Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (44 page)

A silver cross made up of swords accented with bones and a skull at the top of it. My heart beat faster every second he remained silent, his eyes glued on the piece.

“This is your cross, made of swords and bones,” I said. “You’re always ready to defend me, protect me, always ready to put yourself on the line for who you love. No hesitation, ever. You live what you feel. You feel what you live, and you take no prisoners. It’s a beautiful, powerful thing, and I’m in awe of you. You helped me see that I can bear the weight of an iron sword that I have to use to protect myself, to protect my child, to protect you. You gave me that.

“Too many of us try to deny all the ugliness, to push it away. You don’t, Santiago. You stare it in the face. You always have. You break its bones with your iron sword when you have to. Yes, you destroyed lives with your crowbar. But now, you wield your sword with purpose. You wield it with a full heart and a strong arm, baby, and I love you.”

“Firefly.” He crushed me to his chest and kissed the top of my head, pulling me onto his lap. “You always believe.”

“I do, and I believe in you.” I pressed against him. “When I look at you, I don’t see some sort of guardian angel, and I don’t see gratitude or obligation. I see a man who needs me, like I need him. I see a man who’s brave and strong and extreme in how he feels and looks at the world. A man who loves fierce and hard and unforgiving. And in the very center of his big heart, there’s a fire burning.” I rubbed my hand over his heart and planted a kiss there. “And I want to be in there, burning and alive.”

I wiped my eyes and took the rosary from his hand and put it over his head, moving his hair out of the way. I kissed the cross of swords against his chest, and with a groan, he took my face in his hands and crushed his mouth against mine.

“I need you,” he whispered roughly.

We peeled our clothing back, pushing it away, kicking it off. He moaned as he entered me in one long move. His hair teased over my skin, and his cross settled on my chest, stroking me, as he slowly thrust inside me, filling me with his sorrows, his hopes, filling me with his love. He planted himself deep, and I ground up toward him.

“I love you, Santiago.”

He drove inside me, joining with me. We were one. It was raw and honest and merciless, and there was purity in that, a purity that I had never known before.

“I broke that bastard who hurt you,” he grunted in my ear as he moved inside me. “I did it. Broke his bones. Did it for Dig. Did it for you.” His one hand splayed across the curve of my belly against the baby. “You’re a fucking gift, a fucking gift.”

He raised himself up and stroked my clit in short tense pulses, and my body gave in to his binding grip, to his harsh rhythm.

“Fucking gift,” he growled.

We were one creature, surging with one need.

An explosion of cries and sensations shuddered through both of us, melding us together.

His arms tightened around me as he leaned over me. “Love you, Jillee,” he whispered against my skin.

We lay there, naked on the sofa, my fingers tracing lines over his chest, over the cross. I moved down and laid kisses on the scar across his abdomen. I knew I couldn’t put his pieces back together again, the pieces Inès had ripped apart, the parts of him that so much of his life had made brittle, disconnected. But I could hold him, love him, give him the warmth and hope of us, while he tried his best.

“I got lost in you,” his voice whispered in the shadows. “Just like you dared me to. You remember when you said that to me in Rae’s kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“I got lost, and I found things I’d never expected to find again—powerful, colorful, precious things.”

His eyes met mine in the shadows seeping through the room, and I settled back onto his chest. Sheeting rain pelted the windows, hailstones battered the roof and the sides of the house. One of those sudden, unpredictable Dakota storms. It would be over quickly. Its startling, ugly, jarring violence would pass.

“
I NEED TO COME WITH YOU
.” I wiped the hair back from my face.

“What?”

“I need to see Creeper. I need to—”

Boner’s frown deepened. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I knew Butler and the men were going to bring Creeper into the club later this morning, and I wanted to be there. I had dropped Becca off at daycare and went straight to the club and found Boner.

I had to face Creeper and look him in the eyes. This man had stolen my daughter months ago, treating her and us like she was a worthless commodity for his greedy bargaining and blackmail.

In an act of both the Flames and the Jacks moving forward in a new spirit of cooperation, Butler had invited Catch in on finally putting Creeper into the ground. Butler had intended on making this move sooner to bring the clubs closer, but when Catch had taken Dig’s gun, that had blown up that plan in its tracks. Now it was back on.

By helping the Jacks rescue Boner, the Flames had achieved what they’d wanted: severely weakening the Broken Blades and getting rid of the Calderas Group. The single bullet that had killed Alejandro Calderone couldn’t be traced. Assassin unknown.

Compensation to the One-Eyed Jacks for Catch’s dishonorable robbery of Dig’s revolver had been fulfilled.

There was satisfaction and excitement in the Jacks’ clubhouse. Butler was pleased that his plan for cooperating with the Flames was back on track. The Blades had been crippled, their property frozen by the Feds, their president in a rage. Only Jump didn’t share in the excitement, and the tension between him and Butler had intensified. Not to mention the awful tension between Jump and Alicia.

Catch had stopped over to see Rae and Becca this morning, and from what little he’d told me, I’d figured out where he was headed after he visited with his daughter and mother. His anticipation was obvious.

“He’s gonna pay, Jill. I got this,”
he’d told me as he started his bike at the end of Rae’s driveway.

Creeper had taken a piece of me when he’d kidnapped Becca. I hadn’t known what he was doing to her, if she was crying out for me.
Was she hungry? Was her diaper a mess? Was he hurting her?
Was she scared? Did she miss me?

I had become that sobbing helpless girl again, like I had been when Mole had taken me. Tied up, terrified, desperate, demented. Screaming on the inside, weeping silently, and shuddering on the outside. When Becca was missing, I’d been raked raw, and then I’d finally exploded in a rage. It was as if Creeper had tied me up to Mole’s fucking motel bed all over again.

I had to do this.

I held Boner’s hard gaze.

“I’m very sure,” I repeated.

He took my hand and led me into the clubhouse to the kitchen, through a short hallway to the left of it, and down a well-lit stairwell, our boots making noise against the metal steps.

Bear stood in the open doorway, his arms folded. In the room beyond, Dready and Lock tied Creeper facedown on a long table, his arms over his head. Butler, Dawes, and Tricky stood to the side watching. Catch’s eyes narrowed at me.

But I only had eyes for Creeper. That bitter rage I knew so well coursed through me now, like acid instead of blood. That sour swell rose in my chest, buckling my veins. It compelled me forward into that stifling room. I hungered to smell Creeper’s blood, his fear, his helplessness, his desperation.

Boner squeezed my hand, and I squeezed it back.

He brought me to the table where Creeper lay bound. The men stopped what they were doing around the table and stared at me. Boner let go of my hand and ripped Creeper’s shirt, exposing his back, exposing the great tattoo of the glint-eyed skull of the One-Eyed Jacks. Disgrace, dishonor, shame would all be paid for at last.

Creeper’s battered eyes blinked up at me and slackened.

“You took my girl,” I said to him. “You were going to rape Tania and Grace.”

Knives had been planted on the edge of the table, alongside his torso, like weeds in a junkyard. I took a knife in my grip and yanked it from the old wood table.

Catch darted forward. “Jill, what the fuck are you doing?”

“No,” said Boner, his voice low and steady, the authority of it stopping Catch. “Leave her alone.”

My eyes rose to meet my old man’s.

“Do it,” he said.

He knew what I needed to do. He understood what I wanted to do, no matter how low or bad or dirty, and he was giving it to me.

Creeper’s body tensed then jerked, his one bloodied eye glaring at me, his breaths short and ragged.

“This is for my daughter.”

And for me.

I thrust the knife into his side, and he let out a moaning hiss. I twisted it and pulled it back. My arm shook, my heart pounded. I handed the blood-covered blade to Boner, and he leaned in closer to me.

My bloodstained fingertips touched his cheek. “Break his bones for us, baby,” I whispered.

A large hand went around my forearm and pulled me back. Lock walked me to the door and handed me off to Bear. All I saw as I left the room were my old man’s incredible eyes holding mine and gleaming.

TODAY, IN AN EFFORT TO WIN SMILES FROM BONER
, I’d made him flan. I’d wanted to prepare something special for him, so I’d decided on the caramel custard, which was practically the national obsession of Argentina. It was a simple enough recipe. Eggs, milk, sugar, and a real vanilla bean with a dash of lime juice and lots of whisking. Luckily, Rae had a top-of-the-line KitchenAid mixer, and it had made the entire process of making the custard a snap. I’d also bought a special round pan to bake it in. And as Argentineans paired their flan with dulce de leche sauce, I’d made that, too. That was a lot of caramel in one sensual dessert.

Grace and Lock had come over to Boner’s and surprised us with a dinner of barbecued ribs and fries from a local joint.

A couple of hours later, Lock rose from the table after Grace and I had cleared the dishes. “We’re off.”

“Aren’t you going to stay for dessert?” I asked.

“We’ve got to hit the road early tomorrow. I’ve got a lead on a 1970 El Camino and a ’68 Corvette up in Bismarck.”

Boner’s forehead puckered. “That be serious.”

“That be right,” replied Lock, stretching his arms over his head and then circling them around his wife, who stood in front of him.