Lock and Key

by Cat Porter

  Ruby took a gulp of air from her oxygen mask, then put it down. “He did.”

  My pulse pounded in my ears. “What?”

  “You were still in your post-surgical coma when he showed up at the hospital.

  “Ruby—?”

  “He stayed for a couple of hours. Talked with the doctor and took off again.” Ruby sank back on the bed.

  My eyes flared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Gracie, you had so much going on, and you were not dealing with any of it very well. You wanted me to tell you that the sweet daddy that abandoned us popped by for a visit while we were trying to keep you sane, alive, and in one piece?” She took more air in from the mask.

  “What did he say?”

  “I took one look at him and told him to get lost. I pushed him, threw a fit and Jump and Boner had to pull me off him. Security showed up, and he left. A nurse told me he came back much later that night, stayed until morning in your room.”

  My mouth went dry and my lungs squeezed together. I rubbed the sides of my head with my hands. “Oh, God.”

  “Grace, you always want to believe the best in people. That’s a gift you have, but don’t waste that on him. Maybe it’s a good thing Lock will be with you. I’m sure that man can spot bullshit a mile off. That’ll keep it real for you.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “What would you prefer I do? Ah… how about we sneak into Ray’s house in the dead of night, have Lock incapacitate him in his sleep, retrieve his bone marrow and take off? Sound better?”

  “And how are you going to “retrieve his bone marrow,” smarty pants?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll look it up on the internet.”

  Ruby’s head sunk back on the pillow and she laughed. I put the oxygen mask back over her mouth.

  “I’m guessing you like what you see?”

  My eyes were glued on Lock’s Harley whose gleaming chrome and silvery brown and black custom paint job positively glowed in the bursting soft light of early morning. The machine seemed to be moving even as it stood perfectly still. I licked my bottom lip. Lock leaned in over my shoulder. His breath warmed the side of my face.

  “What’s not to like about a CVO Electra Glide?” I asked.

  We were at the club compound where I would leave my car parked overnight.

  “Had to splurge,” he said. “It’s great for long trips. The older I get, my body demands more comfort. This definitely qualifies. Have you ridden on one before?”

  “Once in Texas, but just for a short test run.”

  “You must have ridden on plenty of bikes working those stores.”

  “I did. But you know better than I do, it’s not the bike that makes the rider,” I said. “I dated a few weekend warriors over the years. They would spend amazing amounts of money all the time on bikes and gear, but so what. It was never the same. They handled the bikes differently. I just… felt it. I don’t know,” I murmured.

  Lock aimed a smug grin at me and went back to packing my rain gear in his saddlebags. That buzz ripped right through me at the sight of him all decked out in his aviator mirrored sunglasses, his leathers, the hoodie over his head. I averted my gaze.

  “Nice rain gear,” he said.

  “Thanks. The skies change here so quickly. Better prepared than wet.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And these.” I handed him two frozen water bottles. His lips twitched.

  “I told you, you’re no ordinary fender, baby,” he said, his voice wrapped around the words lazily. “Organized.”

  I grinned back at him. No matter how cool the weather may be, out on the asphalt, under the burning engine of the bike for a long stretch of time, the two of us in leathers and under helmets, things would get hot very quickly. Frozen water melting into cold drinkable water would be an asset.

  “By the way,” Lock said. “I was thinking we could go up Highway 212 through Montana instead of I-90 all the way. I-90 is quicker, but boring, it’s all desert pretty much. 212 is only two lanes, but a better ride.”

  “Definitely, 212.”

  “It’ll take longer,” he said.

  “I know. Doesn’t matter. 212.”

  A slight smile curled his lips. “Good,” he murmured.

  Jump and Alicia walked over to us.

  “Ready to head out?” asked Jump

  “Yeah,” Lock said. Jump put his hand on Lock’s shoulder and pulled him away for a private chat.

  “Any problems?” I asked Alicia.

  “Demon Seed crap, what else. Those assholes are still on our backs after all these years. The boys like their club the way it is. Those mothers want us to patch in.

  My eyes flew open. “Become Demon Seeds? Is that some kind of joke?”

  “They’ve become a big regional organization now. The One-Eyed Jacks have kept things small, the chapter in North Dakota, the chapter in Colorado. Just like you remember, but that’s it.”

  “So they want their grubby fingers in our humble pie, huh?”

  “Something like that. Anyway, Jump cleared everything for you and Lock so things should be friendly out there.”

  I nodded.

  Alicia’s hand reached out and rubbed my upper arm. “Lock’s a good guy. You can trust him.”

  I looked down at my black leather boots. “He seems… nice.”

  “Nice?” Alicia barked out a laugh. “You know better than that, hon!”

  I blinked up at her. We both broke out into laughter.

  “By the way, how did he get his road name?” I asked.

  Alicia let out a sigh and flipped her impossibly straight long blonde hair behind her shoulders. “You remember, he was on some kind of special assignment when Wreck died, and he couldn’t make it home for the funeral,” she said. “Well, when he finally did get back from soldiering just after your thing, and with both Dig and Wreck gone, we kept waiting for him to explode, let loose. Never did. He kept to himself at Wreck’s cabin. From a kid he was always kind of quiet and kept to himself. But after all that, he took it to a whole new level.” Alicia shook her head slightly. “He took on lots of scary shit for the club one right after the other, got into plenty of fights at parties and bars. The usual crap, but throughout all of it, he was so contained, even in a fight and definitely after. He’d walk away, bloody, bruised, get on his bike and take off like some terminator robot. Days later, he’d be back for more.”

  “Kept it locked down,” I murmured.

  Alicia nodded. “Many a woman has tried to get under that exterior of steel, but none have succeeded.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “He’s had plenty of women, but only a few steady ones over the years,” Alicia said. “None of them ever lasted. But hey, if you’re looking for a simple good time, why the fuck not? Go for it. I would.”

  I tugged at the waistband of my jeans. “I was just wondering about him, that’s all,” I said. “He strikes me as a bit unusual.”

  “He’s a good guy underneath. But where women are concerned, if he’s not interested, he’ll let you know, and you need to believe him. That’s the way he keeps it. Some girls think they can win him over or rescue him. I see it all the time.”

  “All the time, huh?”

  “And it never works,” Alicia said. “It always ends badly for them. Actually, there was just another one the other night after you’d left the party. The idiot pitched a fit.” She rolled her eyes.

  My face heated, and I averted my gaze.

  “Anyway, just keep that in mind. You know how that shit goes.” She squeezed my arm. “I’ve got to get back home, get Wes to school,” she said.

  Alicia and Jump’s son. They have a son.

  Something twisted deep in my chest. “What grade is he in now?” I asked.

  “He’s a freshman in high school this year,” she said, her eyes beaming. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I put up with!”

  High school.

  She pulled me into her arms and gave me a hug. “Take care, Si
ster. Good luck with everything.”

  “Thanks for being here so early to see me off.”

  “Of course,” she said. “When you get back we should have a girls’ night out, huh? Love you.” Alicia sauntered over to her husband in her skinny jeans and high-heeled boots and reached up and kissed Jump. She turned and gave me a final wave as she climbed into her navy blue Jeep Grand Cherokee.

  “Good luck with everything, Little Sister,” said Jump. He gave me a quick hug. “Lock will take care of shit for you.”

  “Thanks for everything, Jump.”

  “Sure thing, sweetness,” he said.

  “Later,” Lock said.

  A scowling Lock turned to me. A bandana was now knotted around the neck of his tight charcoal grey henley. Over his hoodie he wore a thick professional leather riding jacket. Long, lean, dark. I held my breath as he moved closer to me.

  He handed me a pair of ear plugs. “Once we hit the highway, you might need them for the wind noise.”

  I smirked and opened the palm of my hand to reveal my own pair.

  He shook his head. “Shit, I’m an idiot.” His fingers brushed the side of my face.

  Oh crap, there it was again—dark, dangerous, and gentle.

  He zipped up his jacket. “Let’s roll.”

  I secured a bandana around my forehead to catch the perspiration that would surely come under the helmet and fit the lid Lock had given me over my head. With one hand on his shoulder, I mounted the bike.

  Montana here we come.

  The trip would take almost five hours. I peered over Lock’s left shoulder and took in the road being eaten up by the massive Harley. I smiled at the memory of Alicia’s lecture to me on my first long bike run with Dig: “Don’t shift your weight unnecessarily on the bike. Your Old Man has got enough to concentrate on commanding that machine at high speed once he gets on the highway.”

  Being on these roads of my youth again after so many years away, made my chest constrict at the sight of the raw, bleak landscape. A Sunday rider I had once dated in Texas had remarked to me that the Dakotas were “a whole lot of nothing that lasted forever.” I dumped his ass after that.

  The ancient hills and rock formations dotted the now sun-filled horizon before us on the road. The wide gold and green bands of wheat and alfalfa fields side by side made me smile after all this time away. Aging grain silos stood sentinel while towering wind mills churned in the company of the occasional shiny cell phone tower.

  The farmland eventually gave way to rolling expanses of dry yellow brush dotted with pockets of green trees and wild grasses. A flutter went off in my chest as I took in the wide-open space that stretched out into infinity. No, it wasn’t dull to me. There was profound beauty in that raw, quiet majesty. Had I ever truly appreciated that beauty years ago? The fresh cold air ripped around us. There was nothing like tearing through it on the back of this formidable Harley with Lock.

  Once we got on the interstate the wind kicked up along with our speed. I stayed as close against Lock’s body and held on tight. Not a chore. I sat as still as humanly possible to decrease my resistance for him, not letting the hard wind get between me and the bike or me and him. My lips curled into a smile against my helmet.

  We stopped just past the North Dakota border to get a bite to eat and hit the bathrooms. I got off the bike, took off the helmet, and bent over to stretch out my lower back. The moment I stood up again, Lock’s hand grasped the side of my face and his lips crushed mine.

  “What was that for?” I pushed against his chest. My tongue swiped at my lips.

  “I think you know, Grace.”

  I think he liked having me on the back of his bike.

  It had been a very long while since I had ridden such a long distance. Lock made it a smooth experience. He was attuned to his machine, fully concentrating on the road, relaxed but attentive. Wreck had taught his brother well. Lock had achieved that harmony, a oneness with machine and road that I always believed was rooted in a deep, compelling passion for riding, a need in your very soul. That vital feeling of wholeness and freedom swept through me as we rode. It still swirled inside me right now. Of course, the effect had only intensified with that kiss and Lock’s heated glare.

  I pushed the helmet into his hands. “I’m going to hit the Ladies’ Room.” I charged through the parking lot on shaky legs.

  Two hours or more later we were just over the North Dakota-Montana border.

  The traffic was unbelievable. Rigs and semis of all shapes and varieties, most of them ginormous, ruled the roads. The number of passenger cars had quadrupled over the years effectively clogging these small country routes. Oil boom indeed. “Man camps” and RV parks had sprouted up everywhere as temporary housing for the army of oil workers. Unfortunately, there was no sign that housing, eateries, or retail stores had caught up with the obvious demand.

  Lock’s GPS directed us to Ray’s house which was in a very trim and tidy neighborhood. I hadn’t wanted to stop and make myself glossy and presentable. I just wanted to get there, see him, say whatever I had to say, and be done with it. Oh, yeah, and convince him to get tested.

  If I had to change my clothes and look in the mirror to put on makeup, my messy tangle of nerves, insecurities and emotions about my father would surely set off a riot in my already overtaxed stomach and pounding head. Then I would probably only want to bite Ray’s head off or burst into tears rather than be civil and calm.

  Time to get this done.

  We got off the bike. I swept my hair back into a ponytail and swiped on some cocoa flavored lip balm. Lock studied me, his arms crossed at his chest. The familiar and comforting fragrance of the waxy stick eased my frazzled nerves just a bit. I took in a deep breath as we made our way up the pebbled walk to the front door.

  “You okay?” Lock asked, his hand at my elbow.

  “Not really, but it doesn’t make a difference now.”

  His dark gaze focused on me. “Grace…”

  I stopped. “Thank you for doing this. For bringing me. I… I…”

  “Hey, take a minute.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in to his warm chest. The aroma of leather, sweat, metal, and gasoline filled my lungs, and my muscles instantly relaxed.

  “You sure you want to do this now? We can come back later tonight or even tomorrow morning?” his deep voice vibrated through his chest and into mine. His fingers pulled through the thick strands of my ponytail and rested on my neck.

  “I need to do it now.”

  “Alright.” He released me from his embrace. “I’ll be right out here, okay?”

  I shook my head. “I’d like you to come inside with me. Could you do that?”

  Lock’s eyes softened over me. “Of course.” He leaned over and brushed his lips against my forehead.

  My eyes took in the glossy red door with the brass knocker. My finger pressed in on the button with “Hastings” neatly printed over it.

  The door swung open.

  My own hazel eyes stared back at me from behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. Ray was still trim, tall, but a mustache now covered his top lip. His chestnut hair was now streaked with silver.

  Time stood still for a nanosecond. Then it rushed right back through me along with my heartbeat.

  “Grace?”

  “You still with the club?” Ray’s eyes flicked over Lock. Twice.

  “No, I just got back to Meager actually.” I placed my glass of water on its coaster next to Lock’s empty bottle of beer on the large wood coffee table before us. Ray’s house was impressive. No faded curtains or worn rugs here like the ones he had left behind in Meager. No outdated, old fashioned furniture either. Everything in Ray’s living room seemed organized, neat, clean, new.

  The three of us sat on a matching sofa and love seat in navy blue twill. A white wood entertainment center filled the center wall and held a large flat screen television. A number of home theatre gadgets and an extensive collection of DVDs lined the shelves. Beige w
all-to-wall carpeting was everywhere and heavy navy blue drapes lined the windows sealing out the sun and the neighbors. Five hunting and fishing magazines lay in a neat row on the glass coffee table. A tall chrome-stemmed lamp with a large white shade stood stiffly in the corner. Not one framed photo or personal object was visible. We might as well have been in the waiting room of a doctor’s office.

  I cleared my throat and shifted forward on the edge of the sofa. “Actually, I haven’t been home for almost fifteen years now.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you and your husband,” Ray said.

  “Thank you. Ruby told me you came to the hospital.”

  “I couldn’t not see for myself if you were okay.”

  I held his tense gaze for a moment. “I wish you had stayed. At least until I had come to.”

  “Ruby made it clear that I wasn’t welcome. Of course, she had every right to feel that way.” He pursed his lips.

  I took another gulp of water. “Look, I didn’t come here to go over old history.” I shot him a look. “I’d like to, believe me, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. I came here because I need your help.”

  “My help?”

  His eyes crinkled, and he pressed his lips together in a firm line and sat up straighter. “What do you need?” he asked.

  His features had tightened, and it had not escaped my notice. The shithead probably thought I came for his money.

  “Ruby’s married now. She has a little boy, Jake.” I handed him the small creased photo of the three of them I had ready in my jacket pocket. He studied the photograph.

  “Alex is an engineer with a big oil corporation. Ruby’s a drug dependency counselor. Jake’s headed for kindergarten next year.” My throat tightened. I curled my toes in my boots and ground them into the floor.

  “Ruby has lung cancer, Dad,” I said. His hazel eyes snapped up at me. “She’s had chemo, but she needs a bone marrow transplant to have a chance. It’s a long shot. A long, long shot, but we need to try. We haven’t found a match yet. I’m not even a match. I should have been, siblings are supposed to be the best match.”

  The side of Lock’s formidable thigh pressed into mine, and I was grateful for it. I swallowed hard. “Dad, you’re the only blood relative I know of, so I had to come find you.”