Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3)

“I suppose not.” She busied herself with the television remote control. The news flashed by, a soap-opera, a talk show.

I put my phone down on the coffee table. “I’m going to change Snow White’s diaper and put her down for a nap. Would you like me to make you another cup of tea first?”

“No honey, you go ahead and take care of our princess. I’ll survive.”

I headed into my bedroom with Becca. I needed to call Tania and let her know her brother wouldn’t be coming. She’d be disappointed too, but was better at hiding it than her mom. And I’d have to find a way to explain it to our daughter, too. Catch really knew how to make the women in his life happy.





“BONER, TAKE A PICTURE OF US, would you?” Grace handed me her cell phone and rushed back to stand with Tania at the front door of the office of Eagle Wings. Tania had come over to say goodbye before she took off for Wisconsin.

I dropped my phone on Grace’s desk.

“Have you not heard of the selfie concept?” Tania asked her, brushing her black hair from her face.

“I want the real deal photo right now,” Grace shot back. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m only going back there to pack up my stuff and hire a lawyer. I’ll be back before you know it—a month or two, tops.”

Tania and Grace threw their arms around each other and laughed. You would’ve thought they were teenagers again.

I aimed Grace’s phone and got the two of them in focus.

Whir-click. Whir-click. Whir-click.

“Wait!” Grace held up her hand. “Jill, get in here with us.”

Jill glanced up at me and joined Grace and Tania, going between them. The three of them smiled huge, and I tapped on the screen.

Whir-click. Whir-click.

“Got it,” I said, putting Grace’s phone on her desk and grabbing mine.

The three of them yakked and hugged some more. Tania opened the front door of the office, and light streamed in, diffusing its gold through Jill’s tumble of wavy strawberry-blonde hair.

I stood stock-still, taking her in: a curvy body in slim-fitting jeans, tired-looking black leather cowboy boots, a turquoise-blue T-shirt with a crisp white jean jacket over it. What little makeup she wore made those incredible eyes pop and didn’t cover up those freckles.

Tania made some dirty wisecrack, and Jill threw her head back and laughed. That rich silky laugh of hers filled my ears, rippling through me. Her sweet face was relaxed, and her eyes, more blue than gray, gleamed in the light.

Whir-click.




I grabbed a bottle of Miner beer from my fridge and drank, savoring the cold brew washing down my dry throat. I tossed my keys, my phone, and my gun on the kitchen counter, and then I drained the bottle. It had been a long day at work, and I was relieved it was finally over.

The bip bop from my phone went off. I opened my texts and saw Butler’s code for me to call him back.

Butler had gone nomad last year after he’d been stripped of the presidency of our North Dakota chapter for colluding with a rival club and being totally off his ass on cocaine and whatever else he could find. Out on his own, he’d gotten clean with the help of twelve-step programs and the force of sheer will.

Over the past year, Butler had been doing freelance bounty-hunting for several clubs that were Jack-friendly all over the country. Our national president had given him permission to do so, loaning him out. But Jump, our chapter president and not a fan of Butler, had no idea. Grace had seen him with the Flames of Hell in Nebraska last year, and he’d asked her to keep it quiet, especially from Jump. She’d shared it with me though, and I’d been in closer touch with him ever since.

Butler’s ultimate prey was Creeper, a former Jack who had worked with the same rival club as Butler last year but had gone over to their dark side after the dust had settled. He’d shot Butler and my prospect, Dawes, disappeared from the radar, and even kidnapped Jill’s daughter a few months ago in retaliation for an alleged wrong done to him by Becca’s dad, Catch, a Flames of Hell member.

I opened the bottom drawer and shoved aside the tray of screwdrivers, a small hammer, rope, and plastic ties, sliding out the burner from underneath.

I hit his number. “Hey.”

“Creeper’s with the Blades. They got him protected, on lockdown.”

I drained my bottle. “Prisoner or guest?”

“Not sure yet. You know how these things go.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed a hand across my mouth. “Keep me in the loop.”

“You be ready.”

“I’m ready,” I said. “By the way, Lock wants in.”

“You sure about that?”

“He needs it. I’d like to give it to him.”

“Let’s give it to him then.”

“Good. Later.”

“Later, man.”

I tossed the burner on the counter. It bounced off my phone, and the screen came to life. My camera was still on. The last photo I had taken appeared in the corner.

I tapped on it to enlarge it, bracing for what I knew full well would appear on the screen.

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