Breaking Hammer

  Afterword, I watch her breath return to normal, her eyes closed as she lay there beneath me. I swept a stray tendril of hair across her forehead, and felt her stir underneath me. Her eyelids fluttered open lazily, and her gaze met mine.

  "Hammer," she said. "Whatever we're doing here, whatever this is, I meant what I said. I don't want to hurt you."

  "I meant what I said too," I said. "It's going to take a lot more than that to scare me off."

  "You might regret all of this," she said.

  "Then it's my choice to regret," I said.

  I brought my hand to my lips, still tasting him on me, feeling him inside me, even though it was already a day later. I knew I was becoming consumed with him, my desire for him beginning to cloud my judgment. It was dangerous, seeing him this much. I knew it, even as I asked him yesterday to meet me again, in the same hotel room.

  It was a careless decision.

  I looked at the men, standing in front of me, their faces blank. "I'll go voluntarily," I said, looking at the rag one of the men held in his hand. "Aston knows I'll go quietly. He has my son."

  Then Aston walked into the room, stood behind the men. He didn't look at me, instead focused on his phone. "Oh," he said. "But what would be the fun in that? You have a long flight ahead of you, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

  "No," I said, willing courage into my voice that I didn't feel. "Where are you taking me?"

  Aston finally looked up. "To see your son," he said. "Is what you've wanted, isn't it?"

  I shook my head, paralyzed by terror. "No," I croaked. "Not like this, whatever you're doing."

  "Oh, you have no idea what 'this' means, Meia," Aston said. "I gave you everything, and this is how you repay my kindness? Meeting some fighter in a hotel room? Some white-trash biker?"

  "Your kindness?" I spat on the hotel floor, not caring about the consequences for my outburst. I was already dead. I knew it. "You've kept me your slave for years. You stole my child away from me. Lily killed herself because of the things you did to her. You have been my own version of hell."

  Aston walked toward me, took the cloth from the man's hand. It smelled sticky-sweet, and the smell, even from where he stood, made me nauseous. He smiled, the expression sinister. "How cute. You still think your sister killed herself."

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a desert. "What - what do you mean?" I could hardly speak.

  "She didn't kill herself," Aston said. "She was an...unfortunate casualty, a by-product of my youthful exuberance."

  My stomach churned, and I thought I would vomit as I imagined what Aston had done to her. "You killed her."

  "The last time I had her, she fought," he said, smiling. "She was strong, for how young she was."

  My head was spinning, and I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. When Aston spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from far away, even as I felt his arms on me, and saw his hand, covered in the white rag, moving toward my face.

  "And you think you know what hell is?" he asked, his voice in my ear. "You have no idea. Your hell is just beginning."

  IMPERMANENCE

  Everything is transient and nothing endures. There is birth and death, growth and decay; there is combination and separation.

  ~ The Gospel of Buddha, Carus' translation

  I knew immediately that everything was wrong.

  In my gut, I knew it. I tried to convince myself otherwise, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her, the tap-tap-tap of my foot on the tile floor the only noise in the room.

  The room was immaculate, as it always was, which was to be expected from the type of hotel this was. This was not the type of hotel where bad things happened, even if it was Vegas. At least, this wasn’t the floor where bad things happened, the suites where high-rollers stayed. Not that I was a high-roller. I wasn’t here to gamble. Gambling wasn’t my vice.

  I had so many other fucking vices, I didn’t need to gamble.

  The room was eerily still. Nothing was out of place...no furniture overturned, no ripped open sofa cushions or gutted mattress. Nothing to indicate anyone had been here in the room.

  Except the locket.

  Her locket.

  The one with the picture of a girl. When I’d asked her who it was inside, she had averted her eyes, looked away, sat there silently.

  I could have easily missed the locket, on the floor behind the toilet. If I had overlooked it, if I had just walked away instead of listening to my gut, I wouldn’t have known. I would have assumed that she walked away from me, that she had come to her senses.

  That she had decided that whatever this was, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  It’s the same thing I kept telling myself, trying to rationalize away what I felt. Reminding myself of April. It had only been three years. A man should mourn his dead wife for longer than three years, I told myself. A man should grieve.

  How much more could I grieve?

  Everyone I loved died. It was like a goddamned curse.

  Not this time. This time would be different. It couldn’t happen that way again. If it did, it would destroy me. I wouldn’t let it happen.

  I would find her.

  I would find Ben.

  I would bring them home.

  Inferno Motorcycle Clubhouse

  Los Angeles Chapter

  It was dark when I pulled into the parking lot of the Inferno MC. There were only a few bikes in the lot, the clubhouse mostly empty, a signal that it wasn't a party night. Blaze was expecting me, but I'd told him nothing. This wasn't something I was about to talk about over the phone.

  It was also something I hadn't taken to the Vegas chapter club president. I'd considered it, thought about telling them what was going on when I'd first found out that Aston was holding Ben. But I had no history with that chapter, other than my friendship with Skunk. Aston's power was far-reaching, and I couldn't trust anyone.

  Blaze, on the other hand...he and I had history. We used to be friends, once upon a time. And I trusted him.

  And that's why I was here on a Tuesday night, walking through the doorway of the Inferno MC clubhouse in Los Angeles.

  Blaze stood outside, smoking a cigar. He nodded at me as I approached him. "Good to see you back on a bike, brother," he said. "And back in the colors. It's about fucking time."

  I smiled, but it felt strained. "The bike feels good. Good to be back in the club, too."

  "Want to talk?" Blaze asked, but I didn't get a chance to answer before Dani came walking out the doorway, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

  "Blaze," she started. "I'm going to head home - " She stopped short when she saw me. "Crunch, how are you?"

  I smiled as she wrapped her arms around me, then pushed me back at arm’s length, looking me over. "Are you back?" She looked at from Blaze to me and then back again. "Why didn't you tell me Crunch was back?"

  "I'm riding with the Vegas chapter now," I said.

  "Oh, you're still in Vegas?" she asked. "How is it going?" She stopped, apparently reading the look on my face. "Oh shit, I said something wrong. Is something wrong?"

  "No, nothing," I said quickly. Too quickly, by the look on her face. She didn't believe me. "How's law school?"

  "It's going great. Lots of work to do," she said, patting her bag. "I've got a summer internship, so I'm getting to do real work instead of the school stuff."

  "Good for the club," Blaze said, grinning, as he slipped a hand around Dani's waist.

  "Hmm," she said. "I don't seem to recall the club making me a job offer yet, do you?"

  "Let's just say, you've got an in with someone who has a lot of influence over those kinds of decisions," Blaze said. He patted her ass. "Now, get on home already, would you?"

  Dani laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then punched him playfully on the arm as she stepped away from him. "All the power of being club president is going to his head now. He's getting so bossy."

  "It's good to see you, Dani," I said.


  "You too, Crunch," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Don't stay away so long next time."

  Blaze took another drag on his cigar, then turned to me. "Now. You didn't come out here to fucking socialize. What's going on?"

  Blaze didn't say anything for a few minutes, but I could see the wheels in his mind turning even after I stopped talking.

  "You had this discussion with Geezer?" Blaze asked, wanting to know if I’d told this story to the president of the Vegas chapter.

  I shook my head. "Aston's well-connected. After what happened with Mad Dog..." My voice trailed off, the implication clear. I didn't trust the Vegas chapter. They had given me no reason not to trust them, but I'd been burned once before and I wouldn’t let it happen again.

  Blaze shook his head. "The club isn't going to have ties to someone like him."

  "Benicio smuggles," I said. "We sure he doesn't smuggle people?"

  "No way," Blaze said. "He has a personal issue with it. He spent twenty years in prison in Panama, and from what I understand, it wasn't a fucking picnic. Doesn't like the idea of imprisoning anyone else. Dani's father, Guillermo, now that was another fucking story."

  "You sure about that?" I asked, still wary. "We're talking about a lot of money. Big fucking money. Meia's only hinted at things, but everything I've pulled on Aston says he's connected to politicians, millionaires, people with real cash."

  "Fuck," Blaze said. "I'm certain of it. Guillermo was involved in that kind of shit. Benicio wouldn't do it, on principle. Made a thing of it after Dani killed Guillermo."

  "I'm not asking for club resources," I said. "Just a meet with Benicio. I've hacked Aston, and I've hit a wall. I've narrowed down places he could have taken her. My gut says it's Bangkok, though, back to where she was when she was a kid. The finishing school she talked about. Benicio's got an ear to the ground. I just need some more intel, and I need a contact for a weapon when I get there."

  "Christ, Hammer," Blaze said. "You're not going over there by yourself. It's fucking suicide."

  "You need to stay at the club -" I started.

  "That's why I have a fucking Veep I trust," Blaze said. "I was out of the country when the shit with April happened. I was absent from the club, and if I'd have been around more, I might have seen what was going on with Mad Dog. What happened with Mad Dog- with April- it's my responsibility. You're not following this guy to fucking Thailand to get slaughtered by yourself."

  I nodded. "Okay."

  "I'll call Benicio. And for fuck's sake, call Axe. He's a better shot than either of us are."

  I blinked, but my eyelids felt heavy and swollen. I saw everything through a haze, cloudy and blurred. I tried to move, rolled onto my side, and immediately felt nauseous. Bending over, I heaved the contents of my stomach into a bowl beside the bed, this ornate heavy thing with gilded edges I almost felt bad about defiling. Almost.

  I didn't even hear him behind me. It was like he materialized out of nowhere, from behind me, his hand on the back of my neck, holding my hair away from my face. His touch was gentle, like a lover's.

  Except he was no lover.

  When I was finally finished, my body weak, depleted of everything, I turned to look at him, the man who held me, the man who had taken everything from me.

  "Oh, don't look at me like that, doll," Aston said, his voice excessively polite. "It's not becoming."

  "Where am I?" My voice was hoarse, my mouth dry. I could barely form the words. "Where's my son?"

  "Oh, please tell me you recognize this place," he said. "It would be a tremendous disappointment if you didn't, after I put out the effort of bringing you here. Come on. You can feel it inside you, can't you? You've come home."

  My heart felt like it stopped beating, and I inhaled sharply as I looked around the room, finally beginning to register my surroundings, the teak bed and the jewel-toned pillows. The smell of lemongrass and jasmine permeated the air, and nearly made me vomit again. Yes, I knew this place. How could I ever forget the place where my innocence was ripped from me?

  "Where's Ben?" I asked again, my voice bolder than I felt. I pulled away from Aston in horror, walking toward the other side of the room. He watched me, the way an animal watches prey, his eyes following my movements. "Is he here?"

  "I have plans for you, Meia. For both of you."

  My blood ran cold. "What plans?"

  "Now what would be the fun in it, if I told you everything right now?" Aston said, striding across the room to face me, gripping the bottom of my face with his hand. "There would be no excitement, no anticipation."

  I struggled, and Aston squeezed my jaw tighter, then leaned in close to me. "And the excitement has just begun."

  "Why, Aston?" I asked, my voice trembling. I reminded myself that I could endure whatever horrors he had planned for me. I could hold on. Ben's life was at stake.

  "Because you're mine," he whispered. "I gave you freedom. Latitude. And you repay me by fucking some white trash biker? You seem to have forgotten who owns you. I owned you when you were a child, and I will always own you. You think you can have a life apart from me? I am everything to you. I give you breath."

  "I'd rather die than be yours." I spat the words, before I could even think about their implications, for me or for Ben.

  Aston let go of my face, and turned away from me as if to leave. His blow, a closed fist to my cheek, took me by surprise and I recoiled, my hands immediately going to my face as I stumbled back against the wall, covering my head in an instinctive attempt to protect myself. Pain shot through me, and spots colored my vision as the nausea from before overwhelmed me. I dropped to my knees, bile rising in my throat, and heaved on the floor.

  From somewhere far away, I heard Aston's voice. "You will be mine until your dying breath. And, after that, Ben will be mine."

  "No..." I choked out the word, the throbbing in my cheek so intense I could barely think about anything else.

  "Ben is earmarked for a very special purpose," he said. "There is a group of very wealthy men who are interested in him."

  Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I crawled on my hands and knees toward Aston, wrapped my hands around his ankles. "No, Aston," I pleaded. "Don't do this. Please don't do this to my son."

  He looked down at me, with scorn in his eyes. "It's you who've done this, Meia. Until your last breath, know that it's you who've sent your son into the lion's den." He bent down, his face close to mine. "The men who will buy him? They are particularly fond of boys his age. They just...have a tendency to get a little, shall we say, carried away. They require new replacements due to their...vigor."

  I heard myself wail, but it was like I was far away. Aston pulled away from me, and I knew he was leaving, but I dry-heaved on the floor, my stomach empty of everything. And when I couldn't expel any more, I lay there on the cool floor, curled up into a ball, unmoving.

  Aston's words played in my head, stuck on a loop. It's you who've sent your son into the lion's den.

  It was all my fault. I had been selfish, had allowed Hammer to get close to me. And now, my son was going to pay.

  I was his mother. I was supposed to protect him, and I had failed.