Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (70 page)

It’d all started on a pick in Iowa. I had come across a couple of choice finds, pieces that I’d spotted and recognized amid the rubble—an Indian bike frame from the sixties and an old Mustang grill—and I’d brought them home for Lock and Boner to use at Eagle Wings. They’d been thrilled, so the ball had officially started rolling for the Rusted Heart in the bike and car field, too. Tania had put me on the payroll, and I’d gotten health insurance for the first time in my life.

We were adulting.

Tania had convinced Willy and Clip to start a side business, restoring and cleaning up a wide variety of antiques that we brought home. Instead of sending these pieces off to someone else to fix and paying through the nose for it, the boys would now take care of it. In house and in the brotherhood was the way we rolled.

On the road, Tania and I always managed to mix business with plenty of pleasure. A torch of heat blasted through me with the memory of last night. The motel we’d stayed at had been vacant, except for us, so we’d taken full advantage and gotten loud, noisy, and very creative in our room, in the hallway by the ice machine, in the small swimming pool in the middle of the night.

Yeah, I loved working with my wife.

I took a few pics of the rusted hull of the ’32 Coupe with my cell phone and sent them to Lock. Within one minute, my phone rang.

“Man, tell me this is for real!” boomed Lock’s voice through my phone.

“It’s very real,” I replied. “But I’m still pinching myself.”

I described the car and its condition. There wasn’t much left of the Ford’s insides, but the original body and frame, the windshield, and the grill were all there. A piece of heaven.

“Do what you gotta do,” said Lock. “Get it.”

I got the car and all its pieces for a sweet two thousand bucks. Pulling it out of that damn storage garage took hours and lots of help from a neighbor and his sons. Tania wouldn’t let me do any heavy lifting. We called Jill, and she arranged for our amazing treasure to be shipped to Meager.

The next day, on our way home, Tania and I crossed over into South Dakota and then the Meager town limits. We zoomed past the cemetery, the fork in the road that led to Clay Street, the center of our town—at one end, Erica’s Meager Grand Cafe, and on the other, the lone, stalwart from a bygone age, the Prairie Pumper gas station. We swung toward the club, and Tania’s hands grew tighter around my middle.

Every time we rode down this way through our town, following the winding asphalt that led to the private gravel drive of the One-Eyed Jacks’ property, it was a small victory for me.

Going home.

Being home.

Being alive.

The black edges of the mass of evergreens and the ancient worn crags of the Black Hills rose on the horizon, overlooking Meager, as my bike brought us to the top of the drive. That strong scent of pine and birch, edged with a hint of lush green undergrowth, mixed with the crisp air, filled my grateful lungs.

We were home, where we were meant to be.

I opened the throttle a little more, and the pounding of the wind became fiercer, the colors around us vivid. For the first time in a very, very long time, my heart pumped easy, and it pumped free, rich with satisfaction, warm with the afternoon heat of the sun along with my wife’s beautiful body pressed against me, her strong heart beating in tune with mine.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, having followed us home since we’d crossed the state line. A magnificent storm was brewing, had been for hours. My eyes darted up at the supercell gathering force, its billowy bulk churning, swirling, in the thick gray sky. Lightning streaked through the dramatic mass of clouds.

Very soon, the storm would break, or maybe it would suddenly change direction. You could rarely predict its course, and a Dakotan accepted these natural laws. You learned to ride when you could and loved it hard when you did. You knew that the storms cutting loose would release their rage and maybe even ruin.

Yet it was in the aftermath, in those ruins that such cruel storms left behind, that we lifted ourselves to see the possibilities once again. We believed that the sunflowers would once more grow, rise tall, and sway against the infinite Meager sky.

The work of the artist in this story, Gerhard Von Richter and his wife Astrid, is directly inspired by real life Wisconsin baker and artist Eugene Von Bruenchenhein and his wife Marie. While working at an art gallery in New York City, I was introduced to this genius’s life story and work first hand by a dealer from Chicago soon after the artist’s house and life’s work had been discovered upon the his death. I was very moved by his story and fascinated by his work, and that fascination and inspiration has stayed with me all these many years.

I have pinned as much of the artist’s work as I could find on Pinterest, and you’ll find it on my Pinterest
board
for this book. Eugene Von Bruenchenhein’s work can be found in the collections of major American museums, galleries, and private collectors.

THE LOCK & KEY SERIES

Lock & Key

Random & Rare

Iron & Bone

Blood & Rust

HISTORICAL STANDALONE

Wolfsgate

COMING NEXT

Finger’s story in a standalone novel

To Najla Qamber for your artistry and magic. You make my dreams and visions a reality. I can’t thank you enough for taking this series journey with me, teaching me new things, flying with me, and offering me a whole new world of possibilities.

To Jovana Shirley, for your professionalism, thoroughness, and for putting up with my many epiphanies!

To Christina Trevaskis for believing in me. For your insights, instincts, articulate and gentle guidance, your generosity, and your friendship. For your wonderful long emails and messages, which I adore. I am so very grateful for your being with me on this journey, and I look forward to much more creativity together.

To Sue Banner. Where would I be without you as a friend and a book person!? I’m shuddering merely considering it…Your professionalism and friendship mean the world to me.

To Linda of Sassy Savvy Fabulous PR for freaking me out, for pushing me off the cliffs I need to jump from, for listening, for your smarts, for the gifs, for spelling it all out time and time again, and for believing in me. And a big thank you to Melissa and Sharon.

To Jenny Rohrach and your amazing Prairie Californian blog. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions and for sharing with me your insights into life on a sunflower farm in the Dakotas. I love your blog, and your spirit inspires me!

To my beta readers who are dear friends: Natalie (who put up with quite an awkward first draft), Alison (who swallowed chapters like a serial novella at all hours), Lena and Rachel whose keen eyes and pointed remarks, spot on suggestions, and positivity continue to keep me on my toes and push me to do better, reach farther, go deeper, and find the precious details. And Needa, for keeping it real. You ladies are amazing, and I am honored and privileged to have you dive into my rough, raw words and show me the trust that you do in each and every book.

Special thanks to author Needa Warrant whose friendship, sisterhood, opinions, story instincts never cease to humble me. You laugh at me, push me, kick me in the ass, and through all my many ups and downs, pull my hair and hold my hand, all at the same time. Truly something. I love you, woman.

To Alison for being such a wonderful virtual PA over there in the USA and having my back. Love riding this train with you, girlfriend! To Jenn for your friendship and support, for always listening, and the endless love.

To my Cat Callers for the honesty and the laughs we share. Thank you for your support and for making our little corner of Facebook special.

To Ellen, Kandace, Lori, Jo, Sharon, Cindy, Kaylee, MJ, Soulla, Larri, Iza, Shanda, Jan, Amy, Penny, Sammy, Amy F.—you ladies amaze me and blow me away with your big hearts and book passion and messages that keep me laughing. I bow before thee and am thrilled to call you my friends. (Thank you for those coffee shop details, Larri! Wink wink.)

To Milasy & co. of the Rock Stars of Romance for taking the time to read the series and for shouting out about loving these stories and these characters, especially Dig, because #DigForever. An honor, woman! To the amazing Book Bellas, the Dirty Book Girls, Kinky Girls Book Obsessions, Perusing Princesses, iScream Books, EDGY Reviews, Kindle Friends Forever, I Love Book Love, Divas Book Lounge, and so many more—there are no words that are adequate! To all the bloggers and readers and reviewers who have taken a chance on reading my books, on sharing teasers and ads, writing reviews, and sharing the book love, I thank you for all your hard work and the tremendous support. Without you, all this simply does not happen. Thank you for every incredible thing you do.

To authors Willow Aster, Leylah Attar, Daryl Banner, BL Berry, Lorelei James, Shay Savage, Mara White for their support and enthusiasm. It’s such an honor and a great pleasure to know you.

To Blue Bayer, for once again generously allowing me to use one of his beautiful, unique jewelry designs on a cover and in my story.

To my family, you are at the center of it all. To my cousin Domna, the medical professional, who provided me with all the details I needed.