Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (42 page)

“
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE
?” Catch walked up alongside me in the Flames clubhouse lounge.

His hand cupped Becca’s cheek while I held her fast on my hip.

“Take your daughter.” I placed her in his arms.

“Jill?”

“Someone’s been following me the whole way from Meager. Black Ford Explorer. Two men in the front seat.”

His face furrowed. “Den!” Catch shouted, his arms tightening around Becca.

“Yo!” Den raised his head from behind a computer screen at the long center table.

“Black Ford Explorer’s been on Jill since she left Meager. Check it.”

The Flames were diligent about their security. They had hidden cameras all over town.

“On it.” The
clip-clat, clip-clat
of
Den’s fingers powering over his keyboard filled the air.

“They have Colorado plates,” I said.

“Ah, fuck,” said Catch.

“They’re still in view,” Den muttered. “Got him. Running the plate.”

Catch’s attention snapped back to me. “What the hell is going on? Why are you here?”

“Boner’s missing. And I think he’s in Denver.”

His lips pressed together.

“I called Butler when I stopped for gas. The Jacks can’t find him. He told me about the Calderones.”

Krystal appeared behind Catch. She put a hand on his back and kissed Becca on the cheek. “Hey, beautiful girl! You got so big, Becca! You remember your Aunt Krystal?”

Catch shifted his weight, adjusting Becca on his hip. “Jill—”

Krystal’s gaze leveled with mine. “Come on back, babe.”

I kissed Becca’s hand that was reaching out to me and held Catch’s gaze. “Take care of our daughter. I took the risk bringing her here, because I want to trust that she’ll be safe with her father and his club. I know you and your brothers wouldn’t let anything happen to her, especially after the last time.”

He raised his head high. An acknowledgement of my act of trust, of faith in him and his club. I followed Krystal to the end of the common room to Finger’s office.

Krystal knocked once and opened the door to the president’s office. In the three years that I had been a part of the Flames, I had never once stepped into this room. I took in a breath as Krystal closed the door behind me.

Finger’s hard eyes followed me as I approached his desk, studying me from top to toe. It was a subtle flick, taking in every detail. His lips rolled, as if he were chewing on something, and with the motion, the brutal “F” scars on both sides of his face deepened. The smell of tobacco and cedar was strong. He gestured for me to sit, and I did. His two missing middle fingers were a harsh reminder of the life he’d lived and now ruled over.

“Jill,” said that familiar scratchy voice.

“Thank you for seeing me. I appreciate you taking the time.” I sat up straight in the chair. “I came to see you because Boner’s gone missing. I think he went to see this...businessman in Denver who he used to work for a long time ago, before he was a One-Eyed Jack. He has a bloody history with him. Alejandro Calderone.”

Finger leaned back in his chair, his features blank, his plaid shirt opening wider at the chest, his dark hair in a low ponytail. “Why didn’t you go to your own president? To the Jacks?”

“I spoke with Butler. They know he’s missing, and they’re in gear as we speak. But I felt strongly that I had to make sure everything possible was being done. Maybe my coming here is wrong and against the rules, and I’ll get punished for it by the Jacks and you, but I had to try. I had to. I love Boner, he’s a good man. I know, from the years I spent with the Flames, that if anyone could do something to save him, it would be you. I know Dig respected you, and Boner and Butler do, too. All of that makes this a really good idea to me, whatever the consequences.”

Finger’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You and Catch dealing with your shit? You letting him see his kid?”

“Actually, the last time he and I spoke, he threatened to sic Mishap on Boner if I didn’t do what he wanted, which was to give him Becca. I’m willing to chalk that up to a father’s desperation to be a part of his daughter’s life and not some stupid, egotistical, reckless pissing contest that would only create unnecessary problems between good men and good clubs.” I took in a breath. “Finger, I brought my daughter here today to see her dad and her other family as a show of good faith. I want to believe that all the bullshit can be wiped clean. I want to believe that we can start fresh and be fair, for all our sakes and for the good of our clubs.”

The deep lines of his face eased. “I owe Boner one.”

“You do?”

“That bullshit with the Python.”

“Right. Well, maybe Mishap could be given a new target?”

Something resembling a glimmer flashed across his eyes.

A hard knock and the door swinging open had me turning in my seat. Catch stood in the doorway. “Finger, two of Calderone’s men followed Jill here from Meager.”

Finger slowly leaned back in his seat. “I got calls to make.”

I shot up from the chair. “Thank you for seeing me.”

I left his office, but I couldn’t help glancing back at him. Finger stared after me, and I met that severe metallic gaze as the door closed behind me.

“
IT’S THE NEW THING
—free-trade coffee beans.”

I dragged the heels of my boots across the marble floor of his office at the penthouse. I couldn’t listen to Alejandro going on about the wine he was importing from Chile and Argentina or the coffee beans from El Salvador or how his numbers had doubled in just less than ten years. I supposed I was impressed that his talent for accounting had finally found a better focus than tallying up meth and crack production and their rates of distribution.

But he needed me to be impressed.
I am, motherfucker. I am.

My eyes landed on a silver-framed photo of him and Inès that stood on his desk. My throat tightened.

The photo had to be recent, judging from his appearance. She had aged well, but the drug use had worn out her edges, her face really thin, her cheekbones jutting out. She beamed a brittle smile under her dramatic makeup. Her skinny body, wrapped in a sparkly tight dress was pressed against his. Her dark hair was cut below the chin at some strange angle, diamonds on her ears, her arm thrown around Alejandro’s neck. All glamour, all glitz. The fucking red carpet.

There were several other photos of the two of them, some casual others formal, a number of portraits of her. Lots of portraits of her.

She had made her choice.

“Que en paz descanse,”
I said under my breath. I hoped she was at peace now.

Had she been happy, really happy? Who the fuck knew?

I didn’t think she’d even known, but she’d certainly chosen a different ride from the one I’d offered. Calderone had loved her, and judging from the photos, she’d seemed to enjoy it while it lasted.

She’d made a life for herself.

Had I?

Or was I only pieces patched together by a leather vest?

My focus remained on the first photo, but her sultry dark eyes faded in my line of sight, and there were only Jill’s eyes.

Jill’s exuberance over simple things—finding the right brand at the supermarket, enjoying the flavor of a cheeseburger, singing along to a rock tune in my truck, laughing at a stupid television commercial, or tearing up when Becca would try a new food she had previously resisted and actually liked it. Yeah,
exuberance
when she watched me swinging off my bike, when she watched me going down on her—that was fucking real.

“
I love you,”
I’d told her.

Even though she hadn’t said it back, I knew she felt it, too, but hers was buried under a pile of
should-do
s,
would-do
s,
hoped-to
s,
maybe one-days.

I didn’t have that jungle of vines blocking my way. Since I’d arrived in South Dakota and become a Jack, I’d always been about the now.

I had told her I loved her, and I was proud of that. If that were the one thing I’d left her with, wouldn’t that somehow ease the sting for her? It did for me. It did. No fucking regrets.

My Firefly.

“But some things, really beautiful things, you can’t hold on to forever, can you?”

No, you can’t.

It was time for me to open the lid on that jar.

Be free, baby. Fly.

I knew, by the end of this day, there was a bullet just for me. Would it be in the forehead? The neck? In my stomach so that I could suffer, just for old times’ sake? Or a clean one to the heart?

But my heart was full with something other than blood, something not even a bullet could drain.

Not even a fucking bullet.

Alejandro’s personal bodyguard handcuffed me, took me down to the underground parking lot, and threw me in the back of a van, my face smashed into a scuzzy rubber mat. Another smaller man bent over me and shot me up with something to knock me out. I caught sight of my bike in the parking garage, standing tall in the distance, as the van doors slammed shut on me.

The van doors unhinged, swinging open, and my eyes unglued. We weren’t in Denver anymore. Nothing but flat, dry earth. I’d been out for hours, judging from the sun.

“What did you bring him here for?” Notch, the president of the Broken Blades, studied me, his lips curled into a snarl.

Two Blades lifted me out of the van and threw me onto the ground.

Should I kiss Nebraska soil?
Nah
.

“Listen to me, eh?” Alejandro’s eyebrows hopped up and down, his eyes twitching.

Being the
grande
head-honcho must be stressful.

“We’re going to do this here. I can’t afford to get caught with a dead body and blood on my cuffs right now. Things are tight in Denver.”

“Oh, yeah?” Notch took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“Here, you and I can have some fun with him.”

Notch sucked on his teeth. “What kind of fun?”

“Set him free on this God awful prairie to run like a wild turkey, and shoot at him. I like that idea. I need to be entertained. It’s been a long drive.”

Two Blades pulled me up on my feet, and I staggered, still woozy from whatever shit they had given me in the van. I licked at my dry lips, but it didn’t help. The nuzzle of a gun poked at my back, and I flinched away from it, my body stiffening, my joints sore. The sun beat down on me. Pain prickled my eyes as I tried to focus on the open, flat stretch of land before me, but the ground only wobbled in the haze.