Hammer (22 page)

Will he and the Regulators get here in time to save me?

God, I hope so. Not just because I want to live, but because in those precious moments between last night and this morning with Ethan McCoy, I think I may have found something to live for again.

Love.

Chapter

17

~Hammer~

I fucking knew it. I knew life wouldn’t let me keep something so good. The ache in my hip only reminds me more of how far I have come with Des. My mind races with thoughts of where she is and what is happening to her.

My phone rings.

“Tank,” I answer.

“Wellington cut Ricca loose. He’s on his own.”

“Shit,” I mutter, not liking the direction this is heading.

If Ricca has no one to answer to, then his reason for taking Des is clean up, plain and simple.

“Wellington is running something big in Chi-town. The place Suzie was working for was a front for his shit. From what we have gathered, Ricca was hired by Wellington to find out what Suzie knew. We suppose someone felt she was getting too close to what really went on in that pharmaceutical company. Ricca managed to lure Suzie in, make her think they were dating. Everything was fine until Suzie broke up with him and bugged out of the city the same day.”

“Did Wellington put out the hit on Suzie?”

“Don’t know, but we don’t think so. We think Ricca did it with his cousin so Wellington wouldn’t find out she got shot of him. Whatever Wellington thought Suzie might know about his pharmaceutical company was enough to make Ricca track her down when she ran.”

What the hell had Desirae’s sister stumbled onto at Wellington’s pharmaceutical front that sent her running from Chicago? This is going from bad to worse every minute. If Ricca acted on his own and Desirae witnessed it, then in his mind, taking her out solves all his problems.

“I sent your boy Screech a code. He can use that to follow the locator in Des’s watch.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” I growl.

“Look man, Hellions and Regulators don’t have a problem and don’t want there to be a problem, but bottom line, she’s ours. We watch what we claim.”

My heart thumps wildly as my brain races to one conclusion. She’s not his. She’s not theirs. She’s fucking mine. I know these are irrational thoughts, but fuck if I can help thinking them.

“We put a tracker inside the dive watch she always wears,” he continues.

I don’t bother responding. Instead, I click off the phone and look at Screech, who is already using the code to find her. I fucking asked them in the last call for help, and the asshole didn’t share then about a tracker in her watch. I have been here for the past hour and a half in the Regulators’ meeting room in the back of Alibi with Ice, Coal, and a handful of our brothers trying to figure out how to find Desirae, and this jackass has known where she is the entire time? Fucking unbelievable.

Screech has been searching every traffic light and surveillance camera he can hack into to try and find them, as well as simultaneously searching Ricca’s bank records for clues. Ice has been coordinating with the men under his command to go out and comb the streets for the van that took Desirae. Coal has been coordinating with other members, getting our comm. links, bulletproof vests, and hardware ready for us to roll out at a moment’s notice. I’m standing here, useless, doing nothing more than fighting my overwhelming urge to throw the phone in my hand in rage.

The woman who helped me heal from the inside out could be lying dead at the other end of that tracking signal, and the motherfucker in North Carolina has kept me from getting to her.

I have to be reasonable and not get lost to the moment. If it was the other way around, I wouldn’t have put all of our cards on the table yet either. As much as I hate Tank for holding out on us and losing precious time, I understand it too. I’m not about to tell him that though and when this is over, I’m going to make sure he feels my pain.

“Got her!”

“Where the fuck is she, Screech?”

“The tracker pinpoints her in a building in the downtown district. Hold on; I’m zooming in.” His fingers continue clicking away. “203 Savannah Street.”

Ice asks, “What sort of place are we looking at here?”

“Noted to be the old Russell Accounting Building. No current occupants listed, so it is empty. We are looking at a brick building that was built in the late 1800s. That takes out knocking down any walls. Two ground floor doors—front and back. Fire escape should be on the side of the building leading to the second and third floors. Windows look a little small, but you should be able to get through them. Good news is the two buildings on either side of the Russell building are abandoned, so you don’t have immediate neighbors. The bad news is there’s both a fire station and a police hub within two miles of the location. You’ll need to get in and out as quietly as possible.”

Coal looks over at Ice. “We’ll need the silencers this time, boss.” Looking toward Screech, he then asks, “Can you hack into that precinct’s server and find out their patrol schedule and route for the area?”

“On it now, kemosabe.”

I see Coal’s left eye twitch in irritation, but he doesn’t berate our computer genius for calling him the nickname he hates like he usually does. Screech is lucky we are trying to load up and roll out of here as fast as possible, or Coal would rip him a new asshole.

Speaking of rolling out, I need to strap on more than just my Glock. There is no way in hell I want to show up and not have enough ammunition.

I’m moving to gear up with my brothers when Ice stops me. “You’ve gotta sit this one out.”

“Fuck you!”

Ice is a cold asshole. I have nothing but respect for the man, both as my club president and man to man. Today, though, he has lost his fucking mind if he thinks I’m going to sit out for even one second when the safety of Des is on the line.

“Get Pretty Boy in here,” Ice barks to Coal.

I stand toe to toe with him. “My baby brother can’t do shit to stop me. Your best bet is to let me in on this so you and
your team
don’t get caught in my way,” I tell him sharply.

“Easy there, Hammer.” Coal steps between us. His six-foot-six height forces him to look down at me. “One might think you’re throwing down. No need for that, brother.”

Ice backs off while Coal and I have a silent stare down.

“I’m not throwing down. I’m laying it down like it’s gonna be. She’s
mine
. I’m gonna be there.” I look at Ice. “If it were Morgan …?”

His jaw ticks, not hiding his frustration. “Suit up, asshole.”

Damn right.

Suddenly, Screech hoots and fist pumps the air. “Calm your roars, grouchy ones. I’ve got your need-to-know.” Swiveling one of his computer screens around, he blows up the satellite image of a building. “This is the Russell Building.” He taps a few keys, and three red arrows pop up around the structure. “Those are your two doors and the fire escape, which still seems to be intact.”

Then the image zooms out a bit until our location becomes a small square with many streets surrounding it. With a few more clicks, blue lines show up all over the place, and two little Xs appear: one blue, one orange.

“Your blue X marks the spot for the law enforcement hub. The connected lines are their patrol route for the area. Your orange X is the fire station. By my calculations, if you leave within the next fifteen minutes, arrive at the Russell Building in another twenty, and secure entrance, you’ll have approximately thirty minutes before a patrol unit passes your location. In other words, blitzkrieg their bitch-asses like ninjas, rescue Hammer’s girl, and disappear like the invisible man before anyone sees you. It’s tight but doable.”

“So you think we should breach all three sides at the same time to overwhelm them?” Ice asks.

Screech nods. “I think a surprise attack as quickly as possible is your best bet of getting her out alive.”

I’m halfway to the door by the time Screech gets the last word out.

Hold on, Drill Sergeant; I’m on my way.

~~~

As I get set outside the building, my adrenaline pumps. The last mission went south for me. I feel rusty, on edge, like everything rides on this, and I damn sure won’t let her down again.

My heart beats fast but even. I clear my mind. I inhale, exhale, and wait for Ice’s signal. His hand comes up, fist held tight. Ready, steady, his finger comes up, and then he throws it forward.

Go time. Move in.

I ignore the burning pain in my hips and the trembling in my legs. Right now, I will do whatever it takes to get in there and save Desirae. Getting her to safety is the only thing that matters. I would walk through fire for this woman, across broken glass. I would do damn near anything to make sure she is breathing free air and has the chance at a happy life. That’s what you do for the people who mean the most to you.

Our steps are in unison as we roll up to the balls of our feet to keep our movements silent. Focusing on every movement, we make our way to the door like the well-oiled machine we are.

The Regulators MC, my team, my brothers are always at the ready.

At the entrance, Ice throws his arm up in a ninety-degree angle, fist showing. We stop.

I clear my mind. I inhale, exhale, and wait for the signal. Ready, steady, I listen. I watch. I wait.

~Desirae~

“Stop lying and tell me what I want to know, bitch!” the one I now know is Ricca screams at me before he slams a fist into my ribs.

I can’t help crying out in pain. This fucker has punched in the exact same spot at least three times now. If he keeps hitting me there, he is going to crack a rib. It hurts to breathe, and my chest feels like it’s on fire from the inside out.

My face is soaking wet with tears and blood. I can feel it swelling from the many slaps he has given me while asking me the same damn thing over and over again. How many times do I have to tell him Suzie never told me a thing? And she sure as hell never gave me the stupid thumb drive they keep asking about. If I weren’t so fucking scared of the other guy using the knife he is holding—the one that looks too much like the one they ravaged my sister with—then I might snap and ask Ricca if he needed a hearing aid to understand the first fifty nothings I have already given him.

My tormentor delivers another punch to the same spot on my ribs again, and I scream out from the sharp spasm of agony it sends throughout my body.

“Tell me where she hid the thumb drive!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I scream helplessly. “Suzie told me nothing. She didn’t give me anything or tell me anything. I swear.”

I’m having trouble breathing because of how hard I’m sobbing and how much my ribs hurt. I haven’t heard or felt a crack, but there is a good chance he fractured something with that last jab.

I don’t know how long we have been here, but after being hit who knows how many times, I’m to the point of praying to God, promising to give him just about anything if Ethan would show up now and save me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It hurts to breathe, and I’m actually starting to pray for numbness to take over so I don’t have to endure the torment anymore.

I’ve learned the guy holding the knife is Vinny from all the yelling back and forth the two men do at each other. He leans against the wall, cleaning his nails with that knife, as he says indifferently, “Maybe Suzie didn’t tell her anything, cugino.” That statement lets me know he is probably the smarter of the two since it’s what I have been trying to tell them the entire time they have held me here.

Growling in frustration, Ricca steps away from me and starts yelling at Vinny in Italian. I’m sick and tired of the words I don’t understand. I have gathered that Ricca probably hasn’t been calling me anything nice with his “puttanas,” especially since it sounds too similar to the Spanish word “puta” that I know means whore. Plus, there is the fact that he has so nicely explained he is calling my sister a bitch when he calls her a “zocolla,” but somehow, I doubt Vinny’s constant use of “cugino” has any negative connotations. And doesn’t that just suck, because there is more than a few curse words I would like to call them both!

Right now, as they yell back and forth in rapid Italian,
I have no idea what they are saying, but I really hope Ricca is telling the other man to take the knife and stick it in his own eye. Since I doubt I’m that lucky, I sit there and enjoy the break from Ricca’s fists.

His knuckles look pretty busted up from hitting me so much. There’s no telling how equally busted up I am. If the pain in my head is anything to go by, I know a slight concussion might be a possibility.

The two men raise their voices as they continue to fight about whatever the hell it is they are disagreeing on. I take the opportunity to discreetly glance around for some sort of help or a possible way out. There is not much to see besides a door in front of me, which Vinny has been standing by, and one tall, slender window on the wall behind me and to my left. There is no view out of the window, just a small alleyway and the brick wall that belongs to the next building. The only plus I can come up with is that I’m pretty sure we are on the ground floor.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up, Vinny, and lower your voice before someone hears us?”

This question from Ricca is ridiculous for two reasons. One, he just yelled at someone else for being loud when he is shouting the rooftop down himself. And two, if no one has heard my screams by now, I’m pretty sure no one will hear their argument. I don’t bother to point out either assessment, though.

The crashing of the door makes me flinch instinctively. Boots pound their way in as man after man files in with guns drawn and at the ready.

My eyes go from the black boots to the black cargo pants to the eyes of the man suited up in a bullet proof vest whom I have somehow fallen in love with.

I watch as Ethan’s jaw ticks steadily as he takes in my injuries from top to toe, and I want to hide away. I know I look like hell. When my eyes meet his, I can see the fury inside them.

“Des, you okay?” he asks.

“Do I look okay?” I smart back.