

I opened up my phone and scrolled down my Contacts list, taking in a deep breath as I looked for his name. A name and number I’d hung on to all these years. I’d never had to call him before to ask for his help, but somehow, I’d known that I just might need to one day.

If there was a time to step over the line I had drawn for myself, it was now.

I tapped on his name.

He answered on the first ring. “Tania?” came that low voice with a hint of a scratch to it. Expectant, suspicious, concerned.

My insides twisted.

Step over the line.

“I’m sorry. I must be bothering you or interrupting—”

“Talk to me.”

There it was, still there, that respect, that courtesy, that regard that sliced through all the fog, all the years, and any bullshit.

“I’m at the One-Eyed Jacks’ clubhouse in Meager. You need to come here quick.”

“Tania, what’s wrong?”

I took in a breath.

Yes, I fucking dare.

“I need you.”

“Let’s get some tea.” Grace steered me toward the clubhouse kitchen.

“Tea? Seriously?” I spit out.

The commercial kitchen down the long hall reeked of cigarette smoke and the singe of barbecue. Club girls heaped plastic plates and cups into huge black garbage bags. Grace murmured hellos as she opened a cabinet and took down a box of tea bags.

I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t you be home with the baby?”

“My dad and his new girlfriend are at home with him and Jake. She’s a retired nurse, so I’m not having any second thoughts about being here for you right now.”

“Is Lenore still around?” I asked.

“No, she took off with Jill.”

Thank God.

Grace took down two white mugs from a cabinet. “She makes herself scarce when shit goes down. She gets really uncomfortable.”

Old scars never really healed. Ugly deep ones at least.

“Yeah, can’t blame her,” I replied.

The roar and groan of engines rumbled through the open windows. All the women froze.

“Ah, shit, now what?” said one blonde, shutting off the water faucet, ripping off her rubber gloves, and smacking them on the counter.

Grace’s jaw set as she stalked off toward the center lounge. I followed her, my heart doing somersaults in my chest.

I sniffed in air. I’d done the right thing, the only thing that would ensure my brother’s safety and a quick resolution to the shit-tide he’d brought about between two bike gangs. Clubs.
Whatever
.

The lounge was crowded with murmuring voices, still bodies, some Allman Brothers tune playing very low. A gust of cool night air swept through the room from the open main doors beyond the hallway. I steadied myself on my heels.

Finger and two of his men filled the archway at the entrance to the lounge.

“Motherfudgemycake,” Grace breathed.

Finger—dust on his bearded face, a bandana around his head, his long dark hair speckled with gray pulled back in a tie—rested his hands on his hips. His brow was as pronounced as a cliff of jagged granite, the lines of his scarred face still.

“Where the fuck is Jump? And don’t make me wait.”

His tense gaze darted around the room. No one made a sound. No one moved.

His eyes found mine, and he raised his chin. I swallowed hard.

Grace sucked in a breath. “Oh, you didn’t.”