Lock & Key Christmas Read online

  Lock & Key Christmas

  Cat Porter

  Wildflower Ink, LLC

  Lock & Key Christmas

  Cat Porter ©2018

  Wildflower Ink, LLC

  Editor

  Jennifer Roberts-Hall

  Cover Photo

  Pigoff Photography on Unsplash

  Cover Design

  Cat Porter

  — Special thanks to Jennifer, Christina, Lori, Linda.

  Love you all! xx —

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, nicknames, logos, symbols of criminal organizations and motorcycle clubs are not to be mistaken for real criminal organizations or motorcycle clubs. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products and locales referenced in this work of fiction. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Random & Rare

  Fury

  Dagger in the Sea

  Books by Cat Porter

  About the Author

  Connect with Cat

  1

  Miller

  “What do you mean you don’t have the presents?” Grace’s voice pitched high.

  “I mean, I don’t have the presents,” I whispered, taking off my wet jacket and hanging it in the mudroom. “The road to the club was already blocked by the time I got there.”

  “Say again?”

  I kicked off my boots. “Baby—”

  “No, no, no. You’re kidding, right?”

  “Wish I was.”

  “I was hoping you’d be able to—”

  “I know.”

  “Oh my God. What are we going to do? What are we going to tell him?”

  “Well—”

  “Because you realize that whatever we tell him won’t matter a hill of beans because he’s a four-year-old boy who is expecting presents on Christmas. Logic and understanding do not factor into this equation. Not one bit. The only thing that matters is loads of wrapped presents under that tree for him to open.”

  We both turned and stared at the tree void of any brightly wrapped gifts underneath its branches.

  I shifted my weight. “Is that the meaning of Christmas? Is that what we’re teaching him?”

  She groaned. “No, of course not, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s a little boy and the buildup to ripping wrapping paper apart and opening presents on this one day is extreme. He made his list for Santa over a month ago, and wrote it himself. And we encouraged him.”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t promise him that he’d get everything.”

  “Of course we didn’t, but—oh my God.”

  “Sweetheart, take a deep breath.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “You don’t have anything here at home?”

  She shook her head, her teeth scraping her gorgeous bottom lip. “I’ve been stashing the goods at the warehouse at work. Everything, even the small stuff—the leather bracelet, the bandana. You know how he is, he gets into everything, finds everything.”

  “That’s our boy.”

  She tugged on her hair. “And there I was so proud of myself for having taken care of it all ahead of time—the shopping, the wrapping, the stashing it all at work. The top secret secrecy.”

  “And you got snowed in quicker than you expected and couldn’t get them here when you’d planned.”

  Her eyes filled with water as she nodded. “And we won’t be able to go to the midnight service at the church either which is probably canceled anyway. And Thunder was all excited to stay up late and get dressed up in his new clothes.”

  “Aw, baby.” I brushed her forehead with my lips. “I know you want everything to be perfect for our Christmas, but twelve hours of steady, heavy snowfall in the Black Hills tends to mess with everyone’s best-laid plans.”

  “Well, there’s always baked potatoes.”

  “Baked potatoes?”

  “In a couple of the “Little House” books, Laura and Mary and their family would inevitably get snowed in during Christmas, especially when they lived in the Dakota territory, and all the kids got for Christmas was a baked potato. And they were so grateful.”

  “I don’t think a potato is gonna fly for Thunder.”

  “Me neither.” She let out a laugh and pressed her hands into my chest, down to my waist. “Anyhow, the only baked potatoes in the house are currently stuffed with bacon, melted cheddar, loads of butter and cream and waiting to be paired with my filet mignon.”

  “Now you’re talking. I’ve been thinking about your stuffed cheesy potatoes and steak all day.”

  “Hmm. Don’t worry, there’s plenty.” She let out a sigh, giving me a soft grin which heated my flesh still chilly from the winds outside. “The important thing is that you aren’t stuck in Wyoming because that would’ve been horrible. I was getting worried.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t an emergency. The Kades are our biggest clients, and his guy managed to find that Corvette, and I was the only one he wanted touching it. Tyler and I did what we could under the circumstances. That annual Christmas auction of theirs is a huge deal and huge for us. He paid me in cash this time, with an added extra for the holiday.”

  “Really? So you’re loaded right now, Mr. Moneybags?” She patted my back pockets, squeezing my ass, and I kissed her.

  “Did Tyler get home okay?” she asked, wiping the damp hair back from my face.

  “Yeah, this is when living in the center of town is a plus. Down there, the roads were still passable in the truck. I’m sure they aren’t anymore. Speaking of which, my dad called me.”

  “I was expecting him, but he never showed—”

  “He’s not coming.”

  “Because of the weather?”

  I shrugged, my jaw tightening. “So he said. But I’d told him to come from yesterday, but obviously he put it off. If he really wanted to come, he would have.”

  Over the past few years since my dad and I had started talking again, he’d say no to me more often than yes about anything—me helping him do repair work on his house, keeping up with his doctor visits after his leg surgery. Both of us had a hard time reaching each other, both of us stubborn, awkward. It was a muffled relationship, but we tried, that counted for something. Thunder’s birth had created a bridge between us now over that cold, rushing river, but who would it cross it, and how?

  On a heavy sigh, Grace buried her face in my chest. “I love you.”

  I kissed the top of her head, my hand sliding down to her ass. “Love you too, baby.”

  “Daddy, you’re touching Mommy’s butt again!” Thunder laughed out loud.

  “She touched mine first, bud.”

  Our son burst into giggles, and my heart flew.

  “I like Mommy’s butt,” I said, kneading Grace’s ass hard. She squealed and jumped in my hold, and Thunder laughed even harder. “But you know what I like better?”

  “Uh oh,” said Grace.

  Thunder’s eyes widened at his
mother’s ominous tone. “What?”

  “Your butt!” I chased him, and he hooted as I tackled him, tossed him in the air, and squashed him in my arms.

  “Daddy!” He laughed from deep inside his little body. “Daddy!”

  “Now Daddy’s home, Christmas can begin,” Grace said.

  Thunder’s face beamed. Pure elation.

  “We have plenty of wood, so get to fixing the fire, you two,” said Grace.

  Thunder helped me pile the small and large logs and reset the fire that had petered out.

  “Ohhh,” Thunder stood before the hearth, his smiling face awash in a blaze of orange-gold as the flames licked at the wood, crackling and popping.

  “Pour the wine, baby,” I called out to Grace who was busy in the kitchen.

  “You sure you don’t want a beer?” Grace asked. “After the day you’ve had?”

  “No, sweetheart. Tonight’s special, and I want your wine.”

  She grinned and brought us both beautiful round crystal glasses filled with dark red wine. “There you go.”

  She’d made me try her favorite Cabernet a year ago—warm, rich, flavorful. I’d liked it. A mellow warmth that pooled in my veins and settled in my chest. Wine’s warmth inspired the I-love-you-so-damn-much-my-heart-is-bursting-and-I-need-to-fuck-you-slow-and-sweet-right-now-baby side of my brain. Beer more inspired the I-need-to-pound-you-right-the-fuck-now side of my brain.

  We clinked glasses and sipped, our eyes lingering on each other. Her smile grew wider. She liked that we were both drinking out of the fine crystal glasses Tania had gotten her for Christmas last year. This wasn’t Grace drinking her wine from her fancy glass and me sucking on my bottle of brew. Nope. We drank together. I liked it. Her tongue swiped at her wet bottom lip.

  “That’s good, huh?” she murmured, appraising the wine’s color.

  “Real good.”

  Just you wait. She’d get her present from me later on tonight, and I couldn’t wait to give it to her. I brushed her sweet mouth with mine, and she let loose a small sigh, her lips trembling. I cradled her face. Grace’s beautiful hazel eyes were filled with water.

  “My kisses still make you emotional, babe?”

  “Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” She forced her lips to curl up, but I knew my wife.

  “Babe.”

  “I get all sentimental around the holidays.”

  “I know you do. You got a little quiet there when you and the girls were cleaning up after Thanksgiving dinner at Butler and Tania’s.”

  “You noticed?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “It’s just that someone was missing at the cleanup. Someone who always used to organize us in the kitchen. I can still hear her complain that no one knows how to properly load a dishwasher but her.” Her smile wobbled.

  “It’s Ruby’s birthday today, I forgot.”

  She twisted her lips, a tear escaping. “Her having a Christmas birthday made it an even more special holiday. Ruby’s birthday would kick off Christmas for us when we were kids—we made it a two day festival of celebrating. When I was on my own, she would come to wherever I lived, and we’d do her birthday and Christmas together. Even after she got married to Alex and had Jake, they would come. We always had this holiday together, even in the shit times.” She wiped at her eyes. “And now that you and I have Thunder, she’s not here.” Her voice ached and my heart hurt. “She should be here. I want her here.”

  I held my wife tighter. “I know, baby. She should be.”

  She swallowed. “The smell of candy canes, the ornaments on our tree, that one angel that was her favorite—” she gestured at the beautiful statue of an angel in a purple and gold gown blowing a brass horn sitting on our dining room table on a gold runner. “They’re all Ruby to me.” Grace blew out a huff of air, her hand curling into my shirt. “And Wreck should be here, too. He’d be the best grandpa ever. It hurts, literally hurts that Thunder is missing out on his aunt and his great uncle.”

  She was right. It did literally hurt that my big brother wasn’t here to see me with my own family, for him to look into Thunder’s eyes and see his own. No, they weren’t the same color eyes, but Thunder’s eyes had a resolve and tenacity that was all Wreck. I wanted him to hear his nephew’s hearty laugh, to see him running through the house that was once his. The house he’d brought me to long, long ago.

  “And for the first time ever,” Grace continued, “I couldn’t get to the cemetery with all the snow, I was afraid I’d get stuck there. I always go on her birthday and leave holly branches for her and mom, and one for Dig, and for Wreck.”

  “I know, babe. We’ll go once the roads clear up, first thing.” I rubbed a hand down her back. “You miss Jake, too.”

  “It’s our first Christmas without him and Alex, but I’m happy that Alex finally has a serious girlfriend, and this is their first vacation with Jake and her daughter—Christmas in Miami.”

  After Ruby had passed away, it had taken Alex a while to date again, let alone enter a relationship. I was so happy that he was finally letting himself have a second chance. My second chance had certainly been worth the risk. It was everything.

  “I’m glad my Dad’s going to spend the weekend with them to see Jake. And I talked to Jake this morning. He said palm trees lit up with Christmas lights are the coolest thing ever.”

  “That’s just too weird,” I said. “I wouldn’t trade being snowed in here with you and our son for anything in the world.”

  “Me either.” She grinned through the tears sliding down her face. I wiped them away.

  “Where is our boy? Things got real quiet all of a sudden.”

  “Probably in his room, he’s been huddling in his teepee all afternoon. He told me he was busy organizing.”

  “Organizing? Thunder?”

  “I thought he’d be more stir crazy waiting for you to get home, but he’s been keeping himself busy most of the day.”

  My gaze darted down the hall which led to our bedrooms. All clear. “Get over here.” I pulled my old lady down to the floor and brought her into my lap. Cradling her face, I nipped at her lips, my tongue invading her mouth, our wine blooming. “Fuck, you taste good.”

  “Shh,” she said, pressing against me, her fingers brushing my face. I devoured the smile from her lips and made it mine.

  “So when will Santa bring the presents?” came Thunder’s booming voice.

  I lost my wife’s lips as she pulled away.

  “Actually honey, come here. Sit down with us.” Grace slid back from me, and we settled Thunder in between us. “With all this snow, I’m not sure if Santa’s going to make it.”

  “But everyone knows that Santa rides a sleigh, and sleighs are for snow. And he’s got all the reindeer and Rudolph too.”

  “Right, Rudolph,” I murmured, brushing a hand through my hair.

  “I know, baby,” said Grace. “But Mrs. Claus just sent out a text to all the mommies and daddies here in South Dakota telling us that since the snow is so bad, especially here in Meager, Santa’s going to do his best to come, but he might not be able to get through tonight. He has a big responsibility to all the other children around the world, so he’s going to go visit them first since they don’t have all the snow we do. And after he’s done all the way around the world, if the storm’s cleared up by then, he’ll come to South Dakota.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Grace shot me her daddy-backup-needed-now look.

  “South Dakota has the most intense snow, bud. You know that,” I said.

  Thunder nodded his head.

  “Honey, it doesn’t mean he’s not coming, he’s just coming a little later than usual,” I said.

  “”kay.” He chewed on his lip.

  “When he does come—and we don’t know when—it’s going to be an amazing surprise, right?” said Grace. “That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

  My girl was good. Always putting a positive
spin on shit.

  Thunder twisted his little mouth, his head slanting.

  “And you love surprises, don’t you?” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you know, Santa. He’s going to make it up to you in a big way,” said Grace. “I’m sure his sack will be stuffed with extra treats for all the good boys and girls who are waiting so patiently here in Meager.”

  “Hmm,” was Thunder’s only reply.

  “Time for food. Are you hungry, Thunder? Because I have a mean collection of steak, and quesadillas, and piggies in blankets, and cheesy potatoes. All our favorites.”

  “Piggies!” whooped Thunder.

  “I say we eat in here in front of the fire, picnic style, what do you think?” I said.

  “I thought picnics were for summer?” asked Thunder.

  “We can do whatever we want,” I said.

  “Christmas picnic! Yay!”

  Grace brought out the first platters of food to the living room where Thunder was attempting to set a tablecloth on our cocktail table, but the fabric kept sliding left and right and he let out a huge huff. I helped him get the tablecloth on right, and I put Christmas carols on the stereo. Grace brought out the rest of the food as I placed our big square pillows on the floor around the table for us to sit on.

  We settled in, I poured more wine. Grace and I clinked glasses. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  Thunder raised his fork in the air. “Merry Christmas!”

  2

  Miller

  We’d eaten. We’d pigged out. All three of us were stretched on the floor.

  “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,” I said on a groan.

  “Do you remember that commercial?” Grace said. “That was a good commercial. A classic from the seventies.”