Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (41 page)

Inès—The face that had launched our thousand ships.

“The one horror was that you’d killed my brother like the little savage you were. That devestated her and me both, but Inès made me promise not to hurt you. She felt guilty about what she had done to you. You were family, after all.”

Family.
My eyes shut tight. Family didn’t burn you, throw you away, leave you bleeding to die on the side of the road like an animal.

“So, I kept my word.” His voice was hushed, slow. “I let you go. Thankfully, you left Denver and never came back. At least you respected me in that way. At least. But you destroyed my
Perla
in the end.”

My eyes snapped open. “What are you talking about?”

“After you’d killed Felipe, she’d started doing blow regularly and had that first miscarriage. We’d gotten married, two more miscarriages, more coke, a bit of smack, eh. Sometimes, she would talk to you in her little hazes. Babbling on about some childhood nonsense or other, crying.”

I clenched my jaw and looked away.

“For years she’d go on and off the medication she was supposed to be taking. ‘Lithium gets in the way of the good things,’ she’d say. A month ago, one night she was home alone at our country house and threw herself off our bedroom balcony.”

I held his black gaze. “She killed herself?”

Alejandro lit a cigarette, some foreign brand I’d never seen before. He blew a long thick stream of smoke from his lips. “She was flying on heroin at the time. I tried to keep it away from her, but my little crazy thing, she liked it, like she liked two cocks in her. When she got emotional, there was no controlling her.

“Over the years, she would often disappoint me with the things she did or said, but she was young. The things she’d do afterward to make up for it…ah.” He sucked on his cigarette, a grin searing his face. “And I loved her all the more for it. My wife was everything to me.”

He offered me a cigarette, and I shook my head.

“Your girlfriend—she’s a cute nugget, eh?” He tossed the pack of smokes on his desk. “Banal though.” He slid his fingers down his blue silk tie. “Ah, well, they’re all banal after you’ve had the one you know you’ll never find again. Am I right?” He took a deep drag and crushed his cigarette into a huge red crystal ashtray that looked like some sort of sea creature, his eyes piercing mine through the smoke. “My
tigresa
wanted her master’s blood smeared on her tits, not just my cum.”

His lips moved, sound came out, but the two remained detached, separate. I wasn’t registering words, thoughts, ideas. Only his fingers stroking that fucking tie was real to me. The old familiar tats around his neck crept over his smooth starched ivory collar.

Yeah, there was an elegance about him now, a refinement, so different from what I remembered of him. Back then, he had been a whip, snapping for attention, and he would revel in the sting singing in the air above him. He had once been a primitive, sadistic little beast, sporting a long mustache, with built arms and a huge chest that I was sure he’d pound like some sort of inner-city fucking Tarzan.

Now, that beast was all dressed up and speaking slowly, carefully, but the same glint was in those dark eyes. The predator. The demon. The fiend.

“Why did you wait so long, Alejandro? Why? You could’ve found me sooner.”

“I did find you.” He plucked at the stiff cuff of his shirtsleeve. “But I was waiting until you had something of worth that I could take from you. Inès made me promise not to hunt you down. She made me promise to stay away from you. She would even check to make sure I kept my promise. But she’s dead now, and so is that promise.”

Alejandro took in a breath of air through his nose. “Your girlfriend is pregnant. Why should you have what I didn’t? You took Felipe from us, and in the end, all that
miseria
you created took my children and my woman.”

“You seem to forget that you took her from me,
ese
,” I said. “You took what you wanted and left me on the street to bleed. You won it all a long time ago. If it didn’t end up good for you, that’s on you, no one else, not me.”

Alejandro grunted loudly and grabbed the red ashtray, throwing it against a wall. A shower of glinting shards and ash shattered over the rug.

“You want my life for theirs?” My voice boomed through the vast space. “Is that what you want?”

He raised that sculpted chin of his, his jaw jutting out. “Yes.”

“Then take it. Take it and let them live.”

I TRIED TO GET CONTROL
of my breathing, but it was nearly impossible. My hand rubbed over my chest as I counted. I should go to the clubhouse and tell the Jacks everything I knew, everything I thought might be going on.

My eyes went to the basket tray by Boner’s front door. Empty.

Shit, where are my car keys?

I plowed through my handbag, my stomach twisting into those familiar knots. Nothing.

“Damn it!”

I shoved my hand under the sofa cushions, I checked under the skirt of the sofa, along the floor. Nothing.

“Unbe-freaking-lievable,” I muttered. “Becca, have you been playing with Mommy’s keys again?”

Becca looked up at me from coloring at the kitchen table, her lips pursed, a stubby black crayon in her hand. I went to the table piled high with her coloring books and sheets and crayons. I shuffled through the heap, pushing the jumbo box of crayons out of the way.

My keys were splayed out at the bottom of the pile. “Thank God.”

Becca went back to coloring and singing to herself. My gaze landed on the coloring page she was working on, one of the many that Boner had printed out for her last night. My heart skipped as crayons rolled across the table.

There they were.

Snow White and the Prince.

She was waking up from her death slumber, and he was over the moon, taking her hand in his. My girl had colored both characters in black—Snow White’s hair, her dress, her coffin, the flowers, and the Prince’s hair, outfit, and boots. Becca would often get obsessed with one color and only use that particular one for everything she colored the entire day. Today, it was black.

The black prince and his black princess.

The crayons spilled over the side of the table.

“
Someday, my…”

But
my
prince had come.

My prince was outlined in black and was full of dark passions and poetry, jagged heartbeats and raw whispers in the night, and he was mine. It didn’t matter that he was another biker. It didn’t matter that he was over a decade older than me. It didn’t matter that he did not sport a cap with a feather in it or a cape along with a dashing, eager smile on his face.

My prince carried knives, guns, and brass knuckles, and he wore dirty dusty leathers, heavy boots, and faded black T-shirts and jeans. He tore through the wind on a powerful metal machine, not an elegantly appointed horse. And the smile he wore for me did not only please me, but alternatively scared me, thrilled me, and gave me a burning rush like nothing else.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I caught my reflection in the leather-framed mirror by the front door.

Magic mirror on the wall, who’s the scared-est of them all?

Me.

I was the scared girl behind the polite thank-you/no-thank-you smile, who was always running to the next great idea, the next sure thing in an effort to forget, to let go, to leave the gloom, the sorrow, the insecurities behind me. I’d done it over and over again, yet each and every time, I’d bailed and moved on.

Becca had changed all that for me. She had become my new center, my joy. Providing for her, making her laugh while I fed her or read to her, hearing the ringing of that laughter as we sang goofy songs in the car, and then her sleeping peacefully at my side at the end of every day—it had grounded me in a surprising, wholly new way.

Finally finding Grace, being able to help her on her quest for motherhood, being a part of Rae’s life—all of it had given me a renewed sense of family and belonging that I relished.

My hand instinctively went to my round tummy.

I was grateful, content, happy.

And Boner?

“I love you, Firefly.”

My dark prince had kissed me awake in so many deep, real ways.

I needed to wake up.

Once Snow White had woken up, she hadn’t hesitated for one second, had she? The moment she’d opened her eyes and seen the prince, she had known, and
she had been ecstatic. She’d immediately thrown her arms out and embraced the Prince—no holding back, no wondering, no second-guessing—gotten on the back of his horse and they both went off to their own kingdom.

My dark prince had made my bright fairy tale come true.

Embrace him.

“Our bright life can come true, Bone,” I whispered out loud to my reflection.

I couldn’t wait. I had to find him now, and I’d need the big guns to do it. Not just the Jacks.

Finger.

Finger had connections everywhere—or at least, it seemed that way to me. He wasn’t just the prez of any old MC. His Flames of Hell wielded power and influence throughout the country. People bowed down to him, licked his boots—literally.

I had witnessed that ritual one night, too, hadn’t I?

My breath caught at the memory. Yes, another Catch lesson in Don’t Fuck with the Flames. You Know Who’s Boss, Baby.

Maybe Finger might respect the fact that I was going to him myself.

Finger never struck me as the impulsive type, not like Catch of the strike-now-pay-the-consequences-whenever-and-who-really-gives-a-fuck-anyhow-as-long-as-I-make-my-point life philosophy. Finger might give me a chance to talk to him. He might listen to what I had to say.

My stomach took a dive. I was persona non grata at the Flames. Would they even let me see Finger once I got there? Would they even let me in?

Screw it. I have to try.

Time for the Flame’s Old Lady network. I dialed Krystal’s number. Her old man was now Finger’s Vice President. Luckily, I hadn’t deleted her number from my Contacts list, like I had been tempted to do after I left Nebraska behind.

“Girlie, is that really you?”

“Hey, Krystal. Sorry it’s been so long.”

“I get it. How are you? Heard your news.” She let out a throaty laugh. “Way to bounce back.”

“Krystal, something fucked up is going on, and I need to talk to Finger. Is he at the clubhouse? I need to see him. I’m ready to get in my car now and come down.”

“Seriously?”

“Very. Is he there?”

“He’s here, honey, but I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to see him.”

“This is life and death, Krystal. I have to try.”

“Is it Becca? Is she okay?”

“Becca’s good. This is about my old man.”

She sucked in a breath. “If you’re willing to try, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay.”

“
Okay
, you’re coming? Or
okay
, maybe you’re gonna fuck with me?”

“I’m coming. My old man’s life depends on it.”

“Huh. That’s my girl.”

I tossed my phone into my bag.

“Look, Mommy! For you.”

I turned around. Becca held up her black prince and princess masterpiece.

I smiled at my daughter. “It’s perfect. I love it, honey. Bo will, too. Come on, sweets. We’ve got to go.”

I swept all of Becca’s coloring books, papers, and crayons into her Hello Kitty tote. She dashed over to the sofa and grabbed her elephant and baby doll, while I got her diaper bag. We put our shoes on, and I took her hand.

We flew out the door.