Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (2 page)

Matt leaned in closer to me. “I meant what I said earlier, if you want to find out more about becoming a physical or occupational therapist for when you’re ready, after the baby’s born, I can introduce you to one of my old professors, take you on a tour of the school.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course. You said you were interested.”

I was interested in a lot of things, if only I could decide.

My thumbs rubbed the side of my hot mug. “I just finished this part-time class in social media marketing actually. I liked it.” I fingered one of my dangling silver feather earrings. I enjoyed my little hobby of making charm bracelets, earrings, and necklaces, and in the very back of my mind I hoped to sell them online one day. That was my new secret idea.

“Mrs. Reigert just has a few more sessions at the center, right?” he asked, referring to Rae.

“Three more until her Medicare cycle is done.”

“Am I going to see you after that?” His voice grew lower, dragging out the words, his shoulders rolling forward. “I mean, I’d really like to see you, Jill.” His brown eyes held mine.

“Really?”

“Really.”

I averted my gaze to the creamy swirls floating in my mocha latte.

“Jill, you want to see me again?” The soft lilt in his voice made me raise my head.

But instead of Matt’s handsome face, my vision was filled with
his
face
over Matt’s shoulder.

Boner. One-Eyed Jacks Sergeant at Arms. One of Grace’s closest and dearest friends.
Among the club members, he was an easygoing eccentric of sorts, and when he grinned or laughed, which was often, that ease would show. However, with me, he maintained a shroud of seriousness. I just knew something else lurked underneath, and I’d remained fascinated since I’d first met him, which actually was many years ago and under emotional circumstances for the both of us. Death and regret.

Staring at me right now was that creature of the shadowy unknown. His gaunt face was set off by an incredible long mane of inky dark hair, a thin mustache and a trimmed beard. His eyebrows framed gorgeous green eyes that were a shade of beach glass. I had even looked up green gemstones on the Internet once to compare to that color. Jade. Peridot. Tourmaline.

Those remarkable take-my-breath-away eyes were piercing mine right now.

“What’s up?” he asked in that familiar growly tone.

A stab of heat shot right through my middle and fired away down in my lady parts.

I choked back my hot coffee. “Hi.”

He didn’t move a muscle, not one, except for a slight twitch on his left cheek and his stiffening jawline. Those sharp green eyes of his claimed my breath and incited shivers
as they traveled over me in one long sweep.

“Uh…you know this guy, Jill?” Matt turned in his seat, the unusually high pitch of his voice revealing an unexpected stress level.

Who wouldn’t be stressed? I was stressed. I was stressed every time Boner came within a few feet of me. No, actually, every time he was in the same room with me, I got stressed. Very stressed.

I liked this stress though.

I’d become transfixed, addicted to it.

Last night, awake at three o’clock in the morning, I’d fantasized about him as my fingers took care of my stress level. Moaning into my pillow, I’d imagined Boner’s lean and contoured body over mine, his ringed fingers clamping over my wrists, his long dark hair teasing my breasts, as his mouth traveled down my torso until it finally, finally reached my—

“Jill?” Matt sat up, brushing against me.

Boner’s eyes narrowed, the ridge of his brows shadowing the green depths.

My back snapped up against the seat. “Boner, this is Matt. He’s a physical therapist at the center where Rae gets treated.”

“Hi.” Matt rose to his feet, offering an outstretched hand.

Boner exhaled as he lifted his chin, studying Matt, as if scrutinizing a cockroach he was about to crush.

“This is Boner,” I said.

Matt’s gaze scurried over the many patches on Boner’s worn leather vest.

Boner was a sight to see.

Over six feet tall, he wore faded jeans on his long legs ending in scuffed black boots, a ripped black club T-shirt, a tangle of leather bracelets around each wrist along with his bulky silver rings. A snake tattoo twisted up one of his sinewy arms. Two small silver hoops in one earlobe along with his exceptional hair and beard rounded off the image of the dark-road caballero, the insolent gypsy, the outsider rogue who wouldn’t fit into any peg or give in to any rules, and that was just the way he liked it, damn it. And damn you if you didn’t.

Ah, shit. Me, too. That’s just the way I like it.

My sinful fantasy, my wicked addiction, my secret crush, my delusion.

I cleared my throat. “Working today?”
What a master of conversation I am.
I swallowed more of my mocha.

His brow furrowed as he shifted his weight. “Yeah, came to get coffee for me and the guys.”

I swallowed him with my eyes as I licked the traces of coffee from my lips.

Holy hell, he’s my mocha.

His large Adam’s apple moved in his throat, his heavy eyes still on me, as if he wanted to say something but was busy talking himself out of it.

“Hey, there you are!” A tall brunette in a pretty light-blue off-the-shoulder asymmetrical top, big bangle bracelets, tight cropped skinny jeans, and high-wedge sandals clasped Boner’s arm. She tossed me a quick look and then just as quickly ignored me.

I slightly slid down in my seat, and Matt’s eyes widened for a second, as if the floor show had just gotten more interesting.
Was he envious? He should be.

Mindy was a dancer at the local MC-owned strip club, the infamous Tingle. She was also Boner’s latest woman and younger than me. Her toned, curvy shape pressing against Boner made me bite my lip as my hand went to my belly.

Boner glanced at her. “On a break.”

“All set, Boner!” Erica, the owner of the Meager Grand held a full white paper bag out over the counter.

Boner nodded at her and went over and took the bag. “Gotta get back to work,” he muttered at Mindy.

His eyes slid back to me, and Mindy and Matt faded into a fuzzy background. Boner lifted his chin and strode out of the cafe.

I watched through the big picture window as he headed to his Harley parked out front, Mindy on his heels. He packed up his bag of coffee, mounted his chopper, and seemed to shove at the vintage bike with a slight but cocky motion of his body.

I clenched my jaw.

Man and machine were one.

He flipped on his sunglasses, a pair that suited him so well, and I suppressed the groan rising in my throat. These shades weren’t the athletic-style ones I’d noticed he used when he rode long distances. These glasses had a more delicate, sophisticated frame along with a purplish tint to the lenses, giving a refined, sexy note to his otherwise grungy vibe.

He stared straight at me through those glasses, right through the big picture window. I could feel the heat of his gaze as intensely as if he were next to me, touching me, his breath heating my skin. The clink of cups, the din of chatter, the ringing of the cash register—all of it faded under the power of that gaze.

He gripped his handlebars, and his engine erupted into a roar. Mindy gave him a quick kiss, and then she backed away, coffee cup in hand. Boner took off, pipes blasting, his hair flickering behind him like a dark flame in the wind.

“That guy’s a real biker, huh?” Matt’s voice snapped me back to my dull, cold reality. “There’s a club in this town, isn’t there?”

My eyes unglued from the fading vision ripping down Clay Street and returned to Matt.

Nice Matt. Cute Matt. Conscientious Matt. Friendly all the time Matt. Colorless Matt. Flat Matt.

I cleared my throat. “The One-Eyed Jacks.”

“How do you know him?”

My stomach grew heavy, and my taste buds deadened. I pushed my coffee to the side. “He’s a friend of a friend, that’s all.”

Yes, it was time to get used to that fact of my life. That was all Boner would ever be—a friend of a friend. That was all.

I needed to let go of my little secret obsession.

I HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE
.

Jill, on a date. Jill, smiling and laughing with a guy who had grinned at her like he’d do anything for her, like he’d wanted to gobble her up whole.

I knew the feeling.

I had stood there, and they’d both looked up at me—his face riddled with concern, hers with a kind of astonishment. Jill’s initial expression was one of promise, shimmering with suggestion. I’d soaked it in, and then reality, my reality, had jerked me away.

I took the long way back to the clubhouse.

Every time I saw Jill, my insides would jolt and shove against each other, like some sort of seismic tectonic shift. That was me all right—pieces of cracked shell that rested on hot, molten rock. If I went back to work now, I’d be a moody mess and not get much done. I liked to keep my shit tight on the inside and easy on the outside.

I headed for the wide open spaces. The dried fields of brush and yellowed grasses sucked me in on both sides of the blacktop on the main road out of Meager. The sun poured its brassy heat over this stretch of farmland, over me, and I savored the warmth.

I hated small spaces, had for years. Living out here in South Dakota had changed that for me. I could open my lungs and breathe in this land’s seeming infinity, the massive sky stretching over me, daring me to touch it, willing me to soar. The endless sameness of the prairie or the farms or the grasslands was my relief.

Just beyond, the Black Hills rose before me, the thick evergreen forest making the mountains look inky on the horizon. The air became cool and crisp as I gained elevation. The sharp freshness of the towering pine and spruce trees and the quiet whispers of those ancient hunks of stone soothed me as I wound through them on that black twisting ribbon of road. Riding here all these years had breathed fresh life into my lungs. The tremors that used to grip my gut just after I’d left Denver had faded as me and my bike had become one force in the wind on these roads.

Something about Jill threatened that.

I pushed my chopper into high gear over the smooth asphalt, the wind battering my skin, my focus trained on the hum and rattle of my engine. Jill’s face wouldn’t fade from my mind, though.

The first time I had ever laid eyes on her was a long time ago. A horrible time. Seventeen years ago, when my best friend had been shot and killed. The night of his funeral.

She was a teenager then, a strawberry-blonde
everygirl
wiping at tears on her face.