Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (11 page)

“Inès, you need to calm down. I told you, we’ll leave Denver soon.”

“You keep saying we’re gonna leave, you keep saying soon, but we’re still here. Still here!”

“Things are busy. I haven’t—”

She blew out a huff of air, her head swinging to the side, as if she were disgusted by the sight of me. “The Executioners are always busy. You always have the next job and the next job. It never stops. But I need to go to LA. You told me so many times we’d go. We haven’t done shit!”

“We need money, Inès, so that once we get to fucking LA, we can eat, find somewhere to stay. You know what that’s like, come on.”

“Once we get there, I’ll get work. I always do. You worry too much. We’ll have money coming in.”

“We don’t know that.”

“But I make money now!”

“Inès, your last gig was weeks ago. You spent it all.”

Her mouth tensed. Her dark eyes flitted around our tiny one-room apartment, like a trapped moth looking for the light.

She’d promised me she’d save it, but, of course, she hadn’t. She’d gotten two modeling jobs in a row and celebrated by buying herself and her friends clothes and trinkets and taking them out to a club. Then, she’d had to have new pictures taken of herself and a fancy portfolio binder to put them in.

Inès hadn’t been taking her meds either. She’d been trying cocaine instead. You couldn’t get modeling gigs while you were trashed, but she thought she was fucking invincible.

She tugged on her dark hair. Her black-lined eyes blazed with volcanic fire. “This place is killing me. Why can’t you see that?”

There was that fragile tone of voice I knew so well, the little girl who’d clung to me for years in that rotten apartment of her father’s.

Her dark velvet eyes softened, pleading with me. She was the one who would take my hands in hers whenever I’d finally get home, usually just before sunrise. She’d massage each swollen finger with ointment, wrapping them in bandages, as she murmured sweet words and told me funny stories to help me forget the hell I’d been a part of that night.

The one who believed in me, who trusted
only
me.

But that was changing. I could feel it, sense it, like an animal sensing an earthquake coming on.

“I know, Inès. I know.”

She shoved at my chest. “You know, you know? What the fuck do you know?” She sprang to her feet, grabbed her little leather backpack, and ran out the door, her hiss hanging in the hot humid air.

My eyes flew open, and I gasped, a cold sweat prickling my skin. I blew out air, as if it could sweep away that vivid memory.

My phone buzzed and vibrated, its small screen lighting up my dark room.

I rubbed my eyes and reached over, grabbing the phone.

A message from Butler.

Where the fuck r u? Get yr ass over to the Tingle NOW!

I took in a breath. What better way to get Jill’s hot little body from burning my retinas and those acid-laced memories from dancing in my brain than by having professional strippers do their thing in front of me?

I threw cold water on my face, changed my shirt, shoved my boots on, got on my bike and sped over to the Tingle.

But I was wrong. Being here only made me testy.

Mindy was working tonight. She spun the hell out of herself on the pole and then got me drinks, one after the other. She sat in my lap, her one arm slung around my shoulders, and flirted with Butler.

I couldn’t breathe. Her powdery sweet perfume was a nauseating cloud between us, stifling me. The pounding music hammered through my head.

“I’ll be back,” Mindy said, hopping off my lap. I stretched my legs.

It was no use. Everywhere I looked, there was Jill, and everywhere I looked, there was no Jill. Something inside me plummeted thirty stories, like a runaway elevator out of control. I slid my hands up and down the slippery sides of my glass of whiskey, and it was
her
smooth skin under my fingers,
her
wet lips under my touch.

We’d crossed several lines that we both knew stretched between us. The I’m-too-old-for-you-and-you’re-too-young-for-me line, the don’t-be-a-horndog line, the don’t-fuck-with-the-single-mom line, the we’re-just-friends line, the I’m-fucking-someone-else-and-I-shouldn’t-be-wanting-you line.

I was attracted to Jill in a goddamn painful way. Even now, my balls ached, my chest hurt. I was supposed to be looking out for her.

That’s what I do.

Not breathing heavily over her, taking advantage of her. She was pregnant with Grace’s kid, and I was the next best thing to an uncle that kid would ever have. And there was Mindy. I’d kept forgetting about Mindy.

What the hell was I thinking?

I’m not thinking.

It was up to me to stop it. This was just a fuck-up, a blip, a bad move. It was totally natural. There she’d been, topless, less than a foot away from me. Shit, it was a crazy moment of insane indulgence.
Back to status quo tomorrow.

I leaned back in my seat. Before I dissolved the memories, I relived holding her in my arms again, her tongue sliding against mine in some sort of discovery journey of tasting, stroking, and fire-branding.

Fuck.

Mindy danced on the smaller side stage.
A blond college geek hooted loudly as he stuffed bills in her G-string, and she licked her lips as she rocked her ass at him. It was crude and hot, but it wasn’t giving me an erection, like it had weeks ago when we first started fucking. Mindy was a pretty girl with a sleek body who seemed to enjoy whatever I’d dished out.

“Boner.”

But it was only Jill’s voice I heard begging for more of me. Jill’s smooth, silky body coming to life under my touch.

Jill. Jill. Jill.

She’d felt so right in my hands, her heart beating so damn fast in her chest, her body trembling at that first fucking touch. Her full lips had opened for me, her eager tongue had danced with mine, her little moans had come soft and quick. She’d pressed those hips against me, urging me on. I could’ve fucked her right there in that tiny bright pink dressing room.

And I’d wanted to. God, I’d wanted to.

I could barely stop myself, but it was more than the instinct to fuck, to get off. It was this whole body experience.

And what the hell was that?

I gritted my teeth. I’d wanted to mate with her. Every cell in my body and brain had called out to her, drawing me to her. I had a unique hunger only she could satisfy.

She was some sort of forbidden fruit that I’d built up in my mind.

Me and forbidden fruit.

I drained the whiskey from my glass and signaled for another.

It was wrong.
Wrong
.

Here was a bright and determined girl who was getting a fresh start in life, settling in, carrying Grace’s kid. Jill had made that happen. There was something wrong about me lusting after her, jumping on her.

It was just some sort of alpha instinct kicking into overdrive, wasn’t it?
I hadn’t been able to protect Grace, so I’d protect her baby’s mommy, like Dig had protected Jill. That was the root of all this. Had to be.

But every time Jill walked into a room, she changed the energy in it, charging it. I could feel it—this bundle of positivity and warmth, this light.

I’d felt a hell of a lot more in that fucking pink dressing room at the mall.

Butler slid an ashtray in front of me. “Hey.”

My vision focused on a long column of ash dangling from my fingers. “Thanks.” I tossed the butt into the ashtray.

I lit another smoke and sat up straighter in my chair. “So, how are you doing?” I asked Butler.

“It’s good to be back,” he said. “Good to have a routine again.”

“Things with you and Jump any better?”

“Getting there.”

“Just keep things clean, man. It’ll all be good.”

“I’ve been clean over a year now, and I’m keeping it that way.” Butler’s bright blue eyes settled on the dancer at the pole on the main stage. “I’m determined not to go backward.”

Going backward.

Jill was certainly not going backward. She’d gotten out of a bad relationship. She’d moved on to a good place for her kid and herself, determined to make a better life. And here she was, mine for the picking if I wanted, like an overripe grape dangling on the vine in front of me, begging to be plucked, promising the mellowest pulp, the sweetest juice.

But being with me would be a step backward for her.

What could I offer her that was any different from the bullshit Catch had offered her? I might be older and wiser than Catch, but I was in a groove of my own making that had taken me years to perfect. The lone rider, the team player who faded in the background, the quiet but sturdy cog in the wheel. Jaded, tinged with years of rust, like one of Wreck’s vintage collectibles. I was the killer when called upon, the ruthless hound on demand, the one they depended on to clean the mess that had been left behind.

I was the dead end.

Jill needed to be with a guy like that dipshit I’d seen her with at the coffee shop. A guy who could wear a bright blue designer T-shirt with jeans that had been ripped on purpose, and he’d paid extra for the privilege, along with permanently clean high-tops, and a white-toothed smile that came easy all the goddamn time.

That wasn’t me. I was backward from all that. Of course, that guy was like the blond geek here, still showering Mindy with bills.

“Hey. You okay?” Butler asked, clinking his bottle of non-alcohol brew against my glass of whiskey.

“Yeah.” I wiped a hand across my face. “Sure.”

“You look rattled.”

“Just distracted.”

Butler laughed, his chest shaking. “We’re in the right place for that.”

“You okay being back here again?” I asked. Last time Butler had been to the Tingle, Grace had ditched him, Jump had beat him up, and then Creeper had shot at him and Dawes on the staircase.

He shrugged. “Yeah, fine.”

Ever the Mr. Cool.

“How’s it feel to be settled down again?”

“Huh?” Butler’s gaze remained on Mindy peeling off her top onstage.

“Your old lady? That going good? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it’s good. Nina’s good.”

“You surprised me with that one. Thought you and me would be the old bachelor crew forever around here.”

He only laughed and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

The music segued into another pounding electric beat. Mindy and one other dancer sauntered over to our table.

She stuck her tongue in my ear. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me to a room? Let me—”

I winced. “No.”

She leaned over me. “You sure? I haven’t seen you in a long while. I could give you a nice massage. You seem a little stiff.” She rubbed one of my shoulders. “I like getting you
un
-stiff.”

“What part of no do you not get?”

Her small eyes flared, her lips pursed. “Are you picking me up after work tonight?”

“No, got shit to do.”

“Fine.” She flounced off, disappearing into the crowd.

Butler sent off the dancer in his lap with a wink. “Bro, you sure you’re okay?”

I shrugged and put out my dying cigarette. I’d thought coming here would take care of my Jill issues.

Obviously not.

I exhaled the last thick gust of smoke. “Business is doing real good here with Kicker running this place, don’t you think?”

Butler pushed his empty bottle back and forth between his hands. “He’s doing a great job. It’s packed on a Wednesday night.”

“Business has never been better.”

“I wanted to ask you. I’ve got to find a place to rent. Can’t stay in that fucking room at the club much longer. You know of anything in town?”

“Yeah, I might. I’ll find out more and let you know tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Nina tonight?” I asked.

“She’s out with Alicia, Grace, Suzi, and Mary Lynn. It’s ladies’ night at Dead Ringer’s.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. By the way, thanks for taking her out today to the mall. She had a good time with you and Jill.”

You and Jill.

I flicked at my lighter and dragged deeply on another cig.

Yeah, me and Jill had a good time, too.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw as Mindy came back out, wearing a different sparkly outfit, tits on full display in a string bikini top. She ignored me while she mingled around the tables until she found the blond geek and his pals. They ordered a round of drinks, and Mindy slid onto his lap, laughing. Another sucker bites the dust.

These past few weeks, it’d been fun, hooking up with Mindy. I liked her fine. Funny, a smart-ass.

But I wasn’t nuts for her.

I hadn’t been nuts for anyone in a long, long time. I’d always kept nuts at a dry minimum anyway. That shit just un-simplified your life, and I hated drama. I’d had enough of it to last me several lifetimes.

“Let’s get out of here and head to Dead Ringer’s.” I packed my aging dented Zippo in my jacket. “Let’s go check out what no good the women are up to.”

Butler flashed me that I-got-your-number grin of his. “You don’t like watching your girl work, huh?”

I tapped my fingers on the table and shot out of my chair. “She’s not my girl.”