Hammer (8 page)

“He’s a totally different story, an old-money type of man who never had enough, so he made himself a kingpin on the Chicago streets by dealing in pharmaceuticals. Maybe more. We’re still digging to find more info on both Ricca and Wellington. We’ll sort this out,” Roundman states, stepping out.

Tank shakes his head and remains silent. Sass sits with me as I take pause to reflect on what all of this could mean. Was Suzie tied to something with the Ricca family? How pushy was he?

I look up at the ceiling and begin to count the popcorn puffs to myself as I try to slow my thoughts. We never had secrets growing up. Now I’m worried my little sister may have had a whole life I knew nothing about.

There is a knock on the door, taking me out of my reverie. Tank answers it, and there are two bikers from Catawba I have come to know as Tripp and Shooter. They all greet in the man half-hug, back slap thing they do, and Sass gets up to give each man a hug of her own. I stand and simply brush my hands down my jeans nervously.

Shooter looks at me, holding a black box. “Desirae,” he pauses.

I nod, not understanding the box.

“We … umm, brought your sister to you.”

I stare at the unmarked container, and something inside me snaps. I can’t bring myself to reach out and hold it.

Collapsing to my knees, I sob uncontrollably. My parents didn’t want to pay for Suzie to have a funeral. I had already been informed of my parents plan to cremate her. I wasn’t prepared for the Hellions to step in and bring my sister to me, though.

After mourning her, thinking I wouldn’t be able to truly give her peace and put her to rest, she’s here. In that very box, she’s here … with me.

A dark part of me wishes I were there with her, instead.

Chapter

6

~
Hammer~

“You shouldn’t cage a beast,” I state to the air around me.

“I never did play nice with others,” Evan mutters as he enters my room. “Angry today, big bro?”

Shooting my little brother a killer glare, I grudgingly murmur, “Something like that.”

I want to beat the ever-loving fuck out of something, anything. I want to feel more than the pain in my legs. I want to feel more than the agony of being trapped by my own fucking broken body.

Since Evan got clean, he has bulked up. As long as I didn’t fuck up his face, he would make a damn good sparring partner. He is a muscled up pretty boy with a tan and dimples, his blond hair short and spiked. All of it keeps the women throwing dollars all night long. I’m glad he’s got something going for him. I sure as hell don’t anymore.

Evan studies me. “You all right?”

I want to throw something, but I can’t.

New story of my life: I can’t do shit.

It is Evan, though; I can be real with him.

“No.”

“Ethan—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Fuck this. Don’t you Ethan me! When you have to have a sponge bath and need help wiping your own fucking ass, then you can talk to me.” Not liking the look across his face, I point a finger at him, trying to convey that, if I really wanted to get up and kick his ass, I could somehow. “Don’t you fucking pity me. Don’t you dare!”

He looks at me, his expression never changing. “I get it.”

Rage builds.

“The hell you do! I feel like a trapped animal. Broken. Helpless. Half a fucking man.” I throw my hands up in the air.

My baby brother, my best friend, the one person who knows everything looks at me … and smirks. It makes me want to beat him even more. Cocky bastard.

“Dick work?”

I have had enough. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

He steps over to my hospital bed. “Or what?” he goads like when we were kids.

“I’ll fuck you up so badly our own mother won’t even recognize you.”

He laughs. The motherfucker laughs.

I swing my legs to the edge of the bed. My hip burns from the inside out, reminding me I’m not healed.

I am not okay.

He leans in, face-to-face with me. “Let it out, man. You’ve gotta grieve.”

How dare he act like he knows what I need to do!

“I don’t gotta do one damn thing. You need to go.”

He pushes back away from me and crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t mean it.”

“The fuck I do!”

When he pulls a chair to my bed like he plans to stay a while, I want nothing more than to kick the legs out from under it.

Well, if he is not going to listen, then I might as well not talk.

An hour later, Evan is still sitting quietly by my bed.

I glare at him.

“Seriously, Ethan, tell me what I can do. I feel helpless over here.”

I laugh sarcastically. “Well, baby bro, that makes two of us.” I sigh. “I need to get out of this place.”

“That’s a start.” He smiles, and my anger calms down.

“It’s not home. I’m not living here; I’m existing. I feel like I’m in prison. I’m a number on a chart with three hots and a cot.”

Evan laughs freely, which makes me smile.

“I doubt prison has female nurses with big titties to give you a sponge bath. Last I heard, you want to make sure your soap’s on a rope when you go to the big house.”

“Name a nurse here with big titties and ass.”

He pauses, thinking it over.

“Exactly. I’m trapped in a bed with Bertha butch coming to wash me while my nose can’t smell a damn thing beyond antiseptic. The food is worse than fucking chow hall grub. I’d happily choke down an MRE over the shit they are serving.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “That bad?”

I simply growl. Yeah it is that bad. I am a man who used to run eight miles a day and drink a twelve pack a night. I can disarm an enemy with one hand. I face fear head on, yet I am trapped in place by my own damn body.

~~~

It takes some pull from the Regulators, but five months after the accident I manage to be discharged finally. There are stipulations, of course. Ice and Coal promised to take care of the details. As long as it doesn’t mean Big Jim giving me sponge baths, I will deal with whatever comes next.

A personal physical therapist is up first to find. The boys have a contact, someone who is used to my lifestyle supposedly. Ice swears it’s someone who can handle an asshole like me.

I’m not so sure about that, but if it means I can be back in my own condo, fine by me.

When my brother pulls up in front of my building, I take one look at the line of bikes and vehicles the biker bunnies drove in and feel frustration wash over me. They aren’t quite hidden from view, but I can tell they positioned the machines in order to let me see them without drawing too much attention to their presence.

Apparently, one of the dumb fucks decided it would be a good idea to throw me some kind of coming home party. I don’t want a fucking party.

A party means people. People will see me in my wheelchair and think I’m not the same man I used to be. The women will want to give me a pity blowjob, and my brothers will be standing around, looking at me but trying not to show pity.

But we all know that they will. Pity me, that is.

To hell with that! I love each and every brother in my club, but they can take their good intentions and shove them right up their own asses. I would rather sit by myself in an empty condo and give myself a hand job than accept their stoic faces and the women’s fake celebration.

I look over at my brother who sits tensely in the driver’s seat, totally aware of what I have been looking at and my sudden black mood.

“Get ’em out right now.”

I watch his fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he blows out a weary breath. “They just wanna say hi and welcome you home, bro. Is that so bad?”

Trying to keep my cool, not wanting to take my anger out on my own flesh and blood, I grip the door handle instead of giving in to the urge to punch his pretty face. “I don’t know. How bad would it be if you had to go to Alibi and all those dick jockeys you work with saw you busted up in a wheelchair, unable to walk, let alone do your job?”

My brother, the epic smartass, doesn’t miss a beat, answering me with a smirk. “I think I would be the one receiving the lap dances instead of giving them. That could be pretty sweet. Titties in the face and all that.”

My left eye twitches as my right hand lets go of the door handle and rears back to hit him.

Evan throws his hands up in the air between us to stop me. “If you hit me, I’m sending pictures of the bruises to Mom.”

Utterly incredulous, I snap, “Did you just use our mother against me?”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“You fuck nugget! I’m gonna kick your ass when I can use my legs again.”

“If kickin’ my ass is all you can think of doing when you get the use of your legs back, then I’m gonna worry there’s more wrong with you than we currently know about, bro.”

“Only you would bring up sex at a time like this!”

“Actually, I was talking about riding your bike again, but sex is a good point, too.”

At the end of my patience, I somehow stop myself from giving in to the urge to strangle Evan and grab the dashboard, instead.

Through gritted teeth, I growl, “Honest to God, Evan, if you don’t get out of this truck right now and get them out of my place, you’re gonna be taking so many pictures of bruises to send Mom that she’ll think you were the one hit by a car instead of me.”

Realizing he isn’t going to win our argument, my little brother slips quietly out of the truck and makes his way to my condo.

I don’t look at the clock to see what time it is. Honestly, I don’t want to know how long it is going to take for him to kick everyone out.

Closing my eyes, I see my club brothers’ disappointed faces. It might be wrong of me to shut them out right now, but I need space. I need time to breathe. It is bad enough Evan isn’t going to leave me alone; thus, seeing me struggle in my own home. I don’t need Ice, Coal, and the others to see that shit, too.

I hear the sounds of their bikes pull away and give myself an extra moment in the darkness.

It’s nothing against any one of them. I didn’t even let my own mother come to visit. I can’t stand knowing the people closest to me can’t depend on me. In fact, it is now me depending on them. How fucked up is that?

A knock on my window has me opening my eyes and staring through the glass at Ice. He jaw is clenched, telling me he isn’t happy. His shades keep me from reading his eyes to completely figure out what he is thinking.

Rolling the window down, I lay my arm across the open frame and nod at the man before me. “Prez.”

“I know why you’re doing what you’re doing, and I don’t like it.” He pauses, and I know, without a doubt, he is studying me, waiting to see if I will react. When I don’t, he continues, “But I understand. We cleared out the women but left the food and drinks. If you need anything, I expect you to call, understood?”

A sigh of relief escapes me. Thank God for small favors. Now I just have to get rid of the headache talking to me, and I can finally get back into my own damn place.

“Roger that. If I need someone to hold my dick so I can piss, I’ll call you.”

Ice growls back, “Don’t be a smartass. That’s what I expect from your brother, not you.”

Knowing I have overstepped my bounds with the one man I shouldn’t, I grudgingly nod back my understanding. “Sorry, boss. I just need some peace and quiet for a few days. I’m sure I’ll be back to fuckin’ and fightin’ in no time, right?”

I do my best to keep an optimistic tone to my voice, but it rings false even to my ears. I know Ice sees right through my shit.

Instead of giving me shit about it, he gives my shoulder a clap and orders with a gruff voice, “You know how to get ahold of me.”

Ice walks away to his machine, fires it up with a loud roar, and rumbles out of the parking lot without a backward glance.

Hearing the engine of his bike twists something ugly inside of my gut. For a moment, I wonder if I am going to be sick to my stomach. Closing my eyes and letting my head fall back to the headrest, I let my mind wander to the worry that refuses to leave me or be ignored.

What the hell am I going to do if I can never ride my motorcycle again?

Perhaps I became a biker as part of a long-term undercover operation, but along the way, the Regulators have become more to me. This isn’t just my job; it’s my way of life. I couldn’t imagine a future where I couldn’t straddle hundreds of pounds of metal, kick start it to life, and fly down the roads with the wind whipping around me.

“You gonna sit there all day, feeling sorry for yourself? Or are you gonna get your ass out of that truck and go inside?”

For Evan’s sake, he better hope I never walk again. Otherwise, when I get out of this chair, I am going to stick my foot up his ass for being such a pain in mine.

Pulling on the door handle, I throw my truck door open, hitting my brother in the process and making him stumble backward. He makes an
“oof”
sound, but it didn’t really hurt him. It might have been a cheap shot, but something inside of me needs to let him know that, just because I am temporarily crippled, it doesn’t mean there isn’t any fight left in me. I just fear I don’t have
enough
fight in me to get back to standing on my own two feet.

“Stop gabbing like a girl and get my chair. I swear to God, you working around all those bitches is starting to rub off on you.”

Laughing, Evan grabs my chair out of the back of the truck, unfolds it, locks the wheels, and puts the pad of my seat back on for me.

Looking back at me, he asks, “You ready?”

Is any man ever ready to be carried around like a baby? Fuck no. This is probably the most humiliating part. I don’t want my little brother to see my obvious indignity, though, so I put on a mean face and do what I do best.

“Drop me and I’m gonna put you in your own damn chair, got me?”

Evan snorts, ignoring the threat, and scoops both of his arms under my lower back and legs. Picking me up, he manages to put me in the chair without dropping me or showing any strain from my heavy frame. He might be smaller than me, but my little brother obviously can hold his own.

Too bad the same couldn’t be said for me.