Breaking Hammer (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Inferno Motorcycle Club Book 3) (12 page)

Literally.

"Hey!" she said, her eyes wide as she stumbled on her heels, losing her balance.
 I grabbed her by both arms to steady her, meeting her gaze for a moment.

Holy shit, she was gorgeous, with long dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders in waves, framing her delicate features.  She was tiny as a bird, but I could tell she wasn't delicate.

"Sorry," I said, not moving my hands from her arms.  I found myself not wanting to move, too mesmerized by the intensity in her dark eyes.

She didn't respond, instead yanked her arms out of my hands, her eyes darting behind me like some kind of scared animal.
 I realized what I was seeing as intensity in her eyes was really fear.  And then I saw the red welts on her arms, raw and angry on her skin.

"Hey," I said.
 "Are you okay?"  I reached for her arm again, about to pull her away so I could talk some kind of sense into her.  Whoever she was looking for, whoever she was afraid of, I couldn't just send her back to him.

But before I could say anything, I heard someone clear his throat beh
ind me, and I turned to see Mark, the security guard, standing there, shaking his head.  When I looked back, the girl was gone, walking toward a man in a suit who stood on the other side of the room, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Mr. Holder," Mark
said.  "That's not someplace you want to go."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.
 "Did you see her?  She looks scared out of her fucking mind."

Mark shook his
head.  "You know that phrase about sleeping dogs," he said.  "Let it go.  Don't even think about it.  That's trouble you don't want to be involved in.  Not with her.  Not with who she’s with."

But even after I turned to walk away, I could feel her tiny body in my hands, the tremble as I gripped her arms.

And later that night, I couldn’t quite shake the way I had felt looking at her.  I felt protective.  Like I wanted to kill whoever had frightened her.

I had also
experienced the unmistakable rush of attraction.

It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

And, almost immediately, a feeling of guilt washed over me, so strong it nearly took my breath away.

Later that night, I lay in the bed, awake in the darkness, listening to the creaking of the ceiling fan.
 Most times were okay now, but nights were the worst.  It was the time when I couldn’t shut down my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.  Lying awake in bed at night was when I missed April the most, when I questioned whether I could keep doing this every day, the rinse-lather-repeat of the same thing over and over again.  Sometimes I truly didn’t know what the answer to that question was.

Tonight, I kept seeing the face of the girl from the casino when I closed my eyes.
 And felt my heart race, thinking about her.

And then I felt the unmistakable feeling of guilt and shame.

There wasn’t anyone for me but April.  There never would be.

It was going to be fucking ridiculous, showing up to the clubhouse in a fucking car.
 But I didn’t give a shit.  I was only going because I still considered Skunk a good friend.  He’d stood by me, especially after April died.  I’d known him from way back years ago, but he’d joined the Vegas chapter of the Inferno MC and I’d been out in California with the Los Angeles chapter.

He’d been showing up at my house, pretty regular.
 Even when I first came back to Vegas, when I’d cleaned myself up but things were still really dark.  

The first time he showed up was a year a
go.

~ ~ ~

When I saw him standing at the front door wearing his leathers, I felt a rush of anger at the sight of the Inferno MC logo.
 I’d let the brothers come out to April’s burial, but fuck, I was in such a daze then I didn’t give a shit about what anyone else did.  After time away with MacKenzie in Puerto Rico, time away from all of the club shit, I didn’t want to see it anymore.  I couldn’t be around it.

“I don’t want t
o fucking see the colors, Skunk,” I said.  “I’m not a part of that shit anymore.”

He nodded.
 “I can see that.  But you and I go back farther than that, Joe.  You know me.”

“I know you,” I said.
 “And I don’t need you fucking checking up on me.  I don’t need the goddamn club checking up on me.  You understand what the fuck retirement means?”

He shrugged.
 “Understood,” he said.  Then he turned, got back on his bike.  I listened to the motor rev, and watched him ride away.  Good riddance.  I didn’t need a reminder of the shit that had killed April.  I had a new life now.  I was a goddamn white collar worker.  My job didn’t involve anyone getting killed.  It didn’t involve beating anyone to death.

Still, later that night after MacKenzie was in bed, I sat in the garage, drinking a beer, looking at the bike, the one I wouldn’t ride, but couldn’t bring myself to let go of.

~ ~ ~

And then Skunk came back again two weeks later.  Showed up on my doorstep, just like before.  He just shrugged when I opened the door.  That time, I didn’t turn him away.  And then he showed up two weeks after that.

It had taken a year for me to consider associating with the club again.
 And even now, I still wasn’t sure about this shit.  I'd gone out to see Blaze, let him talk me into doing that job for the club.

Now all of a sudden I was about to fight, in an actual fight, next week.
 I can't say there wasn't a small part of me that liked the idea of getting set up for another fight.  Liked,
hell
.  I was fucking craving it.  I was itching for it like a junkie who needed a fix.

I told myself that just because I was going to the clubhouse didn't mean I was coming out of retirement.
 It didn't mean I was getting back into the lifestyle.  I wasn’t the same person I was, back when I was a part of the MC.

At least, I hoped I wasn’t.

“Shit, man,” Skunk said, clapping his hand on my shoulder.  “Fucking great to see you here.”

“Crunch.”
 Pipes walked up to us, clasped my hand.  “Fucking A.  Where's your bike?”

Skunk
tossed him a dirty look.

I shrugged.
 “The bike’s in the shop,” I said.   I wasn’t sure why I just lied.  It’s not like they didn’t know what had happened.  Everyone knew.  It’s not like I didn’t have a good goddamned excuse not to be riding anymore.

“L
ong time no see, man.”  Tater greeted us, a red plastic cup of beer in his hand.  His long beard trailed down to his stomach.  “How’s that kid of yours doing?”

“Oh, she’s good,” I said.
 “Getting real big now.”  I reached into my wallet for MacKenzie’s photos, passed them around.

“She’s practically all grown up.
 Looks so much like April,” Tater said.  Then he paused, gave me a sheepish look.  “What happened to April, man, that was some fucked up shit.  Just wanted you to know we had nothing to do with that shit, either. We all thought April was one of the best.”

I nodded.
 “I know,” I said.  “Fucked me up pretty good.”  The air felt tense, charged with the undercurrent of all the unspoken resentment about the club.  Or maybe it was just me that felt that way.

Pipes
interrupted, cutting the tension.  “You know Rachel and I just had another one.”

“Congrats, man,” I said, glad for the interruption.
 “That’s great.”  I looked at the photos of his wife and newborn, and swallowed hard as I handed his wallet back to him.

I couldn't look at it for too long.

Skunk turned as a prospect walked by.  "Prospect," he yelled.

"Yes, sir," the prospect said.

"Get this man a fucking beer."

Skunk
slapped my back.  "Let's introduce you to some of the new blood.  It's been a while since you've been here."

I looked around at the group of p
eople gathered in the parking lot of the club building.  It was an open event, so hang-arounds were welcome, people the club was friendly with, people who might be interested in patching eventually.

Of course, that's basically what I was now, right?
 A fucking hang-around.  A nobody.

I felt a pang of nostalgia, standing there, surrounded by the type of people I used to know.
 I wasn't sure if I liked the feeling.

"Fucking
A, man," Ants yelled from across the lot when he saw me.  "I never thought I'd see you again."

I c
ouldn't help but grin.  Ants used to be one of my favorite people, back in the days when we'd do runs down here.  He was a fucking trip- always made me laugh.  Couldn't sit still for a fucking second, hence the nickname- short for "ants in the pants."  The only time he stopped was when he was dead drunk and passed out.  Did the stupidest fucking things in the world, with no sense for self-preservation.  So he was always good for a laugh.

"Ants
," I said.  "Good to see you, man."

"You out of retirement?" he asked, bringing a cup of something to his lips.
 His cheeks were ruddy, red, and I could tell he was already hosed.

I shook my head.
 "Just came for the entertainment."

"Fuck yeah, you did," he said.
 "We got some fucking entertainment tonight too.  This goddamn stripper, an Asian girl."

I laughed.
 "What's so goddamn special about a stripper?"  We were in Vegas.  Seeing tits wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence.

"Shit.
 
Hammer
," he said, gulping from his cup.  "That's what they call you now, you know."

Skunk interrupted.
 "Ants, shut the fuck up."

"No disrespect, man," Ants
said.

"It's fine," I said.
 "Hammer is good.  Better than Meat Pipes."

Pipes
grinned.  "Just got to be careful with you and the sledgehammers."

"Don't fucking piss me off," I said, grinning, the tension gone now.
 "So anyway," I said.  "What's so special about this goddamn stripper?"

Skunk
groaned.  "This is all I've been hearing about from this shithead all week," he said.  "This stripper is legendary before she even fucking gets here.  She's going to show up and be ugly and old, man, tits sagging down to her fucking belly.  I keep telling you."

"The prospe
ct has an in with this," Ants said.  "This isn't a regular strip show."

“Okay,” I said, looking at the others, who all seemed to be in on some kind of inside joke I wasn’t getting.

“This chick shoots stuff out of her twat,” Tater said.

“Fuck.”
I grimaced.  “What the fuck is she shooting out of there?  Crabs?”

“Ping
pong balls and stuff,” Ants said.  “They fucking do that shit in Asia somewhere.”

“In Thailand,” Pipes
said.

“How the hell do you know about that?”