Hammer (25 page)

I laugh at her rant as I set her vegetable tray on the kitchen counter. My new place is nice, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t quite feel like home. Evan helped me pick out some furniture and necessities, but as much as I love Miami, something is missing from my life.

It doesn’t take a genius to know Ethan ‘Hammer’ McCoy is what made this town feel like home. Sometimes, I wonder if I should have gone back to North Carolina instead of staying here, but the thought of going back to where my sister was murdered is unbearable. North Carolina will never again be the home it once was for me.

Morgan knocks, and I yell for her to come on in.

After Ethan left me at Evan’s, it was Morgan who packed up and brought me my belongings. She also helped me find a job and a new place to live. She has become a good friend, and I’m thankful to have her and Paisley in my life.

“You didn’t bring some sappy, I-love-you romance movie, did you?” I ask seriously.

Morgan loves to watch the heartfelt emotional ones, while I want action and adventure.

“Look, I’m with a biker.” Morgan defends herself. “You lived with bikers for, like, forever, so you should know I’ve gotta get my I-love-you mush somewhere.”

I laugh at her. “Then please tell me you brought the cookies.”

She smiles. “Yes, I brought the cookies, and thanks to you, I had to let Ice into the cookie jar.” She gives me a wink, and we all laugh.

“Because that was such a sacrifice,” Paisley adds dramatically.

We settle in for cookies, popcorn—which I quickly made—and Paisley’s vegetables as we watch our movie.

I can’t help thinking about what Morgan said.
Living with a biker
. It just takes me to a time when Ethan and I were actually together, just a blip on the radar of life, one of the few memories of the short time I had with him.

“Actions speak louder than words,”
I hear him say in my mind.

His actions have shown me I never would have gotten the words from him. He let me go. Sure, I understand he did it because, in his mind, he failed me. I stay here in the hopes that he will see my actions show I stand behind him.

Only, in this moment, with my friends here and a sappy movie on TV, I can’t help wondering if it was all for nothing.

Will I ever have a chance for a happily ever after of my own?

Chapter

20

~Hammer~

“Tank,” he answers on the third ring.

“Hammer here,” I inform him then blow out a breath.

“I’ve got nothin’ to say to you. Our clubs are settled according to Ice. My ol’ lady just spoke to Des. I know she’s good. Why in the hell are you calling me?”

He is an asshole. Then again, if it were the other way around, I would be an ass, too. “I called to let you know I’m making my play.”

“Oh,” he says with a sharp tone. “I see someone has decided to pull their head outta their ass.”

“Everyone keeps saying that shit to me, and I’m getting tired of it.”

“Get over it,” Tank snaps without hesitation. “What the fuck does your play have to do with me?”

“Des listens to you and trusts you.”

He laughs at me, and I want to punch something.

“You made your mess; you clean it up. She stayed there for you and because of you. It’s on you to make that shit right.” He pauses. “I’m not here to help you. I’m not here to sugarcoat shit. You fucked up. I’m just gonna say
if
, and I mean if, she gives you a second chance”—he again pauses—“and you fuck that up, I’ll take that shit personally. And personally, I’ll come looking for you.”

I don’t take threats lightly or well. I understand she means a lot to him, but fuck that and fuck him.

“Bring it the fuck on.”

“I hope you’ll see what you’ve got waitin’ there for you, and I hope you’ll see that I’m hopin’ I don’t have to.” He pauses, and I let his words sink in. “But I will. Always remember, she’s got the Hellions at her back.” He disconnects the call.

I know he’s giving me a pass for letting her go, and I won’t be given that pass again.

Now, if only I can get the same from the one woman who loves to bust my balls.

Looking at the clock, I see it’s just after two in the afternoon. Des will still be at Flex for the next thirty minutes until she gets off shift. It’s time I nut up and act like a man again.

Leaving my place, I hop on my motorcycle and roar out of the parking garage. I need to get to the gym before she leaves, because if she makes it to her place before I can get her, she might shut me out and refuse to open the door. Surprising her at work removes that as an option.

In a few minutes, I’m parking my bike just down the street from her gym. I could park right in front of it, but I don’t want her to hear my bike and get suspicious for any reason. The plan is a sneak attack. Once I get her alone, she can yell and scream at me all she wants. Until I can secure her at my place, I don’t want to give her the chance to tell me no.

Maybe it’s not the brightest idea to kidnap a woman who has been kidnapped before, but I’m desperate enough to do it.

Striding quickly to the front door, I barge in and immediately start glancing around the open area behind the desk for my woman. The redhead at the counter tries to greet me, but I ignore her completely.

There aren’t many people in the gym, so I think that will work to my advantage. It’s fewer people for her to hide behind and fewer people who might stop me.

In the back corner, shaking hands with a Latin beauty who could totally work at After Midnight, is Desirae in a bright yellow tank top and black workout shorts. She looks like a fucking bumblebee.

I head in her direction as quickly and quietly as I can with the tittering redhead trying to ask me what I need as she follows me. Des has her back to me, and I’m gonna use that to my advantage before she sees me in one of the many mirrors that hang along the walls.

I manage to make it to her position without her seeing me, and the Latin woman’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in surprise from my sudden appearance.

Not wasting a second, I grab Des by the arm and swing her around to face me. Her face is a mask of shock until she realizes it’s me, and then her confusion only seems to grow.

“What the hell, Hammer?”

“We need to talk.” I start dragging her behind me, but she drags her feet, resisting me.

“Unless you’ve come to tell me I’m in some sort of trouble again, we have nothing to talk about. Stop dragging me!” she hisses.

Tired of trying to drag her and not wanting to hurt her arm, I turn back to her and sweep her legs out from under her so I’m cradling her in my arms. She gives a small screech of rage, and I can’t help smiling at her feistiness. God, I missed it.

“Calm down, Drill Sergeant. We’re gonna talk, and it’ll be all right.”

I have just made it to the front counter when a guy twice my size and probably on steroids steps in my path, stopping me from getting to the door.

Des goes still in my arms, almost as if she’s an animal that senses danger is near. I’m pretty sure she knows I’m not the one who is in danger, though.

“Move,” I order the meathead.

“I think you should put the lady down and get the fuck out of here, man.” His face and body are positioned in a threatening pose, but his voice sounds like he hasn’t hit puberty yet. This jackass is totally doing the roids.

“How about you move out of my way Pee-wee, and let me take my lady outside for a talk? That way, you don’t get hurt.”

Meathead puffs up his chest and steps closer. “Put. The. Lady. Down.”

Gripping Des more securely to me, I snarl back, “
Move it
, asshole!”

The man takes another step toward us, and now he is within touching distance of me and my woman. I don’t want her to accidentally get hurt if numb-nuts takes a swing at me or tries to grab her, so I put Des on her feet and shove her behind my back. Much to my surprise, she doesn’t take off running to get away from me. Instead, she grabs the back of my cut and yanks.

“Have you lost your mind, Ethan? Why are you doing this?”

Turning my head to look her square in the eye, I give her the God’s honest truth. “Because I love you, Desirae. I didn’t fight for you when it mattered, so now I have to show you I’ll fight every motherfucker in this place if I have to in order to prove I’m not walking away from you again.”

Her jaw drops in surprise … and then a Mack truck hits me on my temple.

Okay, so it wasn’t a Mack truck—it was a fist and a sucker punch—but for a second, it sort of felt like I was hit by a truck.

I shake my head, trying to clear the stars from my eyes. Jesus, that guy has iron fists. After taking a hit to the temple like that, it’s amazing I’m still standing on my own fucking feet.

I can hear my woman screaming at the asshole who hit me. “Don’t you hit him again, Scotty, or I’m gonna kick your ass out of here so fast your head will spin!”

“But, Desi—”

“Nope. Just
no
! Get your ass out of here before I take one of those barbells and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

The world stops spinning just in time for me to see the meathead walking out the door. I try to go after him for his cheap shot, but Des jumps in my way.

“Say it again,” she demands.

For a minute, I’m confused. What does she want me to repeat? What I said to the gym jockey? My head is still a little fuzzy, and one of my ears is even ringing.

“Move it, asshole?” I ask, befuddled.

Her brows snap down into a frown, and she slaps her hands against my chest. “That’s not what I wanted repeated, you moron.”

Someone behind us starts to giggle. Then clarity hits me.

“I love you?”

Desirae shakes her head then looks at the ground.

I tilt my face down to see that her frown is gone, and one side of her mouth is tilted up in a reluctant half-smile. Not wanting to lose the chance this might be for me, I step into her and pull her face back up by her chin.

This time, there is no question in my voice. “I love you, Desirae.”

She starts to shake her head again, but I stop her.

“Hear me out, woman. I fucked up, and I know I did. As much as I may not deserve it, I’m standing here, asking you for another chance, because life is colorless without you. You’re my oxygen, my reason to breathe. Walk out that door, sugar, and breathe the life back into me. Without you, I feel dead.”

Epilogue

Three Months Later

~Desirae~

“Pack a bag, Drill Sergeant,” Ethan orders, slapping my ass as I lie there, draped over him.

“Who is the one commanding now?” I give him sass back.

He smiles down at me then kisses the top of my head. “Baby, if we’re in this bed—any bed—I’m in charge. If you wanna push my body to the limits out of bed to keep my stamina strong in the bed, fine by me, but baby, in bed, it’s my way, and I assure you it’s gonna be in all the ways you love.”

I can’t argue with him there. Since the day he came to the gym, we haven’t spent a night apart. I am happier than I have ever been in my life, though a piece of me will always be missing because my sister is gone. I wish she could have had this feeling.

The rumble of his voice takes me out of my thoughts. “What’s got you lost in thought?”

“Suzie,” I reply honestly, holding Ethan a little more tightly. “I hate that she didn’t have this in her life.”

“This?”

“Love, security, a partner, a friend,” I ramble as tears fill my eyes.

Ethan tips my chin with his finger and does a half-crunch, forcing me up to him as he comes down to me. Then his lips brush mine.

“Is that what you feel with me?”

I close my eyes then open them, biting my bottom lip. “Yes,” I say on a whisper.

“Desirae, this bed-hopping shit ain’t working for me.”

I gasp, wanting to punch him. “How do we have such a sweet moment, and then you say something like that?” I roll my eyes. “Ice said you were an asshole. I must have rose-colored glasses on or some shit. Way to ruin it, Ethan.” I move to get up, but a firm hand on my ass keeps me in place.

His eyes meet mine, and the seriousness in them has butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “We’re together every night. I don’t plan on that ever changing. You get me?”

I nod as I finally realize what he is saying.

“You’re my love, my partner, my best friend. I’m tired of sharing two beds. I want one … with you and me for a lifetime. What I’m saying in my asshole way is, move in with me.”

“Um … Ethan, I’m all for this, but you said pack a bag. Honey, all my shit”—I wave my arm dramatically in the air around us—“won’t fit in just one bag.”

He laughs, and the sound is pure heaven.

“Baby, the bag is for our trip. When we get back, the boys will have your shit moved for us.”

“Oh.” I pause. “Trip? Where are we going?”

“Trust me,” he says with a wink. “But do it while you get that fine ass moving, because we have a plane to catch.”

“Work?”

“I already handled it. Now go and pack a bag.”

Ethan rushes me through a shower, packing enough for three days, and then we are out the door.

When we get into the Camaro, I ask for a hint about where we are going, but he tells me I can wait and see, to trust him.

Silly man. Doesn’t he know I trust him with everything I am?

To prove that I do, I don’t say another word as he drives to the airport and parks. He grabs both of our bags and drags me inside the terminal. When we get up to the counter, he picks up two tickets for Clarksville, Tennessee, which seems pretty left field. If it had been Nashville, I might have thought we were going to tour Music City. However, my man asked me to trust him, so I still refuse to ask another question. He has gone out of his way to surprise me with this, and I’m going to appreciate that I have someone who loves me enough to do something that sweet.

An hour later, after being x-rayed by airport security, our bags searched, and then stopping in a coffee shop for a quick cup to go, we finally board the commercial plane.

Ethan gives me the window seat and sits next to me. He buckles me in then himself. The flight is packed, so I’m surprised when no one sits on the aisle seat.