Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (19 page)

“I got myself one of those a few years back, too, and I survived just fine.”

I only nodded.
You always do, it seems.

I’d first met Lenore
over twenty years ago. Two months after Grace and Dig’s wedding when I’d finally left Meager. When I’d met
him
. An escapade, an experience that was burned in my memory and was so pivotal to me, yet at the same time, disturbing, heartbreaking.

“How long have you been in Meager?” I asked.

“Right after we last saw each other, I came here. I liked it a lot. I stayed.”

“Have you seen…” I asked in a whisper.

“No.” Her voice was firm, her tone blunt.

“Oh, I have,” I blurted.

Maybe I should shut the hell up.

Her eyes widened at me. Was she surprised or scared?

“You two getting to know each other?” Grace asked, an arm at my waist.

“Lenore was just telling me about her divorce,” I said.

“I was. Stay away from musicians, Tania, whatever you do.” Lenore raised her drink at me, and I clinked her tall glass with my martini as we held each other’s gaze. “Fuck them, but don’t marry them. Ever.”

I laughed. “Ah, I’ll keep that in mind. So, what kind of musician was your ex-husband?”

“He was the bassist for this band called Cruel Fate,” Lenore said, sipping on her drink.

“No way! They were huge for a while there. Aren’t they from our parts?”

“They are. In fact, Grace here played a part in their success,” Lenore replied.

“Not really.” Grace waved a hand. “When I managed Pete’s, I booked them a few times when they were first making it around Rapid. They returned the favor later on after they’d hit the big time, and they played Pete’s on a few special nights. They brought in big crowds and good attention for Meager and the bar.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said.

Grace bumped my shoulder with hers. “See what you missed out on?”

“I guess I never should’ve left town,” I replied, my tone dry.

Lenore’s eyes slid to mine. She sipped her drink.

I know, Rena. I know. It was a good thing I left. Otherwise, we never would have met. Otherwise…

I licked the traces of sweet apple and vodka from my lips, fighting to block the visuals.

If I’d never left Meager when I did, I never would’ve crossed paths with Lenore, and she’d be dead right now or worse. And me? I would have bumbled and stumbled along on my merry way and been a much different Tania than the one I was now.

But here she was, best friends with my best friend, a successful small business owner, and most importantly, healthy, confident, and happy as hell with herself.

Sounds good to me. All good.

I raised my glass at her again and smiled. A true smile. A we-did-good-girlfriend smile.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies!” boomed a woman’s velvety voice over the microphone.

We settled in our seats as Cassandra, the gorgeous and very elegant African American talent manager of the Tingle, started off the evening with a warm welcome and introductions. Butler stood at the side of the stage, his arms crossed.

The lights flashed and dimmed, and the crowd applauded as Cassandra swept off the stage. An electronica song pounded out its pulsing beat, and three men in shiny black cowboy hats and impressive black chaps appeared onstage. Each of them thrust and pulsed their hips to the rhythm.

I grabbed a fresh apple martini.

These crazy cowboys were wildly talented dancers. We roared and clapped furiously.

One of the dancers came forward and headed for Mary Lynn, taking her hand and raising her from her chair. This hunk of man was all shiny-skinned with ripped muscles to hell and back, which he somehow managed to make flutter and pulsate on their own in a display of testosterone gone mad.

“Spartacus of the Wild West,” I muttered to myself.

Mary Lynn squealed as he twirled her around and led her away from the table toward the stage, but she pulled away, shaking her head at him.

“Come on, Mary Lynn! Go!” I yelled, clapping.

“She can’t!” Jill shouted over the blare of the music.

“Why the hell not?” I asked, my eyes still pinned on Spartacus.

“Because her old man is going to freak. He’s here at the bar with the rest of the men,” she replied.

I glanced toward the bar where Boner, Lock, Jump, Kicker, and Judge sat stern-faced, all in a row, like ornery bulls caged in a pen. Only, these bulls were clutching beer bottles and glasses of liquor.

“What the hell is the point of ladies’ night then?” I asked.

Dee got the dancer’s attention, and pointed me out to him.

Spartacus Cowboy shot me an I’m-coming-for-you-and-you’re-all-mine grin, stalking over to me in his cut-muscled glory.

“The guys will leave soon, they’re going to get bored!” shouted Grace over the din of the music. “But for now, you be our ice-breaker! Go!”

“Why me?” I asked.

“You’re the only single woman at our table!” Jill clapped.

Nina laughed at her side, hooting and whistling.

Single woman?

Spartacus swiveled in front of me, his oiled up skin shiny and inviting under the lights. He took my hand in his, making a show of kissing it, his mouth moving up my arm. I laughed at his melodramatic expression, at the roar of the crowd.

“Go! Go! Go!” shouted and clapped all the women around me.

Hell yes! I am proud to be single, goddamn it.

I shot up from my chair, and a slick grin broke over Spartacus’s chiseled face.

Let me enthrall you,
his face said.

I grinned.
Give me your best, baby
.

He led me up the small set of stairs to the side of the stage, and we brushed past a familiar figure.

Butler.

I glanced at him. His eyes were shiny blue stones, his lips tilting in a lopsided grin, as the dancer pushed me down into a waiting chair onstage. I held Butler’s steady gaze, and he raised his chin at me and smiled.

Spartacus danced in front of me, beckoning me with his pistoning hips and undulating pelvis. Each crazy move was greeted with cheers and whoops from the crowd. He took my hand in his and rubbed it along his ass as he ground against me, his oiled skin shining under the heavy spotlights. He popped back, executed a skillful spin and turn and tore off his chaps revealing the rest of his fantastic body and a tiny shiny thong, which sheltered a massive tool. We all responded wildly.

Lenore clapped and hooted, and I pointed at her and laughed, raising my thumbs in the air.

Yes, Rena was here. She was okay. More than okay. She was happy and had good people around her, had created a new life for herself. That counted for something. That counted for a hell of a lot.

And me?

Why was I hiding away, burying myself in work, making excuses? No, it made no sense.

So, I had a crush on Butler that hadn’t waned in the many months since Sioux Falls. It wasn’t the end of the world. It meant I was alive; it meant that blood was pumping through my veins, pumping through my heart. My crush wouldn’t amount to anything, but it was okay. I actually liked him as a person. We were friends.

I glanced at Butler. His smile was huge as he positioned his fingers in his mouth and blew out a shrill whistle. The crowd whistled and hooted back over the crest of the throbbing music. I laughed and stood up.

Spartacus Cowboy offered me his hand. I took it and let him sweep me up into his arms and dip me low. He raised me up, and we danced, we grooved. He flirted with me with his eyes, his grin, teased me with his amazing hot body, and I flirted and teased him right back.

My girls shouted and cheered. “Go, Tania, go!”

TANIA WAS HAVING FUN
, cutting loose, and it was good to see. Really good to see. She laughed as the fucker shook his muscled ass in her lap and then rolled his cut abs and pecs in her face, beckoning her to lick him. The sight of her moving to the music, laughing—her head tossed back, that long white throat arching, her black hair gleaming in the spotlight—had me rooted to the spot.

Yeah, you sure wanted to help her cut loose, didn’t you?

And I’d done it.

Tania shimmied her upper body at the dancer, following him move for move, spurring him on. Once she was in, the girl gave it her all. I liked that.

I liked her.

She was probably seeing someone, fucking someone. I’d noticed Travis, Lock’s army buddy from South Carolina and his hot rod specialist at the shop, checking her out more than once every time she was at the club, going through Wreck’s stuff in the storage unit. Seeing that had annoyed me like a mosquito buzzing in your ear when you were just about to fall asleep and all you wanted was to hunt the fucker down and smash it.

But I can’t do anything about it, can I?

Tania hooted and made funny faces as the dancer pretended to hump her.

What would it be like to take it all the way with her? She’d give as good as she got, really appreciate it, and tell me all about it with that mouth of hers that never stopped running.

I’d like to hear what Tania had to say as I got her up Come Mountain.

Let it go. Ain’t gonna happen.

Getting back into business mode, I shifted my gaze around the crowded night club. The place was jammed tonight. My brothers were missing from their perch at the bar.

A touch on my arm.

Cassandra’s pretty face was spoiled with a frown. “B, something’s going on up front.”

“What is it?”

“A group of men are outside, trying to get in. Men from another club.”

I charged toward the front door, pushing through the people standing by the bar. The humid night air blanketed over me, making the knot in my throat stick.

With a group of men at his side, Notch, the president of the Broken Blades, leered at Jump.

What the fuck?

“We’re here to celebrate,” said Notch, his face in Jump’s. “Everybody knows the Tingle is the best strip joint for miles, so we came here special tonight. Don’t you assholes want our money? Same color green as everybody else’s.” His lined gaunt face suddenly burst into spasms of laughter.

“You know this is all kinds of wrong,” I said, standing next to Boner.

Last time we had seen Notch in the flesh, he had tried to kill Boner, but thank fuck, we had gotten there first. Then, the Feds had raided, thanks to Finger’s insider connections who had blown the whistle on the Blades and the Calderas Group working together. All hell had broken loose.

The Blades waited for us to retaliate for them trying to kill Boner, but you couldn’t go crazy with Homeland Security riding your ass. Instead, we’d hung back, laid low and watched as the Feds chopped the Blades up into little bits and took away their property, broke their operations, indicting more than half of their members. It was a sad day for a decades old one percent club, but that was real life on the outside of society. There was always a price to pay, no matter how free you thought you were.

The Blades were jumpy. They should be; they were in pieces. A number of other powerful clubs, Finger’s Flames chief among them, were circling, lapping at the trails of blood and torn flesh the Feds had left behind. Only Notch and a few other members were left, trying to recruit new members while desperately hanging on to whatever territory they still had.

Notch turned to me, his brows jumping. “What I know is that you and your friends all tried to destroy me and my club. Ain’t gonna happen. Broken Blades are still standing. You all think you got us down when you blew us out of the water?” His dark gaze flew from me to Jump and back again. Notch was from Alabama originally. His Southern accent dragged out his words, giving their intent even more drama. “Blades don’t go down easy. You tell your friend Finger that, huh?”

He came here to showcase.

“Tonight’s ladies’ night,” I said. “You all here to dance for the women? We’ve got quite a crowd. All of ’em screaming for more. Dollar bills are flying in there. What do you say?”

Notch laughed. A decadent laugh. An I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world-to-fuck-with-you laugh. His brothers sneered at us, including Pick, the Blade who had interrupted my and Tania’s dinner that night outside of Sioux Falls. Boner’s face twitched under the bright lights of the front entrance to the Tingle.