Lock and Key (12 page)

Excitement spilled over the room like a rushing river. She seemed a little anxious by the tension in her shoulders, but happy. She was home, after all. The club had been her home just as it had been mine, the place where both of us had done a lot of important growing up. It was also the home she had once shared with her husband.

There was that, too.

When I had first seen Grace at Dead Ringer’s that night, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She had been drinking straight whiskey. Not just drinking it actually, but savoring it. Enjoying it. Really enjoying it. It made an impression on me. She had obviously chosen something she really, really wanted and enjoyed the fuck out of it her way. I liked that she didn’t seem uncomfortable or embarrassed at being on her own at a bar. She didn’t seem like she was out fishing for a hookup or any male attention. The woman wanted to enjoy her drink.

I had stopped at the Roadhouse on my way home from a drop to hit the bathroom, splash some water on my face, and have a quick drink before the last stretch of road home. It was late, it had been a long two days on the road, and I needed a break before I went back to the same old, same old. Seeing as I was on my own, I decided to enjoy my five minutes of peace. I hadn’t had a vodka in a long time. Beer, bourbon and tequila were always on the menu at the club. I was over it.

Like I was over a hell of a lot of things. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

She was beautiful. Not in a conventional—wow, she’s gorgeous —kind of way. Grace’s beauty was in her quiet, her simple. It sprung at me when she grinned, and it seeped through me when she looked a bit sad or faraway, which was pretty often.

When I first spoke to her she turned quickly to face me, one sexy dark eyebrow lifted. Her big hazel eyes were tight with suspicion, yet quickly thawed into amusement. And what a color those eyes were. They seemed to shift from greenish-brown to a greyish-green color over the course of the night. She got a kick out of our debate about liquor and change, laced with plenty of innuendo. I got her to smile a couple of times, and she caught herself and bit that sexy lower lip of hers.

I had introduced myself using my real name. I didn’t want to hear my club road name come off this woman’s lips. I wanted something different from her, and I got it. Every time she said “Miller” in that warm tone, heat jabbed me in the gut.

I figured Grace had to be around my age. Her eyes had seen and experienced some pain in her days. Her skin was creamy, fresh, though, with a few freckles over her cheeks, the kind that had probably come up in her younger years then stayed. When she laughed, she lit up, she let go. That was beautiful. Yes, she was beautiful. My kind of beautiful. Then Grace would go back to holding on tight to something inside her. Something she refused to share.

I could have kicked myself when she had turned away from me and leaned back against the bar to check out the crowd as some sort of signal for me to change the subject. A sudden need to touch her engulfed me, too. I wanted my hands to glide over that smooth skin under that tight Harley tee and discover every secret curve. We stood very close at the bar. What the hell was that magic scent… her perfume? Her shampoo? I couldn’t put my finger on it and it was driving me crazy. It was something not too sweet, but soft, like early summer. Hell, I wasn’t big on dancing, but I had to do something to get closer to her.

Once I had her in my arms, and we moved together to the music, she finally relaxed. My cock wasn’t the only thing that stood at attention; it was as if my blood kicked up through every goddamn vein in my body. That night I hadn’t been shopping for a hookup, hadn’t even crossed my mind. But Grace was different.

It was easy for me to get laid back home. When the need struck, a selection was always available. But the same expectant, willing eyes batted up at me over and over again. There were different faces often enough, but they all wanted the same things from me—a way in, a notch up, an attachment.

No, that night I stopped at Dead Ringer’s because I just wanted to enjoy my drink, listen to some music, lose myself in the buzz of the crowd, then get back in the truck and get home.

But there she was in her sparkly t-shirt, tight jeans, sexy silver jewelry and harsh leather boots that on this kind of woman made my mouth water. She had a real body, all tight curves, that she obviously took care of without going overboard. Even whatever makeup she had on was real. I could see her, a pretty her, not a pumped-up version. I wanted to sink my fingers into her long, thick light-brown hair. There was nothing about her that was there to put on a show or jack my cock and jerk my chain. It was all…
Grace
.

Yeah, all Grace.

And I wanted to know that woman. I wanted a piece of that no excuses, been there, done that, no-drama honesty. She didn’t feel the need to let it all hang out and dangle it in your face. She could take it or leave it.

I liked this. I liked her.

A lot.

I had seen something else in her eyes. Something I recognized, because I was lugging the same shit inside my soul. Suspicion, sadness, bitterness? All of it initially flashed up at me, but then she had tucked it away and got back to her drink. Still, she seemed familiar, but I didn’t want to waste any time trying to figure it out just then.

Maybe I should have.

I went for it and kissed her. My head exploded when she opened her mouth and gave it up to me. Then she gave it back to me. That was it. I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and I couldn’t help myself with the ice cubes.

Was it high school of me? I didn’t give a shit. It got me touching her curvy ass, her beautiful tits. My tongue got to glide over her hot skin. I can still feel how her pulse had jumped at the side of her neck.

I got so desperate for her that I proposed the back of the bar or my truck. Stupid. Her eyes flashed at me. What an idiot. My mouth started to ramble non-stop. I prayed for mercy. Then she invited me back to her room at that motel on the other side of the parking lot.

I think my hands shook like an eager kid’s when I took out my wallet to pay the bartender. That was a brand new feeling for me, but I pushed that aside and barreled on. Neither of us could get the motel room door unlocked fast enough. Once I slammed the door closed behind us we ripped our clothes off, and I finally got my mouth and hands all over her. And it was sensational.

Then I got inside her, and I was… gone.

I looked Grace in the eyes and watched her come. She had sparked a curiosity in me and, more importantly, a particular desire that I thought had faded a long, long time ago.

The desire to feel.

Her eyes had been wide open with everything I gave her as if it were new, different. The mere fact that she was so eager for me drove me insane, made my heart race, and my dick pound. I didn’t want to stop. She was eager, but not rabid or showing off like some women around the club get when they’re desperate to have you and want to show you how good it can be with them if you keep tapping their ass. No, that wasn’t Grace.

She was enjoying it, and I had a feeling she hadn’t let go like that in a long time. And I was right. She was relaxed, happy to be in that crap motel room with me, touching me, kissing me, letting me do all sorts of shit to her while she clung to me and moaned out my name over and over again. Somehow that genuineness loosened the slab of cement inside my chest.

The next morning when I woke up alone I got pissed that she had cut out on me without a word. Not just because it was the first time that had happened to me or I wanted another go, but because I actually liked her.

Imagine that?

Disappointment gnawed at me. I didn’t even find out what her last name was, where she was headed, what the hell she was doing in South Dakota, for fuck’s sake. All I had were her black lace panties that had gotten gnarled up in my jeans on the floor.

Did I have to throw the memory of us in the pile with all my other hookups? I didn’t want to. It stung, and it pissed me off that it stung. Grace didn’t belong there with all those nameless, faceless, forgotten women, and she certainly didn’t fit there. I wasn’t sure where she fit, but I knew for certain not there.

The feel of her soft skin still burned all over me. I inhaled the musky scent of our sex on the sheets mixed with faint traces of her heady perfume. I lay still taking it all in on that creaky motel bed as the sun showed the first signs of morning. I had checked my watch. Shit, she could have crossed into Wyoming by now for all I know. I got dressed, shoved her panties in my pocket, and left.

A couple hours later when I dragged my ass back to the clubhouse to check in with Jump, I passed the photo wall in the main room, and as usual my eyes instinctively went to the shot of Dig and his wife.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Those eyes. That smile.

It was her.

Grace was Little Sister. She was Dig’s Old Lady from a lifetime ago.

In the past fifteen years, Sister had literally not been heard from again. Not even from Alicia who had been her close friend. She must be back in town to see her sister. That gave me a spark of hope.

Now that spark of hope just exploded into fireworks right here in the middle of a full clubhouse.

“So what’s so great about her? I don’t get it,” Heather muttered, twisting a lock of her brassy red hair between her fingers.

Goddammit.

Grace had seen me getting blown by Heather earlier when she passed us in the hallway with Junk. The blood backed up in my veins. I peeled Heather off of me and moved forward. The bitch squealed from somewhere behind me.

“Lock, what the fuck?”

I didn’t bother looking back at her, but judging from her shriek, I was sure steam was coming out of her ears.

Men jostled past me to greet Grace. The brothers she had never met—Bear, Kicker, Peck, Dready shook her hand. The men she obviously knew from the old days like Clip, Willy, and Boner stayed close to her.

She was here. My dream come true.

Heather’s long fingernails dug into my arm. “Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Her green eyes flared at me.

What a fucking disaster.

Heather hadn’t let up for months. I had dipped in several times, but she had been way too clingy and too loud for my tastes. However, tonight I was jonesing for something I would probably never have again. Something I hadn’t realized was so profound. I took out my frustration and self-loathing on Heather.

Tonight I had let her hang on me. She had pulled out all the stops as usual to get me to take her to my room and fuck her. I finally shut her up by shoving myself into her mouth in the hallway. But there was no relief in it nor any end to my torture. In fact, it only pissed me off and frustrated me even more.

Same ol’, same ol’.

Until I noticed a woman hit up Boner at the bar with a cryptic smile like she always belonged there, and it all began to make sense.

Little Sister.

Grace.

That beautiful name. It was like a small breath, my secret prayer.

Jump flung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me forward. “Lock,” he said. “This is Little Sister. I don’t think you two ever got a chance to meet. Ain’t that crazy, considering?”

My chest constricted. Couldn’t I just throw her over my shoulder and get us the hell out of here? I took her small hand in mine and squeezed it. Her eyes dug into mine, her lips parted.

Shocked, huh? You don’t know the half of it.

I swallowed hard as her cold, soft hand settled in my large one. It was a hand whose touch my body knew too well. A swell of heat tightened my insides. That pull went through the two of us, that electricity in our touch was still there.

“Nice to meet you,” tumbled out of her mouth.

“Pleasure,” I said. My voice came out low. Her eyes darted to Jump’s then back to mine.

“Lock is Wreck’s little brother, can you believe that?” Jump asked. His other hand clapped down on Grace’s shoulder.

Her eyes went round. “You’re Wreck Tallin’s little brother? The soldier?”

“Yeah.” A muscle spasmed in my cheek. “I’m Miller. Miller LeBeau.”

She made a noise in her throat and turned over our joined hands. Her eyes found Wreck’s silver eagle ring on my finger.

“Miller
…
of course.” She bit her lip, her face flushed.

She knew who I was. It must all be coming back to her. The boy she used to pass in the hallway in high school and smile at sometimes. Her good friend’s little brother who he showed off tens of photos of in his Army uniform sitting on a tank in a number of battle zones in Europe.

“Wreck
was so proud of you.” Her hand squeezed mine. “He always used to tell me stories about—”

“My brother loved to tell a good story,” I said. “He had mentioned you and Dig to me in his letters a lot.”

Wreck had been twelve years older than me, and he had been a veteran too. He had been a mentor to Dig in his early years at the club. While I had been serving a tour of duty in Kosovo, Wreck had been shot down in cold blood during a fight at a bar while the boys were on a run in Texas. His sudden, unexpected death had shattered the club, just two months before Dig’s murder.

“That’s his ring isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it is,” I said. My fingers tightened their grip on hers, the heat unbearable. Both of us stared at the ring, stared at our hands clasped together.

I had noticed at Dead Ringer’s how she had done a double-take when she saw my ring at the bar. In bed I had stroked her with it. I don’t know what the hell had come over me, but she was lying there having just come hard, purring with the satisfaction I had given her. Her gorgeous body all lush and relaxed… totally irresistible. I’d wanted to ignite her all over again.

Jump’s voice sliced through us. “We saved the ring for Lock before we buried Wreck.”

My hand was on fire, my cock twitched in my jeans. I finally loosened my grip on her hand and let go, but I didn’t want to. Her gaze darted up at me.

Jump released me and slung his arm around his Old Lady. “We came to see you in the hospital plenty of times, Sister, but you were out of it for a long while. Then when you finally came to, you were either hysterical when you saw us or just plain dead in the eyes. It was horrible.”