Breaking Hammer (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Inferno Motorcycle Club Book 3) (23 page)

"I need you to understand, April," I said, my voice breaking.
 "I need to start to let you go.  I can't stay in mourning forever.  I need you to let me go."

Later, almost as if I was on autopilot, I rode up to the clubhouse on the bike.
 I parked, dismounted, and looked at the sign over the door.

Inferno Mo
torcycle Club, Las Vegas

I inhaled deeply, looked around, and took it all in, the bikes lined up in the parking lot, a couple of brothers hanging out in front of the house, watching me
. One of them threw a wave of acknowledgement in my direction and I nodded back. I wasn't expected to be back around here right now, I didn't have a fight scheduled for another few days yet. I walked up to the entrance with its double doors, pushed through and walked in like it was my own front door.

This was it.
 There was no going back, once I returned to the club.  But I had to.  I was lost without it.  It was a life I had known for too long, a life I knew with April.  The past few years, I'd gotten lost.  I couldn't stay lost forever.

I stepped inside, and my mind was made.  Ants sat on the edge of the pool table, bullshitting with a prospect.  He looked my direction and his face lit up with a big, shit-eating grin.  "Hammer," he said.  "Good to see you, man.  You come by to check out the new Road Glide Skunk bought with his winnings?"

"Nah," I said.  "I'm looking for the Geezer, if he's around."

"Yeah, man," he said.  "He's back there in the office with Castillo, going over some business stuff.  Give me a second and I'll let him know you're here."  He turned and walked toward the back, then stopped and turned around.  "Hey.  Skunk mentioned you have an old chopped up Dyna you ride."

"Yeah, so?" I asked.

"Is that what I just heard out front?"

I nodded, and watched Ants recede back toward Geezer's little office.  I realized the prospect had been staring at me the entire time.  "What?" I asked, my voice sharp.

"You're Hammer?"

"Yeah, so what?" I asked.

He strode over to me, and I realized how large he was, well over six foot and thick as a tree trunk.  He extended his hand.  "I'm Pete," he said.  "Pete Ketchum.  Pleasure to meet you.  Guys 'round here been calling me Swede."

"Swede, huh?" I paused.  "You look familiar.  Where do I know you from?"

He shuffled awkwardly, hung his head.  "
Tank was my older brother."

"Oh." 
Shit.
  Tank, as in the brother we fucking left behind, dead, in the explosion, the explosion Mad Dog's fucking lackeys caused.  "Fuck, man," I said, extending my hand.  "Good to meet you."

Footsteps behind me interrupted us. 
Geezer greeted me.  "Hammer," he said.  "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you," I said
, regretting turning away from the Swede.  I made a mental note that I needed to talk to that kid, Tank's brother.  "Already cleared this with Blaze.  I want to come out of retirement."

Sitting cross-legged on a mat on the balcony of my apartment, I closed my eyes, focused on my in-breath and my out-breath, trying to practice letting go of the need to control my thoughts.
 All the same, I found myself frustrated as my mind wandered, to the way my leg was falling asleep, to the fact that I was sitting on the balcony because I felt like I should be getting some fresh air but it was fucking hot.  I could feel a single drop of sweat make its way down the side of my temple.

Damn it.
 This wasn't working at all.  I'd tried meditation on and off over the years, attempting to find some peace.  Years ago I practiced it, trying to let go of my need for revenge, to quell the anger I felt when I thought about what had been done to me, to my sister.  But it didn't work.

I don't know why I had returned to it.
 It was like the other things I did, the ways I kept trying to be a good person, kept telling myself that I could somehow skew the balance of karmic debt in my favor.  Always striving, always trying to be someone I wasn't.  Someone good.  So I guess I hadn't fully embraced the darkness within me.

Yet.

I reached up to my neck, my fingers tracing over the spot where Aston had tightened the belt around my neck.  At first I'd thought he was angry because he'd had me followed, had seen me with Hammer, or leaving the hotel.  I was stupid - beyond stupid- for going to meet Hammer there.  But I realized I hadn't been caught.  It had nothing to do with Hammer and everything to do with whatever the hell drug he was taking.  Aston was getting more erratic, which meant he was more dangerous.  The red marks had faded, the remnants of where he had pulled too tightly, let go of his control.  That was always the danger with Aston, the loose grip he had on his own capacity for control.  There were no welts, not there anyway.

After that was a different story entirely.

After that, he had lost control, angry, I think, because he hadn't choked me.  Angry with me for regaining consciousness.  Angry that I didn't simply pass out and die.

But, enraged, he'd hit me, socked me right across the face.
 I brought my hand to my cheekbone, touched the area under my eye gingerly, even though by now, a week later, it no longer felt painful to the touch.

I heard a knock at the door, and a rush of fear went through me.
 All I could think was that it was one of Aston's men, summoning me so that Aston could finish what he had started.

I steeled myself, inhaling deeply as I pressed myself against the side of the door, angled my body to look through the peephole.

"What the hell?"  I asked the question aloud, without even thinking about it, then lowered my weapon and pulled open the door.

"Meia," he said.
 He stood in the doorway, several days worth of stubble on his face, wearing a leather vest I'd not seen him wear before.  A leather jacket from a biker club.  I felt a flush rise to my cheeks immediately on seeing him.

"What the hell are you doing here?
 At my house?" I asked through clenched teeth, practically spitting the words at him.  I stepped just outside of the doorway, looked down the hallway.

"What the hell happened to you?"
 A look of concern crossed Hammer's features, and his brow furrowed.  "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing." I looked at Hammer's clenched fist, saw his anger, and all I could feel was panic. I wanted him out of the hallway, where anyone could see him.
 "Leave."

"His men aren't outside," Hammer said.
 "They're not watching."

"I don't need you here," I said.
 "Leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.
 "Now, move before I bust down your front door."

"No!"
 I pushed him back, panic building in my chest.  I couldn't have him here.  I couldn't take the chance that Aston was watching me, questioning my loyalty.  "Stay here for a second.  Do. Not. Move."

I slipped back into the apartment, terrified that Hammer was right behind me, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen.
 When I opened the door again, I handed him the paper with the hotel name on it.  "Thirty minutes," I said.

He nodded.
 "I swear to God, Meia, if you don't..." His voice trailed off, a warning to me that he expected me to show up.

I closed the door without a word, bolting it behind me.
 My heart beat furiously in my chest as I tried to process what had just happened.

Hammer had been following me, stalking me.
 And I hadn't noticed.  Which meant that I'd gotten complacent.  It meant that Aston could have been watching me and I might not have noticed.  I mentally ran through the checklist of precautions I'd taken with Hammer.  The first call was the one I'd taken in Aston's bathroom, in hushed whispers.  But it was on my disposable cell phone, the number I'd given Hammer.

No,
I told myself.  
If Aston knew anything, you would know by now.
 Aston wasn't exactly good at waiting when it came time to dole out punishment.  And everything else, all of the other phone calls, had been on the second cell phone.  The minute Hammer called, I put on shoes and went walking, an earpiece tucked into my ear and the phone tucked into the pocket of the hoodie I wore.  I couldn't know whether Aston had my house bugged.

I was paranoid, I knew that.
 But who wouldn't be, in my situation?  I had to be.  It's what had gotten me this far.  My paranoia had allowed me to survive.

The problem was that all of a sudden Hammer appeared in my life, and now I was taking risks I shouldn't.
 Risks I knew better than to take.

Risks that were going to get Ben and I killed.