Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4)

by Cat Porter

  Reich let out a snorting laugh and picked up his beer again, gulping it down.

  My stomach twisted and churned.

  “You like those designs on his face, do ya? Every time you get off on ’em, it’s courtesy of my club.” Scrib crossed his arms, his lips curling. The proud warrior retelling old legends.

  “You—” flew from my mouth before I could stop it.

  “Long time ago, we had Finger back when he was a prospect, chopped off his middle fingers and carved up his face as a lesson to his club.”

  “That was a lesson?” I blurted.

  “Yeah.”

  “You did that?”

  He nodded, his eyes flashing. “Then, Finger stole from us and vanished into thin air for a while. He reappeared back at his club, safe and sound. We’d just settled on a truce, so we couldn’t go after him the way we wanted, the way he deserved. I don’t know though. Maybe it’s time that truce expired.”

  An icy shiver snaked through me, and I staggered back a step.

  “You know, Tania, I’m really upset with what happened to Nina. She’s very special to me,” Reich said. “How do I know that you weren’t making her life miserable? I’m sure Butler was. I’ll bet that’s why she was fooling around behind his back.”

  “Butler’s been a stand-up partner to her the whole time, from what I know.”

  “Then, why would she be stepping out on him?” Reich asked.

  “Oh, that’s Butler’s fault? Amazing,” I muttered.

  “Maybe it’s your fault. Found you at his place, didn’t I? I got me a two for one right here. You a girl with special, hidden talents?” Reich licked his bottom lip.

  “You have quite an imagination, Reich. Instead of keeping me here, why aren’t you out looking for the idiots who hurt Nina?” I leveled my gaze at him. “Jump sacrificed his life to save her! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Finger could probably help you out.”

  Both men barked with laughter.

  “Okay then. Maybe you don’t need to look for who did this.” My shoulders stiffened. “Maybe you know?”

  Reich’s eyes hung on mine, his grin widening. He was having fun.

  “Oh, Jesus, it was you,” I breathed. “You rigged Nina’s car?”

  “Tania, you are one smart lady.” He winked at me.

  “You got Nina hurt. She could’ve been killed!”

  “Serves her right. Twit thought she’d gotten one over on me. Not in this lifetime. She got the message. She’s coming back home with me. I made sure of that, and my old lady will pull the rest of those strings.”

  The full perverse weight of Reich’s obsession with Nina, his own wife’s sister, made me rock back in my boots. A wave of acid rose in my throat.

  He leaned into me. “I get it now. Finger and Butler are buddies, and you’re their little go-between. The soup is finally coming together here.”

  “I’m not anyone’s go-between.”

  He let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, you’re just everybody’s friend, huh? So devoted. Ain’t she devoted?”

  “I wonder how devoted Finger is to her?” said the Smoking Gun, his hands resting on his wide black belt, his wallet chain swinging at his side.

  “Now, that’s a good question,” said Reich, facing me once more. “Finger’s devotion.” He dragged out the word for emphasis.

  Reich traced a line from my lips and down my throat, stopping at my chest. “I think you need a sign of your devotion.” Contempt laced his tone.

  “Yeah, something real genuine.” The Smoking Gun let out a belly laugh.

  “Something straight from the source.” Reich slapped a hand on the Scrib’s shoulder. “His and hers.”

  The both of them eyed me, as if they were hungry vampires making plans for an unexpected fresh victim. They were looking forward to the feast.

  My pulse blared like a screaming fire engine racing down a city street.

  I put my handbag on the table and sucked in a deep breath to keep my voice steady. “I don’t understand you two.” I ran my fingers through my hair and opened my bag. “I’m just caught in your crossfire. All I did was bring Butler some food today, knowing he’d been at the hospital with his injured old lady for days. I was checking in on a friend, nothing more. We do that out here in South Dakota, you know. We’re real neighborly.” My fingers curled around the lipstick tube, and I removed it from my bag along with my small mirror.

  Scrib came up behind me. His heavy breaths heated my shoulder, his hands curling over my hips. I gritted my teeth. He brushed my hair out of his way and rubbed my shoulder with a large hand.

  My stomach twisted at our reflection in my tiny handheld mirror, and I smiled. “Please get your fucking hands off me.”

  His thick black eyebrows jumped. “You crack me up, babe.” He turned his head to Reich. “Dude, you—”

  I tore open the lipstick tube, pivoted, and jammed the small knife into Scrib’s neck with a grunt. I threw all my weight into the thrust, knowing the blade was too small and probably too dull to make a dent in denser tissue.

  “What the fuck?” Scrib’s arm bashed into me, and my mirror went flying.

  He pulled the knife from his neck, blood spurting all over his hands, the whites of his eyes bulging. He lunged at me, and I dived toward my broken mirror on the floor, grabbing a shard. He wrenched my leg and dragged me along the floor, closer to him. I scratched and jabbed at his body with the jagged piece of mirror, and his howls and yells filled my ears.

  “Fucking bitch!” Scrib’s voice roared.

  The room spun, and I flew, landing on the sofa like a tossed doll. A slap tore over my face, stunning me. I gasped for air.

  Reich leaned over me, his eyes flashing. “You surprised me. I usually hate surprises, but this one, I kinda liked.”

  I whipped a knee out at him, aiming for his crotch, but he was too fast. He caught my leg, shoving it back down, his tight grip on my thigh shooting a burning flare of pain all through my limb. His other hand imprisoned my neck.

  I was trapped.

  “You okay, Scrib?” Reich asked.

  “I’m bleeding. Hidden fucking bitch knife!”

  That sick smile crept over Reich’s lips once again. “Let’s return the favor. This is your thing, ain’t it, man?”

  Scrib grunted loudly, cursing, taking in deep gusts of air.

  Reich ripped my shirt open. “I’ll hold her down for you.”

  THE BOURBON WASHED over my skin, the burn blaring right through my chest and blowing out my insides. My head fell back, but there was nothing to lean against, no support, no relief.

  No nothing.

  Their eyes scraped over me. Reich licked his lips. A large hunting knife with my blood on it glinted in Scrib’s hand. He took a step back, murmuring a string of curse words to himself, admiring his work as his free hand passed over his crotch.

  This shit is turning them on. Cutting me, making me bleed, making me beg for mercy.

  “Maybe you want to suck Scrib’s cock instead?” asked Reich. “He sure wants you to. He’s willing not to cut you any more. Pretty generous offer, considering what you did to him.”

  I raised my head and focused on Reich’s blurry face. “Fuck you.”

  Reich took his own knife and sliced down my bra, the tip of his blade whispering past my skin. The material gave way, freeing my breasts. I let out a shaky long breath, my stomach clenching.

  “Fuck yeah,” muttered Scrib.

  Reich’s damp hand palmed me, sending a jolt right through me. Scrib gripped my shoulder, and brought his blade down on my skin, slicing a short gash into my flesh, stinging me to hell and back.

  Blood and sweat trickled down my chest, and a moan lodged in my throat. My joints screamed; my limbs shuddered.

  Through the haze, I reached for Becca’s sweet face, her cuddling me as she fell asleep. I reached for my baby brother chasing me through the tall sunflowers in the heat of the summer sun.

  Daddy’s towering gold and green sunflowers.<
br />
  The sun in my eyes.

  Daddy’s voice calling out to us.

  The thudding drone of his combine in the hot and dusty distance.

  Far away.

  Reich leaned over and lapped at the blood on my chest, a hand smashing a breast, and I jerked in his hold. He made grotesque noises, his tongue swirling over me. The stink of his hair gel made the bile rise in my throat, and I struggled to choke it back down.

  I squirmed in the chair they’d tied me to.

  Why haven’t I passed out yet?

  “Can’t say no to tits, bourbon, or blood.” Reich laughed hard. Scrib laughed even harder.

  Nausea and heat overwhelmed me. The room dipped and dived. A slap cracked over my face, sending my head flying to the right, my neck twisting painfully.

  “Don’t faint now, bitch. You’re gonna suck me off!” came the harsh voice. “And, if you’re a good girl, I’ll return the favor”—Scrib hovered over me, leaning down—“right up that sweet ass of yours.”

  The sour smell of his skin, his brutal threat collided in my head, crushed my lungs. I gagged and wretched.

  He slapped my face again, and I gasped, needles of pain throbbing over my skin in endless waves. My head swung on my neck like a broken branch.

  Scrib fumbled with his leathers, his arched dick in his fist. “I’m gonna come all over that face. All over those tits.” He stroked fast and hard. “Oh, yeah. Yeah…”

  I couldn’t look away from the grotesque spectacle. That had to hurt. I was sure his dick was going to pull off in his hand, like a piece of stressed-out rubber. His mouth twisted in an ugly snarl, grunts escaping his thick lips.

  “Open that mouth, bitch.”

  A muffled click.

  “Huh—”

  Wood cracked and burst. Reich bolted out of my line of vision on a howl. The front door stormed open, knocking Reich back into the room. Fresh air broke through the stifling space, and my lungs surged in response.

  A tall figure, his features set in stone, a gun in his grip, flew into the cabin. His cold blue eyes were flames of ice aimed at me.

  My brutal angel

  Butler.

  A loud yell, a gun fired, a massive thud, and Scrib crumpled to the floor at my feet.

  “What the hell?” Reich bellowed.

  Butler aimed his gun at Reich and hissed. “You just can’t resist playing with me, can you?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Shut him up!” Boner’s voice pounded in my ears.

  Dready shoved Reich against a wall, a gun at his chest.

  “Shit, Tan! Shit! Motherfuck!” My brother’s tense voice rose somewhere above me. His hand cradled my skull.

  Drew.

  He turned suddenly and launched himself at Reich, shoving his gun up against Reich’s forehead. “What the hell are you doing with my sister? What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Your sister? She’s your sister?” Reich sputtered.

  Catch dragged Reich out of the cabin, Dready behind them.

  A pair of swiftly moving hands cut my arms loose, and they fell to my sides. My shoulders throbbed. My chest burned.

  Butler crouched before me and cut at the ropes binding my legs and feet. My lungs expanded to gain more air, each moment crushing, the pain lashing across my chest, my shoulder joints raw. I met his heavy gaze and tried to swallow as his hands pulled my torn shirt across my chest. I put my hands over his and held them there.

  Shouts and yelling blared outside, and Boner and Bear ran out the door, their guns at the ready.

  Crack. Crack.

  Catch’s shouts roared above the others.

  A howl and a flash of black made me jack up to my shaky feet. Scrib bulldozed into Butler, pinning him to the floor.

  Butler’s fists pummeled Scrib’s sides over and over again, his boots banging into the old wood plank floor with the ferocious effort. The two of them brawled, the huge knife shuddering in Scrib’s grip. His other hand smashed down on Butler’s face, while Butler’s hand clenched Scrib’s arm in a relentless hold.

  I have to help him. I have to do something.

  A glint of metal on the floor caught my eye. My lipstick knife. I grabbed it and swung my arm, plunging it into Scrib’s neck on a grunt. His body seized, his blood gushed, his howling wail filled the room. Butler pushed him away, and Scrib dropped to the floor.

  “Tania!” Butler grabbed me by the arm, his eyes flashing.

  He brought me into his body, and I sagged against him.

  He’d come for me.

  He held me steady, his arm around me a refuge.

  My tender mercenary.

  A smile played on Butler’s lips, his pale blue eyes gleaming. “Finally got you speechless? What’s the matter, baby? No one ever broke down a door to get to you before?”

  Warmth tumbled through me at the sound of that smoky, husky voice just for me, the long-held tension draining from my limbs.

  “Only you, Rhett,” I whispered.

  I curled into his chest, shaking in his arms, and he held me tighter in a vise of emotion and mettle.

  He lifted me up and swept me outside into the humid haze of dusk.

  And I held on tight.

  A BARRAGE OF YELLING AND CURSING.

  The short slide and adamant click of a gun, heavy footfalls thudding in leaves and branches, thick grunts—all of it jostled inside me.

  My fingers gripped the hot metal of the truck door. My insides convulsed, and I threw up on the pine needles and weed strewn rocks.

  “Let’s go!” Boner’s voice.

  Heavy arms lifted me inside the airless interior of the truck, a hand on my head. A familiar body, warm skin. Then, it released me.

  “You get her to your club and keep her there. I’ll be down as soon as I can. Gotta deal with this fucker!” Catch motioned to his men, who got Reich into his van.

  I hope he enjoys the ride. I know I did.

  “Why the fuck did you let that Smoking Gun go?” Butler got in Catch’s face.

  “Are you shitting me?” Catch shouted back, his eyes blazing. “I can’t do nothing to them, and you know it! Don’t you fucking dare go after them. You do, and we are all up shit’s creek. This falls on Reich. That Gun came here to see him. He’s got a lot to answer for. We start there. You get my sister home. I’m taking this one with me.” He banged on the van. “Move!”

  Catch’s dark eyes slid to me. Our father’s dark brown eyes. Eyes now raging with molten iron. I nodded at him from inside Boner’s truck. His jaw seemed permanently clenched as he swung on his bike and tore after the van.

  Butler got in the truck and took me in his arms as Boner jerked the vehicle back, swung around, and sped off. I wiped at the side of my mouth, acid trailing on my tongue. My vision was blurry, but I didn’t fight it.

  I gulped and gulped, the gusting air from the window whipping over my face, coolness rushing my skin. I slumped against Butler as I held my shirt together, my limbs exhausted.

  A wad of fabric was pressed against my chest, the relentless sting a replay of the horror.

  “No!” I swatted at his hand.

  “Tania, you’re bleeding. Let me do this.”

  My head sank back, this time against a large shoulder.

  The truck barreled over a winding, rocky roadway, and my eyes blinked open. We passed through the open gates of the One-Eyed Jacks’ clubhouse and finally came to a jarring stop.

  “This way! Take her in here!” Alicia’s sharp voice rang out, and my muscles relaxed at the sound.

  Butler lifted me and carried me inside to the smell of old vinyl and lemony air deodorizer, the hum of the ceiling fans in the lounge, murmuring voices.

  I peered up at a harsh angled jaw and hooded blue eyes. I leaned my face against Butler’s sweat and bloodstained T-shirt, his skin underneath blazing with heat. He carried me down a hallway. A door swung open, and my aching body met a soft mattress that squeaked under our weight.

  Butler’s blue eyes filled my
vision, clouded eyes lined with creases. He was worried.

  I offered him a faint smile, but it didn’t seem to have any kind of softening effect on him.

  He took my fingers in his. “Lie back. You’re safe now. It’s over.”

  I willed my jaw to unclench, and my gums throbbed. The stinging pain swelled over me again, that burning on my chest. I gave into it and spun on its whirl. I let out a whimper, adjusting myself on the bed.

  “Tania? Shit.” He opened my hand in his. My skin was slashed from the shards of broken mirror I’d used to stab Scrib. The blood was sticky.

  Was it my blood? Was it Scrib’s?

  “I’m okay, really,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Let me get that shirt off you, honey,” murmured Alicia.

  “I’ve got her.” That growl came up in his voice again. “Get me a first aid kit and make her some tea with a shot of whiskey in it.”

  “I’ve got some codeine if you want something stronger, Tania.”

  “Tea’s good,” I replied.

  “Okay, hon, whatever you want. Be right back.” Alicia flew out of the room.

  “Butler—”

  “Just lie still till we get you cleaned up. Please.” His lips smashed together.

  I followed his line of sight. My stomach tightened at my ripped shirt, my ripped bra, my skin stained with blood. A moan escaped my mouth.

  “Let me do it. Close your eyes,” Butler said.

  I didn’t want to close my eyes. I wanted to watch him, his somber face concentrating on cleaning me up, healing me, making it all better, wiping this hell away.

  Alicia burst in with a huge first aid kit and a large black T-shirt. Butler took the kit from her and snapped it open. I closed my eyes and within moments the sting of a liquid over my chest had me squirming. Alicia swept the hair from my face.

  “I know. Just a bit more. Hang on.” Butler worked over me, his eyes tense, stony. “Thank fuck the cuts aren’t deep.” The tear of adhesive followed, and he patted the edges of a bandage over my chest. He cleaned the cuts on my hand and gently applied ointment over them.

  He turned away, packing up the first aid kit, and Alicia helped me take off what was left of my ripped shirt and bra. She stretched the soft cotton shirt over my head, and we both carefully tugged it down over me. She balled up my ruined shirt in her hands. My pretty black bra.